Okay. Okay, you’re dead. You got hit right in the spine and collapsed. Your squadmates were killed by some kind of Harpy superweapon, you can’t hear anything from the road, and three Demigods are standing next to your incorporeal ghost, looking stern.

In review. You are Elsa Ledren, a Squad Sergeant in the Royal Auxilia, stationed in Clen, the capital of Cender. You and your battalion were dispatched into the woods to hunt down a pack of bandits that were capturing or killing Merchants’ Guild convoys for the last few months. Instead, you found twelve people, using enchanted gear and pre-Collapse weapons to kill the Merchants and take their money, to buy…something. Something profane and destructive, which you now suspect can both turn people invisible and vaporize people. You got a dagger in your back while running, and you are quite sure you were paralyzed by it…and now, you can see your body on the ground, and your Demigoddess Asa, and the human Demigods Haret and Vier, are staring at you.

“Pay attention, my daughter, and do not speak until I’m done,” Asa says flatly. “You are not dead. Do you grasp my words? You are not dead. We have lifted you from your shell until our task here is done.”
You glance down at your body and shudder. The knife is lodged right in your back.
“Yes, it would have killed you eventually,” Haret grumbles. The Avatar he’s chosen for this conversation is an imposing, middle-aged man in an expensive cloak. You have to think it’s for effect, since he can appear as anything he wishes. “Asa demanded a chance to speak with you before it did.”

Asa’s Avatar is a young woman today, like it usually is. She’s standing closest to you, with one hand in the air like she just slapped you. Maybe she did, you were sort of going mad as your soul slipped out of your body. “What you are witnessing is undoubtedly frightening. Understand that what’s causing it is far worse,” Asa says. She lowers her hand and points at the empty armor and clothes where your comrades were. “Do you know what causes this? Did you see it?”


>writein

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>>31429516
"Do you want me to answer questions or not speak? Make up your mind."

You speak up – or think up, or whatever. “L-lady Asa…Do you actually want me to answer? You told me not to say anything…” you think/mumble.
Vier chokes off something that sounds like a laugh. Haret buries his head in his hands. Asa just sighs. “Fair enough. At least you seem to have regained your senses.” She steps back and crosses her arms over her chest. “My daughter. When you were in the forest, fighting that man you could not see. Do you recall those two mercenaries in shabby clothing? One threw the knife that hit you.” She points at where that same mercenary lies, bent over a stump with an arrow in his neck. “Him. As I’m sure you know, when someone dies, their corresponding member of the Pantheon absorbs their soul, collecting their memories, and their Gift, if they have one. When that mercenary died, he fell into Haret.”
The human male Demigod speaks up, running his hand back through his hair as he does. “Indeed. As did the invisible mercenary you faced before.”
You think back to the fight. Whatever you were fighting in the woods was totally invisible. As in, beyond what you thought magic could do. “Was he…using a Gift?” you ask.
“No.” Haret shakes his head. “Child, what you witnessed was an artificial state. Only magic can do that, and only Harpy magic at that.” He frowns, no doubt recalling the panic of the Collapse, in which the entire Harpy race was destroyed. “Were there only fewer of their trinkets left intact,” he murmurs.
Vier takes over. “Sergeant Ledren. Those mercenaries were just hired grunts. Ultimately possessing of little consequence. It’s their employer who concerns us.”

>”The Explorer?”
>”What was it that they were using?”
>writein

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>>31429848
>>”The Explorer?”
>>”What was it that they were using?”
maul2slow

>>31429848
>>”The Explorer?”

You stare at the last three living members of the Pantheon. “You mean the old man? The Explorer?”
“Precisely,” Asa says. She gestures at the thick wall of trees that separate you from the road. “My daughter, please look beyond those trees to gain an understanding of what has drawn all three of us to this gesture.”
You turn to look at the treeline. You can’t hear anything past it. No sounds of shuffling armored feet, no speaking in the ranks of the Army beyond. You can’t even hear the shouts and clamor of battle.
“What am I going to see? What was the old man using?” you ask the trio.
“Something that shouldn’t exist any more,” Vier says darkly.
“Never should have existed at all,” Haret puts in, earning nods from the other two.
Your spectral form drifts over to the trees. A feeling of disquiet is growing inside you as you approach the spot where the rest of your Army bretheren were standing. “If I had made it that far, would I be here right now?” you ask aloud.
Asa walks up behind you, head hung low. Her voice is so quiet you can barely hear it. “See for yourself.”
Hesitation stills your movements for another moment. The sense of dread that has been mounting since you entered the forest is pervasive now. The total silence from the road isn’t helping.
Still, you have orders. You move through the treeline.

(con’t)

You see the wreck of the caravan. It’s burned to ashes. The last smoking pieces of wood have burned themselves out. There’s no sign of the men you saw Ekrine station there, either.
Wait. Yes, there is. There’s another pile of clothes here. With a catch, you realize it’s stuff that Sedri was wearing when she ran past you in the woods. Did she get hit by this weapon too?
You glance left, towards the sea – nothing. There’s no people or clothing beyond the wreck. You turn right…Oh. That’s what Asa meant.
The entire road is filled with empty armor. Clothes, weapons, armor, jewelry, a wagon or two. There’s no people. Everything that should have filled the clothes is gone. There are whole ranks of armor, empty as if they’ve never been worn. But they have been, that’s clear, there’s marks on the weapons, dust on the boots. There are torches that have fallen and ignited whatever they fell upon. There are wallets with coins still in them sitting on the Dwarven stonework, unclaimed. For nearly half a kilometer back, in neat rows of ten abreast, empty piles of Army and even Legion armor lie on the ground.
The peaceful autumn breezes stir loose piles of fabric in the roadways. You don’t have knees to fall to, but you can still speak. You hear your mind’s voice whimper in fear at the sight. Horror, even. This is wrong. This is obscene.
Asa’s presence behind you speaks. “You see now, my child? This is what happens when old weapons are brought back. It was this that brought us here.”
You spin to see her standing behind you. The breeze doesn’t disturb her Avatar’s clothes. She walks up beside you now, and raises one gloved hand to take in the sight. “All of them. Nearly eight hundred, dead in a second. All it took was one invocation upon that weapon.”
“What…” you manage to ask. “What is it?”
Vier appears behind Asa. “A Harpy superweapon from the old days. An Orb of the Feathered Demon.”

>writein

Did I run at an inconvenient time for people?

I'm here, but I haven't read previous thread, just let me get on track with it.

Excellent. Today is really slow, so take your time. I'll be running all today and tomorrow.

Just keeping it alive.

>>31430254
"so, what now?"

The sheer scale of this killing surpasses anything you’ve ever seen in the Army before. The Brotherhood may have encountered something like this, but they’re in a league of their own.

Asa moves to obstruct you slightly, drawing your ethereal haze back to her. “Elsa. Do you see anyone else here? Anyone alive?”

You look around. You don’t see anyone in the field of clothes that covers the road. “No…my Lady, I don’t see anyone.”

Your Demigoddess reaches over and takes your hand, staring into your eyes. “Do you know, at some level, why we can’t solve this for you?”

You stare back, your mind racing around the horror of what you’re seeing. “Because…because you can only know what your Avatars see in person…and what the dead know when they come to you…so you don’t know who the Explorer is any more than I do…”

“And do you then understand what needs to be done?” she asks.

That fatalistic feeling is coming back, but you ignore it. “…Someone needs to track down the Explorer and his clients…and kill them.”

Asa nods, releasing your hand. “Allow me to tell you a brief story. Around two months ago, in the northern country of Strevain, an Orondian nomad mage captured several other Harpy superweapons and used them to stage an invasion. The Strevainis were only saved because I managed to convince the Orondian heir that his sister’s ambitions were not sanctioned, and her weapons were not deserved. That, and the heroism of one brave young elf named Avis. He died, defending Strevain from the invading Orondians, who had used the Proscribed School of the Corpsewaker.”

(con’t)

You shudder at that name. Waking the dead is one of fewer than ten spells that have been forbidden outright in the world by the Pantheon. Asa continues. “The young man…” she drifts off, looking away. “I wanted to make him a Herald.”

“A Herald?” you ask. The name is familiar, but you can’t place it.

Asa lets out a tiny sigh. “Yes. Have the mortal races honestly forgotten what those are?”

The title clicks. They were mortal people who had been endowed to act in the Pantheon’s name where an Avatar, a literal extension of the divine, could not. “Well…” you stammer. “It’s been three thousand years since you made one…my Lady,” you add.

“True.” She opens her hand. A tiny blue jewel sits in her palm. “Heralds are endowed with certain…abilities. They may pray and be heard, for instance. We can not hear the prayers of other people. They need not sleep as much, they heal incredibly fast…other abilities come with time.”

She looks up at you, her face blank. You feel like the world is dropping out from under you. “Elsa, you were the only person to live through this who didn’t run. One. Out of eight hundred troops,” she says. “Mai’te and the other Gods are gone. The Feathered Demon Orb slew them. I can not…WE can not interfere. But a mortal, endowed with my power…this conspiracy can not be anticipating that,” she says.


>But…I’m paralyzed.
>And the rest of the Pantheon is alright with there being an Elf Herald and no Humans?
>I don’t know what to say…
>Writein

>>31432556
>>And the rest of the Pantheon is alright with there being an Elf Herald and no Humans?

>>31432556
>I don’t know what to say…
>Writein
How did the other gods die? They're gods..they can't die.

>>31432621
2ed

The gem in her hand is sea-blue, and it catches the morning light on its facets. You shudder as you realize what that means. You were out all night; it was evening when you got stabbed. “My Lady…I don’t know what to say. I…this is…unprecedented. First I…well, die. Then this…”

“It’s a lot to take in,” Asa said sympathetically. “I understand. Do you want to ask me anything?”

You glance over at where Haret is glowering and Vier is watching passively. “Are the rest of the Pantheon alright with there being an elf Herald and no human ones?”

“The alternative is rivalry, jurisdictional pissing matches, and maybe even outright failure,” Haret rumbles. He always was more formal and distant than the other two. “The fact that you’re an Elf is immaterial. You survived. Nobody else did. You killed a conspirator. You kept your wits about you in battle and tried to save an injured comrade. You prioritized intelligence gathering even though you weren’t trained.” He crosses his arms. “You were good enough. Nobody else was.”
“But a Brotherhood member, perhaps?” you ask. “They live for centuries, with all their experience…”

“Would you rather we leave you to die on the forest floor?” Haret asks flatly. You wince.

“My apologies, Lord Haret,” you say in contrition.

He sighs. “No, the fault is mine. Forgive my tone.” He waves a hand at the field of billowing capes and still armor. “This…brings back memories for us all. Father Garm and your mother Mai’te were slain by a Harpy wielding this weapon. It’s hard to see this carnage and not recall the tumult of the Collapse.”

(con’t)

“Is that what happened?” you ask. “I know some historians dispute that…”

Vier speaks up from her vigil at the treeline. “Sergeant Ledren, take no heed of pseudohistorians. We were there. We saw.” She walks up beside you and Asa and clasps one of your hands between yours. Your spectral, ghastly form flickers in the rising wind. “Girl, this is a chance we debated giving you for nearly an hour. We can speak at the speed of thought. Ours is a considered choice.” She manages the ghost of a smile. “Do you understand?”

You look down at where the Demigoddess has her hands around yours and feel resolve flow from her to you. It’s not a choice at all, is it? You have to do it. “Then…all I need to know…” you slowly say. “Yes…what do I do when I find the conspirators?”

Asa seems to wilt a bit in relief. “If you can kill them without praying to us for assistance, that would be preferable,” she says. “My dear daughter, the success of Avis Barkley in the north shows that mortals can solve the immortal problems with foresight and quick thinking. I am entrusting you with my power because I know you can use it without my oversight.”

>Accept the Heraldship now
>Having three Avatars present concurrently is almost un-heard-of. Ask more questions while you have all three of them here (writein)

>>31432929
>Accept the Heraldship now
let's get this show on the road

>>31432929
>Accept the Heraldship now

>>31432929
>Accept the Heraldship now

Writing.

Here's your new and updated Character Sheet, including a list of your new Divine powers.

http://pastebin.com/v2Sa7Miq

You look over at the field of armor and clothes, feeling almost giddy with the emotions pulling at you. Still, one thing is clear. The Pantheon would not have united to bestow this boon on you if it weren’t truly necessary. And if that’s the case, it’s best not to put it off. You stand at attention, spectral boots clicked together, at the roadside. “Then…my Lady, it is a privilege to accept.”

Asa inclines her head. “And it is a burden I pass along with a heavy heart, my daughter. But do not think it a death sentence. If you succeed, and this conspiracy is broken, their weapons destroyed, I will not bring you back to this wooded grave. You will be allowed to keep my powers as long as you wish.” She beckons you to kneel before her, and you take a knee. You train your eyes to the grassy ground, but her voice raises your head. “Look up, my daughter,” Asa says. You feel her hand on your cheek, training your eyes to her face. Her expression is a combination of fresh heartache, determination, and suppressed emotion that you’ve seen over and over on the faces of others in the Auxilia. “You are my child always and my servant in life…but you are my will made manifest now. Never avert your eyes from me any more than you would from any of the mortal races.”

Haret and Vier back up a pace as Asa lowers the gem to your forehead and holds it still. “Accept the brand of my Heraldry, Elsa Ledren of the Wild Kin, Daughter of Mai’te and Herald of The Sundered Pantheon,” she intones.

Darkness.

(con’t)

You slowly awake. The cool grass under your cheek crinkles as you crane your neck up from your spot on the ground.

The sun is right overhead. The dim autumn lights dance through the trees all around you. You’re back where you were lying before, when you were hit by the throwing knife. The spots of blood on the grass and leaves around you are dried and cracked from age…save one larger one under your face. You brush your hand over your head and feel your hand clink against something embedded in your head, under your hair.

The gem. You realize that that was what Asa had meant. Memories you’ve never felt before rush into you: knowledge and information you will need to use your new abilities.

It’s an uncomfortable feeling, remembering something that happened to someone else. You try to shake off the sensation, lest you appear undignified before Asa…then realize you have a different problem. Your clothes and armor are folded and cleaned, completely restored, and sitting on the ground beside you. You’re stark naked, Asa is nowhere to be seen, and judging from the angle of the sun, it’s been several hours since you blacked out. You struggle into your gear as fast as you can, eyes darting around the tiny clearing, trying to get your bearings. You see the road beyond the trees, and can faintly hear voices from the stone. You think you hear Asa’s voice among them.


>Go and see what’s up
>Collect Connor and Alrox’ gear
>Just sit and think things over for a while (author’s choice)
>Writein

>>31433494
>Go and see what’s up

>>31433494
Just saw this, glad to see you continuing this. Jumping in.

>Collect Connor and Alrox’ gear before heading back towards the former army's location before their death.

We need to scavenge some equipment from their loot stacks.

>>31433494
>>Collect Connor and Alrox’ gear

Alrox. Connor. Both of them died trying to pass along intelligence to the Army. You blink back emotion as you reach over to Connor’s gearbag and grab ammunition to replace what you lost. He didn’t have a full complement, so you just empty his bag into yours and fill the gap with as much as you can salvage from Alrox’s bag. You grab the contents of their pockets – a few personal items, a wedding ring from Connor, some money, a map from Alrox, a pocketknife from him as well – and sort it amongst your own pouches. You grab your own spear, sling, shield, and bandana as well, cinching it tight over your forehead. The leather strip down the middle of the cloth crown is thicker than the rest of the material, and can be wrapped up in the cloth with some fiddling to provide a narrow brim. You do so, not wanting to march into the setting sun without something over your eyes.

You walk up to the edge of the trees and poke your head out. You see Asa standing in the ruin of the caravan, with a few absolutely horrified-looking merchants listening agape to her speak. An entire Merchants’ Guild convoy stretches out behind them, picking its way through the ranks and ranks of empty clothes. Several dozen Escorts from their own Guild are surrounding the convoy, peering into the forest…and surreptitiously helping themselves to some choice Army and Legion gear, you notice.

>Walk up to Asa and listen to the conversation.
>Call out the looters
>Gather up the two fallen men’s heavier equipment and try to trade it to the merchants for more money (since you left your money with your husband before deployment)
>Writein

>>31433825
>Walk up to Asa and listen to the conversation.

>>31433825
>Walk up to Asa and listen to the conversation.

>>31433825
>Walk up to Asa and listen to the conversation.

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Be back in forty five minutes.

You jump the ditch and approach your Demigoddess…patron? That’s so weird. You suspect you haven’t processed it fully yet.

Asa nods to acknowledge you before turning back to the merchants. “They were never bandits. That’s the point.”

The lead merchant, a woman about three times your age and decked out in the robes of a Master-level Merchants’ Guildswoman, looks sickened. “All this clothing…armor and armaments…my Lady, what do you intend to do with it?”

Asa turns to you and gives you an inquisitive look. “Elsa. This is Master Merchant Opaal, native to Margent, here in Cender. Would you kindly describe the situation to her, as I seem unable to do?”


>writein (freeform)
>writein (outline [when you see this, it means leave an idea for me to build off of instead of writing out the entire response yourself {flagrantly out of character responses will be disregarded}])

>>31434593
Why is she unable to describe the situation to her?

>>31434675
She's testing you.

>>31434593
>very rough outline
This old hooded robed dude used some kind of magic superweapon to kill the hundreds of soldiers here.

>>31434593
"Greetings, Master Merchant. I'm Sergeant Elsa Ledren of the King's Auxiliary. I'm...was...part of this unit."

"We were ordered here to investigate reports of a bandit gang. We didn't find any trace of them, and instead we were ambushed by strangers wielding some magical superweapon."

"I was the only survivor, by the grace of Lady Asa and the Pantheon."

Questions:

>Should we reveal that we're a Herald
>Should we reveal who did this

>Should we reveal that we're a Herald
>Should we reveal who did this
Perhaps! Remember that if one suggestion from the audience gains support, it will override other suggestions from the audience, just like a checklist-style vote. As for how covert you want your operation to be, that is entirely up to you (though I will say that meeting an Avatar in person, for normal people, before death is not so common as to be unremarkable, it's also not so uncommon as to be life-changing. Meeting Heralds...suffice it to say that they haven't been seen in three thousand years. Shock and awe are powerful things, and can provoke powerful reactions in turn).

>>31434843
>Should we reveal who did this
>Don't reveal we became a Herald

Let's keep our Exaltation on the down low.

>>31434763
yes reveal who did it
no don't reveal we're a herald

Very well! Writing a response!

You incline your head to Asa and the Merchant, who seems to have only just noticed you. "Greetings, Master Merchant. I'm Sergeant Elsa Ledren of the King's Auxiliary. I'm...was...part of this unit. We were ordered here to investigate reports of a bandit gang. We didn't find any trace of them, and instead we were ambushed by strangers wielding some magical superweapon. I was the only survivor, by the grace of Lady Asa and the Pantheon."

The Merchant blinks, looks back at her convoy, blanches, and looks back. “I’m so sorry, Sergeant,” she says.

“So am I,” you say, not feigning your reaction at all. Eight hundred people you knew and trusted, gone in a flash, while you went mad with terror on the forest floor. “Still. Er…what was your destination?” you ask.

“As I was explaining to Lady Asa, my convoy is bound for the port garrison at Margent,” Opaal explains, gesturing vaguely west. “We are carrying textiles, mostly, along with coal and tin.”

“May I assume you were traveling with so many guards because of the recent attacks?” you ask, buying time. Asa’s unblinking, neutral stare is disconcerting. You’re just a soldier, not a policewoman or Shadow…

The Merchant huffs. “Naturally.” She looks again at the abandoned armor. “Were those all…people?”

You feel a pang as you start to realize how many people you know are gone. Asa’s eyes are downcast, now. “Every one,” you say hollowly. “All of them.”

The Merchant is looking a bit sick now. “Perhaps…well, are we safe to proceed? We should not linger if whatever did this is still around…”

>”They aren’t. Go ahead.”
>”It would be safer if you turned back.”
>”I defer to Lady Asa’s judgment.”
>>Asa’s Speech token for this day [Asa speaks through you with the best available answer]
>Writein

>>31435321
>”They aren’t. Go ahead.”

>>31435321
>”It would be safer if you turned back.”

Rolled 2

Seems a tiebreaker is needed. I'm rolling 1d2 to determine which you say. 1 is 'go ahead,' 2 is 'turn back.' If it's 'turn back,' I'll also roll a 1d100 for Persuasion, since it's pretty hard to convince a merchant to not go and make money.

Rolled 3

All right, rolling to Persuade.

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>>31435829
Oh gods.

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Yeah, that could have gone better. Welp, let's see how this goes...writing now.

You clear your throat. “Well, ma’am, I think you should turn back.” Asa peers over at you, but says nothing.

Opaal flinches. “Is it that bad up there?”

You shrug. “Well, they attacked from inside the forests to the southeast, actually.”

The Merchant and her partners stare at you. “So…we’d be moving away from them if we went ahead…and towards them if we move on?”

You stare. “I…suppose so.”

Opaal shakes her head. “Thank you for your advice, soldier, but we’re overdue in Margent, and it’s a four-week march.” She nods to you and Asa. “My apologies for your loss, Sergeant. By your leave, my Lady.” Asa nods regally and stands aside.


The convoy restarts, with Opaal and her cohort hopping on to the first passing wagon as it catches up to her. You stand back to let the pull animals pass, hoping Asa can’t see you blush furiously. ‘Go back towards the danger because I said so?’ You had a chance to impress a Demigoddess and THAT was what you came up with?

As the last of the rearguard horse archers clop by, Asa’s Avatar turns to look at you. She’s a bit stone-faced.


>Pre-empt her by saying something (writein)
>Let her speak first

>>31436037
"Looks like I need some geography lessons."

>>31436037
Shrug "I tried"

>>31436037
"I have no excuse, my Lady."

>>31436037
>Let her speak first

>>31436037
>Let her speak first
All these write-ins suck.

>>31436037
>>Let her speak first

She slowly walks up to you as you search for something to say. When she pauses a few feet away and folds her hands over the clasp of her belt, you decide there really isn’t anything. “So, uh…I’m sorry, my Lady. I tried,” you say. It even sounds lame to you.

Asa slowly shakes her head with a wry grin. “Oh, forget it. I was just forgetting that your background was so different from my last few Heralds. They were literally heralds; courtiers and retainers of the Emperor who could be trusted to convey sensitive messages across Tarsh. You’re a soldier.”

You seize the opportunity to change the topic. “Yes, about that,” you quickly say. “I want to make it clear that my earlier comment wasn’t supposed to imply that I doubt your judgment. I’m just not a negotiator. I’m a skirmisher. I shoot things, my Lady.”

“Oh, I know, and you’ll need to do rather a lot of that, I’m afraid,” she says, perhaps a bit glum. “But my choice wasn’t convenience alone. I could just as easily have appealed to the Brotherhood or the Firesouls for help.” She looks to the dusty tail end of the convoy. “These people aren’t really material to this discussion. I wouldn’t have left the decision to you without advising you if I thought the conspirators were really still here.” She turns to you and smiles again. “I like you, Elsa, and I think you can be trusted. Your squadmates thought quite highly of you.”

(con’t)

The little nub of ice in your gut from seeing all the empty armor gets a bit bigger as it finally dawns on you that the elf afterlife – which poor Asa had to rebuild from scratch after Mai’te and Ghalad, the other two Elf gods, died in the Collapse – is contained physically within the Demigod whose Avatar you’re now facing. It’s not a particularly nice place, either, from what you’ve been told.

“I’m glad to hear it,” you say mechanically. Asa nods.

“Of course. Truth be told, I was impressed that you knew not to defer to me in that discussion,” she says. “It would have undermined your own authority.”

“I didn’t want to appear indecisive,” you say. “Of course, I did anyway,” you grumble under your breath.

>Ask her what to do with all the remaining armor
>Just go back to the city now and send someone out to collect it
>Writein


>thohea Soldiers
oh god captcha

>>31435889

Get that waifu shit out of here. I thought you had got some sense and ditches that shit OP.

>>31436392
>Just go back to the city now and send someone out to collect it

>>31436392
>Just go back to the city now and send someone out to collect it

Can't imagine a god has any special interest in mundane armor.

You walk up to the nearest suit of armor. Your stomach clenches again when you realize that it’s Lieutenant Ekrine’s. Poor bastard. “Lady Asa, this armor…we shouldn’t leave it for looters,” you say.

She walks up beside you. Her coruscating skin shimmers as the clouds cover the sun. “I think you’re right. You can get someone from the garrison to come and clean it up when you get back to the Capital, can you not?”

“Oh. Of course. Yes, my Lady, I’ll do that,” you say. “So…I suppose I should go back to the City and inform the Governor, then? Of the conspiracy?”

“If you wish.” Asa rests a hand on your shoulder. You can’t help but feel better. Your natural empathetic link to your Pantheon member is augmented by proximity, like anyone’s is. Your appointment as a Herald doesn’t appear to have changed that. “Understand that I am leaving this in your hands. Ask for advice if you wish, I won’t withhold it, but the initiative is yours.”

You turn to look at her in surprise. “You don’t want me to follow your oders?”

“Of course I do. But the Collapse was caused by the Pantheon getting too involved in mortal affairs,” she reminds you. “And the war up north between Orond and Strevain was resolved by the actions of a single mortal.” She smiles again. “Don’t forget that, Elsa. Besides,” she adds drily, “an Avatar walking into a black market den or a school would cause some turmoil. One young woman? Hardly. And don't feel the need to take any of this abandoned equipment, either. The Army will have a surplus once they've collected it, they'd be mad to deny you a chance to borrow some for the duration of your task."

>writein

>>31437022
>"Ok"
>Head back to city

>>31437022
Take some money, always good to have
then
see if they left some tracks to follow

>>31437149
Don't loot the equipment of the fallen.

You look up and squint. It’s a long march back to the city. At least you won’t have to worry about food, with what you can gather from the abandoned supply carts at the back of the convoy. The Merchants just pushed them aside when they went by.

Asa notices your stare. “So. Back to the city, then?”

“Well…actually, do you think there would be any value in simply looking for them out here?” you ask.

Asa quirks an eyebrow. “Would I still be here if there were, my daughter? Remember, that weapon has murdered actual gods. It erases people’s form, casts their souls away. If I thought there was even a chance of them still being here, I wouldn’t be.” She does bow to the thought, however, making an oddly conciliatory gesture. “I admire your pluck, but they’re gone.”

“Then I guess…I’m gone,” you say. You bow to her again, and turn to walk back east.

To your surprise, Asa’s Avatar keeps pace. “You don’t mind if I accompany you, do you, Elsa?” she asks. “I find that I only interact with the dead most of the time. Having a Herald to speak to is…refreshing. And it would get lonely out here for you, I think,” she says. You’re surprised by how much less formal she seems with the rest of the Pantheon’s Avatars gone. She’s more like she’s described as being by others who have met her now.


>”Not at all, my Lady.”
>”I’d just like some time to think, if that’s all right.”
>”Sure, if you don’t mind my asking some questions, my Lady.”

>>31437480

>”Not at all, my Lady.”

>>31437480
>”Sure, if you don’t mind my asking some questions, my Lady.”

“I would be honored, my Lady. I may not be a silent companion, though,” you caution.

“Good.” Asa falls into step behind you. “Did you want to ask anything en route?”

You hesitate before answering. “Well…I suppose I did. I guess…what happens if this conspirator attacks us on the way?”

“If they have brains amongst them, they’re long gone, but if they do, I will be forced to leave,” Asa informs you. “You need to find a way to neutralize that weapon before I can destroy it. Stealing it would be ideal, but functionally impossible. Unless those buyers are unbelievably incautious.”

The dappled sunlight across the stone road dances in the shifting cloud cover. The chill wind pushes at your back, blowing your half-cloak around. You cinch it with your free hand before asking another question. “Any idea who the nine survivors are, my Lady?”

Asa tsks. “Little. The three who died were just muscle. They were desperate enough for money to volunteer to be turned invisible, though. I would wager that they were freelance mercenaries or assassins. The six men you saw, that is. The nobles, and the Explorer, I don’t know. I will attempt to sift the memories of nobles and Explorers who have died to search for their identities.”


(con’t)

You nod. “Thank you, my Lady.” The two of you march on in silence for some while longer, making remarkable time. Asa’s mere presence is comforting, in a way you’ve never felt. Nearly five hours pass, and the sun is starting to drift west behind you, before you speak up again. “What was Mai’te like?”

Asa doesn’t respond right away. You hazard a glance back at her to see her eyes turned to the road, not meeting your gaze. “Kind. Very kind. Even when there were forty two seats on the Pantheon instead of three, she was the gentlest.” She wistfully smiles. “As hard as it may seem to believe, when taking me in contrast with my human counterparts, I was the restless child of the elf gods. Ghalad, my brother…he was the noble scholar. He liked to meet people, teach people. I think he had more Avatars than any of us.”

“Is it hard without them?” you ask. “It’s been so long…”

Asa closes her eyes for a moment. “I miss them every day. Especially in times of great wars or famines, when the souls are pouring in to me. It’s hard to keep up. The strain is…terrible. I was never meant to house the dead. That was Mother’s job.” She sighs. “It has left me the most powerful of the three of us by far, of course, but…I would trade it all for another day with my family.”

You turn away. “I’m sorry.”

“She would have liked you, Elsa. You’re brave, and you’re smart.” She walks up along beside you. “You’re honest. I think she would have approved of my choice.”

You can’t help but feel touched by that.

>writein
>timeskip to the next day

>>31438163
>time skip

>>31438163
>timeskip to the next day

The two of you speak little for the rest of the day. Asa’s gifts to your physical body are manifesting flawlessly, you can see. You only needed to sleep for three hours before waking up fully refreshed. Asa herself kept her Avatar present, you note, resting in the nock of a tree on the roadside as you slept hidden from sight in the undergrowth. You can’t find a single insect bite or sting on your body when you wake up, either.

Asa looks down at you as you rise. She looks oddly peaceful, given all that’s happened. “Are you ready to depart, my daughter? Or do you want to eat first?”

You heft a chunk of flatbread from the supply wagon. “I can eat on the road, my Lady.” A thought occurs. “Do you need to eat?”

She chuckles. “No, thank you. I am an anthropomorphic, divinely enriched cloud of sound waves, residing in a building-sized, underground geode in a graveyard, many hundreds of miles from here.”

You stare. “That’s…uh…”

“Sort of puts the practice of coming to see mortals with Avatars in perspectives, doesn’t it?” she laughs.

Your spirits lift to hear her cheerful. You’ve always heard that the experience of being near an Avatar and feeling their moods in sympathy was creepy, but it seems quite pleasant so far. You clamber to your feet and stuff a flatbread in your mouth. “Thank you for restoring my clothing, by the way, my Lady,” you say around a mouthful of grain and salt. “It’s much appreciated.”


(con’t)

“Showing up with a hole in your back would have been poor form,” Asa says, her Avatar springing down from the tree and landing without a sound. “You’re quite welcome.”

You gesture at your forehead as you sip some water from your extra oilbag. “Is this gem…I mean, I remember it from when you were holding it. What does it actually do?”

“It’s a channel. Remember when I said I can’t hear thoughts or prayers? That allows me to hear you when you pray.” She raises one hand, tilts it back and forth like a balancing scale. “I don’t listen when you don’t want me to, of course, but please don’t hesitate to ask questions, when you need to.”


A loud screeching from down the road draws your attention. You glance up to see a huge bird, probably a Goldie or some other massive eagle that lives in these dense forests and river flats, swoop down and grab something off the roadside, then rise again, twisting it in its claws. Asa watches it go. “Pretty animals, aren’t they?”

“Eagles? They are,” you mention. Before the conversation can continue, a more familiar sound makes you jerk your head back down to the road. Someone is running towards you, shooting frightened looks over their shoulder. A group of perhaps four men in the uniform of the Escorts’ Guild are chasing them, not saying anything. The runner has a bloody gash down the side of their neck; the sound you heard was their shouting for help.

I forgot to mention that the Escorts are a dedicated convoy guarding company, like Mercenaries only more specialized.

>writein

>>31438719
Stop the runner.

Step between them, ask what's going on.

You might want to give possible options here.

>>31438824
Fair enough.

The runner is heading directly for you. You do not know who they are. Asa is standing behind you and the runner can not see her. The Escorts are probably twenty feet behind the runner and armed. You do not recognize them. They are about thirty eight yards up the road, between you and the city, in the direction you're heading. The runner is carrying a small bag in their hands but no visible weapons.


>Block the way
>Call to get their attention (say what?)
>Load sling
>Ask for advice from Asa
>writein

>>31438824
seconded

>>31438900
>Load sling
>Call to get their attention (say what?)
what's going on?

>>31438900
>Block the way

>>31438900
>>Block the way

>>31438938
this plus
>block the way

>>31439090
was also supposed to link to
>>31438900

You feel a rush of air as Asa vanishes from behind you, leaving you alone. Clearly, she’s thinking this is another test of your skill.

You plant yourself in the path of the runner, sling dangling loose in one hand with an iron slug loaded in the basket. Before the runner gets within ten feet of you, they spot you, and puts on a burst of speed, hauling directly before you. “Please!” they shout – it’s a young woman, human. “Please, they’re wrong! Help!”

You heft your spear and sling as the person approaches, but as soon as they’re close, they skid to a halt and turn to face the Escorts. “Don’t come any closer!” she screams.

To your manifest surprise, the four Escorts – a mix of races and sexes – do indeed slow down. Behind them, you can see a convoy, probably about half a mile away, halted. The convoy guards are watching from a distance, not moving. With all the banditry about, you can’t fault their caution.

“Thanks for the help, soldier,” one of them puffs. He draws a gladius and takes another step forward. “We’ll take it from here.

“What’s going on?” you demand.

The Escort scoffs. “What’s it look like? Little thief snatched a bag of money out of the wagon when the convoy master called departure. Probably followed us from the city.”

You turn to regard the woman, who’s backing up now, not tearing her gaze from the advancing Guildsmen. “I didn’t take their money!” she wails. “I took back a parcel that wasn’t supposed to go into the convoy in the first place! I told the cargo master beforehand!”


>”Then what’s in the bag?”
>”Then why are you running?”
>”Then where’s the cargomaster?”
>”Why do they all think you took money?”
>”Why did you follow them from the city?”
>Writein
>Leave and let them sort it out

>>31439210
>”Then where’s the cargomaster?”

>>31439210
>>”Then what’s in the bag?”

>>31439210
>"Then what's in the bag?"
Also ask if the soldiers have an inventory of everything in the wagon. If they can check and nothing is missing then the woman is telling the truth.

“Then where is he?” you snap.

The woman flinches. “I…I don’t know why he set the guards on me! I cleared it with him! I even gave him a refund!”

“Open the bag,” you instruct.

The Escorts are nearly on you both now. The woman frantically digs through the bag, then pulls out a small coil of wax-sealed paper. “See?! No money! Just a letter!”

The Escort spokesman grabs the woman by the wrist. “Hand that over, or I’m taking your hand,” he says flatly. “That’s a Merchants’ Guild manifest.”

“Hang on, soldier, don’t go lopping hands here,” you warn him, stepping closer. You turn to the woman, who is nearly shaking in fear by now. She’s also way too pale. She must have lost more blood than it looks like she has from the one wound you can see.


>Drag her back to the convoy
>Make her empty the whole bag on the ground
>Writein

>>31439679
>>Make her empty the whole bag on the ground

>>31439679
>Make her empty the whole bag on the ground

>>31439679
>Ask if they have an inventory you can check
>Make her empty the whole bag on the ground

“The fuck do you care, soldier?” the Escort demands.

“I just watched several hundred people die, so don’t fuck with me today,” you snarl. You turn to the woman. “Empty the bag.”

She gingerly leans away from the Escort, who still has a death grip on her arm, and empties the bag onto the ground. There’s a few silvers inside, another few pieces of paper, an oilskin-wrapped slip of vellum, and that’s it.

The Escort stares at the contents of the bag. “The fuck? That’s a courier’s bag.”

The woman wrenches her hand away from the Escort. “See?! I didn’t steal your money or your fucking manifest!” she screams, now completely hysterical.

“Calm down, girl,” you caution. “You’re not in any shape for this.” Indeed, the blood seeping down her neck has now soaked her collar through. It’s not stopping, either. “You four. Do you have convoy listing? Do you see anything here that isn’t supposed to be there?”

The nearest Escort quite deliberately circles around the swooning woman so she can’t bolt. “No, the cargomaster has it. I don’t look in the bags.”

“Alright, we’re going back to that convoy,” you declare. “We’ll sort it out once I meet this cargomaster.”

“Like hell,” one of the other Escorts puts in. “You’re no Guard, you’re an Auxilia. You don’t have the authority to order us lunch, much less order us to unseal the convoy itinerary.”


>”I answer to a higher authority (the King).”
>”I answer to a higher authority (Lady Asa [actually call on her]).”
>”I answer to a higher authority (Lady Asa [show them the brand]).”
>”I think the Cargomaster would rather see that he accused the girl of taking something she didn’t take, first (don’t pull rank at all yet).”

>>31440135
>”I think the Cargomaster would rather see that he accused the girl of taking something she didn’t take, first (don’t pull rank at all yet).”

Keep some stuff in reserve.

>>31440135
>”I answer to a higher authority (the King).”

>>31440135
>>”I think the Cargomaster would rather see that he accused the girl of taking something she didn’t take, first (don’t pull rank at all yet).”

>>31440135
>”I think the Cargomaster would rather see that he accused the girl of taking something she didn’t take, first (don’t pull rank at all yet).”

“I don’t need to,” you shoot back. You put a hand on the girl’s not-bloodied shoulder and she nearly faints. “Poor thing isn’t going anywhere. Let’s just take her back to the convoy and show the cargomaster what happened.”

The Escorts grumble, but the woman clearly isn’t going to run. You lead the group back to the convoy, which has halted at the roadside with its remaining guards encircling it. It’s much smaller than either your Army convoy, the one whose charred ruin you found at the ambush site, or the textile caravan you and Asa spoke to. It probably has as many guards as the textile one, though. A few people with Merchants’ Guild pins or hats step up as you approach.

One raises a hand and calls out. “Thank you, soldier. Your intervention is appreciated.”

“Don’t thank me yet, sir,” you reply. You show him the bag as you draw near. “This woman didn’t take what she was accused of having taken.”

He blinks. “I don’t care, soldier, and neither do you. You steal from my convoys, you die. It’s a simple process.” He grabs the bag from your hands and orders the guards forward. “Take the woman.”


>”That’s not what you told these Escorts!” (try to get him to contradict himself)
>”Not happening.” (fight)
>”Whatever.” (let them kill the woman)
>”Asa, a little help?” (divine intervention)
>writein

>>31440781

>”I do care, actually. She claims you were never supposed to have that item. I'd like to see your inventory list."

>>31440781
>”That’s not what you told these Escorts!” (try to get him to contradict himself)

Asa is our ace in the hole.

>>31440781
>”Not happening.” (fight)

>>31440934
Seconded.

You throw your hands out to your sides, preventing anyone from advancing. “You don’t really want to lie to me, Merchant,” you growl. “You told this woman that she got her package back, and told the Escorts you hired that she robbed you.”

The Merchant hesitates for a moment. You see his eyes dart to your weapons, to the woman, to the Escorts, to the Escorts that were securing his convoy, back to you. “She did rob me, soldier,” he says coldly. “Don’t get in my way. You’re out of your jurisdiction.”

“Shove your jurisdiction up your ass, Merchant, you’re not killing an unarmed woman while I’m breathing,” you bark. You grab the bag back and dump the contents at his feet. “See? No coin to speak of.”

“I just want my letters back,” the girl mumbles, delirious. “Weren’t supposed to go out yet…” She focuses. “No…ma’am, they’ll be on his…inventory, I just changed my mind…”

You close your eyes for an instant of annoyance. “That would have been good to know,” you grumble. “Cargomaster, look at that stuff on the ground and let me know if it’s worth killing for.”

“It’s the principle of the thing!” he insists. “She ran up to my convoys while were loading to go this morning, breaking camp after sleep, grabbed the bag, and ran! Who told you she gave me a refund? Did she say it herself?”

You hesitate. She told you herself. You turn to the woman, about to ask her to prove her story, when the issue suddenly leaves your hands entirely. The woman’s eyes roll back in her head, and she collapses on the ground. Blood drips onto the stone under her neck wound.

>writein

>>31441458
What powers do we have as a herald?

>>31441458
Fuck. Call out Asa, ask if she can heal the girl.

Emergency power outage imminent here. Going offline. Picking up tomorrow.

I'm sorry.

>>31441571
ok thx 4 runin budy gud thred

>>31441571
Crap. Thanks for the thread! We'll try to keep it alive.

Bamp.

>>31441458
Do first aid. (should have done it earlier).

>>31442610
Bamp dos.

SE, I want to congradulate you on getting this quest up and running. After All your stories, its nice to see you take a leap and try something different. So, i look forward to seeing where this goes. After all, You put your full effort into everything you do. Speaking of, i Hope that eventually we meet a sailor elf named neon guthrie who will regale us with tales of how he sailed the world sea of tarsh, escaped a hungry craxen and sailed through the eye of a hypercane. and then we laugh at how ridiculous It is, and how unlikely the story is.

Back from the brink.

All right! Thank you all for keeping this afloat. I'll be picking up right where I left off at 1030 Eastern.

>>31444778
Thanks!
>neon guthrie
I don't get it.

>>31446868

look closer

File: 1397397517331.png-(10 KB, 429x410, 1280676974484.png)

10 KB PNG

Still not seeing it.

>>31447017

i'd drop more hints, but ITS way past my bedtime. And after All, we all Need tO get some sleep,even in INTERNET land.

“Well, fuck,” you sigh, kneeling beside her. “You may get your justice anyway, Merchant.” You check her wound. It’s actually pretty shallow, she just exacerbated it by running. She looks pretty anemic, too. She’s pale, and while she’s still breathing, she’s clearly lost a lot of blood.

“Works for me,” he says coldly. “Leave her.”

“I think not,” you retort. You look around for Asa – she’s still gone. You close your eyes and press your gloved fingers against your forehead, hoping it will look like you’re just focusing, since your gem is still under your bandana.

You think the situation to Asa. Her reply comes immediately. [And?]

[Can you help?] you think to her.

[Certainly. Do I need to? Have you exhausted all options? Is there a medic in the convoy?]

You look up at the Merchant. “Do you have a healer in your convoy?”

“Yes, and she’s not coming to help a thief,” the Merchant snaps.

Your patience vanishes. Punishing a criminal is one thing, letting someone die while unarmed and helpless is another. You tilt your head back and bellow. “MEDIC!”

The Merchant is on the verge of unsheathing his dagger and finishing the job yourself when a woman in a red and white robe rushes out of the wagon chain. “What, what?” she pants. “What happened?”

“There seems to be some confusion over the ethics of letting someone bleed out on the stones,” you say, glaring at the Merchant as you say it.

The healer trots up and assesses the damage. “Out of my way,” the healer says, kneeling at the woman’s side. You back up a pace and let her go to work. The healer, clearly a mage, rests a fingertip over the woman’s head and focuses.


>Examine the contents of the bag
>Stand by and watch
>writein

>>31447517
>Stand by and watch

>>31447517
>Examine the contents of the bag
This damn Merchant seems fishy, real fishy.

Just keeping it alive for the main audience, it's still early for the west coast crowd.

You lean back to let the healer work, keeping an eye on the Escorts as you do. The contents of the bag catch your eye, though. What was in there that the woman wanted to protect so much?

You reach over and rifle through the contents, pausing when you find the oilskin wrapped item. You can’t break the seal invisibly, but you can read the address. It’s a courier pack, all right, a letter addressed to someone in Margent, the fishing and shipyard hub of Cender’s mercantile corridor. It has a Merchants’ Guild seal on the stamp. The letter the woman was grabbing is personal mail. Messengers will often attach a small amount of mail to these cargo convoys, since it’s cheaper than sending it with the dedicated postal routes. It’s addressed to an apartment building there. The other letters are similar correspondence. There really isn’t something worth killing over. Still, the woman did grab the whole bag instead of one letter…and the Merchant did order her killed over it.

You sigh as you stand back up. Asa picked a trial for you, alright. There doesn’t look like an easy way out of this.

The woman on the ground awakens abruptly. She gasps, coughing blood on the stone beneath her and grabbing at the medic’s shirtfront. “Gah! What happened?” she pleads, still hocking blood.

“Your wound was worse than it looked, ma’am,” the medic says.


(con’t)

Before anyone can say anything else, you step up next to her and brandish the letters. “Ma’am, the cargomaster says that you simply ran up to the convoy and took this. Is that true?”

“I didn’t run up to anything! And I only took the whole bag because he swung a sword at me when I reached in to grab my letter!” she protests. “Just give it to me and I’ll go! You’re all mad!”


>Decision time!

>Confront the cargomaster and tell him to let the woman go with her life
>Confront the cargomaster and tell him to let the woman go with her life AND the letter
>Pull divine rank and settle things the way you want
>Confront the woman and tell her she has to go with the convoy until things are settled
>Writein

If the choice you make involves ordering someone to do something, roll 1d100.

>>31449990
>Merchant, what is your name?
>Name, you didn't hire assassins, you hired caravan guards. Members of their guild don't go around murdering unarmed women at your whim, they protect against thieves and bandits. Now, they and I caught you lying on why you wanted that woman killed. Then started to weave a new story about how she didn't refund you. presumably she would be carrying what you paid her then?
I want to see if we can catch him in more lies before going on.
I am sure he is lying, but I suspect she might be as well... so after a bit shaking up confront both on the nature of the suspicious letter.

Also, we can just travel with them to a nearby town and get the law involved in the case.

K, I guess we're taking the nonstandard route. Writing.

Your patience has reached its end. You turn to the Merchant. “All right, that’s enough. You didn't hire assassins, you hired caravan guards. Members of their Guild don't go around murdering unarmed women at your whim, they protect against thieves and bandits. What’s the rate you charge the Post for carrying messages from Clen to Margent?”

The Merchant blinks at the unexpected question. “What? Four silver for letters, twenty for courier packs, why?”

You point to the pile of cargo there. There are three letters and the manifest in the bag, with twelve silvers present. “Four for each letter, and you wouldn’t charge for carrying your own manifest. This woman claims that she tried to get her package and let you keep the surcharge as a refund for having accidentally given you the letter early. You claim she just ran up and took it while you were all getting up to go in the morning. I say just give her the letter and go.”

“And I say the Auxilia doesn’t get a vote in Guild protocol,” the Merchant growls. “Enough.” He grabs the contents of the bag and stuff them all back in while the healer continues to poke and prod at the woman. “If you care that damn much, keep her. We’re leaving, and if you want to take the package, you’re fighting my entire Escort contingent to get it.” He turns his back and whistles with two fingers in his mouth, and the convoy drivers snap their reins at the pull animals.

(con’t)

“Good day, Sergeant,” he says stiffly, tossing the bag in the back of one of the wagons as it goes by. The medic and the guards jump aboard as their own vehicles go by, and you have to half-drag the woman out of the way so she doesn’t get crushed by the oxen pulling the carts.


The woman hangs her head. “Well…that was completely unnecessary,” she mumbles. She runs her hand over her neck and winces. “Ow. Bastard. I just wanted my letter back…”

You help her to her feet and she brushes herself off. “Thanks, Sergeant,” she says, wiping blood on her already-ruined tunic. “You didn’t have to mediate that, but you did.”

You shrug. “I could have done better. What was in the letter you wanted so much? And why didn’t you just tell him what it said, then open it so he could read it?”

“Because it’s the confirmation message for an order of over eight hundred kilos of alchemic warheads,” she admits.

Your jaw drops. All you can manage is an incredulous “What.”

The woman looks around you, sheepish now. “I’m a Procurement Officer for the Margent Assassin’s Guild,” she allowed. “I didn’t want him to think I was a terrorist or something.”

Oh.

>writein

>>31451721
"nice"

Let's stop wasting time and get going

“Okay…” you say, looking her over. She doesn’t look like a killer. She clearly notices your scrutiny.

“Like I said, bureaucrat. I’m not a Journeyman,” she says, putting up her hands. “I just didn’t want the order to go through yet because we haven’t actually paid the final surcharge. It’s all legal, the Governor has the records.”

You put that disconcerting thought behind you. “If you say so.” You put a hand over your eyes and glance around the sky. It’s already an hour past the point you were hoping to be on the road. “Well…I think I should be moving on to Clen. You coming?”

She glumly shakes her head. “No, I should just wait a while and follow them to Margent. I still need to intercept that order. Thanks again.”

You nod farewell and take off east, rolling your eyes. Bloody bureaucrats.


(con’t)

Sorry, got called away.

(con’t)

About half a kilometer up the road, you sense Asa fall back into step behind you. “That was unusual,” she says breezily. “Glad you managed to keep her from getting anyone killed. Or killing anyone.”

You shrug awkwardly. “I feel like I could have done better,” you admit.

Asa’s reply is pure glibness. “How? You saved a life.”

You reflect on that in silence as you walk. “I suppose so. But what if the warheads had been used?”

“In a legal, taxed, regulated exchange of goods and services?” Asa shoots back. “The Army may not like the Assassins, but they are a Guild, and follow the laws. They spend more time training Shadows than they do killing, these days.”

You sigh. “I suppose. Was I wrong to call on you for advice?”

Asa smiles. “Not at all. Just keep in mind that you will usually get the same response. Exhaust your mortal options before invoking me. That’s all.”

You nod. “Yes, my Lady.”


>Get this show on the road! (timeskip to arrival at the city)
>Ask some questions

>>31452336
>Get this show on the road! (timeskip to arrival at the city)

The rest of your journey back to the city is uneventful. Asa is a surprisingly humble conversation partner, in many regards. The two of you pass the time with her regaling you of stories of the original Wilderness elf cities, before the Collapse, when the elf and human societies merged out of necessity. The communities weren’t really cities at all, more collections of small towns in the forest with common ancestry.

As you approach the outer edge of the main city’s farmland, traffic on the road spikes sharply. Farmers and merchants transporting goods to and from the bustling agricultural community cover the road, in convoys that are less armed but smaller than the ones you’ve encountered. Small Guard garrisons dot the area, but for the most part, the agrarian hubs keep to themselves.

Asa leaves you as you enter this more civilized area. Quite apart from the fact that her presence is no longer necessary, the two of you concur that the possibility of an Avatar being seen following a mortal soldier would raise too many questions.

Your gear is getting a bit heavy on your shoulders as you arrive at the end of the agricultural area and pass into the manors. Before some King or another had abolished the old slave-operated latifundae system, these manors were the residences of the powerful lords who oversaw the massive factory farms that fed the city. Now, they’re considered quaint country homes for lesser nobles who can’t afford to move out to the real countryside. The military presence is much strong here, you note. Quite a bit stronger, actually. The Guard are patrolling in groups of five, with the occasional Army and Auxilia force visible as well. You even spot a few Legionnaires guarding or moving between the manors that branch off of the ancient Dwarven road.


(con’t)

As you pass through those in turn, one bright and sunny afternoon, the city proper comes into view. The somewhat polluted air that hangs over the city is a byproduct of its many, many factories and alchemic labs, and persists despite many Utility mages regularly scrubbing the air.

Outside the colossal, enchanted walls of the city, which you have on good authority are the largest in history and are certainly the thickest, a few residences and shops huddle in their shadows. These small buildings are where people who live inside the city and scrape together enough money to move out will go, and there are whispers that they’ll be demolished soon, as an eyesore. That’s not entirely fair, of course, but the Governor is an incredibly blunt and direct man.


You pause as you enter the looming presence of the main gate. Probably the largest defensive structure aside from the shipyard and sea stronghold in Oslin-Otch, the inland sea far to the north, this structure is made entirely of enchanted stone and metal, and crowned with five anchored mangonels. Banners hang from the tower, displaying both Royal and gubernatorial pennants – the King and Governor are both in the city. Good.


The gate is wide open, of course. It has to be. The sheer volume of foot traffic in and out of the world’s largest gated city means that it’s only closed in the case of floods or invasion, and that doesn’t happen often. Clen is built between the two branches of the Great River, but is far enough from its waters that there is no port or tributary inside. All of its water is drawn from either magic portals in the rivers or aquifers. You know, since your house is really bloody close to one of the portal towers in the city, and doesn’t every single person in the whole country who wants fish from the portals that day have to line up right outside your house to get it?

(con’t)

Several soldiers from the Gate’s house approach you as you enter. One walks up, looking incredibly bored. “All right, soldier, you know the drill. Name, Rank, Company, Branch, Origin.”

“Sergeant Elsa Ledren, Second Home Battalion, Royal Auxilia, Clen,” you rattle off. The question and response are as routine as breathing.

This time, though, the reaction is pretty far from normal. All five Guards look up at you, and the change is so abrupt that it looks like someone cast light over their faces. “Come again? Second Home Battalion?” the first one demands.

You blink. How could news of what happened to your battalion reach the city already? “Yes, Corporal, Second Home. Why?”

“We heard you were all killed except two survivors!” the first one exclaims, as the others echo the statement. “Where have you been? No, don’t tell me,” he says, holding up a hand. “Forget the check. Get over to Battalion Command immediately. Captain-General Dietrich has instructed all people who were present for the attack to report the instant they get back.” He waves you through the checkpoint. “Go, hurry. Dietrich is livid.”


>Go there as soon as possible
>Check in on Jerome first
>Check in on your parents
>Ask Asa for advice
>Ask for clarification from the Guard

>>31454468
>Go there as soon as possible

>>31454468
>Ask Asa for advice

Can she reveal herself to the general?

>>31454468
>Ask for clarification from the Guard
"Who was the other survivor?"
>Check in on Jerome first
We need to go to him, he news of our company got this far they obviously told family members.
Then parents.
The command can wait.

>>31454595
>She can reveal herself to him, but she will only know to DO so if you specifically ask her to. Remember: Demigods in this setting are not omniscient. They only know things if their Avatars see them firsthand, someone with that knowledge dies and the corresponding Demigod absorbs their soul, or if a Herald comms it in with their forehead gem.

>>31454654
No, if he asks how we survived, we can call in Asa to help explain what the hell is going on.

>>31454687
My apologies. That wasn't supposed to be greentexted. Of course you can call her in.

Writing now.

You turn to the Guard before leaving. “Who was the other survivor?”

“No, ma’am, you were the third survivor,” the Guard clarifies. “The other two were a recon trooper from Tenth Platoon and a skirmisher from First Platoon.” Your heart leaps into your throat.

“First?!” you demand. “I was in first! What was their name?”

The Guard fumbles for his briefing papers on the small desk beside the Gate’s outer guardhouse. “Uh…it says here that it was a Corporal Dervich.”

You reel backwards, stunned. “Dervich! He was my Corporal! Where is he?”

“Battalion headquarters, I assume, ma’am, with the General,” the Guard assures you.

You process that, thinking furiously. “All right…thank you, Guardsman.” You snap off a salute and jog under the massive gate. The oil holes and murder slits loom ominously around you in the tunnel, but you’ve seen them so many times that they don’t even register.

As soon as you’re inside the gate, though, your pace slows. Your parents, your husband, your officers…and Asa of course. They all need to be spoken to here. Your parents and husband have almost certainly been notified of your ‘death’ if other soldiers from your battalion made it back home.

You glance towards the gargantuan garrison structure built into the wall of the city, actually pretty close to the gate itself, but guilt grips your heart. Your husband is an emotional and loyal man. He shouldn’t suffer false grief.


(con’t)

You jog through the city, weapons slung. The wide roads near the gate narrow as you push through the gigantic city. You’d love to stop and see the place a bit better, but you can’t afford to halt right now. The city whirs by as you pass, a rampant mix of every breed and role in the nation, and all ignored in your haste.

It takes nearly half an hour to reach your home, on the western edge of the city, not far from the garrison. The house you call home is one of about ten very similar-looking homes in a row in a busy street, mostly officer and NCO housing for those who wished to live off the campus of the Capital garrison. You come to a halt in front of the row of houses, easily picking yours out from the rest by the exceptional quality of the bannister on the tiny second-floor balcony, which is otherwise identical to the others in the row.

The front door is open, and so are the windows. You see a few men in the uniform of the Army coming and going on the street…dressed like Mortuary Officers. The men responsible for informing nexts-of-kin.

Uh oh.


>Rush into the house
>Knock first
>Demand of the Mortuary officers if your house has been done yet
>Writein

>>31455355
>>Rush into the house

>>31455355
>Demand of the Mortuary officers if your house has been done yet

>>31455355
>Demand of the Mortuary officers if your house has been done yet

The Mortuary Officers are working their way across the block, checking addresses off clipboards. Normally, they would probably be doing what they were doing with a higher sense of decorum, but given that the military probably thought you were all dead, they were prioritizing haste. You charge up to one and skid to a halt, panting from your long run. “Captain! Ma’am, may I ask something?” you manage, chest heaving under your armor.

The human woman looks at you askance, but nods. “Very well, Sergeant, what’s on your mind?”

You point at your house. “Did you do that house yet, ma’am?” you ask.

The Captain looks up at the house, down at her clipboard, then at you, paling visibly. “Oh…dear. Yes, I told your…husband? Er…Sergeant Ledren, right? Yes, I told your husband that you were Killed in Action. One of three who weren’t Missing, actually,” she adds, glancing over the list. “So much for that…”

You groan in frustration. “No…blast it!”

“Er, I can go back in and tell him you’re alive, Sergeant,” the Captain offers. “Let him know that the Army mixed up your papers and you’re actually alive…”

>Yes, do so! Please!
>No, no, I should go in myself.
>writein

>>31455699
>No, no, I should go in myself.

File: 1397429221769.png-(89 KB, 612x597, 1392872443570.png)

89 KB PNG

>>31455699
Goddamnit.

>No, no, I should go in myself.

Garlic pork is happening. I will return in due time.

>>31455699
>>Yes, do so! Please!

>>31455699
>No, no, I should go in myself.

“No, I should do this myself,” you sigh. “Just…don’t be visible when he looks out the door next, ma’am.”

“Right.” She looks you over. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” you mutter.

You steel yourself as best you can. Marching up the steps to your house, you hesitate to gather your nerves and walk right in.

Jerome is sitting in the chair by the fireplace facing the ashes, and looking pretty dead inside. He’s always been a bit pale, but now he looks lifeless. His head twitches as he registers someone’s presence.

“Go away,” he whispers. “You already took my wife.” His voice sounds utterly hollow.

You set your spear and shield down on the floor in the front hall, walk over to him, and kneel in front of him. He looks down at you, first in anger…then confusion…then shock…then total rage…then utter sadness, all in about ten seconds of sputtering silence. “You…they…what?” he manages.

“I’m alive, Jerome, the Army was wrong,” you say. You’re trying to keep it simple. “I’m all right. I’m not dead.”

(con’t)
http://pastebin.com/dWs7LsKB Jerome's character sheet

He jerks forward in his seat and his arms grip the rests. “You…what? They said…she showed me…they…” He starts tearing up. “They…you’re alive?”

You lean forward over the chair and embrace him, heedless of your armor. “I’m alive,” you repeat. “I’m alive.”

He breaks. His arms wrap around you in a crushing embrace. He buries his head on your shoulder and sobs, big heaving sobs, like a child’s. “Elsa…you were…they said you were…fuck,” he weeps. “They said…” his words trail off as he breaks down completely, crying uncontrollably.

You’re not exactly dry, either. You’re weeping into his shoulder, nearly as much as he’s weeping into yours. The two of you sit there, crumpled in the chair, ignorant of your messy boots or his soaked shirt, for quite some time.

When you regain your senses, you pull him sideways in the love seat and climb up. He grasps your hand as you rise, but you’re not going anywhere. You’re just shedding your greaves and breastplate so you’re not weighed down. As soon as it’s removed, you sit right back down in his lap and wrap his thick, heavily-muscled arms around your stomach. “Okay,” you murmur with a cracked voice. “Okay. I’m here. The Army messed up.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “Bastards.”

“This wasn’t their fault, though,” you say, feeling a bit defensive. “The battle was a slaughter. Three of us made it out, out of over eight hundred.”

“Mai’te’s tears,” he breathes. He buries his head in the back of your bandana, sighing heavily. His hot breath tickles your eartips. “I’m…sorry.”

“Yeah,” you reply quietly. “It was very scary.”

He stays silent for another moment. Then you feel something part at the back of your head. He’s taking your bandana off. He’ll be able to see the brand…and the gem.

>”Please don’t, Jerome.”
>Pre-empt him with the revelation
>Let him see it, gauge his reaction, then explain

>>31457269
>Let him see it, gauge his reaction, then explain

>>31457269
>>”Please don’t, Jerome.”
We should go give our report.

>>31457269
>>Let him see it, gauge his reaction, then explain
Might think we're crazy otherwise.

He pulls the bandana free and rests his chin on top of your head. “You came right back?” he asks.

You nod. “Yeah. I need to stop in on the General and let him know what happened, soon.”

He cinches his arms a little tighter. “…Want me to come with?” he asks.

You smile and lean back against his shoulder. “Nuh uh. Thanks, though.”

He rests there, arms around your waist and head on your hair, for a little longer, then slips his arms away and stands up, dislodging you. He turns around to look down at you on the seat…then pauses. “Elsa…what’s that on your face?” he asks. “Did you get a tattoo?”

You feel your stomach tighten a little. “No…Jerome, sit back down, okay?”

He sits beside you, looking confused. “What?”

“I…I lived through the battle, but I had to make a deal to do it,” you awkwardly explain.

He doesn’t understand. “A deal?”

“With Asa.”

He stares. “I don’t get it.”

You try again, and you’re being very careful to not patronize. “Do you know what a Herald is?”

He thinks for a moment. “You mean the people who announce the nobles?”

“Yeah. When I’m talking about the Pantheon, do you know what they are?” you ask.

He still doesn’t seem to understand. “I mean…it’s the same thing?” he asks. “So…you work for Asa now?”

>Ask Asa for help
>Try to explain
>bring him with you to see the General
>writein

>>31457880
>Try to explain

"I did almost die, Jerome. But Asa saved me, brought me back from the brink of death. Then she made me one of Her servants."

>>31457880
>>writein
Go to the general.

You try one more time. “Asa saved me, brought me back from the brink of death. Then she made me one of her servants.” You bring his hand to the gem on your face. He flinches at the cold sliver in your skin. “This lets me speak to her directly. I can even ask her to come here to the continent in an Avatar, and help out in emergencies.”

He looks less bewildered now. If anything, he looks like he’s experiencing even more trepidation. “How did she help you?”

“I took a hit in the back,” you tell him. He gasps, but you keep talking. “Square in the spine. She saved me, and tasked me with tracking down the ones who killed my battalion, since they’re using Proscribed weapons.”

He gapes. “They are? And they’re here in the city?”

“We think so.”

“Then…” he closes his eyes. Fresh strain appears on his face. “…You’re leaving me, aren’t you?”

You recoil in shock. His hands fall to his sides. “What? No! I’m staying here! I’m not leaving!”

“You can’t stay here if you’re hunting some mass murderer,” he says sadly.

“Why not? I can ask Asa to help ward the building, and I won’t let anyone know what I am if I can avoid it,” you promise. “We’ll be safe.”

He looks up at you again. “Are you sure?”

You hesitate. “I’m not sure we’ll be safe, but I’m not leaving you. Not unless you want me to, and I don’t think you do.”

He shivers. “Not again. I don’t want to lose you.”

You stand back up, feeling quite drained. “All right...I’m going to go to the garrison and report in.”

“What will you do next?” he asks.

>writein

>>31458689
Let's go see the general and question the other survivors before deciding.

>>31458689
We should go report in to the general. Bring Jerome along. You might need his moral support

Rolled 1

Flipping a coin to see if he comes with or not. 1 for yes, 2 for no.

File: 1397439965119.png-(1 KB, 110x132, icon_of_Asa.png)

1 KB PNG

“Not sure yet,” you admit. You grab his hand and help him up. “But if you want to come along, you can. I’ll probably just tell you everything anyway.”

He smiles at last. “Okay.” He holds your hands between his, and you’re struck, as ever, by how much larger he is. He’s the one people mistake for the soldier in the family. “Let me grab my coat, all right?”

You nod. “Sure thing.” You start reapplying your armor and hefting your gear as Jerome rummages through the closet. As he digs, you catch sight of the brand in the reflection of your face in the hall mirror. You realize you’ve never seen it, being on your own head and all.

When you’re both done, you pause to lock the door before heading out.

“So…does that hurt?” he asks, glancing over at your forehead.

“It did at first, but I don’t even feel it now,” you say. You look around as you do. “And don’t tell anyone, all right? Heralds used to make their presence known, but I’ll be more effective if I’m covert, for now.”

“Understood,” he says solemnly. “Lead the way.


END THREAD

>>31459339
Thanks for the thread! Hopefully more people will show up next time.

All right! That was interesting, all right. Asa's tests were handled, for sure. You would have fared quite poorly if you had invoked her more than you did, too. And I'm not a son of a bitch, so I didn't fault you too much for that shit dice roll.

>>31459381

Yes, its a shame when good quests with potential get next to no attention, while waifu and fetish quests get it all.

See you next time SE. Say hi to everyone in Writescribbles from me.

All right, I will be running again on Friday at 1900 Eastern. Check my Twitter for updates!

@Someone_else___

>>31459339
I know we want to be covert... but it is going to raise a fuckton of difficulties for us, because we would have to lie, a lot. as well as probably go AWOL.
I think we should, in private, reveal ourselves to a FEW top tier individuals (like the general) and ask him to keep it as secret. It won't be 100% secret, but it would be secret enough. And we could actually get support from the military...

... then again, it is possible that the military will try to claim the weapon for itself and keep it rather then having it destroyed. then again they might actually try to do that anyways even if we didn't reveal self as herald.