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/tg/ - Traditional Games


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People of Earth, welcome!

Elsa's character sheet: http://pastebin.com/v2Sa7Miq

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

Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Dead%20Gods%20Quest

________________________________________

Well, bollocks. You tried to get into a mage’s school near your target’s hidey-hole and all it’s gotten you is a first-degree electrical burn on your hand and a squad of pissed-off mage security guards bumrushing you. You COULD make a break for it, but…mages.


>Run like fuck
>Call for (divine) backup
>Just play the drunkard! It's why you wasted that gin on your collar!
>writein
>>
>>31872190

Welcome back!

>>Just play the drunkard! It's why you wasted that gin on your collar!
>>
Writing.
>>
>>31872598

Where is everyone else? Is it just me?
>>
>>31872190
"I'm not an invader! Seriously, who puts a trap on a door without even locking it?"
>>
I hope not. I'm running for three days.
>>
You used the gin for a reason. The guards charge up at you from behind the door and shove it open. It raps off your arm and you moan in pain, staggering back in feigned drunkenness. “Owww…” you whimper. “What the hell, guys?”

The first mage guard rushes up to you and skids to a halt maybe a few inches away. “Your hands, up! Now!” he barks.

You obey, raising your hands over your head and smiling weakly. “Guess this isn’t…the clinic, you know?” you slur.

The mage levels his finger over you and it sparks blue for an instant, then he lowers his hand and glares at you. “The hell do you want here after hours?”

“Thought this was a clinic,” you mumble indignantly.

The guard stares for one second, then damn near flattens you with a backhand that sends you reeling and bleeding from a split lip. “Get gone, lush,” he snaps. He turns to the others and gestures at the door. “Get back in and reset the alarm,” he orders them. With one last glare at you, he walks in and bolts the door behind him.


Well, that didn’t work.

Wat do?

>Just head to her hideout and recce directly
>Attempt sneaking mission on mages’ school
>Ask for divine advice
>writein
>>
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Hey look Eversor illustrated another scene!
>>
>>31872901

>Just head to her hideout and recce directly

>>31873122

Noice!
>>
>>31872901
>Just head to her hideout and recce directly
I have arrived
>>
Writing.
>>
Screw it! You know where she is, you should just go get the lay of the land. You wipe blood from your lips, casting a dark glare at the retreating guards. “Fuckers,” you mutter under your breath. You turn to the south, deeper into the labyrinthine workers’ district, towards where Asa said Feathers’ pair was located.

As you march through the pre-dawn darkness, the buildings around you seem to watch, quiet and empty. The district is bustling most days, with all the workers going to and fro, but the sheer scale of the recent mobilization has most of the city in a vacant state. So many young people joining up, getting conscripted, marching off…to the mounting trouble in the south, to the forests. Everywhere but here, where you may very well need them.

You come to a halt in front of an intersection of three roads in a roughly symmetrical layout, with one road knifing north and south, and the other two crossing it in an X shape. The building Feathers hangs out in when she’s doing business is a tidy little corner store, presently closed. The sign out front advertises itself as ‘The Home of the Double-Take Platter,’ which sounds like something toxic indeed. There are three floors of apartments over the store…and you don’t know which is which.

>Hide nearby and watch to see if Feathers comes or goes
>Do a circuit of the building on foot
>Look for hidden ways in
>writein
>>
>>31873709
>Do a circuit of the building on foot
>>
>>31873709
>Do a circuit of the building on foot

Do this while moving like a drunkard.
>>
>>31874077
>>31873774
Writing.
>>
No time like the present.

You stumble towards the building, letting the blood ooze from your lip as you walk. You don’t much look like a soldier at range, even in full armor, given your build. You can’t possibly look like one now.

The building is a trim, clean little structure, with four floors. The first is the store, but it’s locked up tight. The back door is also locked, and there’s no window on it. The walls are solid stone. There are no ladders or anything else on the outside of the building, though there are a few windows on the upper floors. A few torches and candles flicker in some of the windows, but this late at night, there’s nobody around.

You weave and stagger around to the far side of the little structure, looking for anything that might be a way in…and you hit pay dirt. On the far side from the one you saw first, there’s a door in the ground that damn well looks like a cellar.

“Bullseye,” you mumble under your breath.

Now what?

>You’ve seen enough. Fall back to the Courtesans’ Guild and see if you can’t muddle out a plan
>Page Asa and ask for advice
>writein
>>
>>31874401
>Fall back and plan
>>
K, I don't know where everybody is, but I guess we'll go with one vote. Not much you can do with no way in, anyway.
>>
The sun is creeping up over the top of the walls and buildings as you make your way through the streets again, mulling over your discoveries. The idea of simply slipping into the building and confronting Feathers holds a lot of appeal. Killing her would let Asa take her memories immediately, and you’d have that much more intel. Capturing her might be better, since it would let you use her to further your plot, assuming you come up with one…

But…either way. She may have the Orb; you don’t know who Kotrick gave it to after the battle. Not knowing which of the nine conspirators is holding it means you can’t approach any of them safely, and you can’t rely on Asa’s Avatars joining you in battle, lest the Orb be used against her, which is too terrifying to even consider.

You harrumph with annoyance as you walk out of the poor district and into the merchants’ quarter on your way back to the Courtesans’ Guildhall. There are too many bloody unknowns! Maybe someone else will be able to help. Enlisting aid means revealing your status, though….decisions, decisions.

(con’t)
>>
The sun is blasting right into your face as you enter the Guildhall, crusting the blood on your lip. You draw a few stares as you enter, too, which you ignore. The stone stairs leading up to your room are bustling with people, mostly overnight stays on their way out, or employees on their way back from whatever bed they were warming. After a climb up to the seventh floor, you unlock your door and head in.

Jerome is still asleep on the bed. You tiptoe on up and peck him on the forehead as the door swings shut behind you. “Right where I left you,” you murmur.

The bathroom faucet squeaks a bit as you run some warm water over your hands and scrub the blood away. You let the red-tinged water drip into the sink and stare at yourself in the mirror. The brand on your forehead is hidden behind your bandana right now, but it’s still there. It always will be. Sooner or later, this won’t be covert. Someone, somewhere, will see it and know what it is. What will you do then?

You shake your head. That’s for the future. You have to save the world first.

>What do you do now? The whole city is now unlocked, you may do anything you wish.
>>
>>31875276
uuuh, wait till the mages school opens officially and try to get in? But change your clothes first.
>>
Writing.
>>
You have several leads to follow. You need to talk to Dietrich, you need to make sure to find lodgings for while the construction crew is digging out your basement, you need to recce Feathers’ place in daylight…but you also need to know what she’s wielding. Her equipment was enchanted, you know that, and maybe that mages’ school in the workers’ quarter has more info you can use. If they did the enchanting, anyway.

You strip your gin, sweat, and blood-stained clothes off and chuck them aside. You take a long stretch and work the kinks from your back, trying to think. If you walk into that place in full armor, it’s a fair bet nobody will recognize you. Unless that guard you saw before is there, but that’s avoidable if you go during a different shift. Maybe even mid-afternoon. You do have lots of other things to do.

Jerome stirs and wakes in the other room. “Mmm…Elsa? Are you back?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” you call through the closed door. “I was only out a few hours.”

“Oh.” The bed creaks as he stands; you can hear him fumbling for a robe. “Find anything?”

“Not really. Thinking I should go back at some point, check the place out in the day.” You finish daubing the wound clean and wince at the sting.

“ ‘Kay.” He shuffles around a little in the main room. “This food is all dry. Wine’s gone. You get food on the way in?”

“Nope.”

“All right. I’mma go order something in the bakery. Be here when I get back, all right? I wanted to ask you something.”


>”Actually, I need to go.”
>”Sure.”
>>
>>31876058
>”Sure.”
Better to wait so we don't run into the same guards, might as well wait here.
>>
>>31876058
>”Sure.”
>>
Writing.
>>
“Sure, I’ll wait. I need a rinse, anyway,” you say.

“Good. I’ll be back.” You hear him fumble on some decent clothes and head out, locking the door behind him.

The suite falls silent. You clean up and finish in the bathroom and pull on the ‘Hers’ robe from the peg on the wall – this suite must see a lot of use for traveling couples. You tie it on and flop down in the huge bed, letting the nice breeze from the balcony blow lazily through the room. The urgency of your quest seems lessened, here. It’s quiet enough to think.

Your eyes drift shut as you listen to the faint sounds of people and carts and horses on the streets below. The city’s moving about its business, all right. They don’t know what’s happening. They won’t, either, until someone figures out why eight hundred suits of armor are being dragged into the city by Army recovery teams.

That’s a sobering thought. You try to push it back, but it’s replaced by more thoughts like it. What will happen to you after you succeed? You’ll keep your powers, Asa said, but will you be expected to do something else? Driven into exile? Who knows?

A quiet knock snaps you out of your thoughts. “Hello?” you call.

“It’s me.” Jerome unlocks the door and walks in with a chunk of steaming bread in one hand and some strips of bacon and fruit in the other. “Hungry?” he asks, as he moves the food over to the table.

“Famished.” You rise and join him at the table, digging in with gusto. Asa’s gifts may have diminished your need for sleep, but your appetite is the same, it seems.


(con’t)
>>
As you eat, Jerome’s eyes flit over to your forehead gem several times. Partway through the fruit course, you decide to address the issue. “What’s up?”

He shakes his head slowly. “It’s just…that gem. What is it? What is it made of? Is it magic?”

You…don’t actually know. Somehow you never asked. “Well…I could find out,” you tell him.

He swallows some apple and looks hesitant. “You don’t have to bother Asa. I’m sure she’s dealing with enough, right now.” He squints. “Does it hurt?”

“Nope.” You wash down the fruit with some water and lean forward. “Just touch it, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

Jerome hesitates, but leans forward and presses one finger against the gem. Nothing happens.

“Hmm. It’s ice cold. Isn’t that uncomfortable?” he asks.

That surprises you. It feels warm to your touch. “Did you hear anything?” you ask him.

“Not a thing. Should I? Can you hear Asa?” he asks.

“When I want to,” you supply. “That doesn’t weird you out, does it?”

Jerome looks away. “A little.”


>”I can’t do anything about that…”
>”It’s admittedly a bit strange, but it hasn’t changed my personality, has it?”
>Writein
>>
>>31877013
>”Sorry, but I can’t do anything about that…”
>"Also it's warm for me."
>>
Writing.

Slow night tonight. Did my twitter notification not go out?
>>
>>31877797
dunno, I just noticed you had a twitter when I saw it in the OP tonight. As for slowness, there are like three of the most popular quests running right now.
>>
“I don’t blame you, but this is how it is,” you say gently. “It weirds me out a bit, too, I’m just focused on the mission.” You sip at the water again. “Also, it’s not cold, it feels warm to me.”

He mumbles something noncommittal and finishes off his food. “All right.” As he stands, though, he looks down at you, expressionless. “Hey. Do you think this would be easier without me in the loop?”

Wow, there’s a loaded question. “Uh…” you stall.

“I mean, you don’t share all your military life with me either,” he presses. “There’s stuff I’m not supposed to know.”


>wat say?

[/spoiler] Remember you always have your divine speech abilities if you want to use them [/spoiler]
>>
>>31878073
tell him he's a necessary pillar of support
like a load bearing wall to our building
only word it not badly
>>
>>31877875
Oh yeah? Maybe I should run saturdays only.
>>
>>31878186
they don't always run on Friday
they just all happened to run today
>>
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>>31878213
Well, buggery.

Oh well. I'm going for two more whole days, so I'll just keep it alive.
>>
Testing something.
>>
Wait what? Why has the thread stopped responding to bumps?
>>
Okay, it seems some janitor is having a giggle with the thread. God knows why, since there's no rule-breaking things here. I'm trying to figure it out.
>>
>>31878561
might be a bug, same thing happened with another thread earlier
>>
>>31878650
It's not a bug. It's a mod tool. This happened during the SWQ days too. It took several weeks of people PMing the mods on the IRC channel for them to do something about it.
>>
Nnnnnow it's on page two? I don't get this.
>>
test
>>
So it's just me that can't bump the thread? Nonsense. What is this, a janitor getting bored?
>>
>>31878922
I dunno. They're talking about it in the hugbox though. It's not just you.
>>
Well, that's just fucking stellar.

Hey, 4chan team. This is the kind of shit that drives people to other sites. Capricious janitors and shitty code.

I'm turning in. I'll run again tomorrow night. If anyone can keep the thread alive overnight, I'd appreciate it.
>>
>>31879039
k
bump
>>
bump
>>
hopefully they fix the whole OP can't bump his own threads issue soon
>>
>>31878073

>“Hey. Do you think this would be easier without me in the loop?”

I'm currently thinking of how to murder someone. I - I don't want to throw it on you. I don't want to isolate though, I don't want to distance myself. Just promise you'll be there if I'll come home today with blood splashed on my face and tears running down my cheeks, ok?

>also, declaration

Contact general, ask him about organizing a team of 5 best men he has for covert operations, discuss plan with them, disguise as, I don't know, people who will bring stuff to the store located at the floor of the building our target is in, then proceed from there with assassination. No need to stall, we already focused on unimportant stuff - there's more than a day after the events with artefacts, only (dead) gods know how much conspirators might moved. Plus, we probably won't have to worry about artefact being in in the hands of that mercenary, it probably is used by old guy we saw with it.
>>
>>31884362

Oh and btw, sorry I couldn't participate yesterday. Quest starts for me 1:00 am, but it also so it happened that I'm currently busy with project for studies, going non-stop till exhaustion. So it's not that I don't appreciate your efforts and don't want to participate, but can't ;___;

Still will try to make posts and suggestions.
>>
Bump from down under.
>>
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just uploading more Ev-Art
>>
I've been roped into doing yardwork, but I'll be back later today. if this thread goes, I'll just make another.
>>
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Let's bump!
>>
fappo
>>
Now that I think about it - we don't need to kill. Just go with couple badasses to mercenary house, beat her if she'll try to flee and if not, use our golden lips to convince her that what she obtained probably for monies or out of hatred to demigods can mean end of the world. After that she'll maybe cooperate as bait for others.
>>
Writing.
>>
Well, that’s…not entirely false, but military life is different from this. You think that over carefully before responding. “Jerome, I don’t want to cut you out. I'm currently thinking of how to murder someone. I - I don't want to throw it on you. I don't want to isolate though, I don't want to distance myself. Just promise you'll be there if I'll come home today with blood splashed on my face and tears running down my cheeks, OK?”

He looks at you aghast. “Really? Is that all?” he asks curtly.

You blink at his vehemence. “No! I mean…not just when I need you to help me, all the time!” You bury your head in your hands. “Shit, that made it worse. Jerome…damn it, I love you, you big lug!” You stand up and look at his darkened face, desperate. “I love you to pieces, that will never change!”

He glares at you for another second before his shoulders sag. His barrel chest deflates a little as he mumbles. “Right.”

You circle the table and squeeze his hands. “Jerome, I’m doing something really scary. Maybe I won’t share everything with you, but it won’t be because I don’t want you there!” You try to meet his eyes. “Okay?”

He lets out a long sigh. “Yeah. Okay.” You squeezes your hands back. “I love you too.”

You rub your eyes, feeling a bit sandbagged. “Is there anything I can do to make this easier on you?”

“I dunno,” he mumbles. “It shouldn’t feel this way. I was actually seeing you less when you were mustering for deployment.” He grabs his bag from the floor next to the door and shuffles his boots on. “I have to go. I’ll see you at home tonight, okay?”

(con’t)
>>
You cough. “Uh, no, we’re going to have to stay out of the house for a while.”

He stares. “What?”

“I…when I met the King, I accepted his offer of a private, underground access tunnel to the Castle.” You look up at him to see him staring, agape. “They’ll, uh…they’ll have to dig out the basement.”

He sets the bag down again. “And how long will that take?”

“I don’t really know, but with a Royal work order, probably not long,” you hedge.

He draws a patient breath, clenches his hand on the strap of his bag. “All right. Anything else I need to know?”

“No…nothing I can think of,” you say awkwardly. “We don’t have to stay here if you don’t want. We can stay somewhere else.”

“Here’s just so expensive,” he grumps. “I’d rather we just stay at my brother’s house.”


> “We can do that, if he’s okay with it.”
> “I don’t want more people to know I’m alive.”
> writein
>>
>>31886817
> “We can do that, if he’s okay with it.”
>>
Back. Writing.
>>
Jerome’s brother Harris is a teacher at a small private school for the children of merchants, you recall, and has several empty bedrooms now that his own kids are moved out. “That’s a good idea, actually, we should do that,” you say. “I’ll swing by the house tonight and pick up some changes of clothes, and see when the builders will be done.” You lean forward and give him a quick hug. “Hey. I’m sorry this is an inconvenience. I promise it won’t last forever.”

He hugs you back. “Yeah. I know.” He hefts his workbag on to his shoulder and troops out, locking the door behind him.

You sink back onto the bed and rub your hands over your face, feeling much more tired than you should. How he didn’t notice your wounds, you have no idea, but you won’t question good luck. What should you do now?

“Okay, Elsa, think,” you mutter. “Contact the Brotherhood…visit the King again…seek the Firesouls…put out a bounty on the conspirators…” You reach down and pull on your battle kit, still mumbling. “Decisions, decisions.”

>Writein
>>
Bump.
>>
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>>31872190
>>
>>31887352
Defintely dont want to put out a public bounty on them, that will just make them cautious, and might force them to hurry and do whatever theyre going to do.
Contact the Brotherhood or Firesouls would be my bet. We should probably talk to both.
We should talk to our Goddess about those abilities she was talking about before as well.
>>
It’s time to face the facts, you realize. You might be able to pick off the mercenaries by yourself – maybe – but to truly stop the conspiracy, you’ll need numbers and equipment you can’t field on your own.

That means outside help. You slip the last of your gear on and give the room a once-over, packing your clothes and belongings into a bag and slinging it over your free shoulder. With the room cleared, you head out, turning the idea over.

The King did say you should contact the Firesouls, and then the Brotherhood if needed. They wouldn’t say no, not if you invoked your Heraldship, so…

“What the hell,” you mutter. “May as well.”


The sun is crawling up towards the midday sky when you crane your head back and look at the sign over the building. ‘Brotherhood of Explorers, Cender Chapter,’ it says, with another, smaller one beneath it that says ‘Regional Headquarters: Master Explorer Culler Presiding.’

You square your shoulders and steady your rising heartbeat. The Brotherhood. Everyone wants to join, nobody does save those with a mission in life. They’re one of the most exclusive groups in the world, with an initiation price high enough that even those who want to join don’t, simply for the sake of their possessions.

You walk in the open front door into what looks a bit like a flowershop. Non-plussed, you look about the room, taking in the many arbors built into the walls and doors, and the vases everywhere, all brimming with red and gold flowers.

From behind a desk at the far side of the room, a young woman with a shimmering silver pin on her chest looks up and smiles. “Welcome to the Cender Brotherhood. May I help you?”


>”I’m looking for Master Culler, is he in?”
>”Do you have a bounty board here?”
>writein
>>
So, audience. This was my busiest day of the week last week, in terms of posts from the followers. Where is everybody?
>>
>>31893442

I’ve noticed a number of bumps have been deleted from your quest thread keeping it off the front page. Do the mods not like you or something?
>>
>>31893517
Apparently. I have no idea what's going on with that.
>>
>"I'm looking for Master Culler."
>>
And back. Writing now.

Fucking thunderstorms.
>>
God DAMN i hate thunderstorms.

Back for reals. What a trainwreck my thread has been so far.
>>
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This quest is pretty good and I'd totally be following it if I wasn't really busy doing data analysis homework.

Highly recommended. Good read. Especially if you have a thing for monogamous married couples doing it in the missionary position.
>>
You jerk a thumb over your shoulder, trying to look confident. “Is Master Culler in, ma’am? I need to deliver an eyes-only message.”

The young Sister looks down at her book and right back up. “He’s attending a meeting, but he will be back in a few minutes. I can hang on to the message, if you’d like, Sergeant.”

“No, thank you, ma’am, I have to deliver it myself,” you say, putting the barest edge of authority in your voice.

“Is that why you’re carrying three different weapons in the middle of the city?” a new voice asks from behind.

You spin around to see a pair of Brotherhood members walking through the door. The one in the front is a male elf with a pair of broadswords, one at each hip, and wearing little but the sky from the waist up. A cloak of black leather is drawn across his broad shoulders, clasped by the same enchanted silver pin. The other is a woman, human, and carrying a bow that looks to made of…

Your jaw drops. Her bow is enchanted steel. It’s so heavily enriched that you suspect you could buy a new house with the sell price. It’s an undignified way to look, though, your mouth hanging open, so you snap it shut. “Uh, no, ma’am, I’m fresh back from muster,” you say, then kick yourself mentally. You’re a Herald. You have nothing to prove to these people. You’re here to ask for a favor.

The elf smiles politely, but the woman snorts. “Whatever, soldier girl.” She pushes right past you and into the hallway behind the secretary. Her companion catches your eyes.

“So sorry, ma’am, Celeste gets territorial around the Auxilia.” He follows her past you, and you’d swear he turned a bit so you could see his collection of scars across his chest as he did.

“Showoff,” you grumble once he’s out of earshot.


(con’t)


>>31895718

pffff
>>
You plop down in the chair next to the secretary’s desk, but the sound of heated arguments from the back room catches your ears. Four voices, one of them the woman who scorned your weapons.

Before you can eavesdrop, the door at the end of the hallway bangs open, and the woman comes stomping out, glaring daggers at everything around her. She enters a room across the hall and slams the door shut, making pollen shake loose from of the flowers.

“Did I come at a bad time?” you ask the secretary.

She sighs. “Not as such. Just ignore them.”

The other participants in the yelling match filter out, all looking grumpy, and one of them walks right up to the secretary. He’s looking much older than the others, with that same pin of identity, but unlike the secretary in her flowing outfit and the two warriors in their…not much of anything, this man is dressed like a noble. Royalty, even. His outfit has threads that glimmer bright gold, casting a distinct glow on everything as he walks. He’s a human, with neat grey hair and a completely spotless appearance.

Culler. It has to be. Somehow, the stories don’t do the ancient warmaster justice. He looks more regal than Ekrine.

“Sister, do I have the rest of the day?” he asks quietly. Even his bloody voice radiates power. You have to consciously call on Asa to sound so confident.

“There is an eyes-only message for you, Master,” the secretary says, nodding at you.

Game time.

>Wat do?
>>
>>31896260
Call on Asa for speech help
Reveal your heraldship
Tell them they've been conscripted in your quest.
>>
Especially if you have a thing for monogamous married couples doing it in the missionary position.

OP YOU SICK BASTARD.
TAKE THIS SHIT TO /d/ FUCKIN DROPPED
>>
>>31896426
This. A measure of warm though. We might be a herald, but it doesn't hurt to be friendly.
>>
Writing.
>>
King Maas himself asked you to bring the Brotherhood or Firesouls into your confidence. You won’t get a better chance. “Master Culler, Sergeant Elsa Ledren. It’s an honor,” you say, bowing low.

“Sergeant. In my office, please,” he says, extending one hand from under his luxurious cloak. You follow his gesture and enter a room at the end of the hall, decorated with the same combination of opulence and dignity as his clothing. Trophies, walls of them, surround you, but each is boxed in glass, and the floors are bare marble, as are the walls. Tasteful.

You sit on a chair before his desk as he shucks his cloak and drapes it over the back of his leather seat. Two little goblets rest on the edge of a table at the side of the room, and he uncorks a whiskey bottle as he passes you. “Something to drink, Sergeant?”

You smile. “You’d offer me a drink in uniform?”

“You’re not on duty,” Culler points out. “Official messengers from the Auxilia wouldn’t sit down before I do. You’re representing someone else.”

Okay. This guy is quite sharp. You swallow nerves and accept the whiskey. “Thank you, Master.”

“So!” he says, tilting his glass. “What can I do for you, Sergeant Ledren?”

“With any luck, sir,” you say, “save lives.”

“Oh?”

You dip into the reserve of power Asa lends you for your next words, casting Asa’s Speech. “Master Culler,” Asa says through you. “Your nation is under siege.”

Culler sets his whiskey down, very slowly. “…Sergeant Ledren, from whose authority do you speak?”
(con’t)
>>
“I am Asa, daughter of Mai’te,” your spiritual mother says, and your lips move. This is the first time you’ve used this ability; you try not to freak out that someone is talking in your voice…through you. “And this is my Herald.”

[Reveal your brand, my daughter, he will know it,] Asa whispers. You do so, and his hands fall, nerveless, from his drink.

Culler sinks back in his seat. He’s gone so pale he looks anemic. “Garm’s blood…” he whispers. “What…what’s happened, my Lady? Why would you break the pact you sealed after the Collapse?”

“Necessity, Master Culler,” Asa’s voice says. From behind you.

You glance back in your chair, but a daintily gloved hand falls on your shoulder. Asa’s Avatar appears at your side. [I apologize if you wanted to do this alone, my daughter, and I’m sure you would have succeeded, but merely seeing that you have the brand that makes you my Herald was not enough,] her voice says apologetically, now in your head again. [It can be forged.]

{It can?} you ask.

[Not easily, but he has many enemies. I will explain later.] She looks down at you and smiles, then up at Coller. “My blessed daughter speaks for me, as you see.”

“My Lady, this is…why are you telling me?” Culler asks, rising from his seat to look her in the eye. If it were anyone other than a three hundred-year-old Master of the Brotherhood, it would be disrespectful of him to do so. “What’s changed?”

You speak up when you feel Asa’s hand on your shoulder tighten. “A superweapon from before the Collapse, Master. Someone’s found it. They’ve hidden in it this city, and we suspect they mean to learn how to use it. The column that was lost on the Dwarf road to the west? They killed it with that Orb.”


(con’t)
>>
The old Mage stares at you, at Asa, at the desk, at the map on the wall…then sinks into his seat and rubs his eyes. “Then so it is,” he says wearily. He pulls his hands away, suddenly looking very old indeed. “How can I help?”


>wat say
>>
>>31897480
Enchanted gear would be a good start. Also give them a copy of the conspirator list.
>>
>>31897480
We need to explain what we do know. We should also ask for assistance with regards to our list of targets.

Also, if I may make a suggestion: having 'wat say' does make it a bit harder to participate. It might sound lazy, but I think fewer instances of that could help speed things along.
>>
>>31897680
I'll keep that in mind.

I'll keep voting open a few more minutes, then write.
>>
You present Asa’s list. “These are the conspirators we know so far, Master,” you say. “Have you heard of any of these names?”

He examines the list. “Kotrick, eh? I know him.” He glances up at you. “May I copy this?”

“Certainly, Master,” you say. “Any other names jump out at you?”

“I’ve heard of some of these mercenaries…Hooks and Feathers are partners.” He taps his lip, looking much more collected now that he’s working. “Feathers is a master archer. Nearly as good as some of my Brothers. It’s how she got her name. Her enemies sprout feathers, you see.”

Asa sighs. “Very well. Thank you, Master Culler.” She turns to you and smiles again. “My daughter, I’m sure you can handle things without me. Call me before you turn in, will you?”

“I shall, my Lady,” you say. With a silent rush of air, Asa is gone.

Culler sighs again and slams the rest of his whiskey. “This job…” he sighs. “All right. This list…let’s see. Hooks is a blade fighter, incredibly fast. He’s at his best in the woods, fighting in dense tree cover, with those small blades. I’ve hired them both at one point or another.”


>”Where does Hooks live?”
>”How do you know Kotrick? He’s the ringleader!”
>”May I use your enchanters to upgrade my gear?”
>”May I buy some equipment from you?”
>writein
>>
>>31898316
How do you know Kotrick?
>>
>>31898316
>”How do you know Kotrick? He’s the ringleader!”

Maybe a bit softer than this though. Lets not actually ask about Hooks' location straight off.
>>
Very well! Nice when there's consensus.
>>
>>31898316

>”How do you know Kotrick?”

Make it conversationalist, so as not to arouse attention.
>>
“I beg your pardon, Master, but how do you know Kotrick?” you ask.

“He used to work for a dear, close friend, in the Alchemists’” Culler says heavily. “He was the man who arranged my Chapter’s formal alliance with the Guild, when his original Master died. He’s a master alchemist. It’s how he got his start in the business. Then making alchemic compounds became selling them, then selling alchemic compounds became selling poison, then selling poison off the books. By the time he was finally fired from the Guild, he had a full freelance assassin’s ring set up. It’s how he made so much money. He had the skills and connections to self-manufacture poison you’d usually have to go to the Assassin’s Guild to buy.” Culler rises to his feet and leans over the desk, staring into its polished depths. “The Assassins’ Guild has ethics. They have internal police. Kotrick has neither.”

Silence greets his uncomfortable revelation. “Then I would ask your Chapter’s assistance in dealing with this conspiracy,” you finally say. “I can’t stop them myself.”

“Not without calling on Asa in battle, no,” Culler says. “And if the Orb were used on Asa…the consequences would be too horrible to contemplate,” he adds with a shiver. “Asa’s the only thing keeping the Weather Engines intact. If she died...the world would be uninhabitable within four years.”

You shudder at that pronouncement. “Precisely,” you say.

“Very well. My halls are open to you…what is your title? Your Eminence, wasn’t it?” he asks. “It’s been so long.”

“Indeed, that is correct,” you say. “I feel that I should ask that you keep it all covert, however. Only a few people know.”

>”Where does Hooks live?”
>”May I use your enchanters to upgrade my gear?”
>”May I buy some equipment from you?”
>”What about his sidekick, Elger Moor? Do you know him?”
>writein
>>
>>31899122
>Where does Hooks live?
>Can you enchant my gear?
>>
>>31899249

Seconding this.
>>
Writing!
>>
“This Hooks person…he’s partnered with Feathers, sir?” you ask. “He wasn’t listed as being in the same place by Asa…”

“Indeed, they only call each other in when they’re needed, generally, and contract together often,” Culler says. “Hooks is based out of the merchants’ quarter somewhere, I don’t know where.”

“Mmm.” You ponder that tidbit. “What’s their equipment like, sir? I remember it being enchanted.”

“It is, but that’s the case with most mercenaries, to some extent,” Culler reminds you. “That’s the problem with enchantment wielders. You can never tell if their equipment is enchanted to simply look attractive or render them invincible.”

The opportunity he’s handed you is too good to pass up. “Could I convince you to allow me access to your enchanters, Master?” you ask. “It would make things much safer, I think.”

“Certainly, though I warn you that they will set their own prices,” Culler says. “They do not work for free, your Eminence.”

That brings you up short. “How much would a few simple defensive enchantments cost? Say, my armor and shield, proofed against acid?”

Culler thinks for a moment. “Quite cheap. The Brotherhood provides significant resources to its members, after all. The problem is that they’re not available to the public. I would need to grant you special authorization to even enter the workshop. Which, of course, your Eminence, I shall, if you ask. You were a member of the Army prior to your Heraldship?”

“I was. Well, Auxilia Home Battalion,” you say.

“Then I would recommend that you ask the King to enchant your gear instead, madam, if you have informed him of your calling,” Culler says politely. “It will raise fewer questions.”

>”Fair enough.”
>”I would prefer to use yours.”
>Ask something else
>writein
>>
>>31900145
>”I would prefer to use yours.”

We're trying to keep undetected, If we get royal enchantments, they will be more readily noticed and could spring the whole deal.
>>
>>31900213

Fair enough.

>>31900145
I don't think royal enchantments differ from other ones except that they were done by someone employed by the king. This should be the more discrete option.
>>
Indeed, once an enchantment is cast, its effects are exactly the same regardless of the identity of the caster.
>>
Rolled 1

Okay, we have a tie. Flipping a coin to decide.
>>
“Questions or no, sir, I would prefer not to involve the government of Cender in this issue beyond the essentials,” you reply. “I don’t know where the Explorer is hiding these weapons. He may have help.”

“I see.” He extends one hand to the door. “Then let us see, shall we, your Eminence?”

You follow him out of the room and down a flight of stairs, then another, until you arrive at a low basement. The air is cooler and drier here, but it’s rank. It smells like sulfur and magnesium, like alchemy.

The basement opens up once you leave the stairwell, to a large, high-ceilinged room. You cinch your bandana back on as you walk in, noting several dozen Brothers milling about, working on their gear, talking. More than you thought were in Cender, actually.

“Master, is this the full Chapter?” you ask.

He chuckles. “Certainly not, your Emi…Sergeant. This is perhaps a seventh of the Brothers and Sisters in Clen. Margent, Kepple, Ridgemont, they all have their own outposts. In total, there are well over a thousand Brothers and Sisters in this nation. It’s simply that most do not reside here, having bought homes after joining up. As you know, I’m sure, we take possession of all property and inheritance of our new recruits. People choose to buy their own, new homes – or even their old ones back – with money earned after joining. It’s quite common, actually.”

“I see.” Such a system is all but unfathomable to you; the Auxilia paid for your housing, and they’ll subsidize wherever you and Jerome move after you muster out. They certainly don’t claim your property.

(con’t)
>>
Culler walks up to one Brother, clad in a leather uniform with heavy padding, and reaches out to indicate you. “Brother Della, this is Sergeant Ledren. I owe the good Sergeant a favor, and she’s chosen to redeem it in your considerable enchantments.”

The Brother, a lean-looking wilderness elf fellow with a gray streak in his hair over his eyes, peers over at you. “Indeed? A woman of taste.”

“Simply enchant a few of her items, and I’ll foot the bill, if you please,” Culler says. He turns back to you with an ever-so-slightly-strained smile. “Keeping in mind the limitations of our assets, of course.”


>What do you want to have enchanted?

>Armor. Let’s get fire/shatter/acid/piercingproofed!
>Shield. Let’s turn it into a pistonhammer when used to bash!
>Spear. Let’s make it armor-piercing and fireproofed!
>Sling. Let’s give it Super Accuracy and waterproofing!
>Greaves and boots. Let’s make them waterproofed and refreshing to wear!
>Dagger. Let’s hypersharpen it!

>writein (unfeasible options will be overruled in voting, ask for too much and Culler will ask you to pay for some of it)
>>
>>31901184
>Armor. Let’s get fire/shatter/acid/piercingproofed!

If anything is going to keep us alive, it's this.
>>
I must sleep.

Let's hope tomorrow's turnout isn't this disappointing.
>>
>>31901184
Can support armor
Try and get dagger too
Hypersharpness don't fuck around
>>
>>31901531

We'll be seeing you SE.

Thanks for today's running!
>>
Bumpadoodoodledo
>>
>>31904759

Double Bumpadoodoodledo
>>
>>31901184

Let's do daggers. We'll be trying to assassinate people and a possibility to stab someone through the other side of stone wall is just too good to pass on. We'll be also probably staying undercover a lot, so - yeah, armour might not be the best bet.
>>
Do recall, you can requisition new equipment from Captain-General Dietrich when you see him in the afternoon! Even have that enchanted, if you wish.

There is a finite level of enchantment that all the major players will give you for free. King Maas will be willing to pay for some, you can requisition some that's already enchanted from the Captain-General, you can just buy it with your Auxilia danger pay, you can get some here for free (though not much, the Botherhood doesn't have infinite wealth).

Actually it will be equipment Dietrich will give you is taken from the dead soldiers from the Orb attack, but, details...
>>
>>31909014

Oh gods, what done.

Btw, we'll need to ask Culler to assign us a team and discuss strategy with him.
>>
>>31909366
And so you shall! I'll write an update when I'm done with sunday chores.
>>
“Thanks for that, Master Culler,” you say with a slight bow. “Brother Della, I think a few moderate enchantments to my dagger and armor will be all I ask for.”

“I see,” the brother says. He peers at your armor, narrowing his eyes. “Hrm. Standard Auxilia issue. The dagger?”

You unclip it from the back of your shield. Flipping it to pass by the handle, you take in his enchanting table as you do. The thing is practically shining with enchantment itself – he must have enchanted it to ensure it’s not damaged by his work. Smart.

“Also standard issue…all right, I can work with this,” Della says.

Culler clears his throat. “Then I shall return to the paperwork,” he says. “Come find me when you’re done, Sergeant.”

“Thanks.” You watch as he turns on his heel and walks back out, his cape billowing.

“How do you know the old man?” Della asks idly, still peering at the weapon.

You hesitate. “Er, I was introduced by a mutual acquaintance,” you say. If the King counts as such, anyway.


>You have choices!

>DAGGER: (Hypersharpening) OR (rustproofing AND armor-piercing) [hypersharpening will make it better against ALL materials, armor-piercing will only work against leather and metal]
>ARMOR: (Fireproofing AND resistance to armor damage) OR (Resistance to wearer damage)
>>
>>31910080

I'm still for hypersharpening, though it would be proper to ask about maintenance of such blade.
>>
>>31910080
hypersharpening
resistance to wearer damage
>>
“I think…yes. A hypersharpening spell for the dagger…” you muse. That will be handy if your enemies have unusual armors. “And how about a defense spell for the armor plate?”

Della flips the dagger in one deft hand and balances it on the edge against his finger. It doesn’t even nick his skin. “The dagger will be easy. Give me an hour. The plate…do you want the pauldron too?”

“Sure, if that’s not going to be something Master Culler would deem unreasonable,” you say. “It’s not like his favor had a monetary value attached.”

Della snorted. “Half the cost of performing enchantments is the time and resources it takes to clean your tools for the next spell, Sergeant. Enchanting two things with identical magic in quick succession is actually fairly cheap.”

You grin at that thought. “Then by all means! Let me just get this kit off,” you say. He gestures to a small, unoccupied equipment cage at the far side of the room, and you jog on over to start removing your armor.

That accomplished, you head back and deposit them on his table, where he’s already got your dagger under a glowlight, peering at the metal. “Thanks,” he says distantly, poking the steel with a probe that shimmers with magic. “Give it…three hours, four if I break for lunch.”

“Take your time,” you reply. “I have errands to run. And thank you! I’ve never owned enchanted gear before, this is exciting.”

He chuckles. “I bet.”


>Go and plan strategy with Culler
>Wasn’t I supposed to go meet Deitrich?
>Pop back home and drop off/pick up things for staying at Jerome’s younger brother’s house tonight
>Go make contact with the Firesouls if possible
>writein
>>
>>31910947
>Wasn’t I supposed to go meet Deitrich?
oh shit were we? completely forgot
>>
I've been summoned to reassemble deck furniture; I will be back.
>>
If the old enchanter is already talking about lunch, it’s probably close to noon, which means that appointment with Dietrich is fast-approaching. You excuse yourself from the Brotherhood chapter house and make for the castle, where you hope the Captain-General will be available.

Of course the streets are still bustling like mad. The muster for the next wave to be dispatched to the southern fronts is nearing its end; the convoy will be sent out in a few days.

You sigh as you pass through the gates to the parade ground. The sad part of it all was that you were supposed to be their vanguard. Fat lot of good it did.

The castle itself is subdued, compared to how it’s been. You drop by the barracks on the way there to pick up a more formal uniform shirt than the under-tunic you’re wearing without your armor – nobody there you recognize – and struggle into it, running over your words in your mind. You wanted to be given the appearance of a Logistical Officer…

Wait. Wouldn’t enchanted armor on a Logistical Officer be rather incongruous. Fuck.

“Well, nothing to be done,” you mutter. You stand up with your spiffy dress greens on, and walk straight out of the barracks into the castle proper.

(con’t)
>>
A pair of Guard elites stand ready outside the Captain-General’s office. Shimmering golden filigree on their armor denotes that they’re part of Dietrich’s personal bodyguard. The door to his office is wide open, though, and he spots you wandering by. His secretary, in her own office between his and the hall, rises to her feet as you enter. “Sergeant, can I help you?” she asks politely.

“I would appreciate a few minutes of the Captain-General’s time, ma’am,” you say.

Her eyebrows rise. “So would several hundred others, Sergeant. Do you have an appointment?”

You cross your arms behind your back. “He knows I’m here,” you say.

The secretary’s smile flattens a bit. “May I have your name?”

“Sergeant Ledren.”

She picks up a scrap of paper next to her calendar book and reads it over. “…Indeed. Go…on in, Sergeant,” she says, clearly unhappy about the note.

You scan it as you walk by. Maas’ handwriting. No wonder the help is spooked.

Dietrich looks at you oddly as you come to a halt and salute. “Sergeant. Was there something you wanted appended to your report?”

“Indeed, sir, there was,” you say.

“Something the King wanted me to know?” he presses irritably. Apparently he’s as annoyed as the King.

>Get straight to it! Waste no time and show him the brand.
>Soften the blow with a quick explanation first.
>writein
>>
>>31912452
>Get straight to it! Waste no time and show him the brand.
>>
“I left something out of my report yesterday, General, sir,” you say bluntly. No time like the present.

He glares up at you. “That being, Sergeant?”

You turn and close the door to his office. He starts at the breach in protocol. “Sergeant, what-”

You pull your bandana free.

Dietrich stares at the brand in your forehead for a long moment. “What…” He grips the edge of his desk and slowly rises. “…My first instinct is to demand that you get your tattoo removed…but that isn’t a tattoo, is it?” he asks quietly.

“I’m a Herald of Lady Asa,” you inform him. “I assume you know what that means?”

Dietrich leans across his desk, staring down…just like Culler did. “Of course.” He looks up. “Were you a Herald when we met?”

“I was.”

Sudden anger tightens his voice. “Why didn’t you tell me then?” he demands.


> “I wasn’t really sure I could trust you.”
> “I wanted to remain covert for as long as possible.”
>writein
>>
>>31912785
> “I wanted to remain covert for as long as possible.”
>>
>>31912785
> “I wanted to remain covert for as long as possible.”

I don't know who to believe, I wanted to inform King first.
>>
Writing!
>>
“To be honest, General, I wanted to remain covert as long as possible. I still do. That’s why I wanted to make sure the King knew about my Heraldship.”

Dietrich is clearly not a man used to being low in the priority list. He sits back in his chair and fumes. “I see. And you told his Majesty first because you needed to make sure you could trust me?”

“I did. If that was impropriety on my part, I apologize,” you say smoothly. Again, words you would never normally use. Asa’s gifts are many. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you have a role in the conspiracy.”

“No, it was just my officers you suspected and distrusted,” he says coldly.

You nod. “Correct.”

The room goes quiet, save his little clock on the desk. At length, he sighs. “Fine. Now I know. What is you want?”

You glare at him. “Courtesy would be a start.” Your stomach clenches a bit as you say it. You’d be skinned for saying that if you were just another NCO! Times have changed, indeed.

He glares right back. “Fine. Do you have a title?”

“Your Eminence will do, General.” You consciously force yourself to pause. “I understand that this is a shock to you, sir, but-”

“No!” he barks. “No, I suspect you don’t! Because now, you see, I have to deal with the knowledge that there is not one conspiracy in this city, but two! And both thought me outside their confidence! One seeking to destroy or at least take over the place, the other to deny me important knowledge!”

You’ve never seen an officer behave like this.


> “General, this is asinine. I’m telling you now.”
> “Why does that bother you?”
>writein
>>
>>31913687
> “General, this is asinine. I’m telling you now.”
>>
K, writing.

I guess all my usual followers just aren't on this weekend.
>>
Slighted or no, he has no business being so petty. “General, the threat to the city hasn’t changed,” you remind him. He scoffs and leans forward in his seat, but before he can interrupt you, you plow ahead. “The conspiracy has nine people in left alive, and they don’t know I’m on to them. As soon as I’m done here, I’m going to go to the Brotherhood chapter house and collect a posse, then storm one of their hidey-holes and capture or kill a conspirator there.”

“Then why tell anyone in the government if you’re going to use the Brotherhood as muscle?” he asks, though his tone at least isn’t quite so flagrantly disrespectful now.

You hesitate. That’s a good question. You almost want to ask Asa for her input…

But no. You’re a Herald. You have powers of speech you don’t need to call upon the divine to channel. You focus your mind…

“General, please,” you say softly. “I’ve served Cender faithfully for six years. I met my husband in this career, many friends, mentors. It would be disrespectful and wrong of me to simply tear about the land, killing people, even the most deserving, without letting your Lordship and the King know what’s happening.”


(con’t)
>>
He grunts, clearly not mollified, but you’re not done. “Besides. I’m a Herald, not a Firesoul. I’m above the law of the land, but choose to respect it when I can. My existence is unprecedented since the Collapse. It can’t remain secret forever.”

“As I’d expect,” he says heavily.

“Therefore,” you continue, “when it does go public, I want you to know already. The last thing I need, that any of us needs, is a riot or uprising. The Kingdom is under attack in the south; its crime rate is sky-high. The King is struggling to maintain order. What message would it send if I ignored the authorities to the extent that I didn’t tell you, the Governor, or the King I was even here, and you found out at the same time as the hoi polloi?”

He stares at you, blank-faced. It’s an improvement over disdain, at least. “Very well. I can respect that,” he finally says. “What do you want of me?”


Well, you succeeded in convincing him, at least. How do you want to approach this?

>writein
>>
>>31914742
I won't be able to carry out my normal duties while rooting out the conspirators. Therefore I request to be officially moved to the position of logistical officer.

Or shadow if I can abuse my only voter on privilege.
>>
Well...

To be frank, the decision for Logistical Officer was pretty one-sided...I'll see what I can whip up.
>>
So. Now nobody’s mad. And you’ve proven that Asa’s abilities do more than let you modify your vocabulary. It’s time to push onward. “Captain-General, my leave of absence from the Auxilia, as bestowed by the King, will only be useful if I can ‘return’ to a position that lets me move about the city undetected. Or, rather, unremarked. If I can look like someone whose job it is to be in the city at all times in uniform, nobody will suspect me.”

The Captain-General tilts his head back to think that over. “So…a reassignment to another branch?”

“Yes, sir.” You count them off on your fingers. “A Shadow, a Logistical Officer, or a recruiter. Those were the ones the Governor proposed.”

“You told him too, eh?” Dietrich says darkly. He waves off your protest before you can voice it. “Fine. Which do you want?”

“Well, sir, I think a Logistical Officer would work best, since they have the authority to go anywhere in the city, they have open access to any armory or base in the country, and if I were to play up their reputation, I would be able to maintain the disguise in the black market areas,” you say. “Not than I plan on doing so unless I have to, of course.”


(con’t)
>>
“Of course,” he echoed. “The Shadow would be able to go anywhere, as well, you know, your…Eminence,” he says. He still doesn’t quite feel comfortable treating you as his superior, apparently.

“The Shadows are universally distrusted, sir, outside the Legion,” you point out. “And frankly, I can’t fight like they do. It would be pretty obvious that I wasn’t one if I were ever called to fight. A former Skirmish Sergeant, though…one Invalid-ed out of the front lines and reassigned to a comfy job for her heroism…who would suspect a thing? And If I appeared to not know what I was doing right away, well…that’d just confirm the cover.”

“Clever,” he admits. “Very well. I’ll arrange it. What about the rest of the survivors? Mallerd and Dervich?”

…Good question.

>”What are they doing now?”
>”Where are they?”
>”What about them? I don’t care.”
>writein
>>
>>31915924

>”What are they doing now?”

Might as well keep tabs on them.
>>
>>31915924

>”What are they doing now?”

Also - they said they fled. How did they do that? I mean, we survived because we were lying down with a weapon stuck in our back. We were a dead body. Did they also play dead? Let's think about where they were positioned, were they in the back ranks?

All those questions lead to one - did they really managed to flee and run so fast or were they spared?
>>
“The others? What are they up to, sir?” you ask.

“Mallerd is all healed up. He’ll be going with the brigade I’m deploying to Margent, before moving south to the border,” Dietrich says. He checks a clipboard on his desk. “Dervich is on a leave of absence. He took the leave I offered him and tacked the rest of his back-logged leave on the end; he’ll be out for another eight days. The other survivors, a recon trooper, he’s…in a bad way. He’s laid up in the medical ward, talking about ghosts.”

Oh. Right. Mallerd wasn’t even there.

“Could I help either of them?” you ask.

“Kind of you to offer, your Eminence, but unless Asa herself is offering, there’s nothing you can do that my healers can’t,” Dietrich says politely. It’s better than hostility, anyway. “With your transfer, Dervich will be reassigned to another Battalion until I can rebuild Second Home.”

>”As it happens, sir, I DO have an ability that lets me speak to the mad.”
>”I see.” [change subject to what?]
>>
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>>31916224
Shitfire.

I missed your response. I'll work the answers into my next post.
>>
>>31916291
I am able to speak to the mad
>>
>>31916323

Well, that happens. Btw, I love how you give us information about the world seemingly inconspicuously, like about the world and weather devices.

>”As it happens, sir, I DO have an ability that lets me speak to the mad.”

Let's help our suffering brother in arms.
>>
A memory from the burst of knowledge you received when you were implanted stirs. “Sir, as it happens, I CAN speak to the mad.”

Dietrich stares. “You…can?”

“Heralds need to be able to speak to everyone, sir, regardless of their language, or state of mind,” you say. “Let me have a shot.”

He slowly shakes his head. “These are strange times, are they not?”

You snort in wry humor. “They are indeed.”

“Then by all means, try.” He scribbles down some numbers and passes you the clipboard. “Here, this is his room number.”

“Thank you.” You set the clipboard aside. “So. A Logistical Officer, then?”

He nods. “I can arrange it. Is there anything else you wish of me?”

You pause as you remember something else. Dervich was completely unharmed when he got back, wasn’t he? How is it that he escaped when his men didn’t? “Sir, I would like to know how my Corporal, Dervich, got out alive.”

Dietrich sits up. “He didn’t tell you?”

“He just said he ran.”

“Indeed he did. He and the recon trooper, Vaughn, they were off on the north-east side of the roads near the convoy ambush site when someone – neither knew whom – emerged from the woods and activated the weapon.” Dietrich reads from a paper on his desk, at the top of the pile. Apparently he’s been re-reading the report a lot. “They described rippling waves in the air, like heat rising from above a flame, so they both threw themselves flat. When they looked up, the user was gone, and they were surrounded by empty suits of armor, everywhere. They just broke out running, and made it back in record time.”

So they took cover? That can block the weapon? Good to know. “I see. Thank you, sir.”


>Ask for some of that recovered, enchanted gear
>Ask something else
>Go home and drop off your bags before going back to the Brotherhood chapter house
>>
>>31916605
>Ask for some of that recovered, enchanted gear

We need to examine it, see if there are any clues left behind.
>>
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17 KB
17 KB PNG
>>31916733
Yes, and not keep any for ourselves at all no never.
>>
>>31916605
> Drop off bags before returning to brotherhood.
Don't think gear will tell us anything, and general isn't happy with us right now.
>>
>>31916605

>Go home and drop off your bags before going back to the Brotherhood chapter house

This is tempting >>31916733 , though I think explanation soldiers gave is reasonable. It might be odd only two of them survived by reacting in this way, but well...it's not like one of them took leave from which he won't return and the other wants to disappear in deep south without a trace, right? Right?
>>
>>31916931

Better safe then sorry I always say. Especially on matters like this.
>>
>>31916943

Ok, let's do that, we have to talk to Mallerd anyway and if our mercenary would like to flee from her hideout, she could do it at any time.
>>
>>31917049
We need to talk to Mallerd?
>>
food

brb
>>
>>31917115

Yeah. If we could ask him about this weapon - and he saw it/experienced it, we can confirm if it was heat wave or "ghosts" and then see if all is well and good. And besides that, we have good heart and want to say to him that everything is going to be aright.
>>
>>31917192
Mallerd was injured, and never deployed. Vaughn was there and insane. Dervich was our Corporal, and saw everything.
>>
>>31917615

Oh...sorry. That clears some confusion. So - Vaugh it is!
>>
“Will there be anything else, your Eminence? Or shall I begin the paperwork?” he asks.

“Respectfully, General, no, sir.” You rise and salute out of sheer habit. “I should be going home to drop off some things.”

Deitrich raises his eyebrows at the gesture, but returns it. “Good luck, Herald,” he says.

It’s obliquely comforting that he’s as stuck on the protocols of your position as anyone is.

That accomplished, you head right back down to the barracks area and pick it clean of all your possessions. The contents of your footlocker, your weapons and clothes, all of it. You have a feeling you won’t be seeing this place again.

That should be sad, you realize, but it isn’t. Mustering here was a pain in the ass. Lying here in the smelly, hot room, listening to other soldiers snore, masturbate, chat, and cry long after lights-out, eating Army food, longing for your husband and your friends, all the while a cloud of dread regarding the imminent battle hangs over you?

No thanks.


(con’t)
>>
You walk out into the courtyard that feeds into the huge parade square, probably the largest area of the city’s walled-in region that isn’t built over. The decision to put the Home Guard Battalions’ barracks, the Governor’s residence and offices, the Royal quarters and Audience Chambers, and a fully-equipped triage for the Guard all in one complex means that when it was built, it was built to be grown into, with room to spare. The massive yard is great for exercises, and in a pinch, trees or food could be grown there to supply the troops with whatever they needed.

As you cross, a crier on a box by the wall, dressed in a military uniform, reads the news to gathered and passing troops. “Hear ye, hear ye, soldiers of Cender! The bi-hourly news!” he bellows. He sips a cup of shimmering liquid – a Speech spell, perhaps – then yells again. “The battles in the south continue, no reduced for the absence of Home Second! The Legionary force the Auxilia accompanies is dispatched, nightfall of the Tenth of this month!”

Wait, what? A Legionary Battalion is fielding? You thought your Auxilia Home Guard Battalion was only being fielded to reinforce Legionnaires that were already in the battles to the south. Are things that bad?

The crier continues. “The recovery of the equipment lost in the mysterious battle on the Highway continues apace! All soldiers who wish to replace their gear may now do so, unless the equipment is the personal property of the deceased!”

So you could grab some new gear? Macabre, but hey, not like they need it…

“And finally, the Royal Proclamation for a day of mourning for the lost has been set, and begins on the Eighth of this month, tomorrow!” the crier finishes. He taps his throat and walks off, shuffling his papers as the crowd breaks up.


(con’t)
>>
Yeah. A whole day of mourning. That’s fair, you know? After all those deaths, all that chaos. And the people lost in the southern border skirmish, too, of course. The greedy merchant princes of the south have been annexing each other’s land forever, and now they’re trying to gobble up Cender, too, exploiting its rising tide of crime to take advantage of the resources being shifted out of the military into law enforcement. Training for the Guards, et cetera. If you were Guard instead of Auxilia, that may have been your fate: reduced to an over-equipped policewoman.

Ugh. No thanks. Slinging grenades at jerks from a hundred yards upwind, that’s the life for you. Or was. You’re…something else, now.

Come to think of it, what do Heralds actually do in peacetime? They used to speak for the Pantheon, but they have Avatars now. Will you be superfluous?

Maybe so, you muse, as you walk through the busy streets. Maybe that’s why Asa is letting you keep your powers and your privacy after this is all over. You can go home and have a family life. Pop out some kids, buy some land with all the money you’re earning in the Auxilia with subsidized housing, food, clothing, training.

Actually…that’s really appealing. You feel a bit of a pang as you realize that if you had just died in the forest, instead of taking a knife to the spine, then you’d have never have even had that much of a chance at a normal life. Well, ‘normal.’ You’ll never be ‘normal’ again.


(con’t)
>>
“Hey, lady, you deaf?” a voice yells.

You blink and look up. You’re mere feet from a hole in the ground. “Oh…no, just distracted,” you call out.

A man in an Artisan’s Guild uniform jogs up to you, looking angry. “Watch where you’re fucking going! That hole goes all the way to the sewers!”

You peer in, and see that it does, indeed, go on into an odorous darkness. “Oh wow.”

“No shit,” he grumbles. Then he chuckles. “Heh, I made a joke.”

You stare. “…What?”

“It’s the old water tunnel, not a sewer,” he explains.

Oh! These are the guys making you a private tunnel to the castle. “Are those houses blocked off?” you ask, pointing at your home.”

“If you can get in the back, no,” the man says. His dark elf eyes peer at you from under a leather helmet. “Is that your house?”

>wat say
>>
bump
>>
>>31918730

If you're going to bump at least contribute to the quest.

>>31918020
Does it matter if it's my house? Why do you want to know?
>>
Writing!
>>
“Does it matter?” you ask bluntly.

He squints at you before handing you a letter. “Here. Is this you?”

You look down at the envelope and see your name in Jerome’s handwriting. “Oh, it’s a note from my husband. Thanks. Is he here?”

“No, he came and went,” the artisan says.

“Thanks,” you repeat. You head off around the block to reach your backdoor, reading the message as you walk.

‘Elsa, the workers say they’ll be done in three days. My brother says he can put us up until then. I have a few changes of clothes for us. I’ll make dinner and bring it with.

Love,
Jerome’

“Good to know,” you mutter to yourself.

You duck in and deposit your civilian clothes, and the rest of the things from your barracks locker, before grabbing an orange to munch on and heading back out. Time to pick up your enchanted equipment and a posse of Brothers.


Back at the chapter house, the building is a lot fuller. Members of the Brotherhood troop in and out, chatting or excitedly looking over maps. You poke your head into Culler’s office and knock. “Sir?”

He looks up. “Sergeant. Come in.”

You do so, closing the door behind you. “May I inquire as to the cause of this activity?” you ask.

He waves a hand. “A group of Brothers have been hired by the Legion to do some recce in the woods along the Grand Highway. Margent’s garrison was counting on your battalion arriving, it seems.” He dips his head once. “My condolences.”

“Thank you.” You sit before his desk and spread your hands. “Thanks also for the enchanting. If I asked too much of your enchanter, I’ll cover the costs.”

Culler acknowledges your gesture with a smile. “Think nothing of it, Herald. Your requests were quite modest. I was expecting you to ask for a Heraldic uniform.”

You blink. “A…what?”


(con’t)
>>
“A Heraldic uniform.” He stares at your incomprehension. “You didn’t know?”

“The old protocols are lost!” you exclaim. “I’m supposed to have a uniform?”

“Lady Asa didn’t tell you? Perhaps she knows you can’t remain covert in such a garment,” he concedes. “Ah, well. I imagine your gear is ready by now, if you want to see.”


Below, the bottom level is empty, save for Della and pair of mages making potions in one corner. You walk up behind him and wait for his attention.

After a moment, he notices you, and glances over his shoulder. “Ah, Sergeant, hello. Come here, I want to see how you like this.”

You amble up to his bench and peer down at the equipment. You let out a low whistle at the sight. “Wow…”

The armor pieces’ colors haven’t changed, but now they shimmer around the edges, like they’re covered in a sheen of oil. Light flickers from it as you shift your head around the objects. “Impressive.”

“Thank you,” the enchanter says. “Enchanting it without destroying the color pattern was tricky. I figured flashing lights would rather destroy their utility as woodland camouflage, eh?”

“I’ll say.” You pick up the dagger. “So this will cut anything now?”

“It won’t cut anything it couldn’t normally cut, no,” he warns. “But it will cleave armor like it’s not even there, provided it’s thin enough.”

“Superb.” The dagger glints and unnatural silvery light under the glowlamp as you turn it over in your hand. “Thank you very much, Brother.”

“Certainly, Sergeant,” he says. You shake his hand and bow over it, feeling a bit giddy. Enchanted weapons. Somehow, that’s as much a sign of your progress, in your eyes, as being able to page a literal demigoddess.


(con’t)
>>
Upstairs, Culler is waiting in his office for you. “Ah, Sergeant. Did your gear come out well?” he asks.

“It certainly did!” you say, tapping a finger on the shimmering pauldron. “This is Legion-quality enchanting!”

He nods in clear satisfaction. “Good. Now then…” He leans across his desk, eyes gleaming. “Tell me. What do you want to do about this list?”


>”May I borrow some of your Brothers and attack Feathers’ hideout?”
>”What do you suggest?”
>writein
>>
>>31920349
>>”What do you suggest?”

Always good to get another opinion.
>>
“Well, ultimately, they all need to die or be captured,” you say. “How would you do it, Master?”

He thinks about that, clenching one hand and resting it on his chin. “Hmmm. I would approach with caution. Attack one member in their sleep, and interrogate them.”

“Tonight?”

“Why not? The sooner you start picking them off, the safer the city will be,” he says. “Have you recconoitred Feathers?”

“I have,” you say, and you quickly describe her base.

“Then I would wait until just after nightfall and slip into her home, then capture her and drag her off to the dungeon,” he reports.

>”I think I’ll do that.”
>”I have another plan.” (what is it?)
>>
>>31920591
I think I'll do that. Mind lending me a few men?
>>
You have to admit, it makes more sense than charging the place. “I like that idea, sir,” you say. “May I borrow a few of your Brothers?”

He hesitates. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind if all you’re asking for is protection, but I will not turn my Chapter into a divine hit squad,” he cautions. “You’ll want to approach the Mercenaries’ Guild or Assassins’ Guild for that.”

“I appreciate that,” you reply.

“Wait here a moment, your Eminence, and I’ll see who I can find,” Culler says. He rises to his feet and walks out, leaving you alone in the office. Several minutes later, he returns with three members of the Brotherhood, all cloaked in black and wearing the enchanted pin.

“Brother Douthrite, Sister Veri, Senior Sister Caitdottir,” he introduces. “This is Sergeant Ledren of the Auxilia.”

You shake each hand in turn, nodding politely. “My friends, tonight, I’m going to be apprehending a most dangerous criminal,” you say. “I hope I can count on you all.


END OF THREAD
>>
Welp. No idea where my audience is this weekend, but I ran a quest anyway. See you next weekend.
>>
>>31921437

It was all good. Thanks for the ride SE. I hope we get more questrunners next time.
>>
Should I try running mid-week next time?
>>
>>31921698

Weekends have more free time for people and more chance of a bigger audience, but are also when all the other quests run as well.



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