747 lines
52 KiB
Markdown
747 lines
52 KiB
Markdown
---
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campaign: Avalon Adventuring Academy
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type: session
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session_number: 5
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date: 2025-11-26
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arc: leyline
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status: planned
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tags:
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last: "[[session 4]]"
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next: "[[session 6]]"
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---
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# Cold Open
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>[!quote] Root Oversight Array- Location Classified
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>We start somewhere else, while you are all discussing what happened at B2 with Ellias
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> The room is all stone, and steel, and light.
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> In the center, is a platform which holds a wide, shallow basin. It is not filled with a liquid- but light, that seems to map out a ghostly diagram of the leyline network: bright trunks, branching roots, pulsing nodes.
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> Hooded technicians in plain grey robes move between pillars, checking readings, murmuring quietly. The whole place hums with an all to familiar heartbeat- but here, amplified one hundred fold- the room throbs. Each beat knocks dust from the walls and gravel from the roof.
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> **A BEAT**
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> One of the technicians, younger, nervous, stiffens. The crystal pillar in front of him flickers, then flashes an angry red.
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> He frantically taps the runes. "Why would delta three be spiking at this hour?"
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> A label resolves on the pillar: "AVL-ACAD / B2 - DIST. JUNCTION- ATHLETIC GRID"
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Let them sit with that for a moment- they need to realize that's them.
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>[!quote] Enter D'Serris
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>A figure at the far end of the room looks up from the basin. Older, sharp features, with white streaks in his hair. His robe is more formal than the others. His belt bears an engraving- Root Overseer.
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> He walks over, staff ticking against the stone.
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> He eyes up the pillar, then the basin. One thin branch flares within. A cluster of points around it, representing your campus, jitter, before stabilizing.
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> "B2 again?"
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> The tech nods- gulping. "Yes sir. Load divergense from A series root. It... uh.. it looks like lock intervention. Manual."
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> D'Serris: "Maintenance?"
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> Tech: "No scheduled work orders."
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> D'Serris is lost in throught for a moment- "Nobody under thirty moves this recklessly."
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> Before the tech can respond- the pillars light **spikes**. The label flashes from amber to a hard red. In the basin, the representation B2 swells- an overbright node connected to four lines- then one of those lines implodes- leaving only a cracked, dead segment.
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> The hum in the room stutters. For a heartbeat, the entire network map freezes.
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> Crystals up and down the walls flicker. Technicans grab pillars, steadying themselves as the floor quakes.
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> Across half a dozen pillars, the same message flashes in harsh red script:
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> **ROUTE OVERSIGHT: LOST. C-LINE DISCONNECTED. FAILSAFE UNAVAILABLE.**
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> The tech panics: "Sir! B2! It's just- I don't know! It's just *GONE*! Output line 4 shows no physical connections. Root oversight for that segment just dropped. Whatever's riding the C-series over there, we... we can't see it anymore."
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> D'Serris exhales through gritted teeth.
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> "Of Course it's the academy." He taps his staff against the stone. In the basin, the map shifts, and zooms out. The Avalon node is just one of many sprinkled along a massive glowing trunk that runs under the whole region, off the edge of the projection.
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> "They built that school on a vein and let children play with the taps. This was always bound to happen."
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> "The tech asks: "What shoudl we do? Re=route? Cut the whole site?"
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> "Can't.". He gestures at a cluster of distant nodes linekd to the same trunk. "Too much weight on that line. You cut Avalon, you destabilize everything from here to the capital."
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> **Beat**
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> Besides, the root seems to like them.
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> He waves a hand; the view zooms in just a bit more, enough to show **three tiny motes** near the Avalon node, pulsing slightly out of sync with everything else.
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> “Pattern anomalies,” the tech reads off. “Three signature clusters. Adolescent. High contact with the B-series.”
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>D’Serris’ mouth tightens.
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>“Of course. We sever the watcher and the first thing the root does is mark new favorites. It’s learning.”
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>A secondary crystal on a nearby stand starts chiming – a **comm node**. The tech glances at the label.
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>“Incoming link from AVL-ACAD administration. ID… Larkvale.”
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>“Put him through.”
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>A hovering image flickers into being above the comm crystal: Larkvale, in his office, looking furious and sleep-deprived.
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> “Overseer,” Larkvale says, skipping pleasantries. “Your pet tap just tried to kill my field and half my grid. I have students reporting visions, three systems down, and a very irate Headmaster from across town asking if our little ‘pilot program’ is going to take his network with it.”
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> D’Serris’ expression doesn’t change.
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> “Good morning to you too, Aldren.”
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> Larkvale: “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend this is routine. I just lost whatever miserable little safety net you called ‘root oversight’ on my campus, and I am not paid enough to explain that to a board full of elves who think magic is something they buy, not something that can turn on them.”
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> D’Serris: “Your node is still standing. B2 is stable. The children down there actually did decent triage, considering.”
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> He let's the word hang- **children**.
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> Larkvale: "So it *was* them?"
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> D’Serris: “Who else? Oversight is gone. The root is… improvising. And it has opinions about your students.”
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> Larkvale: “Can you restore oversight?”
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> D’Serris: “Not remotely. Not now. That branch is dead. If we want eyes back on Avalon’s root segment, someone would have to go in from the _inside_.”
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> Larkvale: “I have a school to run.”
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> D’Serris: “You have a **containment project** to supervise.”
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> **BEAT**
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> “Or would you prefer we relocate it? Shut the campus, move the tap, let the root chew on some other town’s children?”
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> Larkvale: “…No. The Board would never go for it. Too much sunk cost. Too many eyes on Avalon as the ‘model.’”
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> “Fine. I’ll keep the lights on and the kids from dying in bulk. You keep your people from using us as a stress test for whatever half-buried mistake you made under this valley.”
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> D’Serris smiles without humor.
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> "Deal.
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> And Aldren?"
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> Larkvale: "What now?"
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> "Those three anomalies? The ones the root's cuddling up to?"
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> "Yes."
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> "Watch them. If oversight can't see throught their eyes anymore..."
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> (He dips a finger into the basin; the little motes flare.)
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> “…something else will.”
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> Larkvale's projection vanishes.
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> The room slowly returns to its low hum. Technicians shuffle back to their pillars, muttering about rerouting, local safeties, contingency drafts.
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> D’Serris stays at the basin, watching the Avalon node and its three little anomalies pulse in the dark.
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> Under the surface of the map, the main leyline trunk flexes once, like something rolling over in its sleep. For just a moment, the light isn’t blue or white at all – it’s the deep, angry red of blood seen through skin.
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> D’Serris closes his eyes.
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>“Root oversight offline,” he says, to nobody in particular.
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>“Let’s see what you do without a leash.”
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# Spin Alley
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Non-negotiable in world facts Ellias will NOT bend on:
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- Elias' priorities:
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- Keep his job
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- Keep the party from getting expelled
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- prevent admin from panicking and making things worse
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- stop them from admitting they destroyed expensive government property out loud.
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- He will not agree to a story that paints him as the sole mastermind sabotaging the school.
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- He will not outright lie about the node nearly failing; he _did_ see the stress levels and knows “we stabilized it” is mostly true.
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- He _will_ downplay the intentional destruction: “a failing line went during emergency triage.”
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>[!quote] Elias, pacing:
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>“Okay,” he says. “Before Larkvale drags us into his vivisection lab, we need to get our story straight. Because right now, the system logs say: Node B2 flagged a critical load, **Students** were detected in the tap cell, and an output line physically failed while someone was manual-adjusting it.
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> “So. In your own words: what happened down there?”
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Call for a group insight check. On Success, they know Elias' priorities. On fail- he's hiding something.
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Remind them- They know a guy!
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## Cooperate
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"We stabilized, shit went bad in the process."
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>[!quote] Elias
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>"Good. Okay- we can work with that- emergency triage.
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> We say that we saw the stress from up top, and you all insisted on going down with me because nobody else was responding. We manually lowered the intake and tried to bled off pressure. One output was already cracked, and failed while stabilizing. That makes you out to be heros, not saboteurs.
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If they mention the unknown branch:
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>[!quote] Elias
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>"Stop. There was no "unknown branch". Only a compromised conduit.
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>Admin doesn’t even admit the C-line exists. If you bring it up, we’re not just in trouble, we’re in ‘shut-the-campus-down and ‘where did that funding really go’ trouble.
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>We call it a cracked line. We say it failed. That’s it.”
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## Ben commits to Elias is the villain
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>[!quote] Elias
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>“You think _I_ built this? If I’d designed the tap network, I’d be on a government salary in a tower somewhere, not eating academy cafeteria slop and patching leaks with underage arsonists.”
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>He jabs a thumb toward the field.
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>“I’m a **grad student on a stipend** with a maintenance pass and a supervisor who thinks ‘mana physics’ means ‘turn it off and on again.’
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>What I had was a diagnostic tool and enough training to see B2 was about to go from ‘concerning’ to ‘front-page obituary.’”
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If Ben continues to press Elias:
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>[!quote] Elias
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>“ Yes, I knew that line was ugly. That’s why I brought the only people on campus who had already survived one meltdown to help me stop the next one.
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>I didn’t _make_ you kill the line, Mulkerberg. You did that all by yourselves. I’m just the idiot who stayed topside and watched the graphs scream.”
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If ben threatens to blame Elias:
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>[!quote] Elias
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>You _can_ try to pin this on me. You can walk into Larkvale’s office and say ‘Elias dragged us down there and broke the node.’ You know what happens next? I get investigated and probably thrown out. Admin still has logs showing **student biometric signatures** in the cell. Admin still has logs showing **student biometric signatures** in the cell. You don’t get off the hook by lighting me on fire. You just guarantee you burn too. I am not your enemy. I am the one person in this building who understands what you actually did last night and isn’t immediately calling the district audit board. So either we work together, or we walk into that meeting as four separate suspects. Your call.”
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## Throw Admin Under the Bus
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>[!quote] Elias
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>I *like* that idea. We *did* respond when nobody else did. We *did* lower the stress before the line failed.
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> Be smart about it. Blame the system, blame the lack of oversight, blame the fact there was a critical node under the field with no on call engineer.
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> Do not start naming hidden branches or implying you have a more complete map of the tap than the people who built it.
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If they commit to wanting to expose the whole conspiracy:
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>[!quote] Elias
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>"You don't *have* the whole conspiracy. Right now you have a weird grid, a bleeding tree, and a dead conduit. If you go in there screaming about secret C-lines and ancient root watchers without proof, you look crazy and dangerous. And crazy, dangerous students get removed from unstable systems, not entrusted with investigating them!
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## The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth
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>[!quote] Elias
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>Let's play that out:
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>You walk into admin and say, ‘We knowingly destroyed a branch of the tap network whose function we didn’t understand because we thought it was evil.’
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>Best case, they think you’re irresponsible and slap you with suspensions, maybe worse.
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>Worst case? They decide you’re either a security risk who might be working for someone else, or perfectly aligned with whoever’s trying to destabilize the tap, and you don’t see daylight without a scrying collar for the rest of the year.”
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> “Is that really what you want? To be benched while the people who built this mess go back to pretending it’s fine?
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> Or do you want to stay in the game, keep your access, and maybe actually find out what was on the other end of that branch before it fell on someone else’s head?”
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## Extortion
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Make an intimidation vs insight check. If Elias wins: If Ben wins, he gets the shield section only.
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>[!quote] Elias
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>He laughs humorlessly.
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>"You are threatening the only person on this campus who can explain these graphs to admin in a way that doesn't end with "'and then we expel them'".
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>I’m already planning to stand in that room and say, ‘They helped me stabilize a failing node and a damaged conduit broke while we were doing emergency work.’
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> If you’d prefer I say, ‘I don’t know why they were down there at all,’ that is absolutely an option we can explore.”
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> “I am not your shield, I am your translator. You burn that bridge, you walk in alone. And if you’re so certain I’m the villain, maybe you don’t want me anywhere near your testimony anyway, hm?”
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## Transition out
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>[!quote] Elias
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>Elias rubs his face, then holds up a hand:
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>"Okay- here's what I am going to say, unless someone stops me.
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>We detected a dangerous anomaly at B2.
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> I went to investigate, you came along because you were already tangled up in the A3 incident and had the most context. The tap cell showed a near red-line condition. You helped me reduce intake and re-balance output. We evacuated and reported the failure. We do not mention any branches that weren't on the official schematic, voices, visions, ghosts, or anything else that makes this sound like a possession instead of a systems failure, and everything else stays between us for now.
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Ask them one by one if they're sticking with that.
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If ben is still combative:
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>[!quote] Elias
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>“Okay. Then I’ll see what version of me you invent in there. Just remember: whatever story you tell, you’re stuck with it. And so is everyone else.”
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# Admin Investigation
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>[!quote] Narration
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>The next morning, as you all expect, you're pulled out of class almost immediately, and cramed onto the same familiar ugly wooden bench outside Larkvale's office you've become accustomed to. The "TEAMWORK!" posters seem ironic to you all now. Through the frosted glass- you hear voices- Estrada and Larkvale, and Elias, trying his best not to sound terrified.
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>Larkvale pokes his head out. "In."
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GM NOTES- Make the office in DND beyond if you have time.
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>[!quote] Duel of Fates
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>Larkvale steeples his fingers and looks at each of you like he’s lining up targets.
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>“Here are the facts,” he says.
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>“Last night at 22:13, the maintenance network recorded an anomaly at tap-cell **B2**, under the athletic grid. At 22:16, the hatch under the home bleachers was opened using student biometrics. At 22:19, manual adjustments were made to the node. At 22:22, **output line four suffered a physical failure**.”
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>He taps the crystal panel; lines of red script flicker.
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>“At 22:24, Mister Vaelor filed a report of ‘near-catastrophic load failure avoided by emergency triage.’”
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>His eyes narrow.
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“You three were down there. So. Tell me exactly what you were doing in my tap cell.”
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Make the main speaker make a deception/persusaion check. On a good roll, Admin thinks them idiots, not saboteurs.
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## If they follow the spin
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>[!quote] Larkvale
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>“So your position is:
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>You observed an anomoly
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>You accompanied Miser Vaelor to investigate.
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>You assisted in reducing intake and re-balancing output.
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>And during that process, a pre-existing compromised conduit gave out.
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>His gaze slides to Elias.
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>“That is also your position, Mister Vaelor?”
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>Elias: “Yes, sir. Stress curves show we lowered the overall load before the line failed. If we hadn’t—”
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>Estrada cuts in: “If you hadn’t, my field might have gone up like a fireball. Yeah, I saw the replay.”
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Group deception check: On a high roll, Larkvale reluctantly accepts their bravery. On a fail, he thinks they're hiding something, and pushes further.
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>Larkvale: “The logs support part of that narrative. B2 was redlining. Manual adjustments brought it down, then something broke.
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> What I cannot decide is whether I am looking at an act of **reckless bravery**… or an act of sabotage wrapped in a heroic story after the fact.”
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> Estrada grunts: "They're idiots, not saboteurs. They're been a pain in my ass since day one, but if they wanted to blow the field, they wouldn't have stayed to turn the valves."
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## If Ben throws Elias under the Bus
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>[!quote] Larkvale
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> Larkvale turns his gaze to Elias like a knife.
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> “Is that so, Mister Vaelor? You coerced three students into unauthorized maintenance on a live node?”
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> Elias goes pale. “No, sir. I informed them there was an anomaly; they insisted on coming because they had prior exposure to A3. I did not ‘coerce’ anyone. And I did not instruct them to damage any conduits.”
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If Ben continues:
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>[!quote] Larkvale
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>“Mister Mulkerberg,” Larkvale says, voice dropping a degree. “If Mister Vaelor were secretly re-wiring root segments, he would not be grading first-year artificing.
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>He would be in a tower somewhere earning ten times my salary and arguing with people you will never meet.”
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>“And our logs show **student** signatures at the failure point, not just his. Choose your scapegoats carefully.”
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>Estrada snorts. “Yeah, nice try, kid. You don’t score extra points by throwing the TA under the bus. You all went under the bleachers together.”
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## If they press the admin is part of the conspiracy
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>[!quote] Larkvale
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>He regards you for a long beat.
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>“Of course it’s part of something bigger,” he says finally. “You do not hang a node this size off a rural Academy for fun.”
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>“But the ‘something bigger’ is so far above your student clearance that if I explained it to you, I’d spend the rest of my career in a tribunal explaining why.”
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If they mention root oversight from the logs:
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>[!quote] Larkvale
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>His eyes flick to the crystal panel for a fraction of a second.
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>“Root oversight is **offline** at your campus segment. That is all you need to know,” he says. “And that fact is the only reason you are not all being suspended on the spot. We need eyes on the ground more than we need to make an example right this second.”
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## When they fuck with Estrada
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>[!quote] Estrada
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>“Fine. Crunch away. Just understand that every time you do, you make it harder for me to keep arguing that you’re just dumb kids and not a walking safety violation.”
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>[!quote] Estrada
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>“You nut-tapped me once, Mulkerberg. Don’t try it in here,” he says. “Out there, that’s ‘team bonding.’ In here, it’s ‘grounds for suspension.’ Learn the difference.”
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# D'Serris Reveal
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>[!quote] Narration
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>A soft chime cuts through the tension – a clear, crystalline tone from a fist-sized crystal set into the wall behind Larkvale’s desk. Its surface flickers with unfamiliar runes.
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> Larkvale grimaces. “Of course.”
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> He taps the crystal.
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> “Overseer. You’re intruding at a delicate moment.”
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> The air above the crystal shimmers. A **half-height projection** resolves – not full-body, just shoulders and up: a older man with streaks of white in his hair.
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> He’s looking down at something off-screen, then his eyes flick you all.
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> “Assistant Headmaster Larkvale,” he says. Voice dry, slightly distorted. “I see you’ve collected our… anomalies.”
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> > D'Serris gives you all a nod- it isn't friendly.
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> **A beat**
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> “You were present in tap-cell B2 last night,” he says. “You manually altered a load on a live node. You witnessed the failure of output line four.
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> I would like to hear, in your own words, what you think you did.”
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No matter what they say- he responds from a systems perspective, not a normal one.
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>[!quote] D'Serris
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>“You reduced intake,” he summarizes. “You redistributed load. You watched a compromised conduit die instead of the node. That is, from a certain angle, correct triage.”
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>From another angle, it is vandalism of infrastructure you DO NOT UNDERSTAND!
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If they mention the unknown branch:
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>[!quote] D'Serris
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>His eyes narrow, just a fraction.
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>“There should not have been an unlabeled branch accessible from B2,” he says quietly.
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>“If you saw one, and if you… removed it… then you have interfered with a layer of the system you were never meant to know existed.”
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>Larkvale shoots a worried gaze at D'Serris' projection.
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>D'Serris looks to Larkvale
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>"You could suspend them,” he says mildly. “Report them to the Board. Claim they nearly destroyed school property out of boredom.”
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> “You could also admit you have three students who can walk into a live node, improvise emergency repairs, and walk out without dying.”
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> He looks back at the party.
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> “Oversight is blind at Avalon now. Someone cut out its eyes. Until we restore it, local monitoring falls to you whether you like it or not.”
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> Larkvale scowls: “I am not making them my ‘student task force,’” he says. “I am making sure they understand that **any unauthorized access again will have teeth**.”
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> D'Serris: “Do try not to break anything else you can’t put back together, children.”
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> The transmission ends.
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Call for insight checks-
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>[!quote] On Success:
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> He’s not monologuing because he’s evil; he’s genuinely scared of the root – and fascinated by them as data points. You’re not pawns _yet_, but they are absolutely being watched.
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>[!quote] On Failure:
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> He is cold, condescending, and vaguely threatening.
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>[!quote] Larkvale
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> Larkvale straightens a stack of papers that doesn’t need straightening.
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> “Here is what is going to happen,” he says.
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> “One: You are all receiving **formal disciplinary marks** for unauthorized access to a restricted area. Enjoy the extra detentions.”
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> “Two: You will attend a series of **after-school ‘safety briefings’** with Mister Vaelor on the tap infrastructure. Call it remediation. In practice, it means if B2 burps again, you will know before the rest of the student body.”
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> “Three: You will **not** go spelunking in my sublevels without explicit authorization again. If you do, I will have you off this campus before you can say ‘appeal hearing.’ There will be no second warning.”
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> “And four, if you notice any further… anomalies – voices, visions, static, unexplained glitches – you will report them through Mister Vaelor, not through hallway gossip.”
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> “Because whatever was riding that severed branch will not simply disappear. It will find new paths. And I would very much like to know which hallways it chooses first. Now, continue with you day.”
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## Backup tactics
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### If they try to bargain for a reward:
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>[!quote] Larkvale
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>“You already volunteered when you went under the bleachers. I am offering you _context_ and a chance to act with a modicum of guidance instead of in the dark.”
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Offer a DC 13 Persuasion- if they succeed, they get what they want (within reason).
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>[!quote] On fail
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>“You want a deal? Fine. You do not get expelled today. There is your deal.”
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### If they accuse Elias in front of D'Serris, he shuts that down:
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>[!quote] D'Serris
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>“I have already reviewed Mister Vaelor’s access logs. He is guilty of poor judgment in his choice of assistants, not of orchestrating a structural failure.”
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||
> “If you wish to fight beside him, that is your choice. If you wish to fight him, that is a different conversation, and not one we are having today.”
|
||
|
||
### If they threaten to go public:
|
||
>[!quote] Larkvale
|
||
>“If you attempt to take half-understood tap diagrams to the Board or the press, you will discover that their first response is not to thank you for your bravery.”
|
||
>“It is to question your stability and your security clearance. You will lose what little access you have and someone far less sympathetic will be brought in to ‘contain’ the problem.”
|
||
>“You are welcome to test me on this if you are tired of attending this school.”
|
||
|
||
### Get out of jail free cards
|
||
>[!quote] Larkvale
|
||
>“Let’s review the terms, shall we? ‘One waiver of an **ordinary disciplinary action** at the Assistant Headmaster’s discretion. Not applicable to matters involving **external oversight**, **grid integrity**, or **criminal investigation**.’”
|
||
>“This meeting is a **safety incident review** involving the tap network and an Overseer.
|
||
>You are not here because you were late to class or punched someone behind the gym. You are here because you were physically present in a **live node failure**.
|
||
>I cannot – even if I were inclined – wave this away with a coupon.”
|
||
>“Here is the only thing this ridiculous piece of cardstock can touch today: the **detentions**.”
|
||
>“If I honor it, I waive the after-school punishment and the formal mark attached to _this_ incident. That is all.
|
||
>You still attended a dangerous failure. You are still now on Mister Vaelor’s ‘safety briefing’ schedule. You are still on my informal list of ‘students who will be nowhere near my sublevels without permission’.”
|
||
|
||
## Transition Out
|
||
|
||
>[!quote] Narration
|
||
>The meeting ends not with an explosion, but with the soft little _click_ of Larkvale’s door behind you.
|
||
>Out here, the hallway looks the same as it always does: ugly motivational posters about “TEAMWORK!”, the faint smell of burnt coffee from the staff room, the low hum of the building’s lights.
|
||
>It’s almost insulting how normal it all feels, knowing there’s a dead conduit and a blind god-tree under your feet.
|
||
>For the rest of the morning, classes blur.
|
||
>– Teachers talk. You nod at the right times.
|
||
>– A couple of kids ask, “So what happened last night?” and you give them versions of the story that wouldn’t get you dragged back into that office.
|
||
>– Every now and then, you feel that buried hum under the floorboards tighten like a muscle remembering a cramp.
|
||
>By the time lunch rolls around, the adrenaline from B2 has burned off and left something heavier behind:
|
||
>– For **Joe**, it’s the weight of Pappy’s action figure in his pocket, like a loaded die.
|
||
>– For **Soren**, it’s the echo of the root’s whisper and a courtyard full of people who don’t see her.
|
||
>– For **Ben**, it’s the gnawing knowledge that if _anyone_ is going to make last night your problem again, it won’t be admin. It’ll be the guys who lost money.
|
||
|
||
>[!quote] To Ben
|
||
>Your sending-stone buzzes in your pocket with a cheap little default tone.
|
||
>The screen lights up with a contact you remember all too well from the Circle the other night:
|
||
>**PIP** – black-lettered, no emoji.
|
||
>
|
||
>New messages pop up one after the other (read these aloud / paste to chat):
|
||
>
|
||
>`pip: hey lil stinky`
|
||
>`pip: fun run the other night`
|
||
>`pip: but my boss aint laughin`
|
||
>`pip: circle. after school.`
|
||
>`pip: tonight.`
|
||
>`pip: dont make me come find that nice house up the hill`
|
||
>
|
||
>Call for a **DC 13 Insight** check:
|
||
>
|
||
>**On Success**
|
||
>>You get a cold little drop in your stomach.
|
||
>>This isn’t a “let’s talk business” text.
|
||
>>The way he phrases “my boss” and “route” screams this is about more than your $25 bags.
|
||
>>And that last line about “that nice house up the hill” isn’t a bluff – he’s done enough homework to know where you live.
|
||
>>If you blow him off again, he’s not just going to be annoyed; he’s going to be under orders to make an example out of you.
|
||
>
|
||
>**On Failure**
|
||
>>It reads mostly like wounded pride and flexing.
|
||
>>Pip’s pissed he got clowned, sure – but this feels like more of the same: “I’m hard, meet me at the Circle.”
|
||
>>The bit about your house feels like a scare tactic. He probably doesn’t actually want trouble in the rich-kid neighborhood; that’s heat he can’t afford.
|
||
>>You’re pretty sure if you show up with a good story or talk fast enough, you can spin this back around.
|
||
|
||
>Either way, the bell for lunch rings.
|
||
>The cafeteria doors swing open, and the whole student body surges toward food and gossip like nothing under this place has changed at all.
|
||
|
||
|
||
# Ben's Folly
|
||
Run this last, after the school encounters for the day:
|
||
## Arriving
|
||
TODO- DND Beyond this map
|
||
>[!quote] Opening
|
||
>The Circle is the same as always: magic pumps humming, a flickering neon sign in the window, smell of grease and sugar and old cigarettes.
|
||
>The parking lot’s mostly empty except for **three beat-up vehicles**:
|
||
– a rusted-out sedan with one mismatched door,
|
||
– a compact wagon with a cracked headlight,
|
||
– and a low hoverboard rack with a halfling-sized helmet dangling off it.
|
||
>Leaned against the sedan, smoking something that smells like burnt sage and cheap weed, is **Pip**.
|
||
>Small, wiry halfling, bleached tips on his hair, hoodie two sizes too big, rings on every finger. Same smug little smile he had before he tried to box you in with headlights.
|
||
> Two older human kids lounge nearby – one on the hood, one flicking a lighter open and shut – watching the door like bored guard dogs.
|
||
> Pip flicks his smoke away and grins without warmth.
|
||
> “Well, well, well. If it isn’t **Lil Stinky**, live and in person. Thought maybe you’d ghost me again.”
|
||
|
||
Another DC 13 insight:
|
||
>[!quote] On Success
|
||
>The muscle aren’t just props – they’re keyed in, hands free, eyes tracking your movements. They’re here to back Pip’s play, not just hang out.
|
||
|
||
>[!quote] On Failure:
|
||
>They read as background noise – old buddies, bored, half-paying attention.
|
||
|
||
Ben says something- Pip gets to the point:
|
||
>[!quote] Pip
|
||
>“See, here’s the problem,” Pip says, stepping closer. “You didn’t just waste my time the other night when you took off.
|
||
>You wasted my **boss’** time.”
|
||
>He jerks a thumb toward the sedan.
|
||
> “He had product riding a nice, quiet little arcane route right under your fancy academy’s field. And then, like magic – poof. Route’s dead. Signal drops. Stock goes cold.”
|
||
> Pip taps the side of his head.
|
||
>“And you know when that happened?”
|
||
>He looks up at you.
|
||
>“Same night you and your little friends were playing spelunker under the bleachers.”
|
||
|
||
Ben makes a DC 14 insight:
|
||
>[!quote] On Success
|
||
>He’s not guessing. Someone with access to the maintenance chatter actually tied your **biometric pings** to that failure. Pip is working off **real intel**, not rumors. There’s no easy “you can’t prove anything” out here.
|
||
|
||
>[!quote] On Failure:
|
||
>It still feels like coincidence to you. Creepy, but maybe he’s just pattern-matching and bluffing harder than he should.
|
||
|
||
>[!quote] Pip
|
||
>“My boss has people who read the maintenance chatter,” he says. “Talk of ‘Node B2’, ‘output failure’, ‘student signatures in the tap cell’.”
|
||
>He spreads his hands.
|
||
>“Now, I’m not a genius artificer, but even I can do the math:
|
||
>**you down there + line dies = my supplier pissed.**”
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
## If Ben is cocky/dismissive:
|
||
>[!quote] Pip
|
||
>Pip’s smile gets thinner.
|
||
>“Cute,” he says. “Real cute.”
|
||
>He steps in just close enough that Ben can smell the smoke and the cheap cologne. “Here’s the thing, Lil Stinky:
|
||
>My boss doesn’t care about the **technical** explanation. He cares that his route through ‘AVL-ACAD B2’ died the same night some rich kid from up the hill went for a joyride in the tap cell.”
|
||
>He taps your chest once, lightly, with two fingers.
|
||
>“He told me to collect. Money. Info. Or respect. In whatever order I can get it.”
|
||
## If Ben says "We tried to save it!"
|
||
>[!quote] Pip
|
||
>Pip cocks his head, listening, expression unreadable.
|
||
>“So you’re saying,” he drawls, “that if you **hadn’t** gone under there, my boss’ route might’ve fried completely with zero warning.
|
||
>That you _saved_ his pipeline, and the crack was just… collateral.”
|
||
|
||
DC 15 Persusuasion from Ben
|
||
>[!quote] On Success
|
||
>Pip actually pauses, looks back at the sedan, then at you.
|
||
>“Huh,” he says. “So you were the idiots with fingers in the dam, not the ones swinging the sledgehammer.”
|
||
>He shrugs. “I can work with ‘idiots who tried to help’. Makes my report sound less like ‘total disaster’ and more like ‘unexpected maintenance’.”
|
||
> His posture softens a notch;
|
||
|
||
>[!quote] On Success
|
||
>Pip lets you talk yourself out, then shakes his head.
|
||
>“Look, I don’t have clearance for ‘maybe.’ All I’ve got is ‘before you, route worked; after you, it didn’t.’
|
||
>That’s the story my boss cares about. I don’t get paid to run hypotheticals.”
|
||
|
||
## The Deal:
|
||
>[!quote] Pip
|
||
> Pip leans back, and calls off his muscle. You get the sense this more a negotiation than a mugging.
|
||
>“Look, I’m not here to stuff you into the trunk,” he says. “Bad for business. You’re on campus, you sell to kids with allowances. You’re useful.”
|
||
>“So here’s what we’re gonna do.”
|
||
>“You keep doing your little dime-bag hustle at school. Pretend you’re king of W-block, whatever helps you sleep in the big house.
|
||
>In return, when **weird shit** happens with the grid again – lights, voices, glitchy taps, teachers freaking out about ‘leylines’ – you **tell me first**. Not your mom. Not your counselor. Not that try-hard TA.”
|
||
>“You hear about a node going red, a hatch opening, a ‘subnode’ whatever? You send me a ping. I pass that upstream. My boss gets **advance warning** instead of nasty surprises. Everybody’s happy.”
|
||
>“You play ball, that little debt from the Circle? Forgotten. I’ll even cut you a better rate on your next re-up. Call it a ‘thank you for your service’ discount.”
|
||
>“You don’t play ball?”
|
||
>He jerks his thumb at the hill behind you, where the fancy houses sit.
|
||
“Then maybe one night some bored goons take a drive up Madera, check out the view. Maybe they don’t break anything. Maybe they do.
|
||
Either way, you’ve got more to lose than we do.”
|
||
|
||
### Ben Accepts
|
||
>[!quote] Pip
|
||
>Pip’s grin returns, wider, more relaxed.
|
||
> “Knew you were a smart kid,” he says. “All bark, some brain.”
|
||
> He pulls out his own sending-stone, taps it against yours; a small rune flashes as your devices sync.
|
||
> “There. Direct line. When the Academy’s tap sneezes, you text me ‘bless you’ and a few details. That’s it.”
|
||
> He steps back, gives you a little mock salute.
|
||
> “Stay safe, Lil Stinky. I’d hate to have to find a new campus plug.”
|
||
|
||
If Ben tries to haggle, call for DC14 Persuasion.
|
||
### Ben Rejects
|
||
>[!quote] Pip
|
||
>Pip’s face goes flat. He takes a slow drag of the second smoke he’d lit somewhere in there, flicks ash at the pavement.
|
||
>“Okay,” he says finally. “Okay.
|
||
>That’s your play. I respect a bad decision. Keeps the universe interesting.”
|
||
>“But then we’re done with ‘favours’ and ‘discounts’. Next time my boss says, ‘That kid at the Academy cost us a route,’ I don’t have any reason to say, ‘Nah, he’s useful.’
|
||
>Next time something breaks under your school, I’m not asking questions. I’m just picking a target to make a point.”
|
||
>Think it over, Mulkerberg. When the lights flicker in your fancy little canyon, you’re gonna wish someone in this parking lot was rooting for you.”
|
||
### Ben Fakes Acceptance But intends to Betray
|
||
Insight Vs Deception contest on Ben Vs Pip (TODO- Pip Char sheet)
|
||
If ben wins, go to the accept route. If Pip wins:
|
||
>[!quote] Pip
|
||
>Pip squints at you, then chuckles.
|
||
> “You’re not the first kid who thought he could nod and smile and then pretend my number doesn’t exist,” he says.
|
||
> “Tell you what: we’ll call this a **trial run**. You feed me something useful next time your school hiccups, I’ll believe you’re serious. You don’t?”
|
||
> He clicks his tongue.
|
||
> “We go back to Plan C: you learn what it feels like to be on the wrong side of my boss’ mood.”
|
||
|
||
## Transition Out
|
||
>[!quote] Pip
|
||
>As you turn to go, Pip calls after you:
|
||
> You glance back
|
||
> “Next time you’re under there, tell your little magic tree friend I said hi.”
|
||
>He taps the pavement with his heel.
|
||
>“Routes change. Product finds new paths. So do other things.
|
||
>You kids aren’t the only ones using that root.”
|
||
> Pip gets in his vehicle, and leaves.
|
||
|
||
# Lunchtime with Soren
|
||
>[!quote] Narration
|
||
>Lunch at Avalon is chaos in slow motion.
|
||
>The courtyard is a patchwork of tables and benches under string lights and a few half-hearted shade canopies. Students cluster in little cliques: mageball jerseys shouting over plays, robed nerds arguing about spell math, arts kids draped over each other in black.
|
||
>Soren sits alone at the far edge, a half-eaten lunch tray in front of her, diary in her bag, jar of fingernails safely tucked away. There’s noise everywhere, but it all sounds a little distant- as if someone turned a pillow over her ears.
|
||
>Across the courtyard, **Millie** moves like she owns the place.
|
||
>She drifts from table to table with a tray balanced on one hip, laughing at some jock’s joke, dropping a little whisper at the student council kids, trading in-jokes with a group of spellcasters.
|
||
>The boys’ eyes follow her. The girls straighten up when she passes—some out of jealousy, some trying to copy the way she carries herself.
|
||
> She tosses her hair and a group at the next table actually sighs.
|
||
> **A beat**
|
||
> From where Soren sits, it's effortless.
|
||
> Every smile Millie gets is one Soren never does. Every glance, every compliment, ever "oh my gods, Millie, you're gorgeous!" lands like a tiny thorn under her skin.
|
||
|
||
Call for a perception/insight check from Soren, on a fail, move on:
|
||
>[!quote] On Success
|
||
> You notice Millie adjusting her hair obsessively. Her eye twitches when someone mentions her math grade.
|
||
|
||
>[!quote] Narration
|
||
> The hum under Soren’s feet—the same buried vibration that’s always there on campus—tightens a notch.
|
||
> A thought that doesn’t sound _like_ her own drifts up, soft as a finger tracing her spine:
|
||
> “Look at her.
|
||
> All that attention for nothing. No blood spilled. No work done. Just hair and teeth and noise.”
|
||
|
||
Let Soren respond- or ignore. The voice pushes more:
|
||
>[!quote] Narration
|
||
>Millie leans in to say something to the boys. They laugh so hard one nearly chokes.
|
||
>**“They’d forget her in a week if she vanished,”** the not-quite-her voice murmurs. **“They wouldn’t forget _you_. Not if you made it… memorable.”**
|
||
|
||
At this point, call for a DC 14 wisdom save.
|
||
|
||
## On success
|
||
>[!quote] Narration
|
||
> You feel your jaw clench so hard your teeth ache. Your fingers dig into the edge of the table.
|
||
> You feel your jaw clench so hard your teeth ache. Your fingers dig into the edge of the table.
|
||
> And then you don’t.
|
||
> The urge hits the wall of your will and shatters, leaving you shaking.
|
||
|
||
Ask what's in her hand- fork, cup, pencil.
|
||
>[!quote] Narration
|
||
>You look down. The [fork/cup/pencil] in your hand is **warped**—bent nearly in half, or spider-webbed with cracks.
|
||
>The plastic of the tray under your palm is melted in the shape of your fingers, little scorch marks tracing the outline.
|
||
>A kid at the next table glances over, mouth half full of food, sees the scorched handprints on the tray, and very deliberately turns back to their friends like they saw nothing.
|
||
>The voice clicks its tongue, disappointed, but there’s a thread of respect in it this time:
|
||
>**“You pulled back,”** it says. **“Most don’t. That’s… interesting.”**
|
||
>“We’ll try again later.”
|
||
> Millie laughs at something, looks vaguely in Soren’s direction without really _seeing_ her, and moves on.
|
||
> For now, shes untouched. Soren is not.
|
||
## On Failure
|
||
>[!quote] Narration
|
||
>The hum under your feet swells—like the ground itself just took a slow, deep breath.
|
||
>The voice doesn’t whisper this time; it **leans in**:
|
||
>“Enough watching.
|
||
>Do something.”
|
||
>Your muscles move before your caution does. You know you’re going to act. You cannot just sit here and let it pass.
|
||
>“You feel the dam break. You are _going_ to hurt Millie in some way. You still choose _how_.
|
||
>Does Soren go for her reputation, her body, or her stuff?”
|
||
### Social
|
||
>[!quote] Narration
|
||
>You stand up, tray abandoned, and cross the courtyard before you’ve fully decided what you’re going to say.
|
||
>Millie turns as you approach, already smiling like she assumes you’re here to compliment her.
|
||
>The words that come out of your mouth are not polite. They are **surgical**.
|
||
>You pick the exact thing she’s insecure about—her roots showing under perfect hair dye, her last relationship, the scholarship she _barely_ got—and you say it out loud, in front of everyone, in a way that sounds almost casual.
|
||
|
||
Break for Soren to improv
|
||
|
||
>[!quote] Narration
|
||
>The words come out laced with something more than just spite—there’s a little twist of **psychic pressure**, like a minor Vicious Mockery that hits _too_ hard.
|
||
>Millie’s face goes white, then red. Conversations around you stutter and stop.
|
||
|
||
- Millie runs off
|
||
- Rumors begin yesterday
|
||
- Soren's social status falls- she's scary.
|
||
Let Soren say some nasty things.
|
||
### Physical
|
||
>[!quote] Narration
|
||
>You don’t even remember standing up. You just know that suddenly you’re walking behind Millie’s table, hand half-raised, energy crawling up your fingers.
|
||
>The voice directs your eyes to a loose flagstone, a condensation-slick patch of pavement, the cluster of drinks on the edge of her table.
|
||
>“Trip her. Spill it. Break the moment. Mark her.”
|
||
>You “accidentally” knock into the table with just a bit too much force.
|
||
>The cups launch. A full tray of food and drink goes airborne in slow motion before crashing into Millie—drenching her in soup and soda, knocking her backwards off the bench.
|
||
>There’s a yelp, a sick thud as she hits the ground, and a chorus of gasps.
|
||
- Soren walks away.
|
||
- Staff notices
|
||
- Whispers begin
|
||
- The voice says “Better. See how easy it is to bring her down?”
|
||
### Stuff
|
||
>[!quote] Narration
|
||
>You stay seated, watching, until Millie sets her bag down on the edge of a bench. It’s nice—enchanted leather, expensive, with a little charm hanging off the zipper.
|
||
> Your fingers curl under the table. The hum in your bones spikes.
|
||
> **“Touch the root,”** the voice says. **“Let it through.”**
|
||
> You exhale and let a thread of that pressure slip out toward the bag.
|
||
> There’s a soft _pop_ and the smell of burned fabric. Millie shrieks as the charm on her bag explodes in a shower of sparks, the leather blackening, straps snapping. Half her books and her phone, mirror, and makeup case spill out, cracked and smoking.
|
||
|
||
## Transition out
|
||
|
||
>[!quote] Narration
|
||
>As the scene erupts—shouting, people rushing to help, eyes turning to you—the hum under your skin **fades**, satisfied.
|
||
>The voice sighs like it just had a good meal:
|
||
>>“See? You don’t have to be invisible.
|
||
>>They’ll remember this.”
|
||
|
||
>[!quote] Narration
|
||
>– Some kids stare at you like you're a bomb with legs.
|
||
>– Some pretend they saw nothing.
|
||
>– Millie is suddenly the center of a (different) kind of attention.
|
||
>For the rest of the afternoon, the day limps on:
|
||
>– Soren catches half-hidden looks and hurried whispers in every hallway.
|
||
>– Ben feels his stone in his pocket like a weight, every flicker of the lights making him think of B2 and the Circle.
|
||
>– Joe hears Pappy’s plastic joints creak every time he sits down, like the little figure is restless.
|
||
>When the final bell rings, normal students get to go home.
|
||
>You three get told to report to the one place on campus that hums loudest with that buried heartbeat.
|
||
# Safety Drills
|
||
Run this after school- Soren's lunch comes first.
|
||
>[!quote] Narration
|
||
>The sun’s low over the Mageball field, throwing long shadows across the enchanted turf. The faint shimmer of the grid’s magic hangs over it like heat on asphalt.
|
||
>Estrada’s already out there, whistle around his neck, clipboard in hand. There’s no full team—just him, **Elias** with a diagnostic crystal, and the three of you.
|
||
>“There they are,” Estrada mutters when you approach. “My favorite unauthorized subcontractors.”
|
||
>He points the clipboard at Joe.
|
||
>“Football. Since you love this field so much you tried to crawl into its arteries, you’re gonna help me figure out if it still works.”
|
||
>He jerks a thumb at Ben and Soren.
|
||
>“You two? Congratulations, you’re practice dummies and live telemetry. Don’t die.”
|
||
|
||
Let them react. Then:
|
||
>[!quote] Narration
|
||
>Elias, standing by a glowing console at the sideline, calls out:
|
||
“We’ve got the **B2 segment** dialed down, but there’s still some weird latency on the echo enchantments. I want to see how it behaves under real movement.”
|
||
>Estrada claps his hands once.
|
||
>“Perfect. Joe, you’re running a basic drive. Ben, you’re playing defense-just try to slow him down. Soren, if you’ve got any non-lethal magic that makes things ‘interesting’, feel free to spice the air.
|
||
>We need stress on the system.”
|
||
>“Line up at the twenty,” Estrada says. “On my whistle.”
|
||
|
||
>[!quote] To Joe:
|
||
>You jog out to the twenty-yard line, the turf springy under your cleats. There’s that faint thrumming under your feet again—the same heartbeat you’ve felt since B2.
|
||
>As you take your stance, something in your pocket goes **cold**. Then burning hot.
|
||
>The little action figure of your grandfather—Pappy—presses against your leg like it’s trying to burrow into your skin.
|
||
>A voice that isn’t quite your own grumbles at the back of your skull:
|
||
>“Feet narrower. You’re standing like a tourist. Bend the knees, boy. Enemy doesn’t wait while you pose for the yearbook.”
|
||
|
||
Let Joe decide if this is out loud or in his head. Explain the mechanics to Joe:
|
||
>[!quote] To Joe
|
||
> “You have a choice:
|
||
> – You can try to **keep Pappy out** and run this drill on your own.
|
||
> – Or you can **let him ‘help’**—give him partial control in exchange for a better run.
|
||
> If you let him in, I’ll give you **advantage** on your Athletics / attack roll for the play, but Pappy will absolutely say or do something through you.”
|
||
|
||
## Joe fights against Pappy:
|
||
>[!quote] To Joe:
|
||
>You grit your teeth and mentally shove the voice back.
|
||
>The figure burns in your pocket, then goes numb, like someone letting go of your throat but not walking away.
|
||
|
||
Joe makes an Athletics check
|
||
>[!quote] The Run
|
||
>Estrada blows the whistle. You explode off the line-
|
||
>or try to.
|
||
>Halfway through your first step, the world stutters. For a split second, the field around you isn’t grass at all, but a **rocky slope under a grey sky**, the lines replaced by trenches, the goalposts by broken trees.
|
||
> Ben and Soren flicker in and out of different positions, like a bad recording skipping frames.
|
||
> Then it snaps back and you nearly trip over your own feet.
|
||
> On a good roll, he recovers. On a bad role, he dives.
|
||
|
||
>[!quote] Estrada
|
||
> “What the hell was that? You move like you’re running two plays at once.”
|
||
|
||
>[!quote] Elias
|
||
>“Field’s echo enchantment is… desynced. It’s trying to overlay ‘expected movement’ and real movement at once. Maybe B2’s rerouting signals through-”
|
||
>He cuts himself off.
|
||
|
||
>[!quote] Pappy (inside Joe's head)
|
||
> **“Should’ve let me drive,”** he mutters. **“You don’t ignore your CO on the field, boy. People get killed that way.”**
|
||
|
||
## Joe Lets Pappy In
|
||
>[!quote] Narration
|
||
>You let your grip on your body loosen just a hair.
|
||
> The cold-hot knife at your thigh slides upward—not physically, but in your awareness—until it settles behind your eyes. The world sharpens. Colors flatten. The crowd, the bleachers, even Ben and Soren fade into shapes and movement lines.
|
||
> The Mageball field dissolves into a different arena superimposed over it:
|
||
> – The yard lines turn into broken ground and trench edges.
|
||
> – The goal line becomes the lip of a ravine.
|
||
> – Ben is briefly not Ben at all, but a soldier in the wrong uniform, silhouetted against muzzle flashes.
|
||
> **“There you are,”** Pappy says. **“Enemy at ten o’clock. Wind left to right. Hit him like he owes you the rest of your life.”**
|
||
|
||
Have Joe roll athletics with advantage.
|
||
### On success:
|
||
>[!quote] Narration
|
||
>Estrada’s whistle shrieks. Your body moves **before** you decide to move.
|
||
>You explode off the line like you’ve been doing this for twenty years. Footwork perfect, hips low, shoulders tight.
|
||
> Ben barely has time to swear before you’re on him—
|
||
|
||
Ask Ben if he tries to dodge or brace. Either way:
|
||
>[!quote] To Joe:
|
||
>You slam into him with a form-tackle so clean it would make any coach cry: shoulder in the gut, arms wrapping, drive through the hips.
|
||
>Ben goes airborne for a moment, then **crashes** to the turf. The breath whooshes out of him in a strangled croak.
|
||
|
||
>[!quote] Estrada
|
||
> “Holy—! That’s what I’m talking about! That’s a hit!”
|
||
>“That… was some technique, kid. Where’d you learn to hit like that? I’ve got seniors who don’t line up that clean.”
|
||
|
||
|
||
>[!quote] Pappy (Through Joe)
|
||
>As you’re still half on top of Ben, you feel your lips curl without your permission.
|
||
>In a gravelly tone that is **not** your own, you hear yourself say:
|
||
>“Enemy neutralized. Requesting next target, sir.”
|
||
>The words hang in the sudden quiet.
|
||
|
||
>[!quote] To Joe:
|
||
>The world snaps back to normal detail. The action figure in your pocket goes slack, just a hunk of plastic again. You’re left with a pounding heart, dirt on your face, and everyone staring.
|
||
|
||
>[!quote] Elias
|
||
> “Joe… who was that voice just now?”
|
||
## Transition Out
|
||
|
||
>[!quote] Estrada
|
||
>“All right, circus is over,” Estrada says, blowing his whistle again. “Good hit, questionable vibe. We’re done for today before one of you actually dies.”
|
||
>He points at Joe.
|
||
>“You. Whatever you just did? Learn to turn it on without sounding like you’re channeling a dead sergeant. I don’t need root-possessed linebackers on my record.”
|
||
>He points at Ben and Soren.
|
||
>“You two, ice up and try not to pick fights with haunted toys.”
|
||
|
||
>[!quote] Elias, to Joe
|
||
>“Joe,” Elias says quietly, eyes on the crystal still flickering with residual data. “Next time… if you feel him pushing like that again, maybe tell me before you let him drive, okay?”
|
||
>“Because whatever’s talking through that action figure? The field heard it. And so did the root.”
|
||
|
||
>[!quote] Narration
|
||
>Practice breaks up in a haze of sore legs and awkward silence.
|
||
>Estrada stalks off toward the locker rooms, already yelling at some imaginary future team. Elias hangs back to shut down the console, the glow of the diagnostics reflecting in his tired eyes.
|
||
>
|
||
>You’re cut loose.
|
||
>– Joe heads toward the parking lot with Pappy heavy in his pocket and the trench still half-overlaid on the field in his mind.
|
||
>– Soren peels off toward the buses, the memory of Millie’s face playing on loop, the root’s approval still buzzing faintly in her bones.
|
||
>– Ben starts toward home on autopilot, shoes scuffing the cracked pavement, until he remembers the messages waiting on his stone.
|
||
|
||
>By the time the sun’s dropping behind the hills and the campus lights blink on one by one, most Avalon kids are at dinner, or practice, or home.
|
||
>Ben?
|
||
>Ben has one more appointment today.
|
||
|
||
## Epilogue
|
||
|
||
>[!quote] Narration
|
||
>That night, Avalon looks almost normal from the outside.
|
||
>The dorm windows glow. Streetlamps buzz. The grid under the valley hums a little too loud, but only three people on campus know what that means.
|
||
>**Soren** lies awake staring at the ceiling, replaying the courtyard on a loop—Millie’s face, the looks, the way the hum surged when she finally did something.
|
||
>Every time she almost drifts off, she feels a little echo of that vibration under her bed and hears a thought that isn’t quite hers:
|
||
>“Next time, don’t hesitate.”
|
||
>**Joe** sits on the edge of his bed, Pappy’s action figure in his hands.
|
||
>For a long minute it’s just cheap plastic. Then the room goes too-quiet, like someone turned down the outside world, and that gravel voice mutters from somewhere behind his eyes:
|
||
>“Good hit. We’ll do better next time.”
|
||
>The Mageball field and that other battlefield overlap in his head until he’s not entirely sure which one he belongs on.
|
||
>**Ben** counts the cash in his drawer and the grams in his stash and realizes he’s not just playing pretend dealer anymore.
|
||
>There’s a real boss somewhere down the line who now expects him to be the guy with campus intel.
|
||
>Every time the house creaks, he imagines headlights sweeping the front of that nice canyon driveway and wonders whether he’s more afraid of Pip showing up… or Elias finding out he didn’t call.
|
||
>Far below all of you, the root shifts around the dead branch of B2.
|
||
>It has lost one pair of eyes and quietly picked up three new ones.
|
||
>Oversight is gone.
|
||
>For now, the tree is watching _you_.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|