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Elsa's character pic.
<--

My twitter:
https://twitter.com/Someone_else___

My character sheet for Elsa:
http://pastebin.com/v2Sa7Miq

And her husband Jerome:
http://pastebin.com/dWs7LsKB

>>31714566
[x] Return Connor’s and Alrox’s personal belongings

Do the right things, then

[x]Check in on your parents

>>31714566
>I am ASTONISHED that you passed this up
we passed on a batcave? what was tg thinking!

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>>31714985
I have NO IDEA. The King even outright said that the entire tunnel between the castle and the power plant was yours to use if you wanted, and /tg/ just said 'okay thanks bye.' and left.

I was stunned.

>>31715023
was that an actual refusal?
sounds more like a "ok, thank you for the batcave that you are giving me, now I gotta go"

>>31715023
That sounds like a really good deal.
Unless there is some reason to be suspicious that I am unaware of:
>>31714566
>Go back and tell the King that you actually do want a Batcave

No, the King said construction wouldn't start unless Elsa OKed it. She never did.

Are there still only elves and humans?

>>31715023
I thought that was just some narrow tunnel we could use for quick access to the castle.

>>31715345
That you'd have entirely to yourself, and is connected to a power plant.

If /tg/ doesn't want it, of course they don't need it to beat the quest.

>>31715262
So not a real batcave, I mean, the king and other people will know about it.

>>31715517
The King, the Governor, you, your husband, the construction crew, and your demigoddess (if you tell her. You don't have to).

By the by, I encourage these sorts of questions! Quests are dull when there's no setting questions.

>>31715517
I'm sorry, are you going to bitch about being given royal approval to have your own personal underground headquarters that connects directly to his fucking palace We're not Bruce Wayne, and if we were this would be boring, we don't have limitless trust fund money to just be building a fucking cave system for fun.

>>31715568
No, just noting that it is more 'personal base of operations' (which is awesome), than a Batcave.

>>31715693
Well, Bruce Wayne can't possibly be the only one who knows about the Batcave either, someone had to build that shit.

>>31714566
In order of priority:
0. Go back and tell the King that you actually do want a Batcave I am ASTONISHED that you passed this up
I was under the impression this was happening. Not that we needed to approve it explicitly.
1. Check in on your parents
2. Check the local library to see if anything about the weapon is there
3. Get in contact with the Brotherhood

That will deal with the necessary people thinking we're dead, we gather some info, then we gather some assistance. Hopefully we have knowledge and man power necessary to go from there.

>>31715852
Batman is a genius, he built it with 'misplaced' waynetech.

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Very well! The consensus is to double back and tell the King to make an underground lair. Writing that shit up.

Here is the emblem on your spaulder in the character pic, by the way. It's the Cender national emblem.

>>31716292
So you're just ignoring >>31715291 then?

>>31716353
There WERE fourteen races of mortals and two of immortals. One of the immortals and two of the mortals remain.

>>31716292
Uh, does it have to be those colors? Because that is fuckugly.

>>31716292
OP, I'm pretty sure everyone wanted the "batcave", but saw it more as an access tunnel than anything else.

And we certainly never said no.

>>31715262
>No, the King said construction wouldn't start unless Elsa OKed it. She never did.
I was sure he said "construction will start unless it isn't ok with you" and we just didn't say "its not ok".

>>31716423
So yes, only humans and elves are left.
That's just so fucking boring.

For clarity's sake, the order to build was never disapproved. There won't be a penalty for this confusion on my part.

>>31716130
+1

>>31716624
Oh piss off, I don't know what race you want to hump the leg of, but it ain't here.
Low racial content certainly isn't a 'bore' factor.
I'd be more likely to drop is it were a giant hodgepodge. I can play D&D any time.

You know what? You were hasty before. The King was offering you a chance to build an underground means of access across the city, from one end to the other. Why would you turn it down? If you don’t trust your King, whom do you trust?

You turn on your heel and march right back into the parade ground. Corporal Dervich is gone from where he was standing at attention…yep, there he is, storming into the barracks with fists clenched.

Oh well. That problem can get fixed later. You need to go back to the King first. Or do you? All you need to do is give him the OK on the project to connect your basement to the tunnels. Couldn’t you leave a message with the Governor or one of the King’s aides instead?


>Pass message to the Governor
>Attempt to actually speak to the King again in person
>Just leave a sealed message for the King with an aide
>writein

>>31716829
>>Pass message to the Governor

>>31716829
>Pass message to the Governor
He knows our heraldship right?

>>31716863
He was actually the first person you told besides your husband Jerome, yes.

>>31716891
ok yeah just tell him then

>>31716863
so far we told husband, told governor, told king
oh, and refused to tell the general because "the military cannot be trusted" (I don't know why the fuck we did that, we could easily have asked the general to keep it quiet)

>>31716829
>leave a sealed message for the King
Be vague such that anyone else reading would know what it was about.

>>31717061
>because "the military cannot be trusted"
to clarify, we refused to tell him because it is an utter secret, we explained to the governor that the reason we didn't tell him was that we suspect elements of the military.

>>31716829
>>Pass message to the Governor
Governor is probably going to be our go between to the king. Honestly, if there's some sort of position/reason to assign some from the axillary to a governor that'd be great. Give us a reason to be running around and talking to people "Governor's business! Move aside!"

>>31717202
Recruiting aides is both possible and planned for in my outline, if you wish to pursue this.
>>31717090
Correct.

>>31717246
I think we should tell the general and just ask him to keep it quiet.
Otherwise the only way we are getting out of being recalled in 3 days is with the king or governor making an appeal directly and that is... suspecious as fuck
besides that the general has a lot of resources and i am sure he was not involved, and that he could keep his mouth shut

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>>31717330

You have no idea the depth to which this discussion pleases me. Two years of planning, coming to fruition at my fingertips.


>>31717330
>>31717076
>>31716937
>>31716854
Writing now.

>>31717076
*wouldn't know what
I swear I must have a brain disease at this point.

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>>31716624

>>31716624
>Must have a full array of standard fantasy to not be boring
>Having a unique setting isn't good enough
pls.

>>31717838
I like unique settings. I've never posted mine in the various threads that /tg/ sometimes has about them because it's not done.

After some thought, you decide to leave a message for the King via the Governor. A sealed message, of course.

You walk up to the garrison that served as your home for the forty days before deployment and make straight for your bunkroom. The noisy, smelly room is chaos, obviously, the King is displatching whole armies to the fronts at the south. And of course some men to recover the goods from the dead, the poor bastards.

You scrounge up some paper and jot down a note.

>“Your Royal Majesty, forgive my flighty reaction before. Of course I’m honored to accept your gracious offer to manufact a tunnel entrance in my basement. I would also greatly appreciate your efforts in convincing Lord Dietrich not to dispatch me once more. I can’t hunt the conspirators in the woods, Sire; I would be greatly appreciative towards you for efforts in this regard.”


>With the utmost of respect, your humble servant,

>Sergeant Elsa Ledren
>Skirmish Four, First Platoon, First Company, Second Home Battalion


You give the letter a quick read and nod in satisfaction. Efficacious, polite, gracious. Perfect.

You’re sealing up the letter when it hits you. Manufact? Flighty? Efficacious? You never use those words. You barely know those words. Where did they come from?

“Maybe Asa knows,” you mumble under your breath.

“Sergeant!” a voice calls. You whip around to see a soldier you recognize – Mallerd, a male human Skirmisher from your Battalion who wasn’t dispatched to the front because of an infected leg wound from training – hobbling up to you. His enchanted bandage is looking fresh, and he’s got his color back, so he’s apparently feeling better. “Vier’s masseuse, it’s you! I wrote you off!”


>Private. Good to see you mobile.
>Oh, ye of little faith!
>Hey, gotta run.
>writein

>>31718077

>Private. Good to see you mobile.

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Hell and nuts, I forgot the world map (in all its shitty glory). The little star in the forest to the northwest is your location.

Only one vote? Well, all right. There were votes earlier on for something you can do here, too.

Writing.

>>31718363
I didn't notice it even updated.
good to see it was a solid vote

>>31718114
Yea, I would have chose this one as well.

“Hey, Private Mallerd,” you say with a wave. “You’re looking mobile.”

“Sure as shit, Ledren,” he says with some effort, coming to a halt a few feet away. “Hey, glad to see you. What happened out there?”

You wince as memories come back. “We got ambushed and annihilated by some pack of criminals with enchanted weapons.”

Mallerd shakes his head. “Hell. I’m sorry, ma’am, that’s awful. Who else made it back?”

You count off on your fingers. “Me, Dervich, and some scout from Tenth.”

Mallerd’s jaw drops. “Three people out of eight hundred? Shit on a fire, that’s…what’s going to be done?”

“Look around!” you say, taking in the room with a sweep of your hands. “The King’s mobilizing half the Army. Auxilia too. Probably Legion. Maybe even the Guard, if things get even hairier.”

“That’s pretty fucking scary,” Mallerd mutters. He looks down at his leg. “At least the healer mages got to my leg, finally. I should be good to go in a few days.”

“Attaboy, you can start falling on rocks again in no time,” you tease. He grimaces, but before you can say anything else, he looks down at your pockets and quickly changes the subject.

“What have you got there?”

You glance down in belated surprise. You completely forgot you were carrying Alrox’s and Connor’s personal effects. “Uh, some things I salvaged on the way back. Stuff from my guys, you know.”

His face turns somber. It’s never pleasant to come back with items instead of survivors. “Do you want to drop those things off here?”

“I should,” you sigh. You find Alrox’s bed, right next to yours – separated by the sexes with a screen, of course – and root through your pockets, looking for his things.

(con’t)

You grab his things – a map, a knife, some coins – and drop them onto his bedside platform: a plank nailed to the side of his wooden bunk. The bunks are three high, and his was on the bottom, so it’s easy to reach. The sheets are immaculate. You know Alrox was the sort to clean his shit even while he complained about it, though.

Connor’s bed is one up from Alrox’s, so you clamber up the five wood slats on the back of the footboard and drop his things off too. A wedding ring, a few more coins, a small feather token, the needle from a compass – his lucky charm. His bed is perfect too, actually. You lean back and call down to where Mallerd is looking up at you. “Hey, did the funerary detail already come back to grab things?”

He thinks about it. “Well…no, they just sent out Mortuary people to send the letters. They haven’t emptied lockers or anything yet.”

You drop down with empty pockets and a heavy heart. Ten men in your squad, and the only ones to make it out are the two senior people, and both out of sheer luck. Blast it all. They were yours! Your men and women, your soldiers, your Auxilia, your warriors. Your responsibility, wiped away by malice and ancient horror. What a joke of a Sergeant you are. Couldn’t keep eight children and an old lady mage alive.

You sink onto Alrox’s bed and rest your head in your hands. Asa’s quest may have given you purpose, but…she didn’t take the shame.


>”Mallerd, you ever lose anyone in your squad?”
>Look for Dervich
>Just go and drop off that letter
>writein

>>31718879
>”Mallerd, you ever lose anyone in your squad?”
> Do your damnedest to not cry, cry a little in silence.

That's some shit. We should find our husband when possible.

btw: keep fighting the good fight on this quest, man.

>>31718077
>putting secrets on paper
Sigh.

>>31719072
we need to find parents first, he knows we live. parents probably think we are dead and need to be notified

>>31719144
oh, actually this is a good point.

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So...are people now asking me to have Elsa destroy the letter and deliver the message in person?

>>31719425
Nah. It'll be fine.

>>31719425
yeah guys calm those shadowruns down

>>31719585
but sharowruns are the best runs

>>31719425
I figured we were just gonna talk to the governor and have his pass it on. But wahtvs

Rolled 1

Ohhhhkay. Despite having three votes, I appear to have a tie. Flipping a coin to decide. 1 for yes, 2 for no.

Loss. You’ve never really felt it before. You’re an only child of healthy parents, your husband is alive and well, you’ve never had children, you were the oldest of your major friends in youth. Now, eight – nine if you count that Mage – people who counted on you are dead. You don’t…really know how to cope. Is that bad?

“Mallerd…hey. You ever lose someone in your unit?” you ask. Your voice is bleary as you’ve ever heard it. Whatever gift of power Asa put in your voice before seems to be gone for now.

The Private hesitates, then sits down next to you with a groan of relief. His leg must still hurt. “Not before today, Sergeant,” he admits. “Both of my parents, though. Sister, too.”

Oh.

“I see,” you say levelly. “I didn’t know.”

He shrugs. “I was four. Fire took out the building. Uncle took me in. It happens.” He squints across the bunkroom at where Dervich is sorting through his locker, putting his gear away. “How did you and Dervich make it out?”

Well, you didn’t, and he ran for his life. How the hell do you say that, though? “I took a hit and made it back with help,” you decide. “Don’t really know what happened to Dervich. He got back first, though.”

“He looks even more pissed off than you do, Sergeant,” Mallerd observes. Sure enough, Dervich is nearly ripping his armor off.

You think back to your dismissal of him. Does he deserve a second chance? Was your behavior fair?

No time to decide. He finishes removing his kit and storms out of the room, glaring holes in every person he sees.


(con’t)

Well. The damn letter still needs delivering, but fuck that. You’re in no mood to entrust functionaries. You rip it up and climb to your feet. “Get well, Private. I need to deliver a message,” you say.

“Aye. Thanks, Sergeant,” he says from the bed. You walk out, right back into the parade ground. It’s still chaos.

Hundreds, maybe thousands, of soldiers and mages are forming up into ranks. Some are mounting the walls, probably just to wave the flags. The rest are falling into platoon rows, with Mages and soldiers with Gifts that actually matter standing aside. A few Legionnaires are visible in the pack, too, which is a good sign: the King is being serious, but not calling for the horrible Code Black – military code for a world-ending catastrophe. As far as you know, there’s only ever been one such a call, when a Spectral Harvester ripped its way back to Tarsh from wherever they were sent after the Collapse, and nearly swallowed half the country. Rumor has it the Firesouls’ commander, Master Sun, actually fought the thing himself.

Well, you’re not that desperate yet. You ignore the pageantry and march into the castle, making your way through the rapidly-emptying halls to the Governor’s residence. It’s not in the Royal quarter, and the men here are just Guard elites, not the Shadows, the crème of the entire Cender military.

You reach the edge of the gubernatorial apartments and halt before the guards that cluster outside. Where the King goes for large, open rooms with walls covered in things, the Governor is a packrat, with nearly every surface bearing some kind of furniture. You make eye contact with a guard near the checkpoint. “Hello, soldier. I’m here to deliver a message to the Governor.”

“State your name, rank, billet, and message, Auxiliary,” the guard Sergeant says, looking bored out of his mind. He probably wants to be out there, in formation with his comrades.

(con't)

>List name, rank, billet, but deny the message
>Just say that someone’s here
>writein
>Use on of your speech abilities (which?)

>>31720370
>You think back to your dismissal of him. Does he deserve a second chance? Was your behavior fair?
probably too harsh on the guy, he saw a lot of friends die

>>31720778
>>List name, rank, billet, but deny the message

>>31720778
>>List name, rank, billet, but deny the message

>>31720778
>List name, rank, billet, but deny the message

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>>31720370

“Skirmish Sergeant Elsa Ledren, Skirmish Four, First Platoon, First Company, Second Home Battalion,” you list. You see the Guard’s eyes narrow as you finish, however. “My message is for the Governor.”

“And what is it?” he asks flatly.

“For him,” you say firmly.

He glares at you, but apparently the chaos of the day is enough to convince him to play nice. “Wait here,” he snaps, and marches off. In a gratifyingly short amount of time, the Governor appears at the end of the hall, nearly jogging up to you.

“Sergeant, do you have a report?” he asks with absolutely no ceremony.

“I do, sir,” you say.


Minutes later, you’re sitting in his office on a chair that costs more than twice your monthly wage and explaining your desire to have a private tunnel. He looks at you keenly across the desk. “I see, I see. Your Eminence, I will of course relay this,” he says. “Is there anything else you wish of me or the King?”

>writein

>>31721203
>No, but I will likely tell the general that I am a Herald, so that I am free to carry out my new duties beyond the next three days.

>>31721274
I thought we agreed not to tell the general for now.

>>31721476
did we? in that case nothing else

I have seen both pro- and anti- informing votes. As I understand it, the consensus is that the Captain-General needn't be TOLD, but should be politely asked by the King to allow us more leave to recuperate. If that is not the case, say so quickly, before I start writing.

>>31721476
>>31721571
"we agreed" was IIRC a 2 to 1 vote. And at the time we didn't want to tell ANYONE. since then we had already told the governor and king so the secret is always out. now the question is whom do we bring in on it.

>>31721668
just to clarify, I am for telling him

>>31721690
as Am i

>>31721668
PS. IIRC the specific suggesiton was "don't tell him YET, we need to think about it" rather then "don't tell him ever".

Also, that was a vote done BEFORE we knew we had 3 days before being back on active duty

Very well. Writing now.

>>31721203
>>writein
Ask him if he or the king can think of a position that would allow us some freedom to act and a cover for running around talking to different people. Ideally some position under the governor.

“In fact, sir, there is,” you say. “I’ve decided that I can’t conduct this investigation without the Captain-General being informed of my…status.”

The Governor cocks his head.

“I know I said I don’t trust him, sir, but…” You hesitate. “Well, sir, I need a cover. Some position or title that allows me to move about the city without a shred of suspicion. The Captain-General can allow that.”

Ekrine crosses his arms and ponders that. The luxurious chair and desk are covered with scuffs from constant use, but that’s hard to tell through the stacks and stacks of paper and chalk slates. “Hrmph. I agree with the logic, your Eminence, but what position would that be? A Logistical officer, sent to gather special materials? A Shadow, endowed with the power to investigate any location but forced by law to be showing badge at all times? A recruiter, always on the move to find fresh soldiers?”

>Shadow – universal admittance by the law-abiding, disrespected and feared by everybody else
>Logistical Officer – can go almost anywhere, but unable to contact the black market while in-character as the officer
>Recruiter – able to use Divine communication abilities with no suspicion since public speaking is a part of the job, but unpopular in parts of the city
>”I don’t want to decide yet, sir.”
>Writein

>>31722320
>>Logistical Officer – can go almost anywhere, but unable to contact the black market while in-character as the officer

>>31722320
>Shadow

>>31722320
I am really tempted to go with shadow... the thing is, we NEED to investigate the criminal and black markets.
Then again, don't shadows have infiltration training and fake identities for such? (obviously we aren't a shadow so we don't, but we are going to get in touch with them, yes?)

>>31722320
Recruiter.

>>31722544
Nobody says you have to actually wear the badge at all times. The Shadows would...but if you convince Dietrich, you can just take the badge off any time you want. The reason you can only pick one is that he's only going to be able to transfer you to one branch without arousing suspicion. Sorry if I was unclear.

>>31722615
So, if a bad guy investigates us with their military contacts, they will find out we are a shadow/recruiter/logistical officer?

>>31722683
Precisely. That, and if you just drop out or go AWOL, right when the military is loading up for a war, the Guard will be more than a little suspicious if the King tells them to leave you alone. Desertion is punishable by public disintegration in Cender.

>>31722544
changing this to logistical officer

Writing it up then.

>>31722320
>>Logistical Officer – can go almost anywhere, but unable to contact the black market while in-character as the officer
Shadow sounds cool but this is more practical.

>>31723128
really? I was put off by the generic edgy shadow name, but voted for it because it seemed like the most practical option.

>>31723218
Logistics officers are boring and attract no attention.

>>31723251
they attract more than a normal civilian, which we can be with our badge off

and shadows have more access

You consider the benefits of each position. Shadows can go anywhere, but they’re like a torch in a cave, they’re so obvious. Recruiters aren’t allowed to go some places, and you’d be able to channel Asa’s power in public without raising as many eyebrows…but still.

“I’ll ask the Captain-General to transfer me to the Logistics office of the Army to ‘recuperate’,” you say, making little air quotes with your gloved fingers. “Asa’s purpose would be best served with that sort of freedom.”

“Fair enough.” Ekrine blows out a loud sigh. “I will pass along the message to the King. Is there anything you wanted to do before you spoke to the Captain-General?”

>wat do

>>31723341
Tell our parents we are one of the 3 survivors

>>31723363
You want to leave the castle, talk to parents, and come back?

>>31723403
I didn't realize he was in the same place.
we are already here so lets talk to him first and then our parents

>>31723341
Is there a way that we can somehow get a message to the folks? Just let them know we're okay, and we can see 'em soon?

If not, we should report to the Captain-General.

>>31724012
No reason at all you can't visit them both. It's only about 15000 hours.

>>31724045
If that's the case, then I'm with >>31723363, lets say hi to the parents.

And by 15000 hours I of course meant 1500 hours, because the day isn't longer than the month. Derp.

>>31724111
Well, we are currently in the castle, so I changed my vote in >>31723363 already to talk to general first then talk to parents to save an extra trip

K, writing now. When this post is done, I'm calling it for the night and picking up tomorrow.

Well, Dietrich’s been spoken to already. You did sort of talk to him today…hell, not four hours ago. Maybe it would be better to come to him again after sleeping on it.

“Sir, if I may…I’ll speak to Dietrich personally. Tomorrow,” you say, tapping a finger on the desk for emphasis. “I should be thinking on how to approach this. I already spoke to him today and didn’t tell him then. I have my reservations about involving the military at all, but if I can trust Dietrich, I need him to be thinking that I approach without reservations.”

He looks a bit disdainful at your retracted dismissal of his Army, but he doesn’t say anything about it. “I also feel I should tell my parents about my survival,” you continue. “My husband knows, but the Mortuary Officers actually got to him before I did.”

Ekrine’s eyes widen. “Oh. That…my apologies, your Eminence.”

You awkwardly shrug. “Well, I can’t blame them…it was just poor fortune that they started with my house.” You think of your parents, Coby and Belle Ledren, and wince. Fuck. If the Mortuary Officers DIDN’T start with your house, but went straight to the families… “Sir, may I go to speak to my parents?” you ask.

The Governor looks at you a bit funny. “I can hardly stop you, your Eminence.”

Right. Funny how concern brings out the old protocols.

All right. See you all tomorrow morning.

>>31724657
Thanks for running man. Keep at it!

>>31724657
see you tomorrow

>I have my reservations about involving the military at all
I thought we agreed to get off that line of trash talking the military

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>>31724989

It's not trash talking. Military is valuable and strong ally and everybody would want to have a Legion on their side, but its organisation is ill-suited for our mission. Disregarding even that if shit goes down hard, we'll know that 1 person betrayed us rather than choosing between 2 (husbando is out of question and king wouldn't be anarchist bound to destroy remnants of old order) and that military guys might have their own baggage (200 year old guy who is basically walking spell without even mild PTSD?) - at the end of all, military has strict organisation, they have a way of doing things. Yes, even spec ops who have some flexibility - they nonetheless have specific way of operation, also, attract attention lots of attention despite being undercover. We don't need that/don't want that.
Look at it this way - (demi)gods basically said to us - there are 9 guys, you have to track them and kill them all. Hell, QM is keeping count. That means that we are utterly screwed - think of "Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy" meets "Punisher". That would be our mode of operation - lots of investigation, paranoia, ruthlessness also. It goes very quickly grimdark if you consider that we have to factor time here - sleeping only 3h per day isn't a power that was given us because it's fancy, Asa literally wants us to be working 24h/7 since mass genocide can happen at every moment again. That means that we'll probably be encouraged to kill innocents, so they will be brutally interrogated in the afterlife from every ounce of their being. So far we manage to be noble, but...yeah, we are definitely a spy here, classical spy/detective not a commando.

I...I don't think military is a good choice at this point, not until we'll have to face army of demons or something.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aco15ScXCwA

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>>31728506
I love how seriously people are taking this. It's quite heartening.

As long as the word 'demon' has now been mentioned by someone other than me, I should clarify that 'demons' as envisioned by the modern Christian theology don't exist here and never did; the word 'demon' in this story refers to the classical, Helenistic idea of a nature spirit that could be good or bad, but always possess either knowledge or determination towards a goal that a mortal can't have. They used to exist in huge numbers, but when the races that generated them died off, they went too. I don't count them as one of the immortal or mortal races because they were never really alive in the traditional sense.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daemon_%28mythology%29

Ghosts are different. All people are temporarily ghosts, right after death, and then they get absorbed as the jerry-rigged afterlife mechanism the Pantheon survivors set up kicks in. It catches everybody, without exception; the ghosts Asa is fighting in the south right now are a different sort entirely, more like Specters: they were never truly alive. They're more like weaponized magic given form. Asa can make them, too, she just hates doing it. They're annoyingly hard to kill.

Also, you never actually DIED in the forest; Asa ripped your soul out of its housing and supercharged it with the gem in your forehead before you could actually die. The fact that you were going insane with terror was fixed with that little spiritual slap on the neck she gave you and she feels like shit for it, she would never hit her children if she could avoid it.

Bump

>>31728506
IT IS trash talking because that is what we are doing. We aren't giving reasons even remotely similar to yours.
Just because a reason exists doesn't mean that anything we say would be using the actual reason as justification.

Furthermore, we are not, nor have we ever, discussed revealing it to the entire military. Just to one person, the highest general.

Look at it this way, who is more likely to be in on this deal, random lowbie military personnel... or random lowbie nobles? I am going to go with nobles. The governor isn't because they killed his son, the king isn't because he is attacking himself. The high general isn't because he is already the most powerful person in the country and could easy perform a coup if he wanted to. (what is the king going to do, sic the army on the army?)

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All right, I'm actually writing now.

>>31731219

King has his personal praetorians that are, quoting "Retired Level 20 adventurers". I think it would be kinda hard for highest general to take on him, if we count those insanely powerful fire mages in. He'd need a leverage to make a coup. Like, uber-powerful god slaying artefact.

I tell you, messing with military is scary.

Outside the castle, the air is cool and dry on the autumn winds. Far to the north, the ice is already moving in on the rivers and lakes. Here in the forest, that just means things are a bit chilly. You never minded the cold, and you know your human friends thrive in it, too.

The road from the castle to the residential district is bustling with merchants hawking their wares to the soldiers being mustered at the massive capital garrison. Carts full of clothing in woodland colors and white jockey for position with enchanters who are hammering magic into weapons, in a display of combined capitalism, profiteering, and desperate hope that churns your stomach. Of course you’d never object to people wanting to enchant their gear with their own money – your husband had your engagement ring enchanted – but the Army had really ought to be distributing your men better gear to begin with.

The jostle of the crowd makes for good cover for you; you’re just another soldier here. You clip your shield to your arm and hold your spear high, to ensure the point stays above the crowd.

An excited whisper reaches your ears as you make your way through the push and throngs. It’s not directed at you, the noise is coming from a herald – the normal, news kind – reading dispatch orders for the Army.

“The Fourth and Fifth Home Battalions will be dispatched along with the remainder of First Army, and Forward Artillery First,” the herald bellows.

Wait. Hold on. Forward Artillery? What? The attackers are in the city somewhere. Aren’t they?

>roll 1d100+2 for Perception

Rolled 92 + 2

>>31732778

Rolled 59 + 2

>>31732778

K, 94 is more than enough.

Writing.

Oh, of course. The Artillery units aren’t going to fight in the woods or search the city for the criminals, they’re mobilizing to head south, like your Battalion was eventually going to be. Well, that…doesn’t change things at all, actually. The Army isn’t a police force. The Guard can do that job well enough, and if the construction of your own personal tunnels go well enough, you’d be able to come and go from the castle without anyone in the Army knowing anyway.

Does the Army actually deserve this skepticism, though? None of the nine survivors seemed to be Army, and if those two nobles were Legionnaires, the General would have recognized their descriptions. Him, or the Governor. And if you’re going to tell Dietrich…

You sigh aloud. That sort of complex thinking is beyond you. You’re a skirmisher. You kill people with rocks. The hell do you know about intrigue?

Putting it all beyond you, you move on to the end of the thoroughfare leading out of the castle, and the crowd shrinks away dramatically. The districts nearest the castle are a mixture of noble estates that want to gain some prestige by being so close to the King’s residence and military structures that aren’t small enough to fit in the castle proper. A massive artillery manufacturer’s office, a group of memorials to various wars of the past, an alchemic warhead storage building with the façade of a shuttered store (and isn’t fooling anyone) and of course, every soldier’s best friend: the World Headquarters of the Tarsh Global Courtesan’s Guild.


(con’t)

You can’t help but smile when you walk past the surprisingly tasteful Courtesan’s Guildhall façade. The entire structure is covered in balconies, all of them overflowing with gorgeous yellow and black flowers. Conversation tables dot every balcony, and most are occupied with people. The courtesans themselves, of course, and those who are rich enough to visit a brothel just to talk, along with some guests staying there on their way to another city and wanting to stay somewhere more fun than a hostel. There’s soldiers there having one last gasp of pleasure before being sent to South Ballsocket or wherever the front is these days, there’s bureaucrats taking advantage of the building’s lovely dining and meeting halls to hold meetings they want to resolve in their favor. Moreover, naturally enough, there’s anxious young men and women seeking to rid themselves of the dreadful condition of abstinence in the safest of all possible ways: with expert assistance.

Yes, you dropped a goodly portion of your wages there before meeting Jerome, who takes a decidedly dim view of sharing you, not that you’ve been all that tempted. You even still drop in on occasion to take advantage of the place’s many, many non-sexual amenities, like the best bakery in the city, and weekly free dance lessons. They do train courtesans there, after all. It even has a pleasant library and its own small vineyard.

Still, as much fun as it would be to drop in and blow off steam, you have a family reunion to attend.


(con’t)

The rich district sure is pretty. The autumn sun is shimmering off of every window and gilding, flooding the city with light. It’s hard not to feel comfortable here, especially since military life is considered to be pretty prestigious in Clen. Especially with the nouveau riche.

The glimmer of light off of enchanted marble and jewelry does stir memories you’d wish you’d not had, though. Fields of empty armor and abandoned weapons. They glimmered the same way. You wince and push that back. You’re going to have to report your actions to Asa tonight anyway, so you may as well talk to her about it.

Finally, you emerge from the rich district and enter the merchant’s quarter. Not that the merchants aren’t rich, but at least they work for a living. This quarter is a great place to go in spring, when the farmers are buying the gear and seeds they need for the summer planting, and all the merchants are flush. The autumn is their slowest season, really, since at least in winter the Army hunkers down and keeps their men in the walls. There’s always a concert to listen to, a brawl to join (or break up…stupid NCO rank) and cheap merchandise being brought out from the summer sales and sold in anticipation of needing the storage. Today, it’s awfully subdued, with so many young people off to the fighting.

Your parents both work in the city’s flourishing textiles market. Your mother is a laborer at a local plant, while your father is the security captain (and thus the only man who’s allowed to go about with an edged knife inside the market’s bank) in the warehouses. Most people on their income live in the worker’s districts, but they both got old enough that the long walk bothered them, and they’re both so damn stubborn that they won’t find easier work in their old age.

(con’t)

Okay. Here you are. Your parents’ home. The building is just a large townhouse with an apartment on every floor and a small tea shop on the ground level. Your parents live on the second floor up, one level above the tea shop, and have the floor’s apartment to themselves. Glibly, you wonder if they ever went through with the plan to turn your childhood room into a study for your father.


>What do we do when we get inside? Assuming they’re actually there, of course.

>>31733842

How religious are our parents? Do we have siblings?

I propose to eat dinner at our parents, tell them everything is ok and roughly what happened previous day. Also make sure they know we are alive.

Also - is oilskin used often to transport magical items? Does it have some sort of unusual properties we should be wary about? Is it hard to obtain it?

>>31734064
Oilskin is cheap enough to be used for disposable rainslicks for artillery crews, and common enough to be used on the sails of boats that race on the Great Rivers.

There isn't any organized religion in this setting. No need for it: the demigods themselves have Q&A sessions in every major town, so there's no need for priests to interpret their will (they never used to do this, that's why Heralds used to exist in the first place). You may have to explain what a Herald is.

As for transporting magic, that depends on what kind. Medical magic generally either gets bound into enchanted materials that you actually WANT to touch your skin - like your enchanted engagement ring - or into glass bottles in potion form. There aren't many kinds of magic that are harmful in the passive sense. You can carry magical and alchemic ingredients in your hands if you're careful. Maybe scorched or cured leather for the dangerous stuff.

>>31734064
Derp, sorry, missed the question.

>Do we have siblings?

Nope, as stated above, Elsa is an only child. Coby, Belle, and Jerome all have siblings, though.

>>31733842
say hi, tell them about the battle and how we survived, our heraldship, all the good stuff

>>31734333

Oh and ask mom what fabric is "in" at this time of a year, she certainly has some news from her job!

Full disclosure, eh? Very well!

You can waffle with a General, you can even waffle with a Governor…but with your demigoddess, your King, and other authorities, well, there’s no dodging your responsibilities. Your parents are one such authority. They’ll probably want to know their daughter got stabbed in the spine, was endowed with divine power, and is about to break a conspiracy.

You troop up the worn stone steps to the tea shop, peeking inside as you do. The place is a graveyard. Pity. You always liked it.

Instead of going in, though, you push open the door beside it, careful not to scrape your spear on the wood trim. The short staircase has no windows, but a candle lights your way up to your parents’ small but cozy apartment.

You clear your throat outside the little door and knock twice. After several seconds, you hear your father’s voice call from inside. “Yeah, yeah, come in and leave it on the table!”

That…is not the answer you were expecting. You push the door open, and the first thing you see is your father’s feet, sticking out from under the counter, furiously managing some piping.

The opportunities for practical jokes are…well, infinite.


>what do

>>31735136
Abstain from infinite opportunity.
Greet your father normally.

>>31735136

Poke him with the blunt edge of a spear (the one without the blade) making fun of his age or asking what made him turn into stone/dwarf.

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>>31735401
Heeee hee hee hee hee.

He’s had this coming. You can’t remember why, but he does.

You set your shield down on the table next to the door with a clatter, then close the door. He doesn’t stir, he must have thought you had left. Instead, you walk on the blades of your feet until you’re right next to him, then speak loud enough to wake the dead.

“HEY GRANDPA DOES DAD KNOW YOU’RE WEARING HIS PANTS?”

*clunk.* Your father’s tools clatter on the ground next to his head as he nearly jumps out of his skin. “GAH! Fuck! What?!” he shouts. He launches himself out from under the counter and nearly knocks you flat on your ass as he flails. You double over laughing as he scrambles to his feet.

“Elsa! You’re back already!” he gasps, staring at you.

“I am indeed,” you manage between giggles.

He lurches forward and pulls you into a hug, which he quickly aborts as he realizes you’re still wearing armor. “Elsa, you’re kitted up? Did your battalion get turned around on the Highway?”

Um. “Well…sort of,” you say carefully. He hasn’t heard? “Have you had a chance to catch the criers today?”

(con’t)

“What? No, I’ve been trying to fix the blasted utility pipe before I get called in for the night shift!” he says, jerking a thumb at the pipes. “ ‘Swhat I thought you were here for, delivering a greased bolt for the water line.”

“Ah.” You step back and regard him. He couldn’t look less like you, really. You take after your mother in every regard; where she’s of average build and tall, your father is pretty short. Where you and your mother are wilderness elves, he’s a dark elf, which is fitting, since elves inherit their racial tones from their same-sex parent instead of mixing them like humans do. And where you have brown hair, brown eyes, and light brown skin, your father’s hair is silver, his eyes are bright yellow, and his skin is so dark he fades into shadow.

>stall for time by asking about [your mother, the pipes problem, something else]
>blurt out your strange fate

>>31735717
>blurt out your strange fate

>>31735717
>blurt out your strange fate

It's not like we have to pretend in front of our own family. Also daddy and mommy always have good advice, be it regarding husband, good bread prices or violently murdering old people by the order of gods.

Writing!

Subtlety isn’t your strong suit. You inherited that from your father.

“Dad…I didn’t get turned back,” you say. “We were attacked. The guys who have been assaulting every merchant with legs for the last month or so.”

Coby gapes at you. “You were assaulted on the road?”

“Right on the road.” You take a deep breath and try to fight back the sudden urge to just hug him and lie. “And the rest of my unit was killed. Two of us…well, three…made it out.”

Your father sinks into the rickety chair next to the table, looking sick to his stomach. “Oh…Mai’te’s tears, Elsa, I’m so sorry,” he whispers hoarsely. “…Come here.”

You step closer, and he practically lunges to draw you into a bear hug. “I’m so glad you’re all right,” he manages.

Damn it, you didn’t cry in front of your entire barracks, you won’t cry now.

>will you?

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>>31736868

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>>31736868

Back from dinner, writing now.

Btw, are other people lurking ,or is it just me and the other guy posting here? I ask since I appreciate your threads and well, I wonder why not more people want to join.

regards, eurofag

>>31737595
hopefully lurkers, because I'm other votefag and I gotta grab dinner

>>31737595
Man, I dunno. Six people followed me on twitter when I posted it in the last thread, but I never seem to have more than one or two people on at once.

>>31737595

I post, and I'm from Australia, so there's more then one of us.

You give it a good try, but somehow your father is better at unlocking your emotions than an entire barracks full of your comrades. You feel hot anger leak past your squeezed eyelids, streak down your cheeks, and spatter on his shoulders as he keeps up the hug. There’s something you want to tell him, something important, but right now, Dad’s just trying to make you feel better.

Halfway through your silent sobs, a quiet chime sounds four thirty. Sixteen thirty, really. So Mom will be home soon, and then you said you’d see Jerome and come home after dinner…

Okay. The logical train of thought burns a bit of salt out of your eyes. You sniffle back the rest of your tears and slip out of Dad’s hug. “Sorry,” you mumble.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry about it,” Dad says, looking you over with pure worry on his face. “You’re loaded for bear. Did you just get back to the city?”

“Been here since this morning…I had to go talk to Jerome, and file my report,” you say, wiping the tears away. You take a long, sad breath and puff out the shaking fear. “Jerome nearly had a heart attack. The Mortuary Officers had already dropped off a letter declaring me KIA,” you mutter.

Coby’s jaw drops. “What?”

“He thought I was dead,” you sigh. “I thought it was going to kill him.”

Dad’s voice doesn’t say anything s you go get your shield from the table. “He loves you very, very much, Elsa,” he finally says.

“I know,” you whisper.


>Okay, that’s over with. How to break the news?

>>31737954
>Slowly, and carefully.

>>31737954

"You know dad...to tell the truth...it was really close. I was nearly there, crossing to the other side...and I came back only thanks to the help of someone..." - then reveal gem by combing you hair from the forehead to the side.

Writing.

Why is it that telling your King was easier than telling your father?

“Dad…I said that two people came back, then corrected it to three,” you say carefully. “Well, truth is…I was hit. Badly. I took a knife in the back, and I needed help to get back up.”

Your father gasps, like any good parent would. “Elsa! Are you…you’re okay?”

“Better than ever, now,” you say. “Asa saved me.”

He shudders. “It was that bad? Thank the Pantheon for the healers.”

You hesitate. “I was being literal.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…Asa saved me. An Avatar.”

Coby’s jaw drops. “You met Asa?”

Fuck it, may as well go for the full effect. You tug off the bandana and turn to face him.

He stares, uncomprehending. “What is that?”

“It’s a brand of Heraldship,” you say bluntly. “My coming back wasn’t free.”

The world goes silent. “…Elsa?” he asks feebly. “What do you mean?”

You close your eyes for a moment and try to focus. “The…I took what would have been a fatal hit, only Asa saved me so I could hunt down the people who did this to my Battalion.” It doesn’t feel any saner, saying it aloud.

The silver in your father’s hair may be fading to white, but he was no more alive than you when the Heralds last walked Tarsh. That doesn’t mean he’s stupid. He sinks into the chair again, eyes unfocused. He’s clearly stunned beyond words. “Dad, I’m still me,” you insist. “I just…I answer directly to Asa now.”


(con’t)

He runs a hand over his hair. “But…” he says weakly. “The Pantheon doesn’t do that any more…”

You wince. “They shouldn’t. And…they shouldn’t need to. But the guys who ambushed us were using pre-Collapse weapons, and that’s against their laws.” You squeeze the bridge of your nose and try to find words that don’t sound stupid. “This is…harder than telling the King,” you remark.

“You met the KING?” Coby demands.

“I told him this afternoon, right before I came here,” you say. “And Captain-General Dietrich will find out tomorrow. I told Ekrine already.”

Humor isn’t your father’s strong suit. He decides to take refuge in routine instead. “Well. I…your mother will be back in a few minutes,” he says, shaking himself. “Maybe you can explain better when she’s here.”

No sooner does he say it than your mother Belle appears at the door. You left it wide open when you arrived. “Elsa!” she practically shrieks. “Elsa, you’re okay!” She fairly leaps on you and kisses both your cheeks, gripping your shoulders like she’s afraid you’re going to run. “Oh, I was so worried! I thought we lost you!” she sobs.

Jesus, sorry that took so long.

Over the next hour, you explain everything, from the battle, to the Orb, to the resurrection, to your adventure coming home, and your meetings since. Your parents listen to it all, asking questions every so often. When you wrap it up at last, your father is staring at your forehead. “So…when you touch that thing…Asa can hear you?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Can you…I don’t know, can you summon an Avatar?”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t work that way. And Asa is very busy. Sometimes she can’t reply.” You pause for a moment, thinking about how to phrase this. “Listen…I need to trust you both not to tell anybody. Just tell people I’m missing.”

They both look at each other. “Why?”

“I can’t win this if nine rich criminals are coming for me,” you say patiently. It’s a lot to take in.

“But what are you going to do in the meantime?” Belle asks.

>wat say

>>31739615
>Investigation. I got moved into the Logistics division for that purpose.

>>31739615
Keep a low profile, and investigate and find them

>>31739615
>I've been reassigned into a different division, to perform some investigation.

Lets not tell them WHERE we've been assigned. The less they know, the better, I think.

Writing.

Wait, it struck me now - does it mean our father is more than 3000 years old? If so...that's kinda awesome. I wonder what kind of wisdom can have three millennia old guard of a warehouse filled with robes.

>>31740179
>Wait, it struck me now - does it mean our father is more than 3000 years old? If so...that's kinda awesome. I wonder what kind of wisdom can have three millennia old guard of a warehouse filled with robes.
wait, what? where did you get that notion?

>>31740179
No, elves don't live very long compared to humans in this setting. Any more. They do have abilities humans don't, but you've managed to not really be in a situation where they'd kick in yet. I suspect that won't last.

>>31740218

Since if I remember well from previous threads, last Herald was 3000 years ago and our father was there when they walked the earth.

>>31740297
Nnnnnnno...I don't see where you're getting this. >The silver in your father’s hair may be fading to white, but he was no more alive than you when the Heralds last walked Tarsh.

He was NO more alive than you. He's only 56 years old. Dark elves have silver hair naturally in this setting.

>>31740333
he must have missed the word no there, happens to me sometimes when i read something too

>>31740333

Oh...I thought no more alive than you are [i]now[/i], so I imagined for a while that the enjoyed his crazy 20s when there was an old Pantheon.
Eh, and I was hoping for secretly millennia old elf who is married for the last 500 and works as a janitor in the same warehouse for the last 300 years.

You can’t feel like you don’t trust your parents. Not after what happened. Still…if things do go public, and your identity is revealed, the conspirators may target your family to get to you.

“I’ve requested a reassignment to a logistical unit,” you decide to say. It’s accurate, and vague. There are four logistical departments in Clen, after all. One for the Guard, the Auxilia has one, the Army another, and the Legion and Shadows have their own. “I need to investigate the conspiracy.”

“And Asa will be helping you somehow?” your mother presses, overawed.

“I’ll be reporting my findings to her, yes, and she’s given me certain…abilities,” you say. Your stomach clenches a little as you say it. It’s still hard to process.

“What abilities?” your mother asks.

Asa didn’t exactly give you a tutorial, so you improvise. “Well…I can heal with her help…I don’t need to sleep as much…there may be more. It’s not really clear yet,” you admit. “I’ll ask her tonight.”

“Can we talk to her?” Coby asks.

“I can pass messages to her, but she can’t hear you, no,” you say.

Your father leans forward. “Can we speak to her now? Through you?”

Belle looks at her husband askance. “And say what?”

“Ask her things! Ask her to…you know, let us help, or to help the King, or something!” your father says emphatically.

“Well…no. I can ask her things on your behalf, though,” you clarify. “And I can say now what she’d say if you said any of that. She’d tell you to keep your head down and not attract any attention. These men have city-killers, Dad.”


(con’t)

“And you’re going up against them alone!” your father protests. “That’s not reasonable!”

“Asa knew what they had before she restored me!” you say, shocking even yourself with your sudden anger. “I’m telling you I can handle this! I’m trained to fight, Dad. If they don’t see me coming, I can stop them from using the weapon!”

“But why do they even have it?” your mother asks. “Do they want to use it at all?”

“You don’t trade something like that unless you want to use it,” you say, though you have to admit that she may have a point. The men in the forest didn’t actually say why they wanted it. “Mom, I’ll not take stupid risks. And I won’t be going alone, either. I’m considering letting either the Brotherhood or the Firesouls in on this, to help me.”

That seems to relieve them both. Some of the Brotherhood are regarded as national heroes, and the Firesouls are practically Heralds already, they’re so powerful.


>Is there anything else to do here before you go home to eat and talk things out with Jerome?

>>31740428

If you want stories of the olden days, just ask Asa. Most of the people she gets to see today are dying, she'd love to tell some stories.

>>31740462
not really
tell them we love them

>>31740462

O-ok. It's just that I was amused with a thought of elf moping same floor for centuries or his wife working on the one piece of embroidery for a decade. Though thanks for clarification with lifespan.

>>31740462

I guess we are fine, we can stay for a moment to chit-chat with mother, but that's all.

VERY WELL! Writing.

Your parents aren’t mollified by all this, not really. What parents would be? Their daughter isn’t even an elf any more, she’s…something else. But under the circumstances, what else can they do?

With much tearing up and heartfelt well-wishes, both of them wave you goodbye, and you set off home.

Upon your arrival at the block of houses where you live, the first thing that hits you is the crowd.

Outside the door, there’s the wives and husbands of the other NCOs who got killed in the fighting. They’d know you if you got closer, so you hang back around a corner and gauge them carefully. There’s a lot of somber faces and wet shirtfronts. Someone got chairs from somewhere, and you see several of them are occupied by the people who live near you. There’s more than six empty bottles of wine around, and more than that many half-empty ones too. There’s older children present, mingling, and you can quite distinctly hear younger ones crying somewhere. It’s a Cender Send-off, all right. One third grieving, one third hard booze, and one third block party.

As much as you want to join in and send off your former comrades in style, you can’t possibly do it without being recognized. You need to get to your house, though…


>wat do

>>31740995

Is there a back route? You may be trespassing on other people's back lawns, but given they will all be outside, I doubt they will know.

>>31741070
There is.

>>31740995
Gah, last vote before I go to dinner.

>Avoid by any means necessary

Jeez, a survivor can't possibly be a good thing for these people to see right now.

>>31741079
Then use it. I don't feel like being lynched today

>>31740995

Hmm...it looks tough, we probably can't sneak there. I'd propose that best thing to do would be to wait it out in the tavern/courtesan guild till late night and then when everybody will be asleep we can sneak in. Or just sleep at courtesan guild and apologize to Jerome later. Going there has one more benefit - we can ask courtesans for their clientèle, that is, if they haven't met some of the fuckers we seek. What do you think, guys?

>>31741150
Boy I'm glad I saw that before I started writing.

>>31741150
That's... a remarkably good plan. I feel bad for Jerome, but I think this is safer for all involved at this time.

Okay, tiebreaker.

1 for just going in the back way
2 for waiting somewhere else for them to go away and walking in the front

Sorry, that meant I wanted votes, not that I would be rolling for it. Derp on me.

>>31741317
I'm gonna say 2

>>31741150

I agree with this.

>>31741317

2 since I proposed it :3

Oooookay, you're not using the backdoor and are instead hiding in a brothel for a few hours. That can't backfire at all, there's surely nobody there who could recognize you from your years of regular patronage.

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Fuck it, we're going with it anyway. Writing!

>>31741663

I thought we were married. Did we have years of regular patronage before getting married and settling down?

Awkward.

>>31741689
>Yes, you dropped a goodly portion of your wages there before meeting Jerome, who takes a decidedly dim view of sharing you, not that you’ve been all that tempted. You even still drop in on occasion to take advantage of the place’s many, many non-sexual amenities, like the best bakery in the city, and weekly free dance lessons.

>>31741663
You said the brothel had spa services which we are still using sometimes without using the hookers.

>>31741727

Stop spoiling our fun.

>>31741748
although, i am wondering what they are doing around OUR house specifically.
I am guessing they heard we were a survivor
we are basically spoiling a whole bunch of funerals of our friends by not attending
that is a real dick move.

I vote we reconsider this fact and just woman up and go through the funeral

>>31741774

That whole block is all families of NCOs in the Army and Auxilia. You saw the Mortuary Officers going about them two threads ago.

>>31741727

Hey, if we can't insert our fetishes into this, when what's the point of the quest?

>>31741793
well... it still feels like a huge dick move to blow off their wedding.
(note, this is a new vote btw. I hadn't voted on this issue before >>31741774
its just that I couldn't decide at first, but then I realized we are basically blowing off the funeral of our dead friends)


>>31741820
nobody voted to hire a prostitute.
QM said the brothel is a high class place which also offer spa services, library, and other such things.

>>31741857
What wedding? It's a send-off. People share stories, grieve, get smashed. Like a wake.

>>31741908
>wedding
brain fart, i meant funeral

>>31741908
>>31741958
I actually said funeral later in that same post too

hey! I had an idea.
I bet the brothel place has a love hotel sort of rooms too, yes?
why don't we send a message to our husband to come meet us here, enjoy a relaxing spa time together, then spend the night in a room?
if too expensive i guess we can stay at a nearby hotel for the night and just share spa time with him.

Okay.

There appears to be so much confusion about this decision that I'm just going to go with a suggestion with a nice, high Improv Score, and this fits the bill.
>>31742007

If anyone else is confused about something, please tell me so I can straighten it all out.

>>31741958

We can't risk the mission. Blowing off the funeral is the right thing to do, they will surely find out mark if we go like this. Plus there is 100% chance of drama connected to "WHY DID YOU SURVIVE?! WHY YOU AND NOT JOSH?! YOU...YOU DOUBLE ELF YOU!". Also funerals mean nothing without gods.

>>31742037
Well, there are strong funeral traditions here, they just aren't beseechments for divine mercy or anything. They're memorials, not prayers.

>>31742037
ok, that is a good enough argument to blow off funeral.

Well, Jerome didn’t pick a specific time, did he? You just said you’d be back after dinner. And you can think of something to do in the meantime.

You pull away from the block, feeling a pang in your stomach as you do. Your neighbors probably think you’re dead, too. And your friends deserved a proper send-off, too. Oh well.

Where to, though? You’re tempted to just go sleep in the bunk you used in the barracks during your mustering…or wait. Maybe you don’t have to skip off Jerome tonight. You jog towards the Courtesans’ Guildhall, keeping your eyes peeled for…yes! There. A package courier, working outside the large row of shops and carts on the road between the castle and the Guildhall. You jog right on up and come to a halt.

The courier slowly looks up at you, squinting at you in the gathering autumnal dark. “…Yes?” he asks carefully.

“How would you like to relay a message that would make someone very happy?” you ask. You snatch a piece of paper from a nearby cart and rip off a blank corner, scribbling furiously. “Here. Can you get this to my address quickly?”

He looks over the message and the address you wrote on the back. “Uh…”

“For ten silver?” you finish. Five would be a generous rate.

His eyebrows rise. “Anything to help the war effort,” he says placidly. “It’ll have to wait half an hour or so, though, Sergeant, I’m contracted to haul some fish to the barracks.”

“That’s totally acceptable, thanks much!” you say, feeling some of your guilt melt away. At least you won’t be going back on your word to your husband tonight.


(con’t)

The Courtesan’s Guildhall. Off the top of your head, you can’t remember a more fun place to spend some money.

The building is absolutely abuzz with people right now. The crowd from before is actually bigger than it was before, if that’s even possible. You’re actually worried about getting a room. Well, maybe if it’s too crowded to sleep you can just wait until it gets really dark and slip in the backdoor of your house. The wide-open door of the building is as inviting as can be, with well-dressed young folk – both clients and employees, you’d reckon – milling around the door. Quiet, subdued, pleasant violin and flute music pipes out of the doors and windows all over the building. Someone’s even scattered flower petals on the floors.

You walk right in, still carrying your gear, and not drawing an eye because of it. There’s probably eight or nine hundred soldiers here, most in nicer clothing than yours to be sure, but still in uniform. They’re everywhere: at the counter, requesting company, dancing on the ballroom floor, chatting with pretty young people of every description, walking out with huge smiles on their faces. It’s not just enlistees, either. There’s officers too, and more than a few nobles in the mix.

There are also a large and disconcerting number of familiar faces. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Elsa!” a voice calls out from behind. You screw both eyes shut and count to five. You know that voice.

“Elsa Ledren, dear, it’s so good to see you!” the voice says loudly. You feel a hand grip your shoulder and you turn, forcing a smile on your face.


(con’t)

“Giselle. Hello,” you say with a tightly controlled tone of voice. Of course. Giselle Beckhert. Well, she does work here. You were classmate in school for seven years, and somehow you never doubted she’d end up a courtesan. She always did like it when the boys’ eyes followed her through solid walls.

“Dear Elsa, it’s been years!” she bubbles. “I thought you up and married that strapping armorer!”

“Well, I did, Giselle, I just needed to drop by and see someone I knew would be here before I left for the front,” you lie. You force yourself to relax. Maybe that strange vocal power you displayed before will save you now…


>use one of your divine speech abilities
>just thug through the conversation and save your daily spells for later tonight when you ask if the conspirators ever pop by

>>31743146
>use one of your divine speech abilities
good practice

Well, if there were ever a time to practice your new divine abilities…

You focus your thoughts on the gem in your forehead and send a silent plea for help. In moments, you hear Asa’s voice in your mind. [Yes?]

{How do I use the power over language you gave me?} you ask her.

[Ah, you need merely desire it, my daughter. Just don’t abuse it. It tires me so terribly.]

{Thanks.} You retune your mind on the issue at hand and listen to Giselle talk for a moment longer.

“That’s interesting, Giselle, but what are you doing here?” you ask blandly.

She sniffs airily. “I’m a Companion, Elsa, didn’t I tell you?”

Ah, one of the women whose job it is to actually sex up customers. Well, it probably pays better than your gig…

“I see,” you say, since there’s nothing else to say. “May I ask you something before I look for my friend?”

“Surely,” she says. “What is it?”

“To whom would I speak if I wished to know if someone were to have patronized this place?” you ask. There it is again! Words you’d never use on your own. But you don’t feel Asa’s power at work…what is this?

Giselle clucks her tongue. “Why, Elsa, I’m surprised at you!” she says flatly. “We can’t reveal the names of our customers!”

“You can if they’re wanted for desertion,” you say in the same tone.

She blinks. “Desertion?”

“To whom do I speak?” you ask again.

She blinks again, apparently nonplussed. “Uh…well, Madame Corvum handles most of the day-to-day interactions…”

“Thank you, Giselle,” you say briskly, and walk right up to the indicated woman behind the counter.


(con’t)

En route, though, you tap into the gem once more. {Did you help me there?} you ask.

[What? No, my daughter, I did nothing. Why, do you feel odd?]

{I used words I’ve never used before in my life!} you insist.

Asa’s tone is surprisingly warm, given your own tone. She’s probably starting to realize how out of your depth you really are. [My gifts are more than channels of power and great displays of health, my fierce daughter,] she says kindly. [Merely swearing to serve me endows you with abilities you’ve never had before. Naturally strong speech and flexible social skill are among them. What good is a Herald if they must call upon me to accomplish anything? You have power you’ve not even discovered. We can discuss it later, if you wish. I was rather hoping you’d discover it on your own, but if you’ve begun your task already, I won’t withhold information for propriety’s sake alone.]

You ponder that. {…Too cool.}

You swear you hear her snort in amusement before the gem goes cold again.

You reach the counter and wait for the indicated lady to see you. Lady is the right word, you decide. She has the air of class you’d expect from a noble. Hey, maybe she IS a noble. She certainly has the bearing. “Hello, Sergeant,” she says sweetly. Ooh, she’s good: she knew your rank by the chevrons on your shoulder alone. “What can I arrange for you this evening?”

>A room to share with my husband tonight
>Information about [what]
>Writein

>>31744210
>A room to share with my husband tonight

>>31744210
>A room to share with my husband tonight
Since it is going to be half an hour until he arrives, we actually DO have time to question her if we want to.
I am not sure quite what to ask though. I mean, I guess we could describe the individuals in question at great detail and explain they are wanted. But I have a nagging feeling I am missing something (we could always just leave it for tomorrow morning)

You can interrogate her later, if it comes to that. Maybe talk to Dietrich first? For now, Jerome and you will need a place to rest. “Well, I’m afraid with all the moving about, my husband and I find ourselves in need of a place to stay for the night,” you say.

Madame Corvum nods in a way that manages to be concurrently knowing and discreet. She’s definitely a noble. “Of course, Sergeant. And what amenities would you like?”

You consider that. Jerome is a bit uncomfortable at how small your bed is at home, so a nice big bed is pretty much going to happen. A balcony room too, that’s a given. But what else? In Clen, the population is so high that there are sufficient Utility mages to provide warm running water and glowlights to every large building, and this is surely no exception…


>A bath, with [room for two] [a shower] [both]
>Some nice wine maybe? [or some other drink/food of your choice]
>A place to have my things cleaned overnight
>A fireplace

(pick any two options [variants on the bath are simply extra choices and don’t count against your options total])

>>31744667
>bath
>nice wine

Writing!

You know, you’re not in the mood for celebration beyond the essentials, but that bath is awfully tempting. Your townhouse has running water, but it’s lukewarm at best. A real, hot bubblebath…that’s almost too luxurious for words.

“I’d like a room with a bath, I think,” you say. “And wine enough for two. Something good for accompanying a meal. And…a large enough bed for someone six and a half feet…with a balcony, too.”

“Very well,” the Madam says. She picks up a pad of paper and quickly looks it over. “We will have such a room available in…twenty minutes.”

Just enough time to order food. “Perfect!” you cheerfully say. “I’ll be back then. Can I order food at the bakery and have it sent up to the room?”

“You certainly may,” Madam Corvum says, nodding. “The room is numbered Seven Oh Five.”

“Thank you,” you say. The layout of the place comes back easily enough, given how much time you’ve spent here. You make for the bakery and walk in, basking in the scent of the fresh bread and sugar. It says something for the Guild’s ability to market themselves that they turned the in-house food provider into a successful side business. You wait patiently in line, and order a loaf of cranberry bread and some desserts for your room, along with a few sides of vegetables. When the order is placed, you head back up to the counter and collect your key. Handing over the payment – not much, given your danger pay rate, which you started collecting after your muster began – you head up to the room.


(con’t)

The stairs and halls of the place are more decadent than the tasteful understatement of the main façade. Thick carpets, enchanted mirrors, baskets of flowers, all manner of decorations. The first few floors are the gala rooms and palatial suites, you remember – too expensive for your tastes. The middle few are the cheap rooms, made for quick use and quick use only. The top few floors, though, those are the nice ones. Overnight stay rooms for people planning a getaway or richer travelers.

You open the room’s door and take it in. It’s immaculate. There’s little flowers in vases around the outside of the white marble room, with a large, open balcony and a ring of chairs on its balustraded surface. The bed is huge, twice the size of your usual one. You poke your head into the bathroom…yep, a nice big bath. Delightful. The bottles of wine you ordered sit in ice-lined buckets on the main table, along with some little plates of nibbles. Oysters and orange chocolates. Classy.

Well, you have a while until Jerome arrives. What do you want to do?


>Ask Asa questions while we’re guaranteed not to be interrupted
>Get that armor off already
>Just sit on the balcony and think

>>31745311
>Get that armor off already

>>31745311

>Get that armoUr off already

Silly Americans butchering the Queens English.

Writing!

Whether Jerome wants to use the bed or…use the bed, it’s best not to be wearing armor while it’s happening. You shuck your plate and greaves, setting them neatly on the coat stand by the door. That accomplished, you strip off the leather and camouflage material too. The total lack of sun-stain, sweat marks, battle damage, and other wear on your gear amazes you. Asa did a spectacular job restoring your gear after you took that hit.

Hey, is it visible? You lift the back of your shirt in front of the mirror on the back of the thick door and peer over your own shoulder. Nope. The mark from the knife isn’t even there. Asa did you that favor too. You run a finger over the nasty cut mark on your face from a really aggressive wolf, a few years ago, and wonder. She left you your old ones, at least.

You finish stripping down to your tunic and pants, and stretch out on the great big bed. It’s not too soft, you note in dreamy satisfaction. They sometimes are. A good bed has a bit of spring in it.

You close your eyes and relax, for maybe the first time in fifty days. All that mustering, all that drilling, all that marching, all that terror…dying. It’s not a concern here. Here, at least,you can relax.

Someone knocks on the door. You tense up a bit before the smell of fresh bread reaches your nose. “Come in,” you call.

A Guildsman in a valet’s uniform enters, pushing a cart of food. You sit up and direct him to leave it by the table in the middle of the room, leaving a generous tip as you do. As he leaves, you start slicing the bread, inhaling the fresh smell. “Sure beats marching rations,” you murmur.


(con’t)

A few minutes later, the food is sliced and ready, the windows and balcony door are thrown wide open to let in the autumn breezes, and Jerome’s knocking on the door. You open it up and smile at his distinctly bemused expression. “Hey, sweetheart,” you say breezily. “Come on in.”

He does so, throwing an odd look around him. “Hi. How was your meeting?”

“Well…I wound up meeting with the Governor, the King, and my parents, more or less in that order,” you chuckle.

Jerome stares at you, his surprise at his surroundings fading away entirely. “What?”

“I had to tell them,” you say, maybe a bit defensively. “I can’t do this alone.”

He grimaces. “You’re not alone.”

Of course. “I mean…I need help from some authorities, Jerome,” you say.

Your husband sinks down on the bedside and looks up at you. He’s not in work clothes, you notice, and he looks freshly scrubbed. “Sorry. I guess I just don’t understand everything yet,” he admits.

You sit down next to him and clasp his hand in yours. “Talk.”

He grinds his free hand over his eyes. “Well…why aren’t we at home right now?”

“There were a lot of people out front. I don’t want lots of people who know me to know I’m still kicking,” you say.

“Then why not just come in the back door?” he huffs. “Why come here?”

You have to admit, that would have probably worked. “Well…I guess I wanted to celebrate, too,” you say. “I made it back, you know?”

He half-smiles behind a mask of weariness. “Yeah.” He stands up and wanders over to the food cart. “So…want to hear about my day first, or do we get your more exciting stuff out of the way?” he jokes.

You draw your knees up to your chest and smile. “I want to hear everything.”


(con’t)

The two of you just talk for a while, sharing everything that happened while you were away. The separation, the anxiety, all of it. The local news he heard, the international news you missed, the meetings with the nobles, and Asa. You talk about Asa a lot.

He’s a bit simple in his mindset, but he’s not stupid. You have to dispel the idea that the Avatars that people see walking around are Asa herself, or Haret or Vier. Once he understands that, though, he cottons on quickly. “So…Heralds are what they used before Avatars? People who could communicate with the Pantheon?” he asks from his side. The crumbs of his meal cover a plate on the bed between you.

You nod, propping your head up on one arm. “Yeah. I’m…I guess a bit of a throwback.”

“What happens if you succeed? Do you just…die?” he asks, forcing the word out.

You shake your head. “No. Asa wouldn’t do that.”

“She better not,” he mutters darkly. “You’ve been through enough.”

You smile behind a slice of chocolate orange. He’s quite endearing when he’s being protective.


>As fun as this is, I’m exhausted. Want to just turn in?
>Think you could work fifty days of tension out of my back?
>Bubblebath
>writein

>>31746267
>Bubblebath
>Tell him Asa promised us a return to normal life after completing our mission

Calling it a night after this next piece, by the way, it's a good stopping point. I'll pick up again tomorrow.

>Bubblebath

>>31746391
actually, not quite normal. she said we will keep our powers and immortality and are free to use our power as we see fit (as long as we don't go crazy with it and go against her of course)

>>31746545
You're not immortal. There'd be no need to stay covert if you were. She just said you can keep your powers if you live through this.

>>31746564
Ah, I am used to fantasy fiction where immortal means "live until murdered" rather then "cannot be killed in any way".
I mean, technically even the gods can be killed

I was under the impression that we do not age anymore and are immune to disease though

Super health, yes. Eternal youth, no. You also need only sleep two hours per night now.

>>31746719
>Super health, yes. Eternal youth, no.
oh, thanks for clarifying. I don't know where I got that idea from then.

Actually, how many years does an elf live?

>>31746767
>>31746767
That depends on whether they manage to tap the Well of Life like the King and the Captain-General have. If not, maybe eighty years, ninety. If they have, four hundred.

That concept will be explained in more detail if the players encounter a Brotherhood member or Firesoul (or look it up in a library) since it's not something most people in Tarsh care about.

>>31746829
>since it's not something most people in Tarsh care about.
most people don't care about an ability to increase their lifespan fivefold?

>>31746895
Not when it's as horribly painful as tapping the Well, no.

“Want to know something fun?” you ask.

“Hm?”

“This suite has a bubblebath.”

He chuckles. “You always loved those. Gonna have one before we turn in?”

“Yeah.” You sit up and stretch. “Mmmm…fifty days without a real bath…”

“Keep it warm, I may want to rinse too,” he says as you disappear into the bathroom.

You slip out of your clothes and start the water flowing, mixing a little of the soap in as you do. Kneeling over the edge, you feel the warm drafts waft over your bare skin, raising goosebumps. Your mind drifts back to when you were a kid, leaping into the waters of the Great Rivers when your parents took you out on trips to see the countryside. Your father earned just enough to make it possible to take those vacations once in a while.

How long had it been, you wonder to yourself. Nine years? Eight? You’re no kid any more, that’s for sure. You’re married, you have a job…kids are about the only ‘adult’ thing you lack. No hurry there, either.

You let the water rise to your chin and turn it off, luxuriating in the feeling of the soapy water. The sound of the music from downstairs filters in through the window, carrying the light breeze of autumn in and swirling the steam.

Yeah, things have been rough lately, no denying it. Right now, though? You’re right where you want to be.


(con’t)

>>31746909
for every day of your life, or just the one time process?

After a nice, long soak, you reluctantly climb out and rinse off. No fair if you hog all the hot water. As you finish toweling off, Jerome pokes his head through the door. “My turn?” he asks.

You roll your eyes as you dry your hair. “I’m not done drying up, my friend.”

He takes in the entirely unobstructed sight of your slender, muscled backside with interest. “I couldn’t tell.”

Subtlety is not your husband’s strong suit. You suppose you can’t fault him for it, though, so you resign yourself to a playful pinch of the bottom as you pass him in the door. You get some slight vengeance with the eyeful of him you catch as you shut the door behind you, though. All’s fair.


You snuggle up under the covers and listen to the soft music on the wind, thinking about not much at all. You’ve done nothing but think, lately, and ask questions, and learn things. Maybe you needed a break from it all before you throw yourself headfirst into the investigation. Maybe that’s why you’re here and not home.

After a while, Jerome emerges from the bathroom and slips into the bed beside you. You feel him drape one thick arm over your stomach and lean into your back, pressing his lips against the back of your neck in a long, easy kiss. “I missed you,” he murmurs. “You know that? I missed you.”

He was the last thing you thought of as you were dying. The last coherent thought before your soul was ripped from its housing. “I do know, my love, and I missed you too,” you say softly.

He leans over you a bit in the dim lights of the room. He presses his hand over the control for the glowlight and darkens the room to near blackness. He doesn’t like back down, though. Instead, he runs his hand over your bare curves, leaving a trail of warmth on your skin.

It’s pretty clear what he’s offering.


>After fifty days…I thought you’d never ask
>I’m so tired, lover…you wouldn’t enjoy it, and neither would I

>>31746960
Well, in essence, it calls for a pretty gruesome personal sacrifice. It's not always voluntary, either, some people tap the Well (an unexplained power source) purely by coincidence, after surviving some horrible trauma. Death of a loved one that you could have prevented, having to murder someone, taking an alchemic bullet for someone. When there's a chance it could kill you instead, it's not always worth it.

in game crunch terms, it's the core of the leveling mechanic i'm using. Whether or not the players ever investigate it enough to use it...i don't know until it happens

>>31746942
I meant we share the bath with him.. ah well

>>31746973
>After fifty days…I thought you’d never ask

>>31746973
>graciously accept the D

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992 KB GIF

Writing.

as if there were any doubt...

>>31746942
>kids are about the only ‘adult’ thing you lack. No hurry there, either.
Didn't we wish we had had some when we were dying not too long ago?

>>31747599
Yes.

He didn’t ask with words. You don’t need to reply with them. He knows you, and you know him. You roll onto your back, facing up at him in the dark. He feels you shift and move, and a grin that could light a cave splits his tanned face. His hands slide across your smooth, freshened skin – bless Asa for small favors, literally – and across your modest breasts. His hands aren’t the rough hooks of a sailor, or the gnarled mass of a blacksmith. Your husband is a cargoman, and that requires precision. Thank goodness.

Jerome’s outline blots out the last bit of light from the glowlight in the ceiling, but the wide-open doors and windows admit all the glorious starlight. The pale glow scatters over the tableau of the bed, lending a faint illumination to your bodies as they entwine and move. You revel in the feeling of his hands across your back, your waist, your thighs…everywhere. You needed him, you know, and now he’s here. He’s here. Against you, beneath and above you…deep, deep inside you.

Oh, bliss.

You don’t speak when you make love, not with someone you know. Why bother? Either they learn your ways and forms, or they don’t. Jerome knows you, and you know him. You gasp a bit as he finds the tip of one sensitive ear and blows against it, making you twitch and shy away from him. It doesn’t really work, though, and moments later you’re back at his mercy, arms wrapped around his shoulders as he moves to kiss your neck. You shift and rock your hips, seeking him, and he doesn’t make you look far. How does a man six foot six inches tall and built like a fortress move so gently? Breathe so lightly against the back of your neck? Whisper so softly? Last so long against your every effort?

Really, who cares? He’s been deprived of your touch as long as you’ve been bereft of his. He knows what you like, what drives you mad. Both at once. He knows you, and you know him.


(con’t)

The enchantment woven into your engagement ring is a simple Spell of Preservation – a euphemism if ever there was one. All it does is prevent pregnancy, that’s all. Weaving such a spell into an engagement ring is a very common practice. After all, it’s as symbolic as it is practical: taking it off means that the honeymoon is over, and parentage can start.

It stays on the whole night.

From your resting place on his shoulder, you can hear his heartbeat in your ears. He has one arm wrapped across your back, he’s clasping your free hand against his chest with his other hand, and you’re both grinning like idiots.

“Well,” you murmur.

“Yeah,” he concurs.

And then, you’re both fast asleep.

File: 1381758844754.gif (1.15 MB, 480x288)

1.15 MB GIF

And we'll pick up tomorrow morning!

>>31747741

Good Night OP, I'll see you tomorrow then.

>>31747741
night op

>>31747741
thx 4 runin budi gud thred

Bumping.

You ain't done yet thread.

It would be nice to ask Madame Corvum about Everett Soutri, he is ex-military so she should be able to say something about him if he or his acquaintances were in courtesan guild.

>>31752803
>Everett Soutri

Isn't that a character from another of SE's stories? Or am I getting that mixed up with something else?

>>31752883

Did he QM something else before? I picked this name from archive thread, it was this light elf that general recognized from our description.

>>31753012

I swear I saw the name in another story somewhere that SE worked on or something.

>>31753029

Well, maybe it's a wink to old players.

Nope, I have no characters with that name. Not sure where you would have seen it.


I will be in and out all day, until tonight, when I'll be able to run consistently.

Two hours of sleep. You didn’t really think that one through, apparently. You stir awake just two hours after you and Jerome reaffirmed life, feeling as refreshed as you ever have. Asa’s healing power must even work when you’re not really hurt.

You stretch languidly in the huge bed, trying to steal a few more moments of rest. Well, actually, that’s not the case, as you could just lie there all night and get up in the morning, but that would be so boring. Maybe you could pop out and get some work done and then come back for breakfast?

Somebody must have closed the door to the balcony at some point last night, because you can’t hear the music any more. All you can hear now is the faint voices, drifting up from below…

Wait. You’re on the seventh floor.

Your eyes snap open. The room’s much darker now, with something blocking the light through the door. You sit up, focusing on the obstruction…

Jerome is out there, in a robe, speaking to someone in a hooded cloak. Someone…whose skin changes colors in the starlight.

Oh no. Your husband and your demigoddess are…gossiping.


>wat do

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44 KB JPG

>>31755222

>your husband gossiping with your female boss

NOOOOO!

Obviously go there and join whatever they are having now. Also I guess give report to Asa that you know the name of one of the guys who was there. I don't know, maybe if she is responsible for being there when elves die, maybe she's also there when they are born?

>>31755480

...or we can lie down and listen to conversation before joining in. Change vote to this.

>>31755222
EAVESDROP

...ffffffuck, I already have something written. Well, that's easily resolved!

You decide to listen in before pouncing. You strain your hearing as much as you can, and their words just barely reach you through the open window next to the balcony door.

Asa is speaking. “No, my son, I’m not here as an ill omen. I want to make sure she’s all right. And you, as well.”

Jerome sounds quite overwhelmed. “I…I didn’t think I’d get to see you before I died,” he admits. He’s coming off as quite overwhelmed.

“Few do,” Asa says sadly. “But that will change now. Your wife is the crux of a plan these conspirators have been brewing for thirty eight years.”

Jerome’s profile turns to face the city. “Hard to imagine they could keep it all a secret for so long.”

“I’m quite impressed, despite everything,” Asa admits. She pulls her hood back, and the starlight scatters across her divine skin. Jerome can’t tear his eyes away from the sight. It’s not hard to understand why so many people think the Avatars are the demigods themselves at that moment; she doesn’t look remotely elven in starlight. Sunlight just makes her skin seem to coruscate, starlight makes her actually glow. “Do I frighten you?” she asks him as she sees his reaction.

Jerome seems to shake his head. “No, my Lady…somehow.”

She grins. “Good.” She leans over the balustrade and peers into the city. “I wish it were always so. Mai’te, myself, even my headstrong brother…we were always amongst the closest to our children. Even more so than Garm was to the humans. Maybe that’s why we lived through the Collapse when so many others didn’t.”

Your husband’s silhouette pauses, then glances back to the bed. “Should I wake Elsa?”


(con’t)

This will not stand.

You flail about the edge of the big, comfy bed for your hastily discarded clothing and snug a few pieces on, then rush to the door as quickly as you can without looking even more undignified. Pulling the glass door open, you take in the scene. “Lady Asa, Jerome, am I missing something?” you ask nonchalantly.

Both turn to look at you. Jerome gets there first. “Elsa! I didn’t mean to wake you, but look who’s here!” Jerome says, beaming.

Asa smiles at his obvious enthusiasm. “Indeed. When you spoke to me earlier, I figured you would be staying here. I knew you would only sleep two hours, after all.”

Jerome looks over at you. “Is that how it works?”

“Yeah, I only sleep two hours now,” you say. You reassemble your outfit to look a bit more dignified, then shoot a cool look at the two of them. “So what were you two discussing out here?”

“The task before you, my daughter,” Asa says. She opens her empty hand to reveal a piece of paper. “I’ve finished sorting the souls of those who died in the activation of the Orb. The three dead men knew these names.”

Something cold settles in your stomach. “I see.” You accept the paper and think back to Dietrich’s words earlier. “I’ve got a name, too. One of the mercenaries was apparently named Everett Soutri. He was an elf, and left the military under strange circumstances some while ago.”

She ponders this, steepling her fingers before her chin and looking down at the floor. “I see.”

“And I’ve decided to inform King Maas, Governor Ekrine, and Captain-General Dietrich of my new…calling,” you say.


(con’t)

Asa peaks an eyebrow at that remark. “Oh? Good. Rooting out this nest of snakes will be easier with Royal assistance. Is there anyone else you’ve told?”

“My parents, Jerome…that’s it,” you say. “Should I not be telling people?”

“I think it would be foolish to trumpet your calling from the battlements,” Asa says after a moment’s reflection. “It would also be foolish to believe that this will remain hidden forever. The Heralds of old were unmatched leaders and counselors. When the time comes, having a network of well-connected allies would be quite wise.”

“So…telling people may be in my best interest?” you ask.

“Absolutely.” Asa sets a hand on your shoulder and grins faintly. “You haven’t fully realized how much consternation your mere existence will cause. Merely hearing that I have broken the three-thousand-year-old pact and raised a champion such as you may frighten some of the conspirators into submission or a hasty escape. And when they’re out in public…” her face darkens. “Then no force in the world can stop us.”

Jerome shivers. Asa’s eyes cut to him, and her mood seems to brighten a bit. You feel a bit better too, actually. Is she controlling that?


>”Do people feel different moods based on what you’re feeling?”
>writein

>>31756261
>”Do people feel different moods based on what you’re feeling?”

>>31756261

>”Do people feel different moods based on what you’re feeling?”
>How did battling ghosts go? Might this event be connected to conspirators somehow? Those ghosts are artificially created weapons, so...

Well, she’s here…may as well ask. “My Lady, do people feel different emotions when you’re nearby?”

Asa looks doleful for a moment. “Yes, my daughter, though I dearly wish it weren’t so, anymore. Making others happy is all well and good, but when I’m feeling poorly, I can be quite a burden.”

You feel the strangest urge to dismiss that notion. “We’d rather you be honest,” you start to say, when she waves it off.

“Nonsense. I’d not hide such things from my children, anyway. Haret and Vier have the same curse.” She does look a bit haggard, now that you’re looking.

“Did the battle against the ghosts in the south end, my Lady?” you ask. Her Avatars are a projection of her current thoughts, so if she’s looking weary in a simple illusion, she must be feeling the strain in her true form as well.

“Quite, actually. The breach is maintained and healed,” she says with noticeable relief. “They slip through, sometimes.”

“From where?” Jerome asks, quite puzzled. “I thought everybody just ceases to exist when they die.”

“No, no, my son, the ghosts in the south are weapons, not actual spirits of the dead,” Asa hastens to assure him. “Every so often they attempt to damage reality to grow stronger. There are fewer of them every year, though, thank goodness.”

“Could this have something to do with the conspiracy?” you ask. “A diversion?”

Asa purses her lips. “No…at least, I doubt it,” she finally says. “The breaches are quite easy to seal once the specters themselves are dispatched. Vier or Haret could do it just as easily.”


>I don’t have any more questions
>Writein

>>31756547
So is this quest any good? Gimme a tl;dr version.

>>31756547
>I don't have any more questions

>>31756557
read archives, this is only the 4rth thread
it's not like there's some huge backlog

>>31756557
tl;dr A soldier takes a fatal hit while spying on a weapons deal, gets brought back and endowed with superpowers by her demigoddess patron, goes undercover to kill the surviving conspirators.

>>31756547

Is there a way we can make Lady Asa rest a bit? Other than, completing our main task, that is. She looks tire even for someone who stores in herself untold thousands of dead souls.

>>31756589
Sounds okay, is the writing any good?
>>31756586
Dude I'm not going to bother to read through four full threads just so I can play.

>>31756690

Man, that's just rude.

>>31756690
>Dude I'm not going to bother to read through four full threads just so I can play.
>MFW I have read through over 50 for some quests before
without reading the previous threads you won't know wtf is going on and will be asking silly questions repeatedly or making false assumptions.
also, it is INTERESTING to read prior threads

You hate seeing your patron in such a state. “Is there anything I can do to help, my Lady?” you ask. “You look exhausted.”

She grins wearily. “That’s sweet of you, my daughter, but I’m afraid only we can bear some burdens. I’ll say this, though. When all this is over, and the Harpy weapon cache is destroyed, we can all rest easier.” She waves a hand over herself. “My current state is just a number of factors arriving concurrently, you understand. The slaughter up north, the rift in the south, this affair here and the murder of eight hundred people at once…it’s taking its toll. In the calmer times, you’d see no sign of this tension.”

You and Jerome both shuffle a bit at that. She notices and claps her hands together once. “All right. Enough pity. Time to get to work.” She points at the paper in your hand. “I’ve listed the names of four conspirators, you have one more, and three have died. Eight out of eleven. Only three remain elusive.”

You read the paper quickly. You don’t recognize any names offhandedly.


(con’t)

Explorer: Unknown

Noble 1: Don Kotrik, local crime lord, location unknown

Noble 2: Elger Moor, Gifted Mage, and second-in-command of Kotrik, location unknown

Mercenary 1: Everett Soutri, former Army officer, location unknown

Mercenary 2: Unknown

Mercenary 3: Gardener ‘Hooks’ Dunwaith, Gifted, location unknown

Mercenary 4: Unknown

Mercenary 5: Unknown

Mercenary 6: Name unknown, referred to as ‘Feathers’, location: hideout in worker’s quarter unless on a job

Bodyguard 1: Richi Donnai. Deceased

Bodyguard 2: Heldo Donnai. Deceased

Invisible bodyguard: William Laurenz. Deceased.

>>31757268
looks like merc 6 is our best lead

>>31757268
Let's check the Feathers guy since we don't know where the others are currently. Who he's working for?

>>31757331
>>31757303
Writing!

You look up at Asa, shocked. “They allowed themselves to reveal that much information to each other? Their conspiracy can’t escape if we know who they are!”

“I don’t think they completely understood, initially, what that Explorer was trying to sell,” Asa says. “They would have maintained greater security if they had, I have to imagine. Certainly, once they knew what they had found, they tried very hard to never see each other.”

Jerome peers at the paper as you turn to face your patron. “So whom should I pursue first?” you ask. “We have four…well, five names!”

“That is an excellent question,” Asa muses. “I would prefer if you didn’t pursue any of them. Not until you have a plan for confronting them. Or killing them. If you kill them, the three of us can process their souls and find out what they knew. I highly doubt you’ll bump into them on the street.”

“Willy Lauriue?” Jerome suddenly says. The other two look over at him to see your husband glowering at the paper. “I went to school with that son of a bitch. I always knew he would sell his soul for a few coppers.”

“Are these all local men?” you ask. “I’ve never even heard of them.”

He scoffs. “Laurie was. The Donnai brothers…they sound familiar, but I’ve never met them. They used to hang out with one of the guys at work. Ran a card game out of the southern warehouses, four weeks’ pay buy-in. Can’t really see them being superweapon traders. Probably just got bought in with a promise of cash and glory. Never heard of these other folks.” He looks up at Asa. “Were they all men?”

“Two of the mercenaries were women; this ‘Feathers’ person and one of the ones for whom I have no name,” Asa supplies.


>writein
>”Thanks for everything, My Lady. I’ll start the search immediately…
>”…but I’d like to say goodnight to my husband first…
>”…once the sun rises…
>”…if you want."

>>31757408
No time like the present, let's check worker's quarters. What work do they do?

>>31757408
>”Thanks for everything, My Lady. I’ll start the search immediately…
>”…but I’d like to say goodnight to my husband first…

Suggestions above sounds good.

>>31757408
The worker's quarter is the poorest part of the city. Most of the unskilled laborers live there because it's so cheap compared to the military, merchants', and noble quarters. It's also where the major sporting events are held, there's a Utility tower there, and some of the war memorials. There's an alchemy lab there and a small, private mages' academy (note that it is not either the official Cender Mages' Academy, the Mages' Guildhall, nor the War Mages' College; this one is more like a vocational school). Elsa knows all that because her whole family was born there, she's been there plenty of times and knows the layout like the back of her hand. She will NOT be so familiar with either the nobles' or merchants' quarters of the city.

>>31757592
Elsa's the main character, right? What kind of work Feather does? We'll check her workplace first.