Resource Management: Quest Quest

A CYOA about a dog girl, who's on a quest.

[quest-quest-resourcemanagement]

...And with that, Nesphia left. Running off into the woods.

Bringing an end to the prologue, that bit which goes before the start.

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[quest-quest-resourcemanagement]

No one noticed.

The walk across the courtyard went without issue. None of the guards noticed me, or turned around. Now, yes. The last part of the plan, the final part. The posturn, the back entrance. Blocked off by a locked gate, a locked gate I of course have the key for.

Given to me, by my father. For another reason sure, the one part of the plan which didn’t involve theft. The final part.

I take a few moments to look up at the keep, my childhood home. The place I grew up, these walls. Perhaps the last time I see them, no. Hopefully, the last time I see them.

I’m going, leaving. Escaping.

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[quest-quest-resourcemanagement]

Down the steps, they creak sure. Though outside it’s not as important. The guards don’t turn around, I step onto the dirt.

I am out of the keep, into the bailey. The gatehouse ahead of me, though no not my target. I can’t just walk out the front door. No, there are of course guards there. Questions that would be asked.

It’s not an option.

Down to the side, another wall. An entrance to the second bailey. The lower courtyard.

I stop at the gate, sticking close to the wall. Being careful, sneaking. Peering out, not many guards. They are also looking out. I should be able to make it.

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[quest-quest-resourcemanagement]

I quickly redress, moving onto the next part of the plan.

Leaving, more sneaking. It shouldn’t be too hard, no. While the sun is mostly up, which was not part of the plan. The guards should be looking out. They shouldn’t notice me, no. It should be fine.

I make my way downstairs. The hall is empty, of course. The family are still asleep, the room dim. Empty tables, blown out candles. No one should be down here, I make my way to the door.

Peering out, yes it is indeed brighter than ideal. That wasn't the plan, but I am too far into this. There is no going back, this is my one chance.

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[quest-quest-resourcemanagement]

It’s done.

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[quest-quest-resourcemanagement]

Rip and tear.

I am done with this, done with these clothes. Too many layers, suffocating. I am done. I am going to rip them, it wasn’t too hard. No, the fabric separates easily.

I grab, and I pull. Tearing the cloth apart, then again. Onto another piece. Another spot, the sound quite satisfying. The clothes coming apart in my hands, tugging at the fabric. Rip and tear.

My outfit is coming apart, bare fur visible, my naked body. Rip and tear. Rags barely hanging off me. Reduced to nothing but tatted cloth. Lay around my paws in a heap. Dead.

The clothes they chose for me, to dress me up in. Who they wanted me to be, in ruins on the floor. Dead. That person is dead, just as this stupid outfit is now. Dead. Never to be worn again.

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[quest-quest-resourcemanagement]

The plan was to wake up earlier, to leave earlier. Under the cover of darkness, the sun has risen. That was not part of the plan, no. I am running out of time.

This is taking too long, I am going too slow.

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[quest-quest-resourcemanagement]

Next is the surcoat, another layer. Another layer, of which there are many. Too many layers. Buried underneath all of them. Under the clothes they chose for me. 

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[quest-quest-resourcemanagement]

Everything collected together, my work. The plan. I am really doing this, I am.

The next part is quite simple, maybe the easiest of the steps. To not be me, which involves undressing. Removing my clothes, the clothes they chose for me. The person they made me.

To then change into who I am going to be. To put on my new clothes, the ones I chose. The ones I… well stole. Those clothes, which are now mine. The person who I am going to be.

I need to look the part.

My headwear comes off first. Suffocating. One of many layers.

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[quest-quest-resourcemanagement]

I pile up what I have gathered onto my own bed, once I had returned to my own room

… and yes I took the sword. It now belongs to me. Myself. Nesphia. Her sword, my sword. Nesphia’s sword.

I suppose that makes me more of a thief, as of now. Yes. I didn’t need the sword, I just wanted it. I wanted that to be me. To be like the hero’s of stories. To take one on my quest, whatever that ends up being.

The plan, distracted.

Not everything was stolen at the last moment, of course. I’ve been planning this for a while. Bit by bit, the small bits to be exact. The bits I could take without anyone noticing.

There was a blanket, green. Dark green, almost grey. Thick, a cloak. I took that, a pin nothing special. Nothing fancy. Something you could drop and lose under some furniture. Something no one would miss. That was the start.

Money, money is about. Though quite often guarded. Counted. Some bits though go loose. Over the time of my preparations I’ve gathered a few coins. Coins from the local villages. Fifty to be exact.

I’ve never needed to spend money, my life dictated for me. Everything given. Fifty seems like a lot, maybe. I hope.

Then there is the waterskin. That one brought up questions. A servants possession, luckily. So not the highest priority of the keep. No. One of the stable workers. They should get a new one.

Then of course the clothing, a tunic. Gambeson. Various belts, mostly for the sword. The sword I stole, the one that is now. Mine. My very own sword.

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[quest-quest-resourcemanagement]

I notice a sword. His sword, it belongs to my brother.

It not part of the plan, well. Stealing it, no. That is not part of the plan. A sword, who I want to be. I want to be someone. To earn my name, a name. To make something for myself.

Like my ancestors, like the characters in the stories. I want to go places, see things. An adventure? I want to go on an adventure, silly yes. I know, it’s not what they intended for me. I want it though, just like in the books. I want to be an Adventurer? A hero?

...And well. The hero’s in those stories have swords.

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[quest-quest-resourcemanagement]

Think, yes.

What am I doing, the plan. The goal, the goal is to leave. To leave, this.

To stop piggybacking on the titles of long dead ancestors. Their meat long rotted off their bones, achievements that are barely stories. Unearned by me, by my brother, my parents.

They have their plans, of course I play a role in them. Their daughter, their only daughter. A plan for me, part of their game. Their goals, as it is. How it usually is.

I can’t let it continue to be how it usually is. To let my life just, happen. For others to decide where it goes. How it goes. Who I am.

I’ve made it across the room. Maybe it did help, perhaps. To think, to not sneak. Sneaking only makes you less… Sneaky? Maybe, perhaps.

The plan, right. Clothing. I want to leave. To get away from them, my parents. From the choices they have made for me. For who they have made me. To not be me, I need to look not like me. To fit the role.

A kind of… pinkish coloured gambeson. A tunic, a belt. My brothers, sure. That’s why it’s important to be quiet. I didn’t ask, I am stealing. That’s not who I want to be, I don’t think. A thief.

I have no option here.

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[quest-quest-resourcemanagement]

I peer into his room, the room where he sleeps. Much like my room, the room where I sleep. Bedrooms. Small, small rooms. For ourselves, to keep us separated. Different reasons, my mind's wandering. I cannot, I need to focus.

The plan, yes this was part of it. For him to be asleep. Him, my brother for my brother to be sleeping. It’s quite important. What is also quite important is for him to stay that way.

For he wouldn’t understand, it’s not the same for him. He’s lucky.

Distracted, focus.

One step into the room, of course the floorboard creaks. Quite loudly, maybe not just in my head. A drop in my stomach, heavy nauseating. He moves about, ruffling of the sheets. A sound, a snort. Then back to rest.

Stop. Think.

What was I thinking before? Maybe the way to sneak, is to not think about sneaking. Maybe being unfocused could help? Maybe, I don’t know. It’s so hard to think when you need to.

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[quest-quest-resourcemanagement]

I reach the room, his room. The room I was heading to. The floorboards were loud, yes of course. Not too loud, mostly in my head. Everything sounds louder when you’re sneaking. That is the rule, that's how reality works.

Perhaps the way to sneak is to pretend not to be sneaking?

Maybe I’m procrastinating. Yes, I might be. The door opens, it is part of the plan. Distracting thoughts, not part of the plan.

Fear, maybe. Excitement? I am excited.

The door definitely makes a noise as it opens, metal on metal. The sound of the hinges, quieter than expected.

I peer through the door. That is the next part of the plan, well.

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[quest-quest-resourcemanagement]

Everyone should still be asleep. The family, servants. Its early morning, dim. That wasn’t the plan, this isn’t the plan. Well.

The sneaking, the sneaking is the plan. Down the hall, quiet. The floorboards are thick, they make sounds when I walk. Slowly, softly. Quite, sneaking, we can do it. The plan is to sneak.

The plan was however, not to sneak now. Earlier, when its darker. When my family were deeper into their sleep. Heavily asleep. Easier to sneak past.

This isn’t perfect.

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[quest-quest-resourcemanagement]

Sleeping wasn’t part of the plan.

Though now that she’s awake, that I’m awake. There is no time to panic. I cannot panic, today was the day. The day I had chosen, the day for my plan.

Not that I am not already panicking, yes. No. I am panicking. I need to stop, I need to focus. I can do this. Get up, leave the room.

Slowly, quietly. That part is important. We’re behind schedule, but it doesn’t mean we can rush it. There is no room for mistakes. Well, no. Well, maybe.

Being quiet is the plan, just stick to that.

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[quest-quest-resourcemanagement]

Nesphia has something to do today, a plan. Something that she, herself. Yes, had planned. Planned for a while, though right now.

Right now she’s sleeping?

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