idolpro | Vergil's heart game r3

You feel weak, your body won't move no matter how you try, and you are falling, away from everything you know and love. Away from everything you need to accomplish. If you could just reach out, maybe you could hold on to it, claw your way back. But it's a useless endeavour, you fall unconscious, and your mind goes blank except for poetry and a familiar voice.

O mother Enitharmon, wilt thou bring forth other sons?
To cause my name to vanish, that my place may not be found,
For I am faint with travail,
Like the dark cloud disburden'd in the day of dismal thunder.

My roots are brandish'd in the heavens, my fruits in earth beneath
Surge, foam and labour into life, first born and first consum'd!
Consumed and consuming!
Then why shouldst thou, accursed mother, bring me into life?

You wake on the ground in a cave, cold, wet, and sticky. It smells of rotting flesh. Your objective is clear, but you can't recall a name or face. Nothing else about your memory of him is changed, but for some reason the name "Vergil" just won't come to you, and you couldn't describe how he looks if your life depended on it. But at least your body starts to respond to your will, slowly regaining enough strength to carry on.

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[oh, I hate this already. he smears some blood from his face and recites]

"So sung a little clod of clay, trodden with the cattle's feet, but a pebble of the brook, warbled out these metres meet..."

[waits for a response]

"Love seeketh only self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joys in another's loss of ease,
And builds a Hell in Heaven's despite."

You're really good at this.

[being a nerd is good for some things]

Alright... there must be a way back.

[going over to... look at these statues, even though he does not want to]

They don't actually have eyes, no more than blank carvings anyway, and yet it's as if they follow you like the Mona Lisa. With the unmistakable feeling that they're judging you. They stare right into your soul. Are you worthy? Likely not. But you gain 1 Perseverance for enduring the scrutiny.

As you get close to one, those eyes form slit pupils, as if they're carved in real time, fangs growing over its bottom lip.

"You... We know that smell. You have the stench of a traitor. Sparda, that treacherous cur.

"...But you are not the same one. Another of Sparda's pathetic bloodline?"

[raven can't help but sneer]

The very same. How astute of you. Have you figured out that you're just the figments of someone's imagination yet, or have I spoiled the surprise for you?

"Insolent. We are no figment, a creation of the mind or not, We exist." Don't patronise it.

[I'LL PATRONIZE ALL I LIKE]

By all means, continue to tell yourself that.

"Bite your tongue, mortal. We know what you seek, We may even offer assistance for a price. If you do not anger Us."

And what price is that?

"Our name was stolen ages upon ages ago. Return it to Us."

And what will you give me if I do?

"We were here, We watched when a failure of a challenger was felled here. Your reward will be his blade. Is it not what you seek?"

[narrows his eyes and says nothing for a moment]

... Show it to me. Prove you have it, and I'll find your name.

"It is not in Our possession. We know where you will find it. Now give Us Our name."

And how do I know you won't just dispose of me as soon as you have what you want? A demon's name is a powerful thing.

"We have nothing to prove to you. If you insist upon this standstill, then leave Us, wander the ocean until you are weary enough to drown."

Well, if you're going to be like that, fine. I can be charitable.

Where would I find your name?

"Where does one find a name? We would accept a new one."

[thinks about it for a few moments]

Enitharmon.

"...That will do."

The ground shakes as the half drowned head lifts and is returned to its body along with each missing part, every crack restored into a living statue. It looks just like an angel, but that foreboding feeling of demonic power grows a thousand times over. This may not have been wise. But the demon points further down the way.

"That is where We watched the pathetic display from Our resting place. There you will find the blade. Now go."

[raven watches it for a few moments, and then wordlessly heads down in that direction]

It's not great, Raven. It feels very powerful, too much so. But that's not your problem now!

You wade through the blood, taking more effort the deeper it becomes. It's a lot of the same thing, rubble, creepy statues staring at you, and blood. Gain 1 Perseverance for your efforts!

Just when you start to feel too exhausted to keep trudging through, there's something sticking straight up from the lake. Just a glimmer of gold on the end of some sort of stick or rod, submerged but for a couple inches.

[i will persevere!!!11

of course, when raven sees it, he stops]

... there you are.

[he goes over to grab the handle and try to pull it out; yamato may not be as heavy as the devil sword sparda, but the capacity to wield it requires power of a different sort]

The moment you touch it everything around you changes. The blood and statues gone in an instant and in its place a void of bright blue light, almost blinding. There's nothing else here - except a tall, indistinct figure standing a little ways off, his back to you. He stares upward, quiet a moment before speaking loud enough to be heard.

What are you searching for? ...I wonder if there's any point asking you.

[his first instinct is to call out vergil's name--but it fades in his mouth, and he makes no sound]

...

Don't you know?

Re: ROOM OF FALLEN ONES

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