Started from the bottom...

“(1) For every accused above the Plate who fails to prove, by a preponderance of evidence, their innocence as to the criminal behavior they stand accused of in a court of law, a sentence shall be carried out as follows:

(a) if they are in possession of an ascension, then the ascension is lost and no further penalty is necessary unless a capital sin is committed; or

(b) otherwise:
(i) for petty malfeasance: 10% food salary penalty until an ascension is earned;
(ii) for grand malfeasance: 50% food salary penalty until an ascension is earned;
(iii) for a sin: descent; or
(iv) for a capital sin: complete descent except where they have an ascension, in which case the ascension is lost and the sentence is descent.

(2) For every accused on the Plate who fails to prove, beyond a reasonable doubt, their innocence as to the criminal behavior they stand accused of, the sentence shall be **** or exile into the Violet; such sentence shall be carried out by the Lawmen, except where the crime is a malfeasance and the accused is in possession of an ascension, in which case the accused must be tried before a court before being sentenced.”

— Vantage Government Criminal Code (VKZA) • 200.02

Some hours later...

Away from the light of a false sun, the tower proved too cold for any human comfort, much less for nude, freshly revived humans to survive. But John’s absence was brief, and with him came nourishment and warmth.

But those hours of preparation, water, and food had passed. Squatting between John and Tricia was a small fire sprite, humanoid and grumpy-faced, with its gentle glow and warmth staving off the cold of the tower. Similar huddling around similar sprites could be seen elsewhere: the unsure Order members cloistered into the cliques they had on their off-time, Lily (under command) stayed with Deanna, Yui, and Penelope, the rest of Collide muttered around two wrestling sprites near that rebellious clutch, and Tara, who commanded the elementals, continued to meditate alone save that a young, black-haired squire preferred the warmth of her company. He seemed to think he was being subtle, but he poorly hid his attraction.

That squire, and his fellows, were recovering; the emotional rollercoaster had slowed somewhat for those who had been left broken by the loss of the Lady’s Blessing, and they had quieted, found solace in the counsel and comforts of their fellows, and proved their hearty warrior or sage spirits even without that magical callous over their hearts. Observing them now, John caught two of the Knights kissing, each holding his brother-in-arms with a passion that caused the others at the shared sprite to blush or turn away. None stopped them; a sudden honesty in urges was required. Soon the two men, one white and the other Asian, took off towards the lonelier chamber above to share a different heat.

At least they have warm clothes, John mused. Aside from John, everyone had large, basic white gowns of thick, false cotton. John had brought all the manaberries he could grow to help their efforts in dressing themselves: Resurrection Sickness made their basic craft spells nearly useless, and the room was cleared of dust and debris in the process of turning it all into scraps of cloth or something like it. John ultimately had to use his own Craft spell to turn their various scraps of odd material, combined with the skins in his Forge, to dress the shivering folk; Tara ultimately agreed to help keep the lot of them warm, if only to get away from the Temple. Everyone had their fill of water, poured directly from the armory through the air under John’s hands as he created a temporary font for the dehydrated. All the temple’s lifefruits had to be divvied up between the souls who needed them, but no one seemed particularly satiated with their slices of fruit, proving the limitations of the magical consumable. If they were going to survive any journey, they needed a more sustainable source of food.

“So your Gorbachev Eyes are really gone,” John mused, “and they apparently had something to do with what brought us here.”

Tricia nodded with a grim look on her face. “Penelope, as the only other Gorbachev who appears to have come with us, also lost her blessed Eyes. Though she refuses to speak with me, I believe I know of her through reputation: she was a very powerful healer based in Canada who was even less able to engage the real world than... well, than I was. She was both very blessed and stigmatized within the Opekuny for her inability to appear or sound normal. Since she has obviously lost those burdens, and appears to have lost her Eyes, there are two strong possibilities: either ‘reforming’ made us lose them or else the destruction of this... ‘First Truth’ has affected all Gorbachevs.”

John glanced up at Tricia’s sheet, poring over it carefully as he had with every survivor.

Tricia Gorbachev
Level 34 Technomancer
<Collide>
HP 1,590/1,590
MP 3,980/3,980
Stats: Str 19, Agi 18, End 24, Int 124, Wis 20, Cha 26, Lib 28
Status Effects: Resurrection Sickness (19 minutes)
Qualities: None
Relationship: +200
The troubled daughter of two unknowing Gorbachev descendants, she was once the gifted, but cursed, child of the Gorbachev Opekuny. Following a puberty of suppression and then a roller coaster of emotion with you, her development came to a head when the First Truth manifested. She has reformed on Vantage but has lost all markings of the First Truth including her Gorbachev Eyes, the corruption of her emotions, and the markers for such mutations on her DNA. She remains an adept of using mana, technology, and basic magic, however.

“You told me the Eyes came from Gaia…”

Tricia nodded.

“… So is Gaia the First Truth?”

“Doubtful. Though you and I cannot recall the events, nor can those who were **** prior to being ‘absorbed,’ whatever the First Truth was had clearly disturbed those who witnessed it. Moreover, one does not ‘witness’ Gaia, nor would Gaia have likely consumed her creations as some describe the experience. Yet… you say that ‘the Game’ is telling you that my heritage is from that First Truth and not from Gaia.”

“Or they’re both the same thing,” John pointed out.

Tricia stared at the grumpy sprite as it burned quietly on the cleaned, gray bricks of the chamber. “I would rather hope you’re right. I’ve already…” She glanced up through her blonde hair. “I’m a bit tired of living in lies… and I’d hate to think of what else, if not Gaia, has been influencing humanity for as long as the Gorbachev clan has walked the earth.”

John took his turn to contemplate the sprite. “Well, whatever the ‘First Truth’ really was, it’s apparently gone… and along with it, probably one way for us to get home in a hurry.” The Gamer rose up and contemplated the room in a pensive silence. Some of the room contemplated him in turn; he had come to be an impromptu leader of their ragged band.

Tricia looked up to her man… and rubbed the finger she had come to realize was robbed of their link. The two had barely shared words on the topic; conversely, Tara was pleased, Alysha simply stormed away without saying anything more, Tita and Lily had separately begged to remarry, and that left Moira likely believing John was well and truly dead. All of us, for that matter… John’s Warlock status had also vanished from his status menu, apparently satisfied with his “****” or whatever broke every other connection he once held. Tricia’s reaction was the most muted, almost defeated… but neither broached the topic of remarrying, against their desire for one another.

Another topic, then. “As stated, it will take some time and raw materials we don’t have for me to start the proper facilities to enable a recreation of my laboratory… or even to just have a computing machine to start, nevermind the finer tools needed to make one.”

“Then that makes two reasons I should investigate,” John finally sighed, “and see if there’s anything for us in this ‘Kingdom’ besides this tower.” John had not yet mapped the structure; the giant chamber the group occupied turned out to be more or less caved in, with only one other, bedroom-sized chamber above them prior to rubble blocking the stairs further up and the stairwell to go down being collapsed.

The ruins of those stairs gave him hope, however: they appeared built for humanoid bodies, complete with railings and steps that were only a bit wider than a human would need. Whatever was hiding in that Lawman armor back in the field, or in the homes below, could range from the goblin-like monster he had spotted to some other, large humanoid. There’s no way those stairs were built with those goblins in mind, though, so there’s at least two species here… or maybe they’re just weird. Fuck it, won’t know until I get down there.

John checked his armor once more, pulling on the black leather straps that covered everything but his hands and head, each of those sheathed in softer black cloth.

Stalker’s Suit: magical armor set (body, leggings, boots). Each piece worn makes it 10% harder to detect the wearer when the wearer does not want to be seen. Completing the set gives the user +10 DR vs. all physical and magical damage.

Beastman’s Hood: magical headgear. Hides the wearer’s scent, and the cloak, if worn at full length, degrades any tracks left behind by the wearer in mud or other impressionable material.

Gloves of Disarming: magical gloves. Touching an item held by another permits theft-based spells or effects to work on that item, either bypassing restrictions or increasing the success rate to 100% for that spell.

With what little remained of his original stash of loot, this was the best John could come up with for reconnaissance; combined with the Invisibility spell he copied from Alysha, it would have to do. John tugged on the many buckles of his armor with a grumble.

“You have a pleasing aesthetic, at least,” Tricia offered.

“I look like an Ultimate Dream VIII party member.”

“My statement stands.”

The two nerds shared a brief giggle at an inside joke few in their company would appreciate.

“Alright, it should do… at least until I can figure out a way to get us food.”

“You’re not going out alone, right?” A few heads turned as Rave crossed the gap, a swagger to her movements outlined in her robes. “The last thing we need is you getting caught or killed because you went alone.”

“I can call in backup at any time. Besides, I’d rather have the rest of you here to defend everyone in case we’re found out…” It wasn’t too hopeless, either: Tricia would soon be over her condition, Rave had already gotten past it, and Galley, like John, somehow managed to never have it. The condition, and its arbitrary timers on everyone else in the room, remained a mystery… but one less pressing than the world that beckoned. “I’ll relay through Tara if I need help.”

John gave the reliefs one last glance before he went: they continued to tell him nothing, being written in illegible script that, on closer inspection, was also damaged by what appeared to be thin strikes of weapons or claws. The pyramid he thought he saw earlier was a rough version of what he already saw on the Kingdom Map: stacked plates of land topped by a golden pyramid, except this mural had only two plates as compared to the ten or so John saw in the temple. He’d learn nothing more by staying here; satisfied, he opened a tunnel and stepped through.

A closer inspection brought less confidence, but more curiosity, as John squatted on one of what seemed to be thousands of sagging, stacked cubes. The aquamarine shimmer remained up close: every surface of the blocks not made from foggy crystal panes shimmered with dazzling blues and greens by the magical lamplight glow. To the west were the tall, rounding walls of the popot field that were broken up by towers and crowned by the golden glow of the false sun inside. John still didn’t know if those popots could sustain human life, so risking another encounter with the Lawmen was not tempting over that.

Movement. A door opened and closed somewhere underneath John; the sound was of stone grinding, but the squeak of a hinge and the pattern was unmistakable. He cast Alysha’s Invisibility over himself, using the natural dark of the poorly-lit rooftops to vanish completely from sight. That’s when he saw it: lurching out from two “houses” down, that one being two blocks high, came a freakish humanoid standing seven feet tall and quickly revealing its inhuman shape. Though it had a head, arms, and two legs, those arms numbered six, and each was a short, pudgy thing that twitched and danced as the creature muttered to itself. Its face couldn’t be seen thanks to the hood of a stiff, crinkling coat that shimmered just like the rooftop under John’s feet. John tailed the monster long enough of it to read its information.

Violet Extractor
<Sector 49 Extractors>
Level 7 Laborer
HP: 100/100
Stats: Str 24, Agi 11, End 19, Int 8, Wis 8, Cha 9, Lib 22
Status Effects: Sleep Deprivation
Qualities: Fatigued
R/S: +0
A Dorbin worker who more or less lives and works honestly, he works almost every day moving, cleansing, and re-burying Violet-filtering soils underneath the surface of the Plate to send the byproducts for refinement or shipping as necessary.

The being, a man John was willing to assume, lumbered almost drunkenly away from the wall and towards a knot of taller structures that John was keen on investigating. Left curious, the Gamer shadowed the tired worker, suspecting he’d soon learn what Violet or popots were.