Your eyes open, as your mind grapples with a question so fundamental. Men defied the Gods of the this world once, but do so again at their own peril. Far less convenient than landing directly, but you know that isn't possible. You're seated upon a plush bench seat, hand pressed to the glass of the capsule roaring downward towards a planet that stretches beyond the horizon. ] The memory is cloaked in a web of blackened synapses, lying at the very edge of the abyss that you recognize as your short term memory, but fragments do come through. (Set: $debt to 0) (Set: $Wardrobe to false)(set: $Slave to false)(set: $Blue to false)(set: $Smoke to false)(set: $Sec to false)(set: $Brand to false)(set: $IsSlave to false)(set: $Nun to false)(set: $showcredits to false)(set: $showgear to false)(set: $showstatus to false)(set: $LevelFix to false)(set: $DaemonEnd to false)(set: $PrisonerEnd to false)(set: $Servant to false)(set: $Status to 0)(set: $Ending to 0)(set: $debtShower to false)(set: $SaveName to "None")(set: $GoldCheat to false)(set: $Inv to (a:))(set: $Gear to 0) Most readily? ''Pain.'' A headache that could snap the ferrotitanium guide line of the Way Up. Craving for understanding is natural, but other symptoms tag along. Each revolution of the mind brings just a //bit// more to your senses. Reality bends to your will: ] Consciousness comes slowly, an interstellar drag engine spooling up after far too long unfired. Torei, consumed by pleasure and its attendant dangers, does indeed await. *Time drifts by with each passing stack cloud.
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