Let's Play The Spirit Engine 2
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Chapter 7: Back to Nature
Part 3: Foreshadowing
Now that that interlude is over, we can get back to fighting atrocious quantities of FOREST MIMIC!
Loots!
Aaauuugghhhhh.
This looks relevant to my quest!
We're looking for Mama Saga. Could we speak to her?
Mama Saga is currently resting, as she does so often in her advancing years. She will speak when she wakes, but she requires a gift from you. An offering of 5 ripe Canta fruit.
An offering? Who does she think she is? We're not here to fetch her lunch. Let us pass, you cheap puppet show, or we'll cut you into firewood.
She said you would be the most annoying. The offering is important. Either present it yourself or return with your metal and your gunpowder to the cancer called Huntingden.
Please, could you not wake her now? Someone's life is at stake, and we may not have much time.
Fate transpires at its own rate. Seek out the seeds of the blue flowers and return here when you have what she asks for.
GO TO HELL, MAMA SAGA
WHAT DO YOU THINK THIS IS
I'M NOT PLAYING WORLD OF WARCRAFT HERE
GO TO HELL WITH YOUR COLLECTION QUEST
GEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZ
Crazy broad.
Yes, of course. I do hope the doorkeeper didn't bother you too much. I had been trying to retrain him recently, but there hardly seems much point in continuing now.
It's nice to see you, Denever, PyanPau, Ionae. I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long. Make yourselves comfortable.
How did you know we were coming?
I listen carefully, my dear, and sometiems I hear things I shouldn't. I like to keep busy now that I find myself alone here in my twilight years. You are familiar with the need, aren't you, my dear old man? Please, rest here a while.
If we had more time we'd happily stay, but we need your help. We're on an urgent mission to...
...rescue the young lady currently sheltering with the Enclave. I'd heard. You've got plenty of time, or rather it has already run out. Either way, it doesn't matter. Sit down for a minute. You look exhausted.
We... ah... alright. We have had a rather strange and frantic day so far, and some time off our feet would do us good.
I rest would be nice, thank you, ma'am.
Who are these little creatures? They're so cute! Oooos so cute? You are! Yes you are!
The tiquits tend to the great garden of the Traverse, working tirelessly day and night. The only reward they need is the sight of the Solamphamens budding in early spring or Folia petals opening in the morning sun.
I feel almost envious. They have a very simple life, but it sounds so fulfilling. Sometimes I wish I could live like that.
Yes, the daily bustle can get so complicated, can't it? So much rush, so much bother. Sometimes it's nice to just sit for a moment and let things slow down. You'd be surprised what you hear when you listen to silence.
We saw a Cloud Child tied up back there. Are you sure that's entirely safe? We've watched them destroy an entire city by themselves.
They are rather inconsiderate, aren't they? They come from the cold plains between the stars, and they have no place on our warm earth. This one will regret the day it wandered in to feed off my garden, don't you worry.
I'm sorry, but we didn't come here for idle conversation. Can you help us or not? We're running out of time.
Your impatience is just as I expected, young lady. You're not yet comfortable in your new skin. But given time and the passing of the years, you will grow to fit it as it will grow to fit you.
I know how anxious you are, how afraid. Don't let the ending worry you. If it does, it wins, and you will never truly be able to enjoy the wonderful gift that life is. When the time comes, you will be ready, and what will be, will be.
Afraid? Anxious? I don't know what you're talking about, stupid old woman. I feel none of these things.
No, my dear, of course you don't. And don't worry, you've not hurt my feelings. The years have given me a rather thick skin.
Ionae is right, ma'am, we do need to be on our way. Can you...
...assist you in gaining an audience with the Enclave? I'm sorry, no. Not directly. The Enclave and I have had a few disagreements in the past.
My interest in affairs outside was causing them some discomfort. Eventually I heard too much, and they asked me to leave for fear of hearing it themselves. We leave each other alone now, for the most part.
And so poor little old me is left to spend the last of my days tending to this small patch of the Traverse. It's not so bad. The soil is fertile and the view... my beautiful view. I fear that tomorrow will be its last sunrise.
Change is coming. I heard it first as I listened to the world, and I lefet to prepare. The Enclave never listened as I did, but now the call is too loud to ignore, and they are afraid. This is something they cannot hide from behind the jungle.
The forest hears it, too. It knows it will be shattered and thrown to the wind, man and beast and plant alike. Fear oozes in every bead of sap, sparkles in every drop of morning dew, like a contagion.
The voice of history is calling us all. The Enclave believe they can silence it by harbouring the girl, when in fact they are helpless as you poor, earnest things. Ignorance cannot save them now.
They have already failed, as have you, my dears. Her fate is of no consequence. The time we now have left is better spent preparing for the inevitable than fighting against it.
Life is a fine line drawn between those sufferings we choose to accept, and those we choose to reject. You'll have to pardon me if I do not share your artistic eye, ma'am. We must act, regardless of the odds.
I admire your naivete. In a world dictated by fate, it is the thought that counts most of all. But if the only thoughts you have are not your own, how can you know that you're even imagining a choice?
We are all children of history, watching the future grow from the past. Your governors have tried to hide your roots and fill your thoughts with branches, but even they cannot heave the tree skywards from the earth without killing it.
You cannot bend the mighty oak. Let it grow to reach the stars once more.
You're not making much sense, and frankly, we don't have the time to be polite to you any more. If you won't help us, we're leaving.
I only hope your stubbornness will work in your favor. If compensates for a great weakness, one which you must accept.
The way across the maw has never been barred to you, my dears. The forest favors no one, not even the Enclave. It works in harmony with those who honor and cherish it.
Take your Canta seeds and plant them at the edge of the precipice. If your heart is true and you have faith, step out into the sky and let the forest catch you.
That's it? You want us to walk off the edge of a cliff? Just whose side are you on?
I am on no one's side. I seek only to save the energy that good souls waste fighting the inevitable. That is why I told the masked outsiders who came before you the same thing. They didn't listen, either.
The Keepers were here? How long ago? Please, tell us!
Minutes? Hours? WHen you reach my age, you try to avoid keeping track of the time, my dear. Besides, I've told you all you need to know. I can't stop you. If you wish to go, then go.
Farewell. Tread softly through the garden, and do not be too hard on the boy. He is as much a victim of fate as we all are. I shall see you again soon, Denever.
Thank you for the advice, ma'am.
Thanks for nothing. This whole situation stinks. Why do I get the feeling we're being played with?
I don't know, but we can only follow her advice. Our next destination should be the Maw. A spot of gardening is called for. We may have to get our hands dirty.
Woo!
Next time: The Maw!
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