The Fruit From The Endless Branch

The Fruit From The Endless Branch
Date 2086-02-01 GM Tyneman Location The Metaplane of Man Status Threat Level: High
Factions Involved
ShadowHaven רַמַּא "Bud"	Dedicants of the Apple of the Great Tree
Alkali	Assorted Dedicant Spirits Blossom
Casualties and losses
None	The Dedicant's Externality

But say I could repent and could obtaine By Act of Grace my former state; how soon Would higth recall high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have peirc'd so deep: Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall: so should I purchase deare Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as farr From granting hee, as I from begging peace: All hope excluded thus, behold in stead Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind created, and for him this World. So farewel Hope, and with Hope farewel Fear, Farewel Remorse: all Good to me is lost - Paradise Lost, Book 4, lines 92-109

Summary

Alkali journeys into the metaplane of man and forms a pact with a fallen angel, carving its name upon himself in exchange for time and knowledge.

Background

Micah, better known in the runner community as Alkali, is dying. He has been dying for some time, now. His lungs are imperfect, ravaged by cancer, and his frailty is a constant obstacle on the road to the divine. This cannot stand.

The Beginning

It is a dreary, uneventful Saturday evening and Alkali is taking a well-deserved break. In his cramped apartment, he surrounds himself in arcane tomes and texts, perusing occult thesis's. His last set of jobs have had him facing crowds of toxic cultists and infiltrating Vory gambling dens. The change of pace is much appreciated. Except as he turns the page, he stumbles upon something out of place. A strange sigil, two interlocking circles, one within the other. It glows softly with golden light, much like a light he had seen once before. Adjusting his glasses, he quickly identifies it as a spirits marker, a lifeline that would guide him within the metaplanes.

Quickly, he readies his preparations for astral travel. Drugs are imbibed, alchemical preparations are readied and a ritual circle, sketched with ink atop paper in the center of his apartment, empowers his willpower. Alkali sits within the circle, takes a deep, ragged breath.

Then, his spirit rises out of his body. His soul yearns for the metaplanes, for the place beyond, but there remains a single barrier arresting his ascent to the initiate horizon.

The Dweller

Alkali enters the space beyond and becomes aware of a great entity, miles high, towering above him. Beyond it is a nigh, endless void, starstuff stretching into the ether. The mage begins to walk.

First, the entity asks to see his past failures. His weakness. His shame. From the depths of Micah's psyche, a scene forms. A petty argument between siblings, both exhausted and dying and poor, killing themselves for a dream that felt so far away. Shouting at one another over nothing.

Micah journeys onward across the void.

Next, the entity probes into the depths of his present. Seen are two Micah's, one of pure magic and one of pure flesh. One ascends to the heavens, growing stronger and purer while the other wilts and fades, sacrificed to the altar of his greater half. Health and breath have been cast aside to assure might. The result of cutting off a limb to secure the survival of the whole again and again and again.

Halfway there, now.

Finally, he sees a picture of the future. Micah walks along a wooded road. Some is the same. His hair and face are the same. His crucifix and ribbon. New are the robes and staff. New are the countless spirit markers he bears, connecting him to powerful beings. Even though he seems to be the same age, something about him is older. Wiser. Stronger. And yet Micah knows that this version of himself has given something up to get here, has left something behind.

He crosses the abyss.

From the beyond, a voice asks for his name. He answers, simple and clear.

Micah.

The Metaplane of Man

The metaplane of man sweeps out before him. Mighty skyscrapers next to castle towers, city and civilization of every creed all piled in next to one another. Spirits rushing back and forth along a great, incandescent boulevard. It is beautiful. Micah feels the tug of the spirit's symbol and lets it pull him along, past the towers and bridges and trains and every other scrap of metahumanity that reflects upon the astral realm.

Eventually, it takes him far away from the imagined sprawl. To a lonely dock overlooking a river. Quiet. Serene. He steps out onto the dock.

And is met by the most beautiful spirit he has ever seen.

Blinding light. Shimmering star. Heavenly. Radiant.

He is so blindsided that he completely fails to perceive its aura.

The spirit introduces itself to him, tells him it called him there, knew of him. Knew of him by name. The spirit's, blood backed and fallen, offered him a pact. Eternal life and patronship, should he bring the spirit an apple from the thousand-story tree.

Alkali, true to his nature, bargains. He tests the spirits nature by asking it of its knowledge of faith and he negotiates for a single bite of the apple. The spirit speaks lowly of faith, that it is a pointless thing in comparison to knowledge.

The deal is too good to pass up. He risks making terrible enemies of the ones that hunt the spirit. He risks dissolving his sense of self by taking on a patron.

But life eternal cannot be denied. He agrees to the task.

Game Quotes

"Yeah but it's my contact and my lore, he's a twink I decree it." - Tyneman