Grand Game 598: Split Personalities

Two hours later, after a quick jaunt around the new island—it was exactly as Anriq had described—and a more lengthy and intimate discussion with Safyre, we parted ways. She returned to the barges while I made my way to the hills bordering the eastern shore of the lake. Finding a comfortable crest on which to rest, I sank down into a cross-legged stance.

That’s where Elise found me.

“There you are,” the werefox said as she trotted up to me. “I heard you were back.”

“Elise,” I greeted the nagian druid. “What are you doing out here alone?”

“I could ask the same thing of you.” Sitting down on her haunches, the werefox scratched at her right ear with a hindleg. “But I’m not alone. There’s a whole bunch of druids back there.”

I glanced where she pointed, but the others—nagians too, I supposed—were beyond sight range. “Oh? And why aren’t all of you on the barges?”

Elise shrugged. “Safyre asked us to get started.”

“Get started at—” I broke off, realizing there was only one thing she could mean. “With restoring the land? Already?”

“What can I say, your fellow Power is a hard taskmaster.” She laughed, robbing her words of their sting. “But truly, we’re all glad to do it. The lifelessness of the land is depressing.”

I nodded. “And how is it going?” Spreading my arms, I gestured to the pervasive mist still shrouding the sector. “Is this not making your job tougher?”

“The mists are problematic,” she admitted. “It’s actually why I came to find you—well not you, Ghost.”

“Ah. You want her to help you with her nether manipulation skill?”

“I do. But it’s more than that. I miss her, too.” She paused expectantly. “So, where is she?”

I pointed to my chest. “Sleeping in her spirit vessel, I’m afraid. Ghost is also why I’m out here as well.”

“Oh?”

“Ghost is casting a spell—a long one,” I said, not explaining further. “I need to cast the same spell. Hers will finish before mine though, so I chose to do it out here rather than in the safe zone.”

“Because the safe zone won’t let her awaken when she is done,” Elise said, understanding immediately. “When will Ghost’s spell be finished?”

“In about sixteen hours I’d say.”

The werefox rose to her feet. “Perfect. I’ll be back then.” About to dash away, she paused. “I heard you made me a commander of an outpost. Why’s that?”

I raised one brow. “You don’t want the job?”

“I didn’t say that, but I’d like to understand why you gave it to me.”

I shrugged. “You seem to have an affinity for the wolves. The guardian tower and the portal outpost are where they’ll be spending most of their time from here on. The job should suit you.”

She bared her teeth in a foxlike smile. “It will. Thank you, Wolf. And don’t worry, we’ll keep watch over you while you’re busy.” Not waiting for my response, she ran off.

Shaking my head in wry amusement, I turned my attention inward.

It was time to begin.

You have begun casting awakened slayer. Time remaining until the spell is complete: 23 hours, 59 minutes, and 58 seconds.

You have entered a deep meditative state. While in this state, you will be unresponsive and unaware of your surroundings.

18 hours remain until the ownership of sector 18,240 transfers to the Forerunners.

✵ ✵ ✵

Spellcasting complete.

You have created a level 282 astral simulacrum of yourself.

A simulacrum, like an aspect, is a construct, but it differs in some striking ways. Where an aspect is a fully independent but impermanent construct that must be summoned on every occasion, a simulacrum is permanent and maintains its links to the host entity throughout its existence.

This means that while your simulacrum will have his own health, he will partake from the same energy pools you do. In addition, his skills, traits, attributes, and abilities will evolve as your own do.

Note, astral simulacrums are beings of pure psi. They have no body, nor access to any non-telepathic traits, skills, attributes, or abilities.

Your secret blood trait has been triggered! To conceal your bloodline, your astral simulacrum’s Class will be hidden.

I returned to awareness surrounded by the murmur of voices speaking above me. I recognized the speakers immediately. It was Safyre and Ceruvax, both talking softly as they awaited my return, but for the time being, I ignored them.

Something else held my attention. Something wholly new… yet familiar.

The simulacrum.

It—no, he—sat cross-legged in my mind, in a replica of my own pose. Seeing that he had my attention, the simulacrum folded himself in half until his head touched an imaginary floor. “Wolf Lord,” he greeted.

That the astral construct could talk did not surprise me. “Where is this?” I asked.

We were in my mind, I knew that much. But it was not my mind as I ordinarily perceived it. Usually, when I looked at my mindglow, I saw a nebulous ball of light surrounded by multiple layers of mental shielding. This time, I found myself looking down on solid ground, tall trees, and bright blue sky. My consciousness, it seemed, had been refashioned to mimic the real world.

“This is the dreamscape.”

Even as the simulacrum answered me—in my own voice, no less—I found understanding of the concept entering my mind.

He was me, after all, and I, him, and what he knew, I did too.

That he had known something I did not—even if only for a few moments—was mildly surprising but only mildly. The knowledge had not come from within, but from the Game—spurred by the simulacrum’s creation, no doubt—and he had accessed it quicker than I had.

I knew what the dreamscape was now, fully and completely.

In its most basic form, it was a manifestation of my dreaming-mind. Most people—and this included players as well—had little conscious control over their dreams. Their subconscious dictated the direction they took.

I was not one of those people, not anymore.

My simulacrum—the dream-Michael—was my awakened subconsciousness. I—or he—had the power to reshape my mind, and from this point on, I knew I would never dream again, not the way most people did, anyway.

“Dream-Michael, I like that,” the simulacrum pronounced.

At a thought, I entered the dreamscape fully. Coalescing into shape beside the construct, I let my gaze rove across the pristine forest which the simulacrum had imagined. Just looking upon it, I felt the urge to transform into a wolf and run wild through its depths. “And I like what you’ve done with the place.”

He grinned. “I thought you might.”

I smiled. “What shall we call you?”

He cocked his head to the side. “I rather think dream-Michael has a nice ring to it.”

“We can’t call you that,” I disagreed. “Too wordy.” Not to mention, confusing.

He sighed. “You’re right. Talking to our ourself like this, we might go crazy. Separate identities are a must.”

Saying nothing, I waited for him to volunteer a name.

The simulacrum deliberated for a drawn-out moment. I didn’t rush him. This was important.

“How about… Decal?” he asked at last.

Decal.

Short for Decalthiya.

I sighed. Even after all this time, I’d clearly not forgotten the half-giant. Our initial meeting had been turbulent, and I’d known her for a short time only. Despite this, I’d grown to like her, and had not forgotten the loyal warrior.

“A good name,” I replied.

“Decal it is, then.”

I nodded in acceptance, and as I did so I felt a wall grow between us. Naming the simulacrum was more than a symbolic gesture. It was a deliberate separation of our personalities. While Decal and I still shared the same knowledge, we would no longer be reflections of the same person. He would not perceive my thoughts the moment I conceived them, nor I his.

It was a necessary separation, though, both for the simulacrum’s benefit and my own sanity. He would have free will, if of a more limited variety than I did, and I would gain an added perspective—which while not truly independent was one I could trust wholeheartedly.

“What happens if you are slain?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Then Decal dies. Whatever simulacrum you raise anew will be someone different.”

That made sense. “And what are your limitations?”

His expression turned somber. “That depends on you, and how much autonomy you grant me.”

I thought for a moment, then spread my arms to take in the entirety of the dreamscape. “This is your domain. To alter as you wish and to protect at all costs. I will not interfere. I promise, too, that I will not take direct control of you unless the need is dire. How you choose to guard the fortress of our mind, and how you attack our foes’ consciousnesses, I will leave up to you. All that will fall to me is to direct you in your objectives.”

Decal bowed. “You honor me with your trust, Wolf. I will not fail us.”

I smiled. “See that you don’t, Wolf.”

He bowed again. “You’ll want to know what I’m capable of.”

I nodded. “I do at that.”

“Call up my profile,” he suggested. “It’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

Reaching out to the Game, I did just that.

Simulacrum Profile: Decal

Level: 282. Rank: 28. Current Health: 100%.

Species: construct. Lives Remaining: 1.

Fabricated Class: astral projection.

True Class: astral aspect of the Power Michael.

Damage reduction (DR): none.

Resistances (RES): 25% mental resistance.

Accessible Traits: inscrutable mind, mental focus IV, mentalist I.

Accessible Skills: telepathy.

Accessible Abilities: guard, project, charm, shurikens, paralyze, shatter, sleep, terrify, blind.

I rocked back on my heels, justifiably surprised by Decal’s capabilities—or lack thereof. “Your abilities… they’re different from my own.”

He nodded. “Your abilities don’t map directly onto me. But mine are still derived from yours.” He paused. “There is something you should be aware of… I can only attack a single subject at a time.”

I frowned. “Is that why you don’t have mass puppet or some variation of it?”

“Exactly. When I project myself, I will enter the target’s dreamscape. I will quite literally be inside their mind. However, that limits what I can affect. I can charm, paralyze, or terrify the target, but only the target.”

My frown deepened. “What about their mental shields?”

Decal spread his arms. “Do you see any mental walls here?”

I shook my head. “I do not,” I said, stating the obvious.

“That’s because the dreamscape is different. Think of it as an alternative representation of the mindglows you normally visualize. Mental shields still exist here, but they manifest in other ways. If a hostile entity entered this dreamscape, he’d first have to find the kernel responsible for self-control, then overcome the defenses protecting it—including me—before he could charm you.”

I chewed over that for a bit. “Alright… That makes sense.  But what about—”

I broke off, my thoughts turning to the mature void tree and what he’d attempted. “Everyone had a dreamscape, right?” I asked slowly.

I knew this to be true already, but I asked the question anyway while I worked through what was troubling me.

“Of course. Like I said, it’s just an alternate, if more advanced, representation of a mindglow. But far fewer can access the dreamscapes than can see mindglows.” He cocked his head to the side. “Why do you ask? What’s bothering you?”

“The mature void tree,” I murmured. “He almost subverted my mind. Did he—”

“—enter your dreamscape to make the attempt? Yes, almost certainly.” He smiled. “But the tree will find it far harder to do so again with me around.”

My expression cleared. “Then, it’s a good thing you’re here.”