A number of Voyagers were still gathered in that place, looking at the bizarre gigantic telescope that the sorcerer had manipulated in someway to begin his last gameboard.
Nearly all of them who were here were here because of the rumors surrounding that device and this fragment. An eccentric territory lord who suddenly shifted fields of study, becoming the Sorcerer of Curiosity.
His rearranged magical compendium had allegedly lead him to develop quite the frightening ability, and while his intentions seemed to be harmless for now, he was still a Witch wielding strength that could topple some of the Sea’s most powerful Voyagers, so many had come to check the truthfulness of these rumors.
Suddenly a voice came from behind the gathered group. “It seems you ache to see it in action.”
To normal beings such a thing would be cause for great shock, but Territory Lords are often capable of such ignorance towards the limitations of space so almost all of the gathered party wasn’t too frightened.
Now he was at the machine itself, seemingly adjusting some of it’s settings. “A game should be a good way to show it off, right? A standard battle of Red and Blue should do nicely.”
He pushed a button and the device swung around, aiming at an almost randomly chosen part of the ceiling here. It hummed and it whirred until eventually all of the gathered Voyager’s became aware of a tale that had just begun to unravel on the plane beneath them.
At the Sorcerer’s hip quite the number of red blades began to appear. The rumors appeared to be true. He was capable of observing the truth of other tales without their master’s permission. For any being that exists via illusions the confirmation of the bizarre sounding idle chatter was quite worrying.
“Now then, gathered Voyagers! Let us turn our attention downwards, and chortle at the mysteries of a lower plain.”
And then the story began.
[quote]My parents aren’t home, and it’s getting really late. The rain patters against the window as I toss today’s newspaper in the recycling bin. It said something about a sword obsessed serial killer, although that might have been my imagination, I wasn’t really trying to look at the headline.
I look down to the key in my hand, and a red light gathers at my lips as I speak: “This is the sole key to this house, there is no way to enter or exit this house while it is locked, and using this key is the only means through which it can be unlocked.”
Of course such knowledge wouldn’t be worth much, were it not for the fact that this house is currently locked.
I hold out the key, and I crush it with my bare hands.
I speak again, the tears beginning to gather at my eyes: “Once this key is damaged it is completely impossible to ever use it again.”
My hand lashes out, knocking something important down from the table in front of me. Important to her. But by the time it disappears into the darkness I’ve already remembered how unimportant it really was, how unimportant it had really become, quickly forgetting about it.
I only barely registered it, but it felt as if that thing I knocked down, whatever it had been, was rather important to the truth of this case. I had more pressing matters, as my red lips carved words of the same color into the air.
“There are only two people in this house. Myself and my sister.”
So much knowledge was rushing through my mind, all things I couldn’t explain, and all of it was colored in that tinge of red. I drowned in my senses, who knows how much time passed? When I opened my eyes, I spoke:
“At this precise instant my sister has been murdered inside this house, and she was killed by someone else in the same room as her wielding a bladed weapon.”
“I have not killed my sister.”
And then I look toward the section of the floor the broken key probably flew towards. I can’t see it, but it’s probably in that patch of darkness. Back to my hand.
Floor. Person? No. Just another pointless knick-knack.
A low chuckle escapes my mouth, which devolves into an uproarious fit of laughter.
Now there’s something warm spreading across my chest. I did decide to go through with it after all, this is something I should have expected. Still, I figure someone ought to know that hilarious thing I just realised.
I touch my blood and began writing on the ground in that color of truth, that which no one can deny. My message is simple, the final thing I write as my life slips away:
“I lack the strength to damage that key with my bare hands.”[/quote]
Once the tale was concluded an amused smirk rose to the Sorcerer’s face.
“It’s not usually my style, [color=red]but this particular mystery is fair play. That is to say that demanding foreshadowing is a move available for my side if I wish to deny your theories.[/color]”
As he spoke these words a magnificent red shield appeared on his arm.
“And it looks like shuffling the reds randomly (aside from the ones that clearly refer to time) would likely cause a logic error. And finally, because I know you’re going to bring it up otherwise Crimson: No split personalities are relevant to the outcome of this game!”
“And so, let us begin how these games almost always begin. How?”