Session 2 False Hope: The Acolyte

The Acolyte

Brennan let his smirk linger but softened it with an air of curiosity. He took a measured step forward, his cane tapping lightly against the ancient stone beneath him.

“You say the path is forgotten, the key spent,” he mused, tilting his head. “But something that is broken can be fixed—if you understand what’s broken in the first place.”

The acolyte’s ember-like gaze flickered, unreadable behind the gauzy veil. The staff of black iron shifted in their grasp as they regarded him in silence.

Cash, perched on Brennan’s shoulder, pulsed a rhythmic series of flickers—curiosity and tension interwoven in its luminous language.

Finally, the acolyte spoke, their voice distant, as though carried from some faraway place.

“The Iron Gates are not mere doors of metal and stone,” they intoned. “They are a will, a covenant. They do not open for those who lack what was once given freely. Blood, oaths, and purpose forged their seal. Now, all that remains is silence.”

Brennan let the words settle. He tapped his temple with a gloved finger, piecing together the implications.

“So, the key isn’t just an object—it’s a symbol of intent,” he reasoned. “And its ‘fuel’ isn’t something you can just siphon from a reactor.” His eyes narrowed. “You need a sacrifice—but not necessarily in the way most would think.”

The acolyte inclined their head ever so slightly, as if conceding a point.

“Knowledge must be reclaimed through action,” they said. “What was once given, you must offer anew.”

Brennan exhaled sharply, glancing at Cash. The sprite’s form shifted, its lights pulsing in a complex flurry of motion—somewhere between warning and intrigue.

“Well,” Brennan murmured, rolling his shoulders. “That certainly makes things more interesting.”

He turned back to the acolyte.

“So tell me—what exactly is broken? And how do we fix it?”

Descriptor : "Engulfed"

Theme : "Spirit" Focus: "Monument"

Story Clue: "Involves an enemy or Rival"

Brennan rolled his shoulders, keeping his stance casual even as his mind worked through the Acolyte’s words. “So, what exactly is broken?”

The Acolyte tilted their head slightly, the ember-like glow of their eyes flickering. “The Monument.”

Brennan lifted a brow. “That’s specific.”

“You seek to open the Iron Gates, yet you do not understand what binds them.” The Acolyte’s voice remained eerily calm. “The artifact is a key, but keys do not function when the lock is shattered.”

Cash pulsed a rapid sequence of lights, its crystalline form shifting in agitation.

Brennan exhaled sharply through his nose. “Alright, let’s say I humor you. Where is this Monument, and what exactly am I supposed to do once I get there?”

“The Monument is where the Gates are tethered. It is where the flow was severed, where the spirit was engulfed.” A pause. “It must be mended.”

Brennan’s fingers drummed idly against the hilt of his rapier. “You’re really leaning into the cryptic thing, aren’t you?”

“The path is yours to walk, scavenger.” The Acolyte turned slightly, robes shifting like smoke. “But the Gates will not open, and you will not leave with what you seek, until the Monument is restored.”

Brennan frowned. This was supposed to be a simple job—retrieve an artifact, get paid. Now, it was turning into something else entirely. He glanced at Cash, who blinked at him expectantly.

With a smirk, he muttered, “Well, I do love a good detour.”

Secure an Advantage

Miss: 2 + 2 (wits) = 4 vs 5, 9.

Secure an Advantage

Pay the Price: You are delayed or put at a disadvantage.

Brennan’s Misinterpretation and Realization

Brennan scanned the glyphs with the practiced eye of a scavenger, tracing his mechanical fingers over the intricate carvings. The markings were precise, angular—clearly representing paths through the cave. He smirked.

“Not much of a puzzle,” he muttered. “I’ve seen more complicated scratchings on a drunk spacer’s napkin.”

Cash flickered insistently beside him, its delicate form pulsing in an erratic pattern. The little sprite scurried up the wall, tracing its own path over the glyphs with tiny crystalline limbs. It hovered over one section, its light pulsing in a deliberate rhythm.

Brennan ignored it. He was already making sense of the layout. “This here,” he said, tapping a central cluster of glyphs, “that’s this chamber. And these—” He motioned to branching lines. “—they lead out. That’s our way forward, Cash.”

Cash’s flickering intensified, its bright patterns shifting rapidly. Brennan sighed. “What? You got a better idea?”

The sprite darted back to the central symbol, then spiraled outward in a slow, looping motion, its body tracing long, sweeping arcs. It hovered expectantly.

Brennan frowned. “…That’s not how tunnels work.”

Cash blinked rapidly in frustration.

But Brennan was already moving. He had a path. Or so he thought.

What followed was hours of wandering through the labyrinthine depths of the cave, his steps echoing through empty chambers, his path twisting through corridors that looped back on themselves. Time stretched and curled around him, each turn promising an exit, each passage leading only to more stone and shadow. The more he walked, the less sense the map seemed to make.

Eventually, frustration gnawed at the edges of his patience. His coat was coated in dust, his legs ached, and even Cash had grown uncharacteristically quiet, clinging to his shoulder in tired resignation.

He stopped, exhaling sharply. Something was wrong.

He turned back to the glyphs, forcing himself to really look this time. The way the lines stretched, the spacing of the symbols—it didn’t match the crude, twisting nature of the tunnels. The realization settled in like a slow, creeping weight in his gut.

“…This isn’t the cave,” he muttered, voice tight with realization. “This is a map of the damn sector.”

Cash let out an exasperated burst of flickering light, as if to say finally.

Brennan straightened, running a hand through his hair. He had wasted hours chasing ghosts through rock and dust.

Whatever the Acolyte had sent him after—it wasn’t in the next chamber. It was out there, somewhere in the vast expanse of the Forge.

And now, he had to find it.

 (This was hard for me, trying to figure out. How do I go full stop for the failure for Brennan but also keep the story going... So I fudged a little. Brennan still figures it out.. kind of... but it needs to take him sometime.. which is going to bite him later. )