科拉克斯堡(无图版) -> 异域镇魂曲 -> 痛苦
整理者：hujun4501
1、不可避免的疼痛
这个经验是短暂而强烈的：在炙热而流动的熔岩边，与另一个稍显得更强壮的人打斗，你拿武器的那只手被缓慢而无情地压近岩浆。汗珠在渗出时即瞬间蒸发；你手背上的毛发在令人生畏的高温上熏烧且变黑。最后，你因身体上的痛苦而发出的嚎叫声回荡在你周遭的峡谷壁上，你的手和手中握著的斧头掉入岩浆中，并在痛苦难忍的几秒钟内烧成灰烬。
2、温柔的爱
你可以感觉到自己用脚尖站立著，与某个人相对地紧紧靠著。柔软的唇轻拂过你的唇，给你最温柔的吻…你的心在你的胸腔中颤动，你感觉自己似乎可以坠落并漂浮到太空中…
3、令人心智麻木的无聊
这个经验顶多不过数分钟，不过感觉上像是过了*数小时*…在法印城大学中的一间极干燥又满是灰尘的讲堂里，一堂冗长而无聊的课。你环顾著偌大的教室，希望能被某人看到并向他做个鬼脸，但其他学生不是睡著了，就是无精打采地凝视著房间。你丢下你的羽毛笔，拾起它，又将它丢下…只是为了找些事情来做。你考虑要用羽毛笔戳自己的眼睛，只是为了确定自己的感觉没有因为这种不可置信的无聊而完全麻木…
4、十分惊奇
你迟疑地张开嘴并浅浅地吸了一口气…水像冰凉的空气一样流进你的肺。你微笑著并深深地吸了一口气，当你缓缓地沈入港湾底时，你目瞪口呆地四处张望著，五颜六色的鱼在色彩艳丽的珊瑚间穿梭著。当你的脚触及底部时，你向上凝视著你的船的龙骨，并发出欣喜的笑声，一串大大的气泡迅速冒向水面…
5、强烈的不耐烦
你站著和狮钥守护者亚曼那斯用极其缓慢的速度争辩著，只为了决定你的冒险是否重要到必须让他将神器交与你看管。这整个经验是一个十分痛苦的历程…他所说的每一个字都要伴随著一个意味深长的停顿，在让你说话之前，他的每一个论点都要重复好几次。你提出你的论点…然后等待、等待、再*等待*，他才能提出他的反驳。对於你每一次所提出犀利的论点…都必须再次等待那拖长声调、曲折又似乎永无止尽的反驳。你要极其忍耐，才能不让自己砍掉这个恶魔青面獠牙的头，并且从它痉挛的尸体上夺走钥匙…
6、疲倦的投降
你蜷缩著被雪覆盖著，发抖、打颤著，没什么指望能被寻见，只能尽可能地保住一点点余温。你奋力地睁开双眼以保持清醒，你开始发觉到你渐渐失去了手臂的知觉…腿部的知觉…感觉不到你脸上的冰…疲累、太疲累了，你最后只能听天由命。你闭起双眼，感觉到丧失力气，眼泪还未从你痛苦的眼睛落到脸颊时，就已注定结成了冰，只能苦涩地期望睡去。
7、超自然的性欲
你发现自己正在和一个女妖交合，她是如此脱俗的美丽，即使是她恶魔的角和鞭打著的尾巴都使你无法暂停。她在你的下方喘息著…你是这么渴望著她，似乎你就是为著这个简单的目的存在著。当你的生命在一个满布星光的爆炸中从你爆发出来，你听到女妖在将你榨乾时发出快乐的笑声，只留下你丧失精力的躯壳…
8、精神变态：
这是一个奇怪且令人心神不宁的经验…你用刀尖压住某人的咽喉，你的手重压在他们的脸上，堵住了他们的嘴和急促的呼吸，你开始慢慢的戳刺他们…。刀子凹陷了他们的皮肤，最后撕裂了他们，血从你的前臂温热而快速地流下，窒息的声音，感觉到令人毛骨悚然、反常的快乐…而它就此结束。
9、腐化的嫉妒
当那位盔甲如光亮的银色镜子般闪亮，一头金发的年轻英雄再次进入你的酒馆时，你感到你的唇部扭曲。他将他的天鹅绒披风挂在墙壁的挂勾上，他用海洋中的宝石般的双眼环视著你的老顾客们，他的微笑使服务的侍女们倾倒。你放下正在清洗的大杯子，并大声的哼了一声，想像著把他胡乱地旋转并塞进伞桶中会是什么情况…
10、充满仇恨的嫌恶
因痛苦而怨恨的泪水盈满你细狭的黄色双眼，你从地上拾起你那长著鳞片的红色小翅膀的破烂残骸。你恭顺地退出古罗巴的书房，在紧闭的嘴唇下，你咬紧了如针般的牙齿。
是，你只是一个史比那刚－恶魔里最小的一种，但是一个恶魔也没有理由因为不喜欢你带给他的口信而扯掉你的翅膀！现在你的主人会做什么？他肯定不会对古罗巴说什么，而一个没有翅膀的史比那刚还有什么用处？你可能会被扔入「无能」恶魔的坑中！
复仇是不可能的，不能做什么的你只能抖动著你长著爪子的拳头，用你整个小小的、冷酷而晦暗的恶魔心所能有的嫌恶，憎恨著古罗巴…
11、纯粹的欢愉
你和其他十二个舞者随著木精灵跳跃的节庆音乐节奏在四处舞动、跳跃著，在森林中旋转穿梭著、像旋转的狂舞者般跳跃著、尽情的欢笑。当欢欣的森林居民在你身旁欢呼、拍掌、跳舞时，精灵在你们头上的空中飞舞著，留下拖曳著的五彩灿烂的光辉…
12、受惊的愉快心情
你扭过头去察看用皮绳绑在你背后的那个大大的新奇玩意儿…一副四片像球拍般的翅膀向外伸展著，每一片都由皮革拉紧固定在柳条的骨架上制成。从你落脚的断崖这边望过去，穿过几哩外虚无的空气，狄尔盖尔的飘浮要塞不过像是灰蓝色天空中一个极小的班点罢了。「这就是*每个人*在风之异界上旅行的方式，」他们说：「这是很简单的。」你嘻嘻地笑著，向后退了几步，从断崖助跑跳进下面凉爽的风中，把你的胃留在身后。当你的翅膀忽然间掌握住空气，向上翱翔至元素界的顶端时，一种惊人而急速的战栗流窜过你的全身…
13、坚强的决心
这整个会堂已成为废墟，并且仍在被破坏中，数以打计的战士在绝望的挣扎中用武器、致命而神秘的魔法，和他们自己彼此击打著，为了能够存活到最后。刺鼻的绿色羽毛状烟云从你慢吞吞爬出的松垮尸体堆中升起，你仅仅逃离了某种恶魔咒语的报复。横过这段路，穿过战斗的人群和你前面血腥的战场，你那一品脱的蜂蜜酒正原封不动地放在右上方的桌子上。就算你得杀了喧闹的小酒馆中最后一个老主顾，你也要把它拿回来。
14、全然的迷惑
你从一个心神不宁的梦中醒来，并发现你在自己潮湿的洞穴中变成了一个颇小、有四肢的肉肉的东西。你躺在自己似乎全无保护的无壳的背上，当你抬起没有了原本的触角的小头时，你稍稍地看到自己桃红色的腹部部分不再覆盖著惯有的黑而硬短毛，而是柔软而卷曲的毛发。你那两只－只有两只！－脚从你躯干的底部长出，而不是在你的腹部上。与你的身体相较起来，他们显得粗而难看，软绵绵地躺在那儿，无法独自将你支撑起来，你必须全神贯注才能移动它，你到底*发生*了什么事？
1、可怕的懊悔
当你的旗舰「神锤」因著魔法的风漂浮在阿加汉大陆的上方时，你站在它的甲板上。这大陆的景色因著你的舰队的炮击而紊乱、战栗著，一千艘船舰的大炮如同复仇心重的众神般用魔法的炮火猛烈炮轰。几分钟前震波开始击中你的船舰，伴随著持续而隆隆的低沈声音，一种持续的震动使整艘古代的船舰和你的每一根骨头颤动。当陆地的群山开始下沈而缘海向大气中翻滚时，你的大副走来站在你身旁。
「上将…请容许我发言。」
你点头表示同意，当你猜测著他的问题时，你感到胃部下沈。
「我的君主…很抱歉，但是要如何做？我们有什么权利？十亿个生命…」
你无法眼睁睁地看著国家的首都鲁莫斯在十二哩外蒸发成极热的天然气云并不断扩散，你没有转向他，只说：「非伦大副，如果你知道亚加来提斯那超乎任何人能理解的背叛行为…那么你就会知道。你会谈论我们歼灭他们的权利吗？我们没有权利让他们存活。」
「但是…阁下？他们全都是叛徒吗？当然，在数千人中有数百人。有多少无辜的人－」
「住口！不准再这么说－我们的国王已经发话了，他已做了决定。我们所肩负的任务是可怕的，不能有任何质疑。这里只有*义务*，没有同情的空间，更没有自责的余地。」
你们两个人沈默地站了一阵子，看著阿加汉的最后几分钟。最后你叹了一口气…那低沈、结巴的气息听起来似乎有什么东西在你里面破碎了。在你那半边已毁坏的脸的黄铜色面罩下，你枯死的眼睛开始流泪…
「非伦…我的朋友…我要你明白。当我向下看著我在这里做的事，如果我曾经想过我所做的事…我*真的*做的事…我会发狂。这样的行为…痛苦会将我击败、毁坏。所以，非伦大副，阿加汉必须*没有*无辜的人…没有母亲、没有孩童、没有*人*，只有叛徒。那些卑鄙、狡诈的叛徒，他们活该受到我们神圣王愤怒的猛攻。你了解吗？」
「是的…我的君主。」
「很好。下去吧…我想单独留在这里。」
「遵命，上将。」非伦低头向你鞠躬并回到甲板下，留下你站在一个文明的终局。
2、震惊和翻腾的高涨复仇情绪
你站在诸界的下方区域的某处，一个地板是锤平的铜、顶上是黄铜的闷热地方。在这里，罪犯－恳求者的尸体在这个可怕的地方用铁制的刺藤和青铜蝎子缠裹，直到他们的尸骨成为完好、灰色的骨灰。
你眯起眼看著地平线，骨灰被一阵阵腐臭的风吹起，并伴随著痛苦的呻吟声。你眼目所及只有平面、带著金属光泽的景色。到处都是骨灰…它刺痛你的眼，覆盖在你口中的黏膜上。你吐口水，用手指将它揩去，但是没有用：那恶劣的味道已经全部充满了你的嘴。
你向下看著手中的「钥匙」…一个微小的白金球状物…并想像著那个男人的脸－当然，现在已经走了－他庄严地向你发誓，你刚经过的魔法门将通到拜托比亚的绿色原野。藉著所有的众神和他们的代表，某人将要为此付出代价。
3、缓慢浮现的恐怖
「它能有多好？」你思考著，仔细的注视著勃艮地葡萄酒。在你桌子的对面，那个喝醉的老人狡猾的笑著。
「先生，请试试看。」他低声的说著，低沈的声音像是枯叶被吹散在粗糙的大卵石街上：「我保证，你会发现它超出你的期待。」
你向他点点头，往空中举起水晶的高脚杯，看著光线穿过深红色的液体。你为了这一酌走了很长的一段路…辛苦地找了这个老人很久…现在你不容许任何事情催赶你。这是品尝的时刻。
你举起杯子靠向唇边，嗅著它的香气。这香气淡淡的、甜甜的、令人陶醉…几乎令人昏炫。你啜饮过无数的酒…在你横越诸界的旅程中，你写过关于它们的味道、香气和制造方法的书。但是它…它应该是传说中的酒。你没有听说过或遇见过曾经喝过它的人。这个传说是荒诞的－没有任何东西的味道比它更棒－不过如果这传说中有一小部分真实，它确实会是好酒。
最后，你十分小心谨慎地饮了一口…
无法置信！难以形容！当那种味道浸润你，你因著欣喜而强烈地发抖著。没有…你过去这么多年来喝过的酒当中，没有像它一样的美味。你看著那个老人，惊吓地发现你的杯子空了－你已一饮而尽。你用手臂擦拭著双眼，不知道什么时候你已哭了起来。
「喜悦的泪水，是吗？」老人柔和的笑著说：「它真是能满足你的舌头，不是吗？或许，你想要再来一些吗？」他再次对你笑著。
「是的…是的，如果可以的话…」
「当然。」他回答，再次倒满了你的酒杯。尽管你尽了最大的努力，你仍然无法遏止地一饮而尽。你将手伸进高脚杯里，企图寻找几滴剩下的、藏在杯底的酒。他好几次倒满你的酒杯，每次你都像一个饥饿的人在宴席上狼吞虎咽般，再次将酒一饮而尽，你无法控制自己，无法克制自己不喝下一杯。
他再次柔和地轻声笑著说：「像这样的美酒…一个男人会为它做任何事，不是吗？」
你不加思索地点点头说：「是的，一个男人会的…」你看著他，他狡猾的笑容突然有了全新的意义。当你开始痛苦地渴望著更多的血红色液体时，一种可怕的感觉开始蔓延。
「是的，是的…」那个老人露齿而笑，他黄色的眼睛闪烁著，说道：「一个男人成为这美酒的*奴隶*后，*会*为了它做任何事…即使是最可怕、最凶恶的行为…就像你将看到的，我最新的奴仆。」
4、难以形容的挫败
现在，你能看到希丰的皇冠正在大理石的台座上闪烁著。它离你不到二十步的距离…有了它，你就能从你那背叛的哥哥手中夺回艾森波里斯的兵权，并复兴你父亲的王国。你因著自己的思想而冷酷地笑著…你那个可怜的哥哥，他竟然愚蠢到留了国王唯一的女儿活口，以为她无法危及到他。
有声音！在那里…发自皮制凉鞋的喀吱声，极清柔的嘶嘶声，就在第三根柱子旁！现在蛇发女妖波拉菲就在附近，她谨慎地看守著很久以前仆役为她偷来的皇冠。你紧紧地用手握著你所信任的祝福过的镖枪，蹲在宽广的柱子后面。有了你的迅捷头盔和百镜盾牌，就算是野兽般的波拉菲也无法和你匹敌。现在，她随时都可能绕过柱子并且看见你。就算她能击破你的盾牌，你的镖枪也会准确地刺向她的喉咙…
突然，你感到肩上被轻轻的一碰。你倒吸了一口气，当然不会有别人，你转过身去面对著蛇发女妖。面对这无可避免的挫败，你只能在你的肺…还有你身体其他的每一个部分…凝固成冰冷、灰色的石头之前，凄厉地失声大叫。
5、极重要的秘密
六个帝国仆人在你前面急速地行动，摆动著宽广的龙宫殿的金色大门。
「女皇万岁！」他们同声地大喊：「万岁！女皇万岁！万岁！」
在门槛的那一边，在你前往雄伟的宝座途中，经过数以打计的忠诚军阀及继承的王族时，他们向你下跪并顺服地将头叩到地上。
当你转过身面对著你的下属，让自己坐上宝座时，你让一抹细微而满足的微笑爬上你那仔细上过妆的嘴唇。你心里只有一个想法：
…这位年轻的女皇，吴村莎，她的身体正衰弱地躺在孤绝井的底部，而你，百华，一个马商的女儿，正泰然自若地动摇著帝国和腐败的吴氏皇朝的根基。
6、化人为狼的巫术
突然察觉到那个时辰差不多要到了，你从床上跳起，飞快地从你的农舍跑进周围的树林。你在黑暗中踌躇著，来到一个月光照耀的小空地…这是你上星期发现的，并且决定今晚要使用它。你匆忙地脱掉衣服，坐在长草中等待。
你闭上双眼，听著蟋蟀一成不变的啁啾声、附近小溪里牛蛙低沈宏亮的呱呱声、风抚过青草时的沙沙声。当别人透过你的双眼看到这些、*体验*这个时刻时会想些什么？下一刻会如何？很快的你就要前往城市，找到一个牧师，让你摆脱咒诅…不过现在，或许还不如充分利用这些东西。你因著期望而摩擦著双手，像个有著胡须和火红毛发的疯子般笑著，在死寂的夜晚，独自裸体地坐在树林空地中。
一种刺痛的感觉掠过你的皮肤，你的感官戏剧性地敏锐了起来。你用鼻子呼吸著，嗅著身旁每一个东西的香气：潮湿的地面、你脱掉的衣服上的汗水、在你身后因害怕而紧攀著大树的负鼠…
你打开眼睛，向下看著你的两只前臂。它们表面上所掠过最轻微的颤动，在微弱的月光下一览无遗…顷刻间，肌肉开始不可思议地起了波纹，一搓粗粗的棕色软毛向外冒了出来。随著可怕的爆裂声－像是凸出的关节和磨碾的骨头－你的背部和肩膀开始隆起变大…不太舒服，但并不那么痛苦。你的肌肉－你的整个身体变成两倍、三倍大，并且继续增长。
你仍旧著迷於自己身体的变化，你向下看著自己的手指渐渐消失，双手变大成长著软毛和黑色大爪子的肉爪。当你的双眼变得能习惯黑夜时，夜晚似乎变得明亮了些…你能看到自己大大的鼻子，你小心地碰著自己湿湿的鼻子，对自己咯咯的笑著。你想著，下次咒诅生效时，你要看著一面镜子或池塘…看著你的脸变形、改变。
很快地，除了你原始的欲望外，连将注意力集中在任何事物上都变得困难…就是现在，有食物就好了。是的，食物－或许你能幸运地在小溪里找到一条肥美的鲶鱼。你*气恼*地抬起你的臀部，开始四脚著地的慢慢穿过树丛，前往岸边…
The standard sensations:
◇1. unavoidable pain
The experience is short and violent one: struggling with another, slightly stronger man on the edge of a blazing-hot stream of molten lava, your weapon-hand is slowly, inexorably forced ever closer to the magma. Beads of sweat evaporate the instant they appear; the hair on the back of your hand blackens and smolders above the awesome heat. Finally, your howls of suffering echoing from the canyon walls around you, your hand and the axe it holds plunges into the lava and chars to ash in a few, agonizing seconds.
◇2. tender love
Your eyes are closed; you can sense yourself standing on the tips of your toes, pressed against someone tightly. Soft, soft lips brush against yours, giving you the most gentle of kisses... your heart seems to flutter in your chest, and you feel as if you could fall backwards and simply float off into space...
◇3. mind-numbing tedium
The experience couldn't be more than a few minutes long, but *hours* seem to pass... a long, boring lecture in the driest, dustiest hall in the University of Chalm in Sigil. You look about the vast hall, hoping to catch someone's eye to pull a face at - but the other students are either asleep or staring listlessly into space. You drop your quill pen, pick it up, and drop again... just for something to do. You consider stabbing yourself in the eye with it, just to see if your senses haven't been wholly numbed by the incredible boredom...
◇4. sheer wonder
Hesitantly, you open your mouth and take a shallow breath... and water flows into your lungs like cool air. You smile and take a deep breath, gawking in all directions as you slowly sink to the bottom of the harbor, where hundreds of colorful fish weave through twisting tracts of brilliant coral. As your feet touch bottom, you peer up at the keel of your ship and laugh aloud with joy, a string of great bubbles shooting up towards the surface...
◇5. consuming impatience
You stand debating with Amnas the Horribly Slow, Keeper of the Lion Key, as to whether or not your quest is important enough for him to relinquish the artifact into your care. The whole experience is an exercise in sheer torment... each and every one of his words is followed by a significant pause; each and every point he makes is reiterated time and again before he lets you speak. You present an argument... then wait, and wait, and *wait* while he makes his counterpoint. To which you shoot out a snappy counterpoint of your own... then must wait yet again for another of Amnas' drawling, meandering, seemingly endless counterpoints. It's everything you can do not to simply lop the fiend's tusked head off and snatch the key from the twitching corpse...
◇6. tired surrender
Shuddering, chattering, hoping beyond hope to be found, you curl into yourself beneath a blanket of snow to save what little warmth you have left. Fighting to keep your eyes open - to remain awake - you become aware that you can no longer feel your arms... your legs... the ice against your face... and tired, so tired, you at last resign to the inevitable. You close your eyes, bidding sleep a bitter welcome as the sense of loss forces a single tear - doomed to crystallize before it even reaches your cheek - from your aching eyes.
◇7. supernatural lust
You find yourself coupling with a succubus, a creature of such intense, otherworldly beauty that even her fiend's horns and thrashing tail give you no pause. She gasps under you... you desire her so completely that the whole of your existence seems focused towards this single goal. As your life explodes from you in a starry burst, you hear the delighted laughter of the succubus as she drains you dry, leaving your body but a soulless husk...
◇8. psychosis
The experience is a strange one, very disturbing... you've the point of a knife pressed to someone's throat, your hand clamped over their mouth and breath hot and heavy in their face. Your begin to stab them... slowly. The knife dimples their skin, and eventually breaks it. There is the hot rush of blood over your forearm, the sound of strangled respiration, a horrible sense of perverted glee... and it is over.
◇9. festering jealousy
You feel your lip curl as the fair-haired young hero, armor gleaming like a polished silver mirror, once again enters your tavern. Hanging his velvet cloak on a wall-peg, he surveys your patrons with a pair of eyes like sea-gems and a smile that sets the serving wenches swooning. You set the mug you're cleaning down and *harumph* loudly, thinking of what it'd be like to turn him upside-down and shove him in a rain barrel...
◇10. bitter loathing
Venomous tears of pain brimming in your narrow yellow eyes, you gather the tattered remains of your small, scaled, red wings off the floor. You humbly back out of Groba's study, gritting your needle-like teeth beneath sealed lips.
Sure, you're only a spinagon - least among devils - but that's no cause for a pit fiend to tear your wings off because he doesn't like the message you've brought him! What will your gelugon master do, now? He certainly can't say anything to Groba, and what use is a spinagon without its wings? You'll probably get cast into the Pit of Flame for 'incompetence!'
Vengeance out of the question, there's little to do but shake your clawed fist and hate, hate, *HATE* Groba with all the loathing your hard little black devil's heart can muster...
◇11. pure glee
Dancing and leaping about in rhythm with the wood elves' bouncing festival music, you and a dozen other dancers spin through the forest clearing like a whirling dervish, smiling and laughing like mad. As the cheering forest dwellers whoop, clap and dance alongside you, fairies careen through the air above your heads, leaving sparkling trails of colored light...
◇12. frightened exhilaration
You twist your head to look up at the large contraption strapped to your back... a set of four bat-like wings extend from out of it, each made of leather pulled taut over wicker frames. From the precipice you're perched on, Dilgyar's Floating Fortress appears as but a tiny speck suspended in the blue-grey sky - miles away across nothing but empty air. "This is how *everyone* travels on the Plane of Air," they said, "it's easy." You smirk, step back a ways, and make a running leap off the cliff into the cool wind below, leaving your stomach behind. As the wings suddenly catch the air, an amazing rush shudders through your entire body as you soar out over the nothingness and towards the Elemental Prince's abode...
◇13. grim determination
The entire hall was in ruins and still in the process of being destroyed, as dozens of combatants hurled weapons, deadly, arcane magicks and themselves at one another in a desperate struggle to be the last one standing. Plumes of acrid green smoke rose from the pile of limp bodies you dragged yourself out of, having barely escaped the wrath of some fiendish spell. There it was - across the way, through the battling throng, through the bloodthirsty battle ahead of you, sitting untouched on a miraculously upright table - your pint of mead! And you'd get it back, if you had to kill every last one of the brawling tavern patrons to do it!
◇14. complete bafflement
You awake from uneasy dreams to find yourself transformed in your dank lair into a rather small, four-limbed, fleshy thing. You're lying on your shell-less, as it were wholly unprotected, back and when you lift your tiny head - unadorned with its usual sensory antennae - a little you can see your pinkish belly, partly covered in soft, curling hairs quite unlike the black bristles you're accustomed to seeing there. Your two - only two! - legs now jut from the end of your torso, rather than up from around your abdomen. They look thick and ungainly in proportion to your body, and lie there limply, making no attempt to right you on their own - only by actively concentrating can you move the things. What has *happened* to you?
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The extravagant experiences:
◆1. horrible regret
You stand on the deck of your flagship, the Divine Hammer, as it floats over the continent of Agarheim, held aloft by the winds of magic. The very landscape roils and shudders beneath the bombardment of your fleet, one thousand ships' cannons and bombards hurling their sorcerous fire down like vengeful gods. The shockwaves began to hit your ship only minutes ago - a constant vibration that sends shudders through the whole of the ancient craft and moves your very bones - accompanied by a constant, rumbling bass. As the land's mountains begin to sink and the seas that surround it begin to boil off into the atmosphere, your first officer comes to stand beside you.
"My Lord Admiral... permission to speak freely, sir."
You nod your aquiesence, your stomach sinking as you guess at his question.
"My lord... forgive me, but how? What gives us the right? A billion lives..."
You speak without turning to him, unable to take your eyes of Rhumos, the nation's vast capital city, as it vaporizes into a cloud of super-heated gasses twelve miles across and growing ever-wider. "If you only knew the full treachery of the Agarites, First Officer Felm, one which is beyond most any man's comprehension... then you would know. You would speak of our right to annihilate them? We've no right to let them live."
"But... sir? Traitors, all of them? Surely, among the hundreds of thousands. How many innocents-"
"Silence! Speak of it no more - our king has spoken, His will be done. The task set to us is a horrible one, not fit for contemplation or questioning. There is no room for pity, no room for remorse - only *duty.*"
The two of you stand silently for a time, watching the last minutes of Agarheim. At long last you sigh... a low, stuttering exhalation that sounds as if something has broken inside you. Beneath the brazen plate that covers the ruined half of your face, your dead eye begins to weep...
"Falm... my friend... I would have you understand. I know now, as I look down at what I have wrought here, that were I to think upon what I have done... what I have *truly* done... I would be struck mad. A deed such as this... the anguish would overwhelm, destroy me. So, First Officer Falm, it must be that there *are* no innocents in Agarheim... no mothers, no children, no *people.* Only traitors. Vile, cunning traitors, who deserve no less than the full brunt of our most Holy King's wrath. Do you understand this?"
"Y-yes, m'lord."
"Good. Now go... I wish to be alone, here."
"By your command, Lord Admiral." Falm bows his head and returns below deck, leaving you to stand over the end of a civilization.
◆2. shock and a rise to seething vengefulness
You stand somewhere in the nether regions of the Planes, a sweltering place where the ground is beaten copper, and the sky is of brass. Here, the bodies of sinners - petitioners in this horrid place - are rolled amongst iron brambles and bronze scorpions until their bones are fine, gray dust.
You squint at the horizon, the bone-dust rising with putrid-smelling gusts of wind that carry with them the sound of agonized moaning. There is nothing but flat, metallic landscape as far as the eye can see. The dust is everywhere, in everything... it stings at your eyes, coats the insides of your mouth with a pasty film. You spit, wiping at it with your finger, but it's of no use: the stuff's taste has fouled your mouth completely.
You look down at the 'key' in your hand... a minute platinum orb... and picture the man's face who solemnly swore to you the magical portal you just passed through - now gone, of course - led to the green fields of Bytopia. Someone, by all the Powers and their proxies, was going to pay for this one.
◆3. slowly dawning horror
"How good could it be?" you think, regarding the burgundy liquid carefully. Across the table from you, the twisted old man smiles slyly.
"Please, sir, try." he whispers, his hushed voice the sound of dry leaves blown over a roughly cobbled street. "Thou shall find it more than lives up to thy expectations, I am sure."
You nod at him and lift the crystal goblet into the air, watching the light play through the crimson liquor. You'd come a long way for this drink... searched long and hard for this old man... and you'll be damned to let anything rush you, now. The moment was to be savored.
You raise the glass to your lips, inhaling the stuff's aroma. The bouquet is light, sweet, intoxicating... almost dizzyingly so. You've tried countless drinks... written tomes about them, their flavors and smells, means of manufacture, in your journeys across the Planes. But this... this stuff was supposed to be legendary. No living man you'd found or heard of had tried the stuff. The stories were ridiculous - nothing could taste quite so good - but if there were the slightest bit of truth to them, this would be some fine liquor indeed.
At last, you drink of the goblet, a cautious sip...
Incredible! Indescribable! As the flavor washes over your palette, you fight the urge to shudder with delight. Nothing... *nothing* you have tried in all your long years has tasted quite like this. You look up at the old man, startled to find your glass empty - you had drained it all in a single draught. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, not entirely sure when you had begun to cry.
"Tears of joy, eh?" The old man laughs softly. "Quite pleasing to the tongue, is it not? Wouldst thou like some more, perchance?" He smiles at you once more.
"Yes... yes, if I might..."
"Surely." he replies, refilling your glass. Try as you might, you cannot resist downing it in a single gulp. You thrust your finger into the goblet in an attempt to find some last, hidden drop of the stuff. Several times more does he fill the goblet, and each time you gulp the stuff down as a starving man would devour a feast, unable to control yourself, to deny yourself another exquisite taste of it.
He chuckles softly once more. "A drink such as this... a man wouldst do anything for it, no?"
You nod without hesitation. "Yes, a man would..." Looking at him, his sly smile suddenly takes on a whole new meaning. A sense of horror begins to creep over you, even as you begin to yearn painfully for more of the blood-red liquor...
"Yes, yes..." The old man grins, his yellow eyes gleaming. "A man *wouldst* do anything, in the *thrall* of such a drink... even the most terrible, the most heinous of deeds... as thou shall see, my newest servant."
◆4. indescribable frustration
You can see it now, the crown of Haephon, gleaming upon a marble pedestal. No more than twenty strides away, it is... with it, you could wrest control of the armies of Aethanopolis away from your treacherous brother and restore your father's kingdom. A fool, your wretched brother was... you smile grimly at the thought... to leave the king's only daughter alive, thinking she could do him no harm.
A sound! The creak of leather sandals, the softest hiss... over there, by that third pillar! She was close now, Polaphi the Medusa, jealously guarding the crown her servants had stolen for her so long ago. Crouching behind a wide pillar, you wrap your hand tightly around your trusted Thrice-Blessed Javelin. With your Helm of Swiftness and the Hundred-Mirrored Shield, even a beast such as Polaphi would be no match for you. Any moment, now, she would round the pillar and meet the sight of you. Even if she turned away from the shield, your javelin would surely find her throat...
Suddenly, there is a gentle touch on your shoulder. You gasp, spinning around to face - of course - the Medusa. Accepting the inevitable, you only have time to loose a piercing cry of frustration before your lungs... and every other part of you... solidifies into cold, gray stone.
◆5. a vastly important secret
Six Imperial servants rush ahead of you, swinging the golden doors of the Dragon Palace wide.
"Long live the Empress!" they cry in unison. "One thousand years! Long live the Empress! One Thousand Years!"
Beyond the threshold, dozens of loyal warlords, kings in their own right, drop to their knees, touching their heads to the floor in deference as you pass them en route to the grand Imperial Throne.
As you turn and face your minions, seating yourself upon the Imperial Throne, you allow a small, satisfied smile to creep across your carefully painted lips. There is but one thought in the forefront of your mind:
...that the body of the young Empress, Wu Tsun Sha, lies broken at the bottom of the Well of Solitude, and that you - Bai Hwa, a horse merchant's daughter - are at last poised to shake the Empire and the corrupt Wu Dynasty to its very foundations.
◆6. lycanthropy
Suddenly aware that the hour has almost come, you leap from your bed and run flying from your cottage and into the surrounding woods. Stumbling in the dark, you come to a small, moonlit clearing... the one you had found last week and decided to use, tonight. You hastily strip off your clothes, sit in the long grass, and wait.
You close your eyes, listening to the steady chirp of crickets, the throaty croaking of bullfrogs in the nearby creek, the rustle of the grass as the wind caresses it. What would someone think, seeing this through your eyes, *experiencing* this moment and what was next to come? Soon you would travel to the city, find a cleric to rid you of the Curse... but for now, may as well make the best of things. You rub your hands together with anticipation, grinning like a bearded, fire-haired giant of a madman, sitting naked and alone in a forest clearing in the dead of night.
A prickling sensation runs across your skin, and your senses sharpen dramatically. You breathe in through your nose, inhaling the scent of everything around you: the damp earth, the sweat on your cast-off clothes, the opossum clinging fearfully to the tree behind you...
You open your eyes and look down at your forearms. The faint moonlight reveals the slightest quivering across their surface... but in moments, the flesh begins to ripple impossibly, tufts of thick brown fur sprouting forth. With a grisly crackling sound - like popping joints and grinding bones - your back and shoulders begin to hunch and broaden... uncomfortable, but not quite painful. Your muscles - your entire body mass - doubles, triples in size, and continues to grow.
Still fascinated by the transformation yourself, you watch as your fingers wither away to nothing, hands swelling into meaty paws from which burst fur and massive, black claws. The night seems to become brighter as your eyes transform, become accustomed the darkness... a wide muzzle comes into view, and you touch your wet, snuffling nose delicately, chuckling to yourself. Next time, you think, you'll have to stare into a mirror or pond as the Curse takes effect... watch your face warp and change, losing its familiar shape to become a bear's.
Soon, it becomes difficult to concentrate upon anything but your more basic urges... food would be good, right now. Yes, food - perhaps you'll get lucky and find a nice, fat catfish in the creek. You rise off your massive haunches with a *huff* and begin to amble through the trees on all fours, heading for the water's edge...
科拉克斯堡(无图版) -> 异域镇魂曲 -> 痛苦
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