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a Fortuna fic - Not A Cult
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Ten11
 a Fortuna fic - Not A Cult
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This is a story I'm writing set within Fortuna, and there's no reader influence or anything like that. I hope that's allowed in this forum? I didn't see any other non-suggestion fanfics.
Anyway I wouldly greatly appreciate feedback, the more specific the better. I feel like my writing is usually too serious so this an attempt at something more humorous.

Note: This is (quite) loosely based off of a roleplaying campaign I've done with my friends.

Not A Cult
1

Ah, Cth'leoth. An easygoing planet lit dimly through the constant cloud cover, with gentle showers pitter-pattering against the window. Just loud enough to ease you to sleep. One could relax in quarters of their choice, taking a breather from the hustle of galactic life. Being such a newly connected planet it was free of all the strife that had ripped between star systems in the past, and as for the native Boog? Nobody was friendlier than a person who was trying to sell you something, although you had to mind the (often quite literal) pop-up ads in the middle of conversations with them.
And there, resting his legs in a dining establishment with a peculiar penchant for culinary crafts of the pedal persuasion, was N-502, or "Wiph" as they preferred to be known as to subjects. Having just finished consuming the lower half of some unlucky wildlife, he sat back and took in the sights and sounds that Cth'Leoth had to offer them. It was all so, sooo...

So BORING!! The Notail slammed his hand against the table. He had already been here a few days, and nobody had so much as looked at him funny, much less tried to kill him. Where was the mystery, the pointless intrigue that had people backstabbing eachother over finding out who was going to stop them from helping their allies in furthering their goals to discover who backstabbed the person who helped them in the first place?
This had to be one of the least interesting places in the galaxy, everything cool or important stripped of any significance, grinded into a flavourless paste to attract tourists where the only thing that mattered was how good something looked in a photo.
Sure, there were lots of spooky swamps and ruins where people died or disappeared in interesting circumstances. That wasn't anything special. "Interesting circumstances" covered about half of all extraterrestrial deaths in this day and age. What Wiph cared about was LIVING people, groups interacting with eachother, hidden motivations, agendas, power dynamics, relationships. Intrigue was Wiph's passion, and for a planet that had once held a species devoted to collecting all kinds of knowledge, even if it was dangerous, Cth'Leoth was suspiciously...unsuspicious. Why, even th-

Hold on.

Wiph was distracted from his musings by the occupant of a nearby table, which he hadnt payed any attention to until a sound had caught his ears. It was a Jerce.
Now this was already quite unusual, as Jerce were usually quite timid around people they didn't know, and didn't have much interest in sightseeing, as well as just being quite rare. Mostly they just tried to find a stable source of food and shelter, and that was enough for them. But this one was mumbling something under its breath, and it seemed to be a prayer of sorts, despite Jerces usually not following any gods.
On such a boring planet, this Jerce was a lifesaver to Wiph, who brought all his formidable tac and wits to the fore as he decided to make contact.

"Hey! =u+"
"WHATSFYGY!?!?" The Jerce rocked back on their chair and coughed violently for a bit, as something had gotten stuck in their throat, their revery all but forgotten.
Poor things, he thought. They had been forced to leave their planet by robots, before the Notail had even had a chance at transition. They could have been introduced to the rest of the galaxy in a much more useful state than such a nervous, anxiety-ridden race.
Eventually, they sat back and slowly peeked up at Wiph to see if he was still there. He was.
"Hello there, you may call me Wiph. What is your name? =u+"
"Ly-Lysandre..." The Jerce slowly answered, their startlement turning to confusion.
"Okay Lysandre, how are you?"
Lysandre did not immediately reply, but instead blinked several times as they stared at the Notail in front of them. She had seen Notails before of course, but only from a distance. This was the most words she had ever exchanged with one, and it was going very differently from how she had gathered these conversations usually went.
"I'm, fine?" She said.
Wiph, for his part, was annoyed at how long this was taking and wanted to just demand the answers he desired. But he knew that such trivial exchanges were important in the interactions of other species, for some blessed reason. Besides, this Jerce looked so flightly they'd likely flee the premises if he shouted anything, and he wasn't fast enough to catch up.
"Good, good. I'm also fine. So, Lysandre, I couldn't help but overhear you praying, it sounded like. Could you tell me more about that, please? It sounds interesting, =u+."
Lysandre continued to feel confused, but now they felt a flicker of something else. Was it true? Was this a sign? This might be the opportunity she had been waiting for, maybe she hadn't come here in vain. But she had to be careful as well, giving too much away could be dangerous. She cleared her throat.

"Welll, I was praying to my god, I'm a monk you see-" The Notail interupted her, this seemed to be a topic he was quite opinionated on.
"Ah yes, a quite healthy way to take out your aggression and hate against the universe I've found, always good to know who your targets are. I was almost was a priest, did you know? =u+" Wiph internally smiled, they had common ground! This was going great. Soon she'd probably tell him everything of her own accord without him needing to lift a finger.
"So which god is it? The Creator, the Helper, who?"
Lysandre, quite commendably, only paused for a few seconds after hearing Wiph, before deciding to come back to what he had meant later.
"Well, I'm sort of a special kind of monk, you probably don't know the, ah, god i follow, they're kind of obscure... but I'm here because of a mission they gave me, sooo..." She trailed off.

Wiph paused in his comraderie-building diatribe. An idea was forming in the back of his head. Maybe his stay on this planet could provide some amusement after all.
"This mission, is it important? =u+"
"...Yes?"
"Will you need assistance from other people? =u+"
"I guess it wouldn't hurt?
"Are there people who will try and stop you, possibly even try to kill you? =u+"
"There, might be???"
"Great!" Wiph jumped out of his chair and clasped Lysandre's hand before she could react. Lysandre shuddered slightly, glad she had taken the most recent vaccinations for her species.
"As your friend, I promise to help you in your goals and further your cause! =u+ Obviously we'll need a name, and a third member no doubt, two-member dynamics stagnate quickly, maybe even a fourth though that does start attracting attention, we'll need some base of operations too, need to get a take on all the nearby PoI, don't forget maps maps are important..." Wiph had trailed off and was pacing next to to Lysandre, who was still stuck on the word "friend".
"Uh, pardon me, Wiph was it? But,-" Wiph stopped his muttering and glanced at Lysandre.
"Yes? =u+"
"What in the world are you talking about? I haven't even told you what my mission IS yet!" Lysandre put her hands to her mouth. She had just shouted at a Notail!
But he hardly seemed to notice, brushing aside her concerns with a wave of his hand.
"I'm talking about our Secret Society of course! Or at least what will soon be our Secret Society. Details can come later, =u+"
"You're forming a, a, Secret Society just, right here?" She waved, indicating the peaceful, happy atmosphere of the restaurant and by extension, the planet.
"Hmm, you've got a point, can't just go around saying "Secret Society" in public," said Wiph, failing utterly to understand what she had meant. "Need some sort of code word, how about... cult? Yeah I think that's fine. If you ever want to mention our "S-S" just use the word cult instead. =u+"
Lysandre felt as if they were trying to stop a runaway train. She attempted one more time to put the breaks on Wiph's thought processes.

"Don't you think that will give people the wrong impression?"
Wiph stopped pacing, turned to face her, and stuck out his hands with the thumb and index fingers extended. She didn't know what it meant, but she could guess.
"EXACTLY!!! =u+"
Lysandre groaned inwardly. Well, she'd tried, and if she'd failed it was only because she'd been meant to fail. After all, a helping hand could only make her goal easier, right? She hoped that this time, she wouldn't fail. Success was all that mattered, and she could bear being around a filthy Notail if it was what would make the difference.
It was only a matter of time, after all.
(This post was last modified: 04-20-2018, 12:04 PM by Ten11.)
04-20-2018, 06:37 AM
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