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Off we go!

I'll be running non-stop save for bio from now until Monday night!

My twitter: @Someone_else___

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

Resident Art credit: Eversor_

Elsa's Character Sheet: Updated! http://pastebin.com/v2Sa7Miq
>>
A woman with a bruise on her chin is sitting in a cold, frightening room. She’s manacled, she’s dressed in rags, she’s fidgeting, and you’re looking at her through a magic screen that prevents her from seeing you.

{So that’s a conspirator that can shatter a country with a toy, huh?} you think to Asa. {She looked tougher in armor.}

[Who doesn’t?] your patroness thinks back.

You’re fingering your forehead gem with no bandana on, which would be pretty stupid in public, but you’re in a room off the dungeon of the Royal palace, with no witnesses except the Governor, who’s well aware of your oddness. Feathers is chained to a seat in the other room, with a Shadow waiting right outside in the hall. He’s the one the Governor has tapped for the interrogation.

The Governor clears his throat. “Do you have any idea what approach will work best here, your Eminence?” he asks.


>Intimidate her
>Cajole her
>Piss her off
>writein
ALL OPTIONS MUST BE ACCOMPANIED BY A 1d100+5

(Writeins get merit bonuses on ALL choices throughout the quest)
>>
>>32313150
>>Cajole her
Go for the soft sell first. If that doesn't work out, it'd be a shame if something were to happen to her son...
>>
Rolled 92 + 5

>>32313150
>>Cajole her
I'm hoping we can find out why she wants to kill so many people with this superweapon. She has to know that her son could be a victim in the future.
>>
>>32313150
>Cajole her
>>
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I ask for rolls, and two of the first three posts don't have rolls.
>>
>>32313451

But the one that does have a roll has a very good roll. Why rock the boat?
>>
Rolled 38 + 5

>>32313234
>>32313451
dice are for scrubs
>>
Fine.

Votes that need rolls will have them explicitly asked for, as always.


Writing now.
>>
Rolled 40

>>32313451
I can't read!
I'm tired!
It's a Friday!
>>
>>32313451
1d100+5
>>
“I don’t think she really knows what Kotrick is up to,” you muse. You tap your fist in your chin as you think over her behavior in the fight. She was just protecting her son, really, she wasn’t trying to attack at all. “Promise that she’ll get to see her son again if she co-operates.”

Ekrine nods. “Harsh, but we’ll see how it goes.” He disappears into the hall to speak with the Shadow. As he rejoins you, a door into the interrogation room opens up. Feathers jerks in her seat as the Shadow – bereft of weapons and most armor – walks in and stands behind the second chair at the table.

“Who the hell are you? Where’s my son?” Feathers snaps.

The Shadow leans over the back of the chair. The light from the glowstones in the walls shimmers eerily on his crystalline mask. “He’s fine. Do you deserve to see him?”

“WHAT?” she barks, nearly launching out of the chair. Only her chains hold her back. “What the FUCk is wrong with you? I didn’t do shit!”

“You killed eight hundred people,” the Shadow says calmly.

Feathers visibly pales. “I didn’t!”

“Bullshit,” the Shadow says. He sighs theatrically, sinking into the chair at last. “So. Let’s start with the part where I don’t torture you to death for what you’ve done, and we’ll finish with visitation rights.”

The mercenary clenches her fists. To your fascination, she seems to be retracting her neck like a frightened dog. “You son of a bitch,” she snarls. “You can’t keep me from my son.”

“Legally, I can wear your ears for a necklace, right now,” the Shadow says. “But if you tell me which of your friends from the forest has your little toy, your son can see you this very night.”

Feathers gasps. “You…”

“I have sources,” the Shadow says.


>Keep watching
>”Governor, what did you tell that guy?”
>writein
>>
>>32314067
>Keep watching
>”Governor, what did you tell that guy?”
whynotboth.jpeg
>>
>>32314067
>>Keep watching
>>
>>32314067
>”Governor, what did you tell that guy?”
[x] lick soul forehead gem
>>
>>32314344
>[x] lick soul forehead gem
It's embedded in our forehead. We can't take it out.
>>
Writing!

If anyone is just watching to see if votes go one way or another, please weigh in; i count EVERY roll.
>>
The Shadow’s words are ambiguous enough to mean just about anything, but specific enough to have you worried. “Governor Ekrine, sir?”

“Your Eminence?” he asks, glancing over at you.

You choose your words with exceptional care. You need Ekrine. “What…exactly did you tell the interrogator?”

“Only what the Shadows already know, your Eminence. That there was a pack of mercenaries who activated a superweapon in the forest, they’re hiding in the city, and she was one of them,” Ekrine assures you. “I didn’t tell him about the Pantheon’s involvement.”

You let out a breath. “Good. Thank you, sir.”

“Certainly. I won’t violate your secrecy,” he says. He turns back to the show. “Interesting. She’s looking desperate.”

“I…my son’s not well, he needs me,” Feathers is stammering.

“Oh? Why can’t a doctor see to him?” the Shadow asks reasonably.

Feathers’ hands are rubbing again. “They…I want to see him.”

“How much?” the Shadow asks.

The mercenary glares at him, but his inscrutable face mask doesn’t even give away his expression. “What do you want?” she finally mutters.

“Names. Addresses. Powers.” The Shadow taps the table with one bare finger. He’s a dark elf, apparently. “You know what we want. Most of all, we want to know where you animals found that weapon.”

“We didn’t,” Feathers snaps, a bit of fire back in her voice. “An Explorer did.”

“And whom may he be?”

“I never asked,” Feathers says curtly. “He never provided.”

“So when a strange man shows up and tells you to start harvesting money from merchants you’ve murdered, you don’t even ask why?” the Shadow says scornfully. “Imagine my unwillingness to believe that.”

“I got paid a cartful, soldier boy, I don’t ask for more,” Feathers snarls.

“Except your son’s continued well-being, right?” the Shadow retorts.


(con't)
>>
“Ouch,” you observe.

“We’re not dealing with heroes,” Ekrine says. “I won’t let her withhold anything from us.”


Feathers looks away from the interrogator. “I want to see my son.”

“Where’s his father?”

“Dead. Ironlung disease,” Feathers says. “He was a miner.”

“I see.” The Shadow raises one empty hand. “Give me something to get something, mercenary.”

Feathers closes her eyes tight. “Did you kill him?”

“Mmm?”

“My son. Davie. Did you kill him?”

“No.”

“Show me.”

“Earn it.”

Silence.

“…My contact with the man who used the weapon was named Elger Moor,” she whispers. “I don’t know where he lives. All I know is that he works for Don Kotrick.”


You grimace. You knew that already. “This is getting us nowhere,” you say. “She doesn’t know anything of value.”

“So what do we do?” the Governor asks flatly. “We need to punish her.” He raises a hand to cut you off, though he’s looking angry enough to have forgotten decorum. “Your Eminence, he murdered eight hundred of our men.”


>”Watch it, Governor, I was one of them.”
>”I know. She should be punished.”
>”And her son?”
>writein
>>
>>32314436
Longer tongue needed.
>>
Rolled 88 + 5

>>32314734
This is getting us nowhere.

Bring the son in, hold a knife to his throat, and explain, very calmly, that the people she's dealing with would have killed him, along with every other person in the city, should they use the weapon here.

If she doesn't cooperate with us now, she will rot in a cell knowing that she is responsible for the death of her son.

If she refuses to cooperate, chastise her for being a terrible mother before killing the boy. We're dealing with mass murderers. No mercy for the damned, no rest for the wicked.
>>
Rolled 57 + 5

>>32314656
”And her son?”
>>


Please only roll when it's called for, like I specifically said upstream.
>>
>>32314856
no

>>32314734
Execute her. If she knows anything else the Gods will get it out of her. Start investigating Elger Moor and Don Kotrick.
>>
>>32314856
Any magic or Gifts capable of producing convincing enough illusions that we did what anon suggest so we don't actually have to do it?
>>
>>32314998
So why are we offing her while her living still might have value? If she does not know anything more, killing her nets nothing.
>>
>>32314856
Maybe not kill the son, but I don't think it'd hurt to let her see him one last time. Maybe imply that her cooperation will spare his life, if not hers.

On a more pragmatic level, the boy will grow to hate us all in the future. That is his mother. Maybe anon's got a point here.
>>
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>>32314998
>>32314856
Asa's message about 'no torture' was pretty clear.
>>
>”I know. She should be punished.”

Leave the brat alone. No need to create more corpses than we have to.
>>
>>32315100
Well, we're already breaking that rule by dangling her son in front of her like this.

Maybe Asa also needs to know that this isn't just a problem for gods, mortal families lost loved ones in an instant.
>>
>>32315058
What use does she have alive?

>>32315100
I don't know why you linked me, execution isn't torture.
>>
>>32315135
Meeting information, potential for arranging contacts with additional suspects, use as a mercenary in some non-critical role, meatshield, etc. Can't take back execution, can always kill her later.
>>
I don't seem to have consensus, so let me clarify some things.

Asa has already said that torture is beneath her, and therefore beneath you. If a vote has Elsa doing something out of character, she'll just consider it and dismiss it. It's happened once or twice already.
>>
>>32315215
>Meeting information
Don't know what you mean by this

>Arranging contact with additional suspects
She doesn't even know any of them or how to contact them

>Use as mercenary or meatshield
This would require giving her some degree of trust to not just run away or screw us over. I am not willing to give her that trust.

All in all I figure the chance that she does know something else, or Asa can get something significant out of her after her death exceedingly outweighs any benefit we might get from keeping her alive.

>>32315300
Also this.
>>
Threatening her son with death isn't really torture. It's negotiation. She wants to see him? She's a mass murderer, she has to play ball. She doesn't want to play ball? We show her that actions have consequences.

If she doesn't want her son to be one of those consequences, she'll tell us everything she can in life, so before she's executed she can say that at least she did one thing right.
>>
>>32315342
She's a human woman. Her soul will go to Vier (which is still basically the same from your perspective). All souls go to their matching Pantheon member. Human men to go Haret, human women go to Vier, and while all elves currently go to Asa, they used to go Men to Ghalad, Women to Asa (and now they all go to Asa since poor Ghalad was murdered in the Collapse).

I will say this, though. If you kill Feathers, while in custody, without a trial, it will color Elsa's character a bit in a way that certain powerful NPCs you've met will NOT like. It is also the most expedient route. Think carefully about your options. And how valuable she is in the scheme of things. Think specifically at how upset Maas was when you didn't see his verbal trap back when you revealed yourself to him, when he offered to let you rise above the law and you didn't turn him down.
>>
>>32315496
Man, I said already. Threaten to hurt her son, we don't have to actually do it. And if we can find someone with magic or a Gift that can make the threat all the more convincing then do so.
>>
Writing!
>>
We should also question her son. He might have heard or seen something.
>>
“Then I’ll deal with this myself,” you say. You slide your bandana on as you say it. “She needs to see what she’s done.”

“Your Eminence, are you trained in interrogation?” Ekrine asks.

“I don’t need to be,” you say. You start to move for the door when he steps to your shoulder.

“Madam Ledren, wait a moment,” he says hastily. “Don’t interrupt the Shadow. Interrogations are subtle things-”

“And she’s not going to be of much use to us alive!” you snap. Anger colors your cheeks as you think back to the sight of Connor disappearing in a flash of light, just taken from the world like a breath of air on the wind. “It was my battalion her boss killed, Governor.”

“And my army from which they were taken!” Ekrine suddenly shouts. “My GRANDSON they butchered!” Suddenly your own anger doesn’t seem to mean much as the old man looms over you. “Have you forgotten, Herald? My GRANDSON! Your Lieutenant! My blood, my heir! Taken by this witch and her masters! And you think I’m all right with that? You think I can bear the sight of her, in there, unharmed and negotiating?!”

You step back in shock as the composed old war hero shakes with rage. “What would you do, Sergeant? Hold a knife to her neck? Perhaps her son’s neck?” he hisses. “Well?!”

You open your mouth to speak…and words fail. “I…”

“My grandson,” he whispers. He deflates all at once, suddenly looking very old. “My little Wilhelm. I bounced him on my knee, Ledren.”

Your throat seizes up a bit. You had completely forgotten. “I…I’m sorry, Governor.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and turns away. “Do as you will, voice of the Pantheon,” he mutters, jerking a hand at the door. “Just…go.”


(con’t)
>>
Well. Shit.

You hesitate outside the door, feeling guilt and anger grip your heart in equal measure. There goes your first idea. Now what? Her son? A bargaining chip? Call in divine support?

Abruptly, the Shadow emerges from the door, nearly slamming it behind him. He spots you mere inches away and nearly slams his finger into your chest in accusation. “Sergeant, what the HELL are you doing?” he snarls. “We could hear you two from the bloody interrogation room! What are you hollering about in there?”

He doesn’t know who you are, apparently. “The Governor and I were merely disagreeing on what do to next, Shadow,” you say with all the faux contrition you can muster in your state. “I say we should just-”

“You will do as I say, Sergeant, regardless of your role in her capture,” his frigid voice cuts you off.

“No, Shadow, you will both do as I say,” Ekrine says from behind him. You both turn to face him. The Shadow recoils at his state. “Just…the Sergeant knows what she’s doing,” he murmurs.

“I…I’ll talk to her myself and see if I can’t remind her what she’s protecting,” you decide quickly. “Use her son.”

“The boy’s upstairs one level,” the Shadow grunts. “I said she could see him.”

“You did?” Ekrine asks.

“Of course. Give something to get something, sir, that’s what you said to me,” the Shadow says defensively.

“Then…go get him, Sergeant,” Ekrine orders, a funny gleam emerging from his melancholic eyes.


>”What do you have in mind, Governor?”
>”I’d rather watch from here, Governor, if you please.”
>writein
>>
>>32315783

>”What do you have in mind, Governor?”
>>
i used the word Old three times in five paragraphs because im a riter hurr

Also I should clarify something else: you ALWAYS have both the Divine Speech abilities and the /writein options. you just only get bonuses for USING them when I list them specifically, like in thread 1 when you killed the invisible man.
>>
>>32315783
”What do you have in mind, Governor?”
>>
Writing!
>>
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Before I forget, here's Eversor's take on Elsa ducking into the alleyway in the last thread!
>>
You force back your emotions as best you can. “May I be so bold as to ask what you have in mind, sir?” you ask Ekrine.

He grimaces. “Just get him, Sergeant.”


Upstairs, you spy two guards standing right where there were two others the day before. The bawling is done, at least. You come to a halt outside and snap off a salute at the guards. “Gents. Someone grab the kid, the Governor needs him downstairs.”

One of the guards taps his sword hilt and opens the door. Moments later, he emerges with a tear-stained little boy in his wake. The boy looks around, clearly scared out of his mind.

“All right, Davie, it’s time to go see your mother,” you say.

He lights up at the sound of his name, but the second he sees you, he recoils in fear. “You! You hurt Mom!” he squeals. He ducks back into his room before the guard reaches in and grabs him firmly by the shoulder.

“Don’t make this hard, boy,” the guard says irritably. He jerks the kid towards the stairs and follows you down.

As you walk, though, a thought occurs to you. You glance back to see the guard hauling the boy down the stone steps. “Hey, Davie. Do you know why we came for your Mom?”

“No!” he shouts, trying to flee again.

“Ask her. Her answer might surprise you.” You come to a halt outside the interrogation room, where the Shadow is waiting. Ekrine is nowhere to be seen. “All right, Shadow, what’s the plan?” you ask him.

He jerks a thumb at the door and tilts his head. “Send in the kid and pull up a seat.”


(con’t)
>>
Feathers is rubbing her eyes and mumbling to herself when a scream splits the air in the room. “MOM!”

Her head jerks up to see the boy launch across the chamber. “Davie! Davie, you’re okay!” she shrieks.

The boy fairly jumps into her lap, or tries. The Shadow catches him right before he brains himself on her chains. “Mom, Mom, you’re trapped!” he wails, clutching feebly at her arm…before going slack.

Feathers gasps as her son slumps over. “DAVIE!” she cries, straining at her chains to reach him.

“He’s fine. Just asleep,” the Shadow says. Feathers turns wrathful eyes up on the Shadow, who sits down in the chair, ignoring the little body on the floor. “So. He’s fine. How about you remember some things?”

Feathers snarls in animal rage, clawing to reach the Shadow – he’s too far – and then her son – he’s too far too – before collapsing in her chair, weeping inconsolably.

“Where’s your partner, Hooks?” the Shadow asks.

“…M-m-merchants’ quarter,” Feathers sobs. The sound of utter despair in her voice could fill a volume of books. “H-he’s in…the leather curer’s…waiting…f-for a job,” she manages, before her head sinks into her hands, and her mother’s grief pours free.


Behind the screen, Ekrine shoots you a pointed glare.


>”Sorry for doubting you, Governor.”
>”So now what?”
>writein
>>
>>32317101
>”So now what?”
>>
>>32317101
”So now what?”
>>
>>32317101

>"Sorry for doubting you, Governor..."

"...I know this can't be any easier for you than it is for me"
>>
>>32317101

>”So now what?”
>>
Writing!
>>
You let out a long, pissed-off sigh. Not acknowledging Ekrine’s pointed stare is hard. “All right, Governor. Now what happens?”

He looks back at the unhappy tableau. “Now I haul her off in chains to be tried, and send the kid off to an orphanage, in the hopes that he may be taken in by someone who doesn’t work for a mass murderer.” He glares at you. “Any objections to voice, Herald?”

“On the condition that I will kill her if I find she’s still withholding something useful, no,” you say after a moment.

He smiles tersely. “Well, that’s a given.” He turns his back on you to leave, only to pause. “I apologize for my earlier tone. I didn’t mean to imply that you hadn’t lost anyone. No offense, your Eminence.”

>”None taken.”
>”Don’t make a habit of it.”
>>
>>32317772

>”None taken.”
>>
>>32317772
>>”None taken.”

Politeness is a Virtue.
>>
>>32317772
>>”Don’t make a habit of it.”

Give all your well-learned polities, or I'll lay your soul to waste.

Yay, I get to make a Rolling Stones reference!
>>
>>32317772

>"None taken and i'm sorry for forgetting I wasn't the only one who lost people that day."
>>
Writing!
>>
You wave it off. “I’m not offended, sir. I was the one who forgot propriety.”

“Were you? All the old protocols are lost.” He shrugs anyway, still looking exhausted. “Well. I have a trial to arrange. A military tribunal is out of the question, but I imagine the Royal Courts can handle it. The King may appoint someone.”

“Very well.” You bow as he leaves you alone with your thoughts in the room. You glance over to the side, to see several guards hauling the prisoner and the kid away as the Shadow dusts his hands and drops the little device he used to stun the boy into a pocket.

What a world.


Outside, the brilliant morning sun casts a cheerful light over the busy city. You stretch and crick your back as you meander through the streets towards Darril’s house. You’ve got a lot of options now.

Before you can think them over, a voice in your mind whispers a question. [Elsa, what have you learned?] Asa asks.

{The merc, Hooks, another conspirator, is still active in the city,} you reply, finger to forehead. {Merchants’ Quarter, some leather curer’s place.}

[Well done, my daughter. Vier tells me Feathers’ soul didn’t come to her. How did you get her to talk?]

Your lip turns in a mixture of disgust and admiration. {Guile. Intimidation. Bargaining.}

[Torture?]

You don’t answer right away. {Her child was…leveraged.}

[I see. Permanently harmed?]

{Not that I saw.}

Asa sighs. [I hate having to harm people, you know. That it became necessary here…still. Better than more killing.]

You nod. {Yeah.}

Her tone abruptly changes completely. [My daughter, are you somewhere people can see you?]

{Uh…yes, I’m in the street.}

[Get somewhere you can speak to me at length.]

(con’t)
>>
You slip into a convenient alley and glance around. You’re alone, and concealed behind a drainpipe from the street. {What is it, my Lady?}

[I remembered something.]

Before you can say a word, a sense of absolute, total, complete calm washes through your mind. You finger falls away from your bandana as the gem seems to warm up a bit. Your forehead, where the brand is etched indelibly into your skin, itches, then it fades.

ABILITY UNLOCKED: MOTHER ALWAYS KNOWS
New Divine Ability unlocked!


[Mai’te didn’t leave the world with such speed that I had no time to learn from her,] Asa says with bitter cheer. [Enjoy.]

You swoon, feeling a strange power soar through your head. The words you hear in your mind aren’t different, but…the words of passers-by on the streets behind you are clearer, somehow. {My Lady?}

[Heraldry is so important, Elsa, my beloved daughter,] Asa says. [None can lie to you. Or, rather…they will learn not to.]

>wat say

>http://pastebin.com/iNyFx5XU UPDATED!
>>
>>32318783
>"Thanks! I notice I can only use this once per day, does it activate automatically or do I have to guess if someone just lied?"

If that's too meta just thank her.
>>
Elsa knows how to use her powers instinctively.
>>
>>32318951
Iiiiin that case, which one is it? If we already know.
>>
>>32319029
She (you all) decide when to activate it. Then i ask you to roll 1d100+modifier.
>>
>>32319077
Alright. In that case just say thanks, and say you'll try to use it well."
>>
The sense of rushing power fades a little, and you close your eyes to regain your balance. {Thank you, my Lady. This is…heady.}

She chuckles softly. [Good. Go and rest for a bit. Tonight, I expect we’ll come up with a plan.]
[TEMPORARY END OF THREAD]

(if this is alive, i'll keep writing it tomorrow, so please keep it alive!)
>>
>>32319417

I'll keep her floating. Many thanks SE.
>>
>>32319417
Thanks for running! Unfortunately I share a timezone with you, so I can't keep it bumped because of sleep.
>>
liiive
>>
>>32320297
bump
>>
>>32321803

Bump
>>
I've been reading up on your stories, and I feel like offering a comment which niggled at me as I was reading.

What's unique about Tarsh? It seems very much like your run-of-the-mill fantasy setting, but with dead gods instead of living ones. It doesn't feel very unique, there doesn't seem anything about it that makes it stand out from the dozens of RPG settings I've encountered.

And it seems very bare bones. What sort of animals live on Tarsh? What sort of environments? All we've seen is a city. This world seems pretty generically medieval with some fantasy elements added in. It has potential, and having seen what you can do I'd like to see that potential realized, but it needs something more then what you've given it thus far. Thus far, it's merely one among many with nothing to really draw you in and get you interested and/or excited.
>>
>>32325515
>Unique

Yeah. So far, all the major events in the quest have taken place in cities.

The first two books I've set in Tarsh take place out of the cities a bit more. So will later parts of the quest.

/tg/ also seems pretty unwilling to look elsewhere for help, which, I must admit, I wasn't expecting. By this point, I was expecting /tg/ to be forming an ad hoc army to track down the conspirators.

Still, you have a recharge period coming in the narrative, wherein you will be given the chance to explore the city a bit. I think a good comparison would be the original Assassin's Creed: mostly in cities, but with a huge countryside to explore if you actually want to (and nine guys to track down and kill, sure, but it was supposed to be ten...)
>>
>>32325515

In most of the previous threads there has been a link to the overworld map, which people have been pointing out should lead to extreme weather effects.

As far as we know this is kept in check by the remaining demigods and if we were to start losing the remaining ones (i.e. from the god-killing mcguffin the bad guys have), I imagine that things will get real apocalypsey real quick!

I have to say i'm actually really enjoying the concept of gods who although powerful are highly limited, not omniscient and barely keeping it together. That really does seperate the setting to my mind. The military tech as well seems quite interesting, mages exist but are rare and not necessarily useful and most soldiers carry potent alchemical weapons and potions. I'm enjoying how its going overall :)

Also bumpity bump
>>
>>32327005

I know we were thinking better of it before but I quite like the idea of rounding up the zealots as an impromptu army/ lynch mob if push comes to shove :D

Maybe we could try infilitrating them, making a cover story that "Asa is talking to us", pretend to be a religious wackjob like the rest of them and use our social skills to manipulate them into doing our bidding. That way we get an army doing roughly what we want and we can keep the reveal that we are actually a Herald back for when we really need it.

Best of all we could try and start grassroots rumours within the cult that the demigods will soon be sending a Herald to "deliver them from the threat", then when we actually reveal ourselves, they'll be sure to flock to us.
>>
>>32327029
Thank you!

The dead pantheon is indeed damaging the world a lot. I set this story in the largest and most prosperous city. Trust me, if you allow a conspirator to escape into the south, or try to shut down the orb by destroying its power source, you'll be traveling to the nega-zone.

(It's not actually called that, but you get the gist)
>>
>>32327115
>>32327115
To be honest, that was kind of my plan A. Like I said in previous threads, I had ninety different possible resolutions to this story planned, and you guys went with plan C. Not at all a problem, it's just not the one I focused on the most.
>>
>>32327248

What time is it where you are? When do you reckon you'll start running again?
>>
>>32327564
it's 10:13, and I'll run as soon as I'm done with chores and food. Figure twenty minutes.
>>
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Okay, picking up where I left off! Remember, if I provide a spot to use a daily or a >writein, there's a small passive bonus to be had.
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The bustle and press of people in the city hasn’t changed for your improvement, but that doesn’t mean you don’t still feel amazing. The heady buzz of power slowly fades as you walk through the city to the place where your husband’s family lives, but the best part is how it doesn’t feel distracting. The herds of people in the market don’t feel like herds of animals, somehow beneath you for your even-heightening power. Far to the contrary. You feel like you’re actually noticing things you missed before.

You stop hiding your grin as you walk up to your brother-in-law’s house and let yourself in. “This is really cool,” you whisper.

Inside, the place is vacant. You close the door behind you and stretch out on the couch in the main room, letting the stress of the awful morning fade. Somehow, Asa’s gift eased the pain of watching a child be used as a bargaining chip to get a mother to talk. Not to say that it doesn’t still feel strange. You’re a soldier, a skirmisher. You kill people, you don’t hurt them.

You shake your head and lie back, trying to get that irreconcilable nonsense out of your head. “Nothing to do but go on,” you murmur.

The sound of someone moving around on the second floor catches your ear. Laura appears at the base of the stairs and spots you. “Hey, Elsa! How did your meeting go?” She’s referring to your cover story, a meeting with your battalion command to discuss reassignment. You had almost forgotten your own cover story of your reassignment to the Logistical Corps.

>”It went pretty well, actually.”
>”Tiring. I had to talk about the battle.”
>(change the subject quickly)
>writein
>>
>>32327985

"Tiring. I had to talk about the battle. Sometimes things are better left buried you know?"

(also i think it may just be me, the anon from >32327464, getting my standard trip back so you can see how many people you've got)
>>
That's fine, I don't need a big audience to work with.
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>>32327985
>”Tiring. I had to talk about the battle. I was successful though.”
>>
Writing.
>>
You grin at your sister-in-law. “Tiring. I had to talk about the battle.”

“I can’t imagine that’s easy,” Laura says awkwardly.

“It’s not.” You finger the hem of your new uniform. “I’m in the Logistics Corps now.”

“That’s good, right?” Laura asks. She walks up and sits across from you in the little conversation circle. “I mean, you can’t want to go back…”

“I kind of do, but I’m not sorry to be in the city for a while.” You sit up and take notice. Laura’s looking pretty tired too, but then, she works nights. “Did I wake you up?”

“No, I was just about to turn in,” Laura says. “Are you hungry? I can make you something.”

“Very kind, but no thanks, Laura,” you say. “I need to head back out.”

“Okay. Stay safe,” she says.


As soon as she’s gone, you feel the gem in your forehead warm. [My daughter, I need to know what you learned in the interrogation,] Asa reminds you. [I wanted to give you a second to adjust to your new ability, but time may be of the essence.]

{Of course, sorry,} you reply. {I know where another conspirator, the mercenary named Hooks, lives.}

[Well done. Do you mean to pursue immediately?]

>{Yes}
>{Not without recce}
>{No, I need to perform (task)}
>>
>>32329311
>{Yes}
>>
Writing.
>>
{Don’t I have to? I took Feathers alive. Hooks will know soon enough. I can’t let him clam up.}

“True.”

You jerk your head up at the sound of someone speaking in the room. Asa’s Avatar is sitting where Laura was moments before, knee on her chin, looking pensive.

“My Lady! Sorry, I didn’t know you were there,” you say, starting to rise.

“Be calm, my daughter, it’s fine,” Asa says. She sits up and crosses her legs. “This conspiracy…I am beginning to think I was wrong.”

“How?”

“Are they even conspiring? Feathers lives in a laundry and retail building, Hooks lives in a leather curer’s…not the lap of luxury,” Asa muses. “The weapon remains unused. None of them have showed their faces where my Avatars can see them.”

“Why hire that many people if you’re not going to involve them past the preliminary stages, and let them live afterward?” you ask.

Asa shrugs. “Insurance. Making sure nobody can betray anybody.”

You rise. “Then I should polish off Hooks as soon as possible.”

Asa raises one eyebrow. “I would advise a moment’s restraint.”

“You have something in mind, my Lady?” you ask.

She smiles. “I do.”

>”Do I have a part in it?”
>”Surely you don’t mean to attack him yourself. He could have the Orb.”
>writein

I need to perform chores. I will return to write the next post in one hour.
>>
>>32330214
>”Surely you don’t mean to attack him yourself. He could have the Orb.”
>>
booop
>>
Writing.
>>
You sit back down, thinking her words over very quickly. “My Lady, wasn’t the whole reason for creating me to allow you to act through a remote?” you ask. “Being here in person is incalculably dangerous.”

“If I were present for one of your attacks, yes,” Asa says calmly. “I will not be. I’ve already spoken in person to Master Culler, why not others?”

“You don’t mean conspirators?”

“If they’re even conspiring.” She rises to her feet. “I think I will pay a visit to your incarcerated mercenary friend.”

“You want to talk to Feathers?” you ask in astonishment. “Why…I mean, you could have before, my Lady.”

“Could have, yes. Didn’t need to. You covered the questions that would let you progress the investigation. I want to ask more…psychological questions. How they will react to knowledge of my presence, et cetera.” She raises one hand in question. “And you? Do you really mean to simply attack Hooks outright?”

“If I have to, yes,” you say. You clamber up, too, brushing down your spotless new uniform. “I mean, we can’t let them rest.”

“No, no, certainly not,” Asa concedes. “But I think you have more time than you realize. It occurs to me that this weapon isn’t actually all that useful in the city itself. It kills any number of people, yes, but no more or less thoroughly than a spell that creates a cloud of acidic gas. It may be retained by the group as a means of assuring superiority. An emergency fallback. To prevent any large-scale retaliation for some other act.”

“No offense, my Lady, but a moment ago you were questioning whether this was even really a conspiracy at all,” you point out.

“True. Perhaps it is Moor and his cohort that are planning something, and these mercenaries mere muscle.” She crosses her arms. “You’ll have to capture them all anyway.”


(con’t)
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Your fists clench at your sides as you remember the sheer horror of the battle in the woods. “Damn right,” you say bitterly.

“So there you have it, Elsa. I will go and speak to Ekrine. Perhaps we can uncover something else. If I do, I will relay it to you. In the meantime…” she crosses the room and briefly claps one hand on your shoulder. “Slow down. All you know is that this partner of hers is in a leather curer’s shop. There are fifteen in the city and the outlying towns. Be patient. Narrow your search. Enlist allies…THEn attack. Not before. If you die, my alternate means of resolution here are…turbulent.”

You shiver as you recall what ‘turbulent’ means in the context of divine retribution. “Tornadoes made of needles, rifts in space, neverending floods, all those sorts of things,” you provide.

“More or less.” Asa bows once and vanishes.


>wat do


>Ask (Culler, Maas, Ekrine, Dietrich, etc) for aid/advice
>other
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>>32332314
>Ask (Culler, Maas, Ekrine, Dietrich, etc) for aid/advice
We need more level 20's that will do our bidding for free, now that that one guild is requiring we pay.
I guess we could ask the king for funds to hire them, but it would look odd that we're so rich as a simple logistics officer.
Maybe the king could hire them directly?
Or we could look into other guilds, they can't be the only source of powerful fighters/wizards.
>>
>>32332431
The relevant organizations if you want to acquire powerful backup are:
Escorts' Guild
Mercenaries' Guild
Assassins' Guild
Mages' Guild
Alchemists' Guild
Brotherhood
Shadows
Firesouls


The Escorts are professional defenders of convoys and caravans.

The Mercs are...mercs.

Assassins are assassins, duh.

Mages and Alchemists are also obvious.

The brotherhood you know.

The Shadows you know.

The Firesouls are listed as the following in my notes:
4) Firesouls. Two members present. They are like Caine or Lady of Pain: You can’t win.
>>
I shall also point out the following, since I don't want people to be paralyzed by choice: there is no wrong decision for hiring backup, nor is there a wrong decision for being covert. If you want to march into the city square, throw your arms wide, and call down divine speech to reveal yourself to the world, you can. If you want to ally yourself with people far stronger than you, it won't make your own character weak or irrelevant. So far you've avoided combat, but you don't have to. If you want to be in a situation where you're exchanging bullets with an enemy in the forest, seek and ye shall receive. Obviously there are some patterns you could follow that won't yield results, but I won't throw you into a situation where you're either useless or grossly OP.
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>>32332544
I don't know who Caine is, but Lady of Pain is convincing enough. Although now I'm intimidated. Maybe we should recruit them later, for when we might run into the artifact. They might even be able to tank it.

For now, I dunno, get some Shadows to scout out Hooks and his location.
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>>32332828
For comparison, if Brotherhood members are level 15 Pathfinder characters, Firesouls are Max Essence, Max Sorcery, Max Necromancy Zenith Exalts. These guys break countries (though not often. They aren't actually called upon to fight much, they're usually teachers).

So yes. If you need them at all, it won't be to take down the conspiracy muscle. Having them on your side, though...

And Caine is an unkillable NPC from the World of Darkness/Exalted/Shards universe. His Storyteller data is the following line: Player Characters can not defeat Caine.

Now, realistically, all Firesouls can be killed, even those that have tapped the Well of Life, which is all of them. It's just not something most people can do. A bullet to the brain can still stop them, just good luck getting close enough to shoot if they see you coming.
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>>32332991
I've only played 3.5 but that still sounds horrifying.
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OK, writing.
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>>32333311

Also can we go investigate these cultists?

If we're getting the shadows to jump Hooks (and that seems reasonable as we have the king and goveneor onside) we will probs just get in the way. Lets use the time to start infiltrating the Cultists and recruit our own (probably useless) army
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>>32333593
I totally forgot about those guys
yeah lets check them out
>>
If you wish to infiltrate them you can. Asa outright suggested you just knock on the door and say 'fall in line,' and that would work too, eventually. I have some sidequests arranged for the cult quest line if you want to do that. This isn't some Lightning Returns nonsense, there's no doom clock over your heads.
>>
The Brotherhood explicitly said they’d charge for work from here on out, but that’s fine. You need stealth, still, for now. And that means…

“Shadows,” you mutter. “About time they made themselves useful.”


Half an hour later, you’re waiting in the antechamber of the King’s meeting room, a more public area than the place you were meeting before. The number of courtiers and nobles crammed in there is a bit disconcerting. Just because you rub shoulders with a literal demigoddess doesn’t mean you’re used to being equal company with the nobles who have run Cender your whole life.

The chatter in the room isn’t about the court, though. Nor it is about the battle in the south. The talk of the nobles is the commotion in the poor district just yesterday.

“Four Brothers, just walking right into a store and beating someone!” one noble says, all aflutter. “It’s never supposed to be like that!”

“Old Culler must have thought she did something wrong,” another remarks.

“I heard,” another begins, with the unassailable authority of a full-time gossip, “that she was involved in the attack in the woods.”

You tighten your jaw a bit at that. Nobody was supposed to know. And since when are you a Sister?

>”What have you heard?”
>stay quiet and wait for your summons
>writein
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>>32333930
>”What have you heard?”
Hate info leaks. I guess this was unavoidable though.
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>>32333676
>>32333593

OK so my plan would be roughly as follows

1) excuse self whilst king/governer sort out raid, play it off as Asa's calling if need be.
2)ask Jerome's family about where to find these cultists. If I remember right they don't know we are a Herald, so tell them its something related to our Logistics posts.
3) change into non-official clothes and go meet the cultists.
4) make like a crazy person so you fit in, make sure we drop in the fact that we "hear Asa's voice"
5) manipulate the cultists on the sly, get them to act in our interests ideally without giving too much away

And voila, one cultist army on standby for when we actually need them and reveal ourselves, all without anyone knowing we are doing it. That way if king, governor, military or whatever turn out to be evil we have a secret weapon.
>>
Writing.
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The noble that said that last bit is standing right beside you. With all the dutiful appearance you can muster, you turn to him and politely speak up. “Sir, may I ask what you’ve heard about this raid on the person behind the ambush?”

The noble – a count by the cut of his clothes – turns to regard you suspiciously, as he would a strip of steak the wrong color. “And who might you be?”

“Sergeant Ledren, one of three survivors of that attack,” you say smoothly. “And I’d like to know what you’ve heard, sir.”

He stares at you for another moment before answering. “That the Brotherhood was involved in capturing a woman who was there. What are you doing in the Royal court, Sergeant?”

His behavior may be a bit rude, but it is almost unheard-of for an NCO to be present in the Royal antechambers. You swallow your pride and answer calmly. “Passing along a message, sir.”

Before he can retort, a herald – the normal kind – makes his way to the front of the room and calls your name. You disengage from the count and walk up to him; he promptly directs you to the Royal meeting room.

On your way in, you step aside as several lesser nobles – local lords and masters of the gargantuan farms that blanket the countryside – come out, looking variably pleased or annoyed. Inside, Maas is standing beside a throne, a diminished version of the golden affair in his main Audience Hall. He looks appropriately regal, you think, as you approach and take a knee.

“Your Majesty.”

“Rise, Herald,” Maas says. “What news do you have for me?”

>Tell him about the interrogation
>Leave that for Ekrine and Asa, start in on your request for Shadows
>writein


sorry that took so long, dinner is being prepped
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>>32334874

>Tell him about the interrogation
Doubt he'll like being left out of the loop, even for a bit.
>>
Writing.

I may vanish for dinner.
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You do as ordered, folding your hands over your uniform belt. “My Liege, the interrogation yielded only two things of merit, though Asa said she was going to perform a more private interrogation in person,” you say.

Maas starts. “Asa, in my dungeon, interrogating my prisoners?”

“It is so, your Highness,” you say. Hesitation grips you as he reels. “Is that bad?”

“It is…unthinkable, that the Pantheon would have to dirty themselves like that,” he says bitterly. “What times, indeed.”

“Sire, we did learn more,” you press. “The next conspirator for whom we have a location is a mercenary who is known as Hooks. He lives in the same building as a leather curer, somewhere in the Merchantile Quarter.”

“And his exact address?” Maas asks.

“Presently unknown.” You incline your head. “In fact, I wish to ask your assistance in finding him. Perhaps a Shadow with Thief training?”

Maas grimaces as he runs through his options in his head. “Most of my Shadows are either protecting the castle or guarding my wife while she is expecting our second child,” he mutters. It’s really quire unnerving to see him behave so openly near you. He can’t be like this with his other courtiers. Maybe it’s because you’re a Herald.


(con’t)
>>
Well, of course it is, but is it an ability of yours, or does he see you as an equal? You’ll have to ask someone.

“Did you speak with the Governor?” he asks you.

You snap out of your reverie. “Sire, I did. Extensively. He is disappointed by the lack of progress, but he said I may do as I will to resolve this.” You pause again as you parse your own words. “Obviously, he meant without exceeding any bounds set by your Highness, but…”

Maas waves it off. “Of course he did, Ekrine is the most loyal man I know. Do you know what you will be doing while my Shadow seeks out your prey?”

> “By your leave, infiltrating the Circle.”
> “Recruiting the Firesouls, if I can find them.”
> “Resting and recuperating. Taking Feathers alive was challenging.”
>writein
>>
>>32335364
> “By your leave, infiltrating the Circle.”
>>
dump
>>
Back from food. Writing.
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“By your leave, Sire, there is a…project I would like to undertake.” You remain standing while Maas sinks into his chair and bids you continue. “Are you aware of the Circle of Fervent Ardency?”

“A cult,” Maas says immediately. “Dedicated to preserving and enforcing the old ways of the Faiths. Both harmless and useless.”

You can’t help but be impressed with his recall. “You have an exceptional memory, Sire,” you say.

“Thank you.” He leans forward. “This cult. You wish it destroyed?”

“Subverted.” You gesture to your forehead. “This gem binds me to Asa in a way no worshipper could be bound. Yet, despite the futility of their lives and practices, they adhere to them. Out of fear? Love? I don’t know. But I can use them.”

Maas’ glittering purple eyes narrow as soon as you employ the word ‘use.’ “Do continue,” he says.

You raise both hands in frustration. It’s not feigned. “Sire, they have been waiting for a leader, a sign of gratitude for their devotion, for three thousand years. Three thousand. I can be that leader. I can be their guide. Turn them away from their practices of isolation and exclusion and make something of them! They are discordant, and they don’t need to be!” You don’t need to be a Herald to dislike that thought. Anyone who serves in uniform finds the idea of practicing the old faiths strange.

“So what?” Maas asks bluntly. “How would you use them?”

Good question.


>”Spies.”
>”Soldiers.”
>”Speakers and recruiters.”
>”Whatever I need them to be.”
>writein
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>>32336449
>Spies and errand runners
>>
Writing.

Where is everybody tonight?
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>>32336689
Lurking I think. The occasional bumps didn't come from me.
>>
“They’re generally considered harmless, as you say, Sire, so I suspect that I would use them primarily as spies and errand runners,” you tell him. “That would be in keeping with their general depiction.”

A scowl of genuine anger crosses Maas’ face. “Really.”

You recoil a bit at his unabashed dismay. “Sire?”

“This Circle. They’ve existed for three thousand years, correct?” he asks. “Their traditions and behaviors maintained?”

“Yes, Sire,” you ask, wondering where he’s going with this.

“And their devotion to the Pantheon is so absolute, they uphold it even though the Pantheon has never even acknowledged them, much less told them what to do, yes?” he continues.

“Correct.”

He leans forward and fixes an angry glare on you. “And I am supposed to lend you my favor for this project of yours?”

You feel your jaw drop. “Sire?”

“My nation is rent with banditry, we’re losing ground in the south, a conspiracy threatens to unmake this city,” he says, nearly growling the words out, “and you would seek my favor to turn a harmless band of pious citizens, whose culture is that of never-ending devotion…into a spy ring? They have kept their torches burning despite a total lack of approval for three millennia, and clearly they outlive all threats and challenges. I am under siege on all sides by threats, and you would create another?”

You feel a little anger color your own words now. “I would direct them to unmake and spy upon a threat to your kingdom!”


Roll 1d100+6 for Persuasion.

>If you wish, you may use your Divine Speech abilities – any of them – to gain an additional bonus to your words here. Indicate which one you want, I’ll take the majority. Each has its own modifier, so I’ll just add it to the winning roll myself.
>>
Rolled 4 + 6

>>32337022
I dunno, tell him Asa recommended we make use of these cultists?

Geez, it seems like no matter what we do people get mad at us.
>>
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Going with the 10.

If there had been even one other roll...
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>If you wish, you may use your Divine Speech abilities – any of them – to gain an additional bonus to your words here. Indicate which one you want, I’ll take the majority. Each has its own modifier, so I’ll just add it to the winning roll myself.

“Oh, indeed, I have no doubt of it!” Maas snaps. “And then, Moor and his band, they will all be dead, and peace will reign! And then…what? This Circle dissolves? I think not! If you die, WHEN you die, what will become of them then? A pack of zealous worshippers of a Pantheon that ignores them, now bereft of leadership and direction? I will tell you, Herald! They will turn on each other like feral dogs! They will rip themselves apart to MAKE a direction, to FIND a leader! And how many lives will they claim in the interim? How many families, rent asunder?” He’s nearly yelling now. “What world will I leave my daughter? One that contains a pack of undirected zealots, or one which does not?”

You grip your hands at ease and force yourself to remain calm. “Asa will not allow it. Vier and Haret will not allow it.”

“Allow what, Herald?” Maas asks thinly. “Piety? Or piety, unfettered?”

“Asa will not let them stay undirected if they reward my oversight of their behavior with obedience!” you say, cheeks flushing. “They will not! If I must, I will ask them all to disband until so needed! Hell, you could even annex them!”

“Annex?” Maas asks, suddenly taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“Sire, think! You have a chance to be the king that ends their oppression! The King that turns them back into accepted peoples of Cender!” you bark. Maas flies to his feet. You instantly take a knee as shock roils your stomach. “I ask your forgiveness, Sire, that was absolutely out of line,” you say quietly.

“Oppression?” he hisses. “Oppression? They are my citizens, Herald.”


(con’t)
>>
“I…was wrong to say that,” you admit. “Asa herself suggested that I tap them for aid. I wished only to ask your advice and permission first.”

“My advice is to ignore them,” Maas bites off. “My permission…”

Silence fills the room. After several unbearable seconds, you dare to look up, and see Maas staring into the distance, fists clenched tight. “Herald. Asa asked you to do this?” he finally demands.

“She did, Sire.”

“And you can vow that they will never, ever become a greater threat?” he asks, every word dripping with menace.

Your finger races to your forehead. {Asa, quickly, how do you intend to contain the Circle once my task is finished?}

[Disband them personally, why?] her voice comes back, sounding quite surprised.

“Asa gives her word,” you reply to Maas.

He slams his hands down on the armrests of his throne and slumps back in, clearly still livid. “Then do it, Herald, but know that the burden of responsibility it will put on you is vast indeed, for this group will answer only to an authority higher than mine,” he says curtly. “Was there anything else?”


>”Only my apology, your Highness.”
>”Yes, actually…(what)”
>”No, Sire.”
>>
>>32337644
>”Only my apology, your Highness.”
>>
>>32337644

>"Only my apology, your Highness"

--------------

Holy hell in a handbasket, i step out for a few hours to watch Xmen and this happens??

This is why I didnt want to tell ANYONE we were seeing the cultists xD

Ah well back now to watch the aftermath for what its worth!
>>
Writing.
>>
You rise from your crouch and stand again, as awkward as you’ve ever felt. “I wish to apologize again. I did not mean to imply that you are a tyrant.”

“I should SINCERELY hope not, Herald,” Maas says coldly. Then, abruptly, he snorts in grim humor. “Though you are perhaps the only person who could.”

“You aren’t. I wouldn’t have enlisted to serve a tyrant,” you insist. “It was just a stupid thing of me to say. All I really wanted to ask you to send a Shadow to see if the mercenary Hooks is hiding in a local leather curer, and see what you thought of the Circle.”

He sighs heavily. “Good.” He kneads his fingers into his eyes and mumbles his next words. “I suppose that the Pantheon being involved in things for the first time in so long is bound to stir things up somewhat.”

“I swear, I won’t use them as spies against anyone but the conspirators,” you say contritely.

“Of course you won’t, your Eminence,” Maas says heavily.

You sense the audience come to an end, and you start to walk away. As you approach the door, though, Maas calls out to you. “Herald!”

You turn to see him staring bleakly after you. “Sire?”

“I have a child on the way,” he says simply.

“I know, Sire. Thank you,” you say, and you make your exit.


(con’t)
>>
As you wend your way through the halls of the castle, making for Darril and Laura’s house, Asa’s voice whispers in your mind. [My daughter?]

{I said something very stupid to Maas,} you say shamefully. {This cult had better be worth it.}

[It all depends on how you use them,] Asa replies. [I have confidence in you.]

{Glad to hear one of us does now,} you say wistfully. {How did your interrogation go?}

[Abruptly,] Asa says. [Feathers was so frightened that she broke down bawling as soon as I started asking questions. So many people think they’ll face their behavior in life when they leave it, and not before…]

{What did you learn?} you ask.

[Little. I’m editing that list of conspirators, and I’ll give it to you tonight. For now, simply find us a new target.]

{I’m on it now,} you inform her. You pull your hand away as you pass a few people in the halls of the building. {You know, I’ve been meaning to ask, my Lady. Someone told me I should have a Heraldic uniform. Is that the case?}

Asa’s voice is quiet for a moment, then she starts laughing. [So it is! I had forgotten entirely. Ah, the times, they pass. Well, I suppose you should! I’ll see if I can’t find the patterns in my memory.]


>{Oh, you needn’t.}
>{I’m not expected to wear it at all times, am I?}
>{It would help my standing in this cult if I have a visible sign of my allegiance.}
>writein
>>
>>32338559
>{Oh, you needn’t.}
>>
Writing.
>>
Her enthusiasm is perhaps…too high. {Oh, you needn’t-}

[Tut tut tut, Elsa, this is a chance for me to actually enjoy myself for once! I get to play dress-up with someone! Oh, let’s see here…it had crimson cuffs, originally, but that was so depressing. All symbolic, you know. Ohh, perhaps the chain around the neck is…] her voice trails on.

You pull your hand away, and the stream of consciousness mercifully cuts off. “My life,” you mutter. A demigoddess is playing dress-up. With you. Goodie.


Outside, the gathering clouds of a storm are drifting in from the west. There’ll be a heavy rain tonight. That will be a pain for the guys digging out your basement. Come to think of that, how is that going? You may want to check on that later.

Your feet take you to the townhouse where Darril and Laura live, and where Jerome and you are staying while the work on your house is ongoing. You walk in the back door and climb up to the top floor, where Jerome dumped your stuff. You regard the pile of clothes, wondering what would best suit you if you’re going to go make contact with this cult.

>Military gear – show some authority!
>Peasant garb – play the needy in search of comfort!
>Something nice and casual – you’re an Everywoman who’s seeking succor!
>writein
>>
>>32339071
Is there some way to cross the authority of the military gear with the not standing out-ness of casual clothing? Maybe somewhat fancy clothes?
>>
You could do that, if you wanted.
>>
>>32339231
yes plz
military gear seems like it would stand out too much
plus the general and king would be even less happy if we showed up in uniform
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>>32338559

>"Did the Heralds of old need uniforms all the time? This Mark is identifying enough don't you think?!
>>
>>32339071

>You're an everywoman seeking succour

Though maybe take along our enchanted knife just in case
>>
Writing.

>>32339354
Know how angels in Old Testament lore were basically unknowable monsters? Those were basically the demons of Tarsh. Benevolent, but fucking scary. Avatars are physical projections of the Pantheon: they're physically there, but not the gods themselves. Heralds are the conduits by which the Pantheon communicated constantly, without the Avatars around.


To put it in perspective, Demons were benevolent, collective projections of a particular species' mores and values, Avatars are the gods/demigods' thoughts made manifest, and Heralds are mortals who have, in essence, sold their souls to the gods in advance of actually dying, in exchange for superpowers and responsibilities.

Therefore, originally, Heralds were the ONLY mortals besides the occasional priest that were authorized to speak on the Pantheon's behalf, since Avatars were once far less common. They had uniforms, they had codes, they had laws, they had training, all of which applied solely to them.

Asa misses the old days. She misses them very much.
>>
>>32339579
So how are the demons related to the gods?
>>
>>32339579
They weren't. Not directly. They were the collective projections of entire species, and they could only assume physical shape because the gods existed.

That's why there's none left, even though there are two races still extant. They need to be given physical form by the Gods, the capital G Gods, so that they can move and act. The Gods are all gone. Demigods can't create demons from the thoughts of the living any more.

That's why this Orb is so fucking scary to the mortals that learn of it. The name suggests that a Demon of a race that seriously fucked up entire species is out there somewhere. It's scary to the Pantheon, too, because it's the only thing left in the world besides a few arcane spells that can actually kill them; and the world is teetering on the brink of total environmental collapse thanks to the fact that the Pantheon has hit critical numbers. Lose one more, and the alchemic weather machines will shut down.
>>
>>32339714
man
someone should just like ascend to divinity already
maybe one of those firesouls
>>
>>32339714

Can you remind us how the demigods were created? Was it direct creation by the Gods/demigods or is Ascension possible?
>>
>>32339917

Ascension is impossible, sadly. Even for the Gifted.

>>32339798
Demigods were spun from nothing. They're literally anthropomorphised environmental objects. Air, water, sound waves. The Gods created them from parts of the world around them to serve as lieutenants.
>>
>>32340130
So we pretty much should hunt down and destroy anything capable of killing demigods
>>
>>32340187

That's the current mission we are on yup :)
>>
You want to fit in. Showing up in full kit and armor is obviously out of the question. But if you want to get a foot in the door…you have options.

You shuck your clothes, taking a moment to look your bare body over in the mirror. Is it just your imagination, or are you looking a bit…skinny? Admittedly, you haven’t had the chance to work out in proper military PT for a while, and who eats as much as a soldier with a full workout schedule? Maybe you should start training again. You walk up to the mirrorand examine the clothing you’ve selected: a nice purple tunic with crisp, military cut. It’s supposed to the undershirt of your most formal uniform variant.

The bandana won’t do. Maybe a hat? If they meet indoors, it could be a problem, but apparently they brand themselves, so it shouldn’t be too bad. You swap out the bandana for something more formal, and then give yourself another once-over.

Yeah, that’ll do.


(con’t)
>>
You tap your forehead. {My Lady, sorry to interrupt your fashion planning, but I have a question. The Circle, do you know where to find them?}

[Oh, indeed, they’re based out of a library in the nobles’ quarter,] Asa replies at once. [They have a few noble members, you see.]

{Thanks. I’m heading there now.}

[Without your uniform?] Asa asks.

You hesitate. {Let’s save the revelation for later, all right, my Lady? Let’s keep our ace in our sleeve.}

Asa sighs. [Oh, fine. But I am going to make it, my daughter, oh yes. I’m afraid it’s inevitable.]

You groan and cut the link…just in time. Downstairs, the door rattles open. “Elsa? Are you here?” Darril’s voice calls.

“Upstairs changing, Darril,” you shout down the stairs. “I’ll be right there.”

“Don’t bother, I’m just having lunch. Want something?” he asks.

You tromp down the stairs in your new getup, sliding your dagger under your belt as you do. Never hurts to be prepared. “I’ll make myself a sandwich, maybe, then I need to go. I’m meeting someone in the library.”

“’Kay.” He spots your outfit as you enter the kitchen. “You look nice. Who are you meeting?”

“Just a friend from work,” you bluff. “Gotta get in good with the new management, right?”

“Sure, sure.”

You hastily fix up and devour a sandwich before grabbing an apple for the road and heading out. As you head for the library – which you used to pass every day on your way to work – you think over your plan.


>What’s your plan?

>Simply look around the library for some information
>Actively seek out members
>>
>>32340595
>Actively seek out members
>>
Writing.
>>
The library’s face is a welcome sight. The old building is classically decorated, with vine designs around the trim and columns that are naturally appealing to elves like you. The structure has a small courtyard out back, with a nice little fountain. Thick, well-tended trees cast deep shadows over one side of the courtyard, while the building itself is overflowing with light – both from skylights and wall sconces. Interestingly, the sconces have actual torches in them, not glowlights. Maybe to keep the papers dry, you muse as you walk in.

At the front desk, a trio of librarians are discussing something. To the side is a bulletin board with all sorts of notices. To the other side is a small array of books and maps about the city itself – maybe tourists come here for something.

You head up to the bulletin board first, looking for anything that might let you know where the group may be. The first thing that catches your eye is a poster, advertising something called the ‘discussion circle.’ That doesn’t mean much by itself, of course. What may mean something is a small collection of letters that look distinctly like your forehead glyph at the bottom of the page. You’ve never actually seen them before.

>Look around some more
>Ask the librarians if the Circle ever appears here
>writein
>>
>>32341102
>Look around some more
If we ask about cultists we'll look weird
>>
Writing.
>>
The rest of the postings seem fairly innocuous – wanted poster here, a few lost pets, some requests for services or advertisements…there is one other that seems to be of some relevance. A new-looking bill, posted over in the corner, on top of some older material, is a notice that there will be a meeting to ‘bid farewell to the souls lost in the battle of the highway.’ There’s no indication if it’s just a Cenderian Sendoff or an actual prayer meet.

Either way, there’s clearly something going on here. Asa said that they had some noble sponsors, so maybe there’s some sign here of whom they have in their corner.

The entry room is quite small, it’s clearly just for gathering and depositing books. Actual leisure libraries are fairly rare, it’s only because of Clen’s wealth and size that it has one at all. Most major libraries are research and storage places, or else confined to the private wealth of a patron. That a religious movement would act in one is a bit odd. Especially since they seem to have some noble patronage.

You walk through the hallway into a stacks room. There are some well-dressed people with small children sitting at tables, reading and speaking softly; off in one corner is a reference desk…and in the back is the door to the courtyard. You can see at least sixty people out there, all listening to one person speak.


>wat do
>>
>>32341896
>Go out into the courtyard and listen to the speaker
>>
Writing.
>>
Hardly daring to believe your luck that you could have found a meeting of the Circle so easily, you walk through the building and straight out the back, joining the crowd.

The speaker isn’t trying to whip the crowd into a frenzy, either; she’s speaking quite somberly. “May the souls, then, find their way,” she says, looking over the group. “All who were taken from this life too soon, in the cowardly ambush of our friends and family. All those who were murdered in the convoys before that, all those who were sent to the divine before it was deserved. May Asa’s light, Vier’s mercy, and Haret’s wisdom greet them.”

As she speaks, you observe the crowd. It’s an eclectic bunch, all right. Most are younger, with some older folk here and there. A few are dressed like nobles, with the sort of low-cut, rakish clothes that you associate with the upper tiers. Most, though, are laborers, workers. Some have Guild pins, most don’t. All in all, a good mix of Cenderians.

“As we depart from this place, my friends, keep the blessings of the Pantheon in your foremost thoughts, for someday, the path the lost tread will be our path,” she intones.

You can’t help but feel some annoyance. Seriously? Not even quotes from the old holy books? Just greeting card sentiment? Some cult.

Then, you’re in public. Maybe the fun stuff happens behind closed doors. In fact, is this even the Circle? They’re not invoking dead Pantheon members…


(con’t)
>>
You feign prayer by dipping your head forward and pressing your hand to the gem under the brim of your hat. {My Lady, I’m in the library courtyard. I’m surrounded by dozens of people, all listening to some woman talk about souls and pathways.}

[Is the speaker a light elf with bright silver eyes and a tattoo on her upper arms?] Asa asks.

You peek up. She fits that description perfectly. {Yes.}

[She’s in the Circle. These people aren’t,] Asa says. [Several of its members died in recent years. This will be where recruitment is undertaken, not public activity. Stick around after she stops talking and mingle. Listen to anyone who seems to be more purposeful.]

{Thanks, my Lady.} You break contact as the woman starts wrapping it all up.

“Let us return now, to our lives and our families, with the grace of the Triad in our hearts,” the woman says. As if it were a signal, the group stirs. Conversations form in spots, while the woman herself makes a beeline for a pitcher of water in the corner of the courtyard, where several people…with identical tattoos wait. Interesting.


>Eavesdrop on the group attendees
>Try to spy on the speaker
>Just reveal yourself (this option is available at all times)
>>
>>32342488
>Go up to the speaker, tell her you're interested in joining.
>>
Writing.
>>
As the groups mingle and chat, you meander closer to the speaker. She’s not particularly old, but she does have a certain gravitas. She’s dressed conservatively for autumn, though she’s making no attempt to hide her tattoos. In fact…

You squint as unobtrusively as you can and spot a tattoo on her arm that looks exactly like the glyph on your forehead. It’s not a one hundred percent perfect recreation, but it’s close. As you drift from group to group to get closer, you gradually pick up the thread of her conversation.

“I was impressed by the turnout,” one of the other tattooed people says quietly.

“I see five people here at least from the meetings,” the speaker agrees. “That’s more than I was expecting.”

“It’s auspicious, but these are odd times,” the first one says. “So many people lost…”

You drift a bit closer, straining your ears. “Do you see any who might be willing to come with us?” the speaker asks the little ring of people.

“Only one or two. I think most are just scared, looking for comfort,” one replies, and the others nod. “We need people willing to undertake some sacrifice.”

Well, there’s your opening.


>Roll 1d100+4 for Charm.
>>
Rolled 59 + 4

>>32342946
>>
Writing.
>>
You walk up behind the speaker and wait politely until she notices you. She turns around and takes you in with a glance. Your Auxilia experience lets you spot the appraisal in her look-over, like the way she takes in your hands and eyes. It’s the sort of appraisal you’d expect from a public speaker.

Whatever she’s looking for, she apparently doesn’t find it. “Can I help you, ma’am?” she asks.

You can’t come off as too eager, right? “Actually,” you say, “I’d like to ask that myself.”

She tilts her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Well…I was just thinking about all the people we lost in the forest,” you say sadly. “I just…I don’t know, I heard what you said, and I agreed! I thought there had to be something else I can do, but…”

She nods sadly. “It was a horrible mess, to be sure.”

“Do you know what I mean, though?” you ask, feigning desperation. “I mean…is it wrong to ask Asa to punish the monsters responsible for this?”

And that grabs her attention. Everyone knows prayer accomplishes nothing. That you would claim an interest in it seems to perk her up a bit.

Or maybe you’re being cynical. Maybe they’re not deluded. Maybe this is just how they live their lives. Regardless, she’s piqued.

[TEMPORARY END OF THREAD]
>>
File: 1398482405827.png (27 KB, 792x612)
27 KB
27 KB PNG
Sorry folks, I'm tuckered out. If this is here in the morning, I'll keep going, so please keep this alive! I'd love to power all the way through to Monday.
>>
>>32343436
k
If the thread dies you can just make a new one though.
>>
>>32343491
it might just be his personal rule though, if its up he keeps the show-a-going. I dunno though
>>
>>32343698
bump
>>
>>32344838
Bump
>>
>>32343436

live...LIVE
>>
>>32343436
bumpity bump bump
>>
Nicely done, elegan/tg/entlemen, I'll keep going on and off throughout the day.
>>
“Of course it isn’t,” the speaker says. “One day, when they pass from the world.”

Well, that erases that ambiguity. Everybody knows that the ad hoc afterlife the demigods threw together doesn’t vary from person to person. She’s outright denying it?

“What do you mean?” you ask. “Isn’t it the same for everyone?”

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” she says with more confidence than the statement implies. “I’ll tell you what. We’re holding a book meeting tomorrow afternoon. Can you meet up with us? Maybe I can answer some of your questions.”

“I’d like that,” you reply. “When and where?”

“Oh, we meet here, every Friday at four, and stay until six or so,” she informs you.

“I’ll be there, thanks,” you say, after a moment’s consideration for effect.

“All right! I’ll see you then,” she says warmly. “And ask for Arisa, she leads the group.”

“Much obliged, thank you,” you say with equal warmth.


As the group disperses, you find a discreet corner and page your patroness. {Well…that was easy,} you remark.

[You found your way in already? I’m…astonished,] Asa says. [Really? They’re usually much more covert!]

{Why would they shift protocol?} you ask.

[This is a frightening time,] Asa says dolefully. [The old ways of worship were pretty deeply ingrained, you know. Some people seek to…no, I won’t say exploit, but perhaps provide solidarity with that.]

{So what should I do in the meantime? They’re only meeting tomorrow.]

{The day is yours, Elsa. You’ve won a victory and are arranging another. Take some time and prepare, rest, resupply. Do as you wish.]


Cool.

>Track down (Dervich/Firesouls/other)
>Go get some more enchantments on your kit
>Check out the house
>other

You are not limited to one choice!
>>
>>32350821
>Track down (Dervich/Firesouls/other)
I fuess we could try and bro it up with the firesouls.

After that check out the house.
>>
>>32350821
Also ask Asa about heraldic outfits. Are they normal, magic?
>>
I've been asked to scour out a bathroom; I will be back to write in half an hour or so.


And to answer a previous question: Yes, I prefer to keep it all in one thread so it doesn't clutter the archive.
>>
>>32350821

Drop by the General and ask if we can get some free enchantments from the military armory (the brotherhood want us to pay now I think)

Then maybe look for these firesoul people
>>
Writing.
>>
{Then I want to track down the Firesouls,} you tell Asa. {What do I need to know?}

[Merely that they are the most powerful mages in all the world, bar none, and are fairly easy to find. The first place they go when they enter a city is the biggest magic academy they can find. Not by choice, you understand, but because they are hounded to give guest lectures while they’re there.]

You feel a little thrill when you hear that. The Firesouls. Guardians of entire nations. Students of the immortal Master Sun. There’s nobody else like them, to put it simply. Having them on your side would be incomparable.

Asa can clearly tell that you’re nervous. [Second thoughts?]

{No, but…they’re the Firesouls. They’re bloody frightening,} you say defensively.

[They can be, yes. Sun could probably defeat an Avatar in battle, to be honest,] Asa muses. [Immersing oneself in the Well so fully does that.]

{Will I even be needed after I recruit them?} you ask. {I mean, if they’re that powerful, can’t they overcome the conspiracy by themselves?}

[If the conspirators were foolish enough to fight them in the open, sure. Have they done that so far? I’m not aware of any public movements on their parts,] Asa reasonably points out. [And the Orb will kill them as fast as anyone. Besides, have you ever seen a Firesoul uniform? You can see them a mile away.]

You pounds on that line. {Yeah, speaking of uniforms, what’s this uniform you’re creating for me? Is it magic, or something? Do I have to wear it at all times?}

Asa chuckles. [No, no, it’s not mandatory. It’s just a little treasure I’ve recreated for my beloved daughter. It’s not magic, either, it’s just another sign of your station. You could get it enchanted, if you wanted.]
>Head directly for the Mages’ Academy in the city to look for the Firesouls
>Swing by the house first
>other
>>
>>32351692

>Swing by the house first. Change clothes to something a little more formal.

We're currently in our Sunday best to try and infiltrate the cultists, I reckon if we are trying to meet Firesouls we want our military uniform to at least peak their interest and get our foot in the door. The fact that the breastplate/chest piece is enchanted and will be visible to them a mile off probs can't hurt!
>>
Back and writing!
>>
{I think I should change first, I look like a schoolteacher in this outfit,} you remark as you make your way through the streets. {Get my military uniform on.}

[Good idea. You could pose as a messenger from the King to get them on their own,] Asa suggests. Her quiet, patient voice is distinctly soothing to your frazzled nerves. Between the tension of the meeting and the perfectly understandable intimidation one feels when one is asking the Firesouls for a favor, you’re pretty hyped up. [On the whole, though, I suggest you don’t reveal your service to me instantly. Get them into a dialogue first, discuss the meeting in the forest perhaps.]

{Okay…I’ll keep that in mind,} you promise. As you pull your finger away from your forehead, you look up to see the row of houses and market stalls that delineates the unofficial boundary between the military district and the noble district. Your house is close enough to the garrison that it’s an easy walk. You arrive at the ten-house row where you bought your home, and wince at the number of open doors. Bottles and books and plants cover the second-floor balconies you all have. The send-off for the dead from your battalion may be over, but some people are still clearly staying home out of grief.

You sidle up to the block, trying to look inconspicuous, but before you can get halfway, a man in an Artisan’s Guild uniform emerges from your house, a cigar clenched in his teeth. As you walk up to your house, he spots you coming and taps some ash into the street. “This your place?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say, trying not to get too mad that he was smoking indoors.

“’Kay. The tunnel is about eighty percent done. We’ll be outta here in the morning,” he reports, puffing smoke into the crisp autumn air.

“That fast? Impressive,” you say.

(con't)
>>
He nods. “Dunno who’s backing this, but there was no number in the budget field on the order form. We’re just having the Utility mages do a lotta the work.”

“ELSA!” a voice suddenly screams. You jump a handspan and spin around to see one of your neighbors sprinting up to you. “Elsa! Elsa, Elsa, you’re alive!”

Oh…crap. It’s Evaline, the widow of one of the other Sergeants in your company. She thought you were dead, too. “Uh, hi, Evie,” you manage, before she nearly tackles you.

“Elsa, where have you been? What happened?” she sobs.

>writein
>>
>>32352893

"Been a rough couple of days. Sorry I haven't come by sooner, I only got back due to blind luck and between the debriefing and counseling ive only just got out..."
>>
You awkwardly tug your arms loose and hug her, trying not to let her knock your hat askew. “Evie, hey, it’s been rough,” you say softly. “I’ve been super busy. I got hurt in the fight, I needed to get that taken care of…and I only got here because of blind luck. Sorry…”

“Does Jerome know you’re okay? When we saw them excavate your basement, we thought he had been evicted or something,” she sniffled.

“No, no, he’s fine, he’s staying with his older brother,” you soothe her. “It’s fine. Sorry I spooked you…”

“Y-you didn’t,” the older woman sighs, “I just…I lost Dominic, you know, he was at the fight too.”

You pull her into another hug before she dissolves into crying again. “I know, and I’m sorry,” you tell her. “I’m really sorry.”

“Were you there? Did you see what happened?” she asks tremulously.

You freeze. “Uh…I got hit, I wasn’t really conscious,” you say. “I mean, the healer got to me, but I was out of it.”

She sniffles and lets go of your shirt. “W-who else made it back?” she asks.

“Me and two others from the battalion,” you say. “I was healed by a passing merchant who found us.”

“Oh.” She wipes her eyes. “I’m…well, you know. It’s the risk you take, right? Losing someone?”

You wince. “Yeah. I don’t know what to say to that.”

She dries her face on a hankie before squinting at the Artisan, who finishes his cigar and dumps it into a trash bin on the street before heading back in. “What are you doing to your house?”

“Digging out the basement, something about the old water line,” you say glibly. “Should be done soon. Sorry if the racket is bothering you.”

(con't)
>>
“They’ve been fairly quiet, actually,” Evaline says. She puts her hanky back in her pocket and shuffles her feet a bit. “Um, do you have somewhere to be?”

“I do, actually, I just need to change and go,” you acknowledge. “I’ll be around tomorrow night if you need to talk to someone.”

“I’d really appreciate that,” she says thankfully. “We all would. They haven’t brought the bodies back…there hasn’t been a funeral, even.”

And thanks to the Orb, there won’t be a body to bury. Still, they’ll have to pass along the truth at some point.


You duck into your bedroom and change quickly, pulling on a spare uniform, complete with bandana. Your enchanted armor is n Darril’s house, but you can grab it on your way to the Academy. As you snug on your military gear, you reflect on what little you really know about the Firesouls.

Each is selected from a pool of applicants by the Firesoul Master, a human man named Sun. Every candidate is screened, and then a small number are accepted each year, or even none that year. Training is around fifty years, but invariably involves tapping the Well; some Firesouls live up to four hundred years. After a mysterious graduation ritual, they’re sent out into the world to teach, fight, or do whatever else they may wish to do. They usually wind up joining some royal retinue or something eventually, but most choose to teach in the interim.

“Here’s to hoping they still feel obligated to obey the Pantheon at their level of power,” you mumble.


(con’t)
>>
The imposing face of the Clen Mages’ Academy looms over the collection of buildings that surround it. It’s absolutely covered in symbolic decorations, with huge images of past events and people embossed on the stone and metal structure. Every window is open, even this late in the year, and plants decorate every windowsill – probably to cover up the smell of alchemy.

You fight down nerves and walk right in like you own the place, glancing around. The first thing you see is the front desk, where a mage in a light green cloak over a teacher’s robe is reading a book. All around her are dozens and dozens of potted plants, arranged in a maze-like array, with conversation nooks filling the spaces between rows.

>walk right up and ask (a question)
>explore the building on your own
>writein


I'm very sorry that took so long to write, I'm preparing for a dinner party.
>>
>>32354162
>walk right up and ask (a question)
Ask if the Firesouls are at the academy, and if so, where you could find them and/or get a private meeting.
>>
>>32354240
+1
>>
The receptionist looks up from her book – a ludicrously racy romance from the look of it – and smiles. “Can I help you, soldier?”

“Possibly, ma’am,” you say. “May I confirm that a Firesoul is presently in attendance or guest lecturing at this Academy?”

The receptionist sets down her book. “There is. Do you wish to attend the lecture?”

“In fact, I need to pass along a message to them,” you reply. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I need to speak to them in person.”

The receptionist looks down at her schedule. “Master Garren will be free at…three thirty. If you’d like, you could wait here, or you could come back.”

Roll 1d100+5 for Perception.
>>
Rolled 37 + 5

>>32354596
>>
Rolled 39 + 5

>>32354596

Perception ahoy! (did the dicing work? first time using it)
>>
Yeah, you did it right, it just didn't hit the Difficulty Check.

Writing.
>>
Rolled 60 + 5

>>32354774

Dice gods favour the bold not the new it appears!
>>
“I think I’ll just wait here,” you say politely.

She takes in the room with an expansive wave. “Then by all means, avail yourself of the place until the lecture ends.”

You nod with military precision and take a seat in the nearest conversation circle. After nearly an hour, a stream of eager young-looking people appears, walking out of a pair of large wooden doors. You peer through from where you’re sitting and a darkened ceiling, with only a few dim glowstones. You rise to your feet and wait by the door for the stream of humans and elves to end; when it does, you look in to see a large, steeply sloped amphitheater lecture hall, with a podium at the bottom. Even though the room is emptying, the lectern still has a person behind it.

At this distance, it’s hard to see, but it looks like a woman, in a shimmering blue cloak. She’s deep in earnest discussion with a small group of students who are clearly debating some point or another.

>Just wait for her to be done
>Head right down and listen in
>writein
>>
*SEE a darkened ceiling, derp.
>>
>>32355131
>Head right down and listen in
>>
Rolled 84 + 5

>>32355131

>Head right down and listen in

Maybe find a seat a few rows back where we can hear but don't actively participate in the magic chat we dont have a clue about!
>>
>>32355369

i have now worked out how to stop rolling dice with every reply as well...
>>
You walk down past the last few students that are leaving. You look about the same age as them, but what does that mean? They’re mages. Magic extends one’s life; if it didn’t take so long to master, it’d be downright unfair. You pause at the end of one row of seats to listen in.

“Traveler, I don’t quite understand, though,” one student asks. “How can a cascade of energy be anything but directed? It’s all for achieving a specific spell’s goal, isn’t it?”

“Not quite,” the woman in the robe says. Her voice is so rich and vibrant with power that it sends a chill through your stomach. Is that how you sound when Asa’s speaking through you? “A spell isn’t a goal, nor can it have a goal. It is used towards the accomplishment of a goal. Nothing more. It may be directed, it may be undirected, but the magic BEHIND the spell can only go to where the caster wants it to.”

“Then how can accidents happen in magic?” the student asks. “I mean, if the magic cascade is only going where the caster…”

The woman – it must be the Firesoul – smiles at the flustered student. “Some spells affect areas instead of individual objects. Some spells have verbal components that can be mispronounced. Some spells are complex enough that the situation may change mid-cast.”

“Oh, right,” the student mutters. “Well…thanks. I didn’t understand.”

“Sure. Be on your way if you have another class,” the Firesoul says calmly, and dismisses the student.

(con’t)
>>
The Firesoul spots you standing there and beckons you close. “Can I help you, soldier?” she asks. The rest of the room has emptied by now.

As you approach, you spot a few more details. The shimmering blue you spotted before is her cloak, she has a robe on under that and armor on under that. The cloak is a single sky-blue piece of fabric, complete with a hood, and a row of buttons up the front. A copper chain connects the cloak to the robe beneath at the neck; it has a belt at the waist which she’s left unfastened. The robe and armor are too obscured to make out much.

You march up and salute, letting your spear hang behind you on a strap. “Master Garren?”

The woman, a wilderness elf like yourself, shakes her head. “No, just Traveler. I’m still a few centuries out from Master. What can I do for you?”

>”I bear a message from (person)”
>”Asa sent me”
>writein

ALL ANSWERS: roll 1d100-1 for Intimidation
>>
Rolled 58 - 1

>>32355811
>”Asa sent me”
>>
>>32355811

"Honoured to meet you Traveller. I'm glad you made it safe to your classes here, the roads have been even more unsafe than usual of late.
>>
>>32355898
Dice roll for the above
>>
>>32355915
>>32355898
You're missing the number of dice.
>>
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>>32355898
>>32355915
>>
>>32355915

There?
>>
>>32356136
AAARAGGGHGHGHGHGHGH
>>
“Ah, well…I have a message for you…” You trail off. The air around the Firesoul isn’t…vibrating, exactly, but there’s SOMETHING going on there. “Ah, I’m glad you could make it here, Traveler, the roads have been torturous lately.”

The Firesoul cocks an eyebrow and points subtly to a small antechamber off the main lecture hall. You follow her in, swallowing as she closes the door. “Is there something wrong, Sergeant?” she asks. “You seem a bit perturbed. Are you surveilled?”

“Well…I mean no offense, Traveler, but you’re rather intimidating,” you say defensively. “I can see your aura, it’s so bright.”

The Firesoul’s hand flies to her waist. “What did you say?” she asks quietly. Suddenly the air in the room feels about fifty degrees colder. “What do you see?”

“Uh…” your throat goes bone dry as you see her hand drift towards the hilt of a weapon. “I…when I was approaching, I saw a weird vibration in the air around you…”

Garren’s deep green eyes close for a second. When she opens them, they’re gold. You feel a distinct sense of being watched for an instant –

“What…ARE you?” she hisses. “I see energy coursing through you I’ve not seen in a hundred years of training!”


>Wat say
just don't capitalize dice or d
>>
Rolled 80 + 1

>>32356149

Last try
>>
>>32356149
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rhBe_c54Dpg&feature=kp
>>
>>32356269
>Ask her what she just did.
>>
>>32356271

To modify with a negative, just use a numberdfaces + (modifier) format. So for example, 5d43+-7
>>
>>32356269

I'm what came back after the recent troubles on the roads. Its all a bit new to me if I'm frank, I'm used to slings and spears not spells. What has you so perturbed?
>>
I'm sort of drifting in and out of a dinner party, posting will be more frequest later tonight. I'll still be around to look at responses.
>>
You recoil from her stare with your hackles up. “What did you just do?”

“I peeled back your flesh to see the soul within, Sergeant,” she says with a dismissive gesture, as if this were common practice. “Where did you get this power? It’s magnificent, but shackled, more than magic can be.”

Honesty is clearly the best policy here. “I…survived the battle on the roads, the one where Second Home was wiped out,” you say carefully. Garren’s demeanor is pretty far removed from the pleasant teacher she was before. “I awoke abilities during the battle that saved me, and I’ve been hunting my attackers ever since.”

She peers at you, suddenly more curious than hostile. “What kind of abilities?”

“Apparently, unprecedented ones. I’m still not used to them,” you admit.

After a moment’s silence, she pulls her hand away from her blade. “You’re clearly not a messenger. What do you want from me?”


>wat say
>>
>>32357117
>"I want the aid of the firesouls in finding the people responsible for that massacre. They have an ancient harpy superweapon that can claim the lives of even Demigods. If we lose any more of those the world ends."
>>
“Are you aware of the nature of the battle in the woods?” you ask. “On the highway?”

“Remotely,” she says. “What happened?”

You take a deep breath. “Well…to make a long story short, a Master in the Explorers’ Guild has a Collapse-era superweapon. The Orb of the Feathered Demon.”

Garren gasps. “They found it?”

Shock jolts your limbs when you hear her say it. “You knew it still existed?” you demand.

“We’ve known since the Collapse that at least one of the ancient Aeries were still powering something in the world,” Garren says. She runs a hand over her forehead. “Blast. It was a weapon.”

“What’s in the Aeries?” you ask. “Aren’t they abandoned?”

“Abandoned, yes. Deactivated, no,” she says. “If only it were easier to get up there…”She looks up at you after a heavy pause. “All right. Do you know about the Aeries’ power sources? The Harpies were so desperate to recover after the Dragon-men invasion failed that they used one of their own demons to power a machine of some sort in one of their flying cities. After the war, they were all dead, so their demons died with them, but since the one powering the machine was dead to begin with, it didn’t vanish with the rest of their race. Somehow. It’s still up there, in one of their cities, active and powering something.”

She grinds the heels of her hands into her eyes and groans. “Wonderful.”

“Do you know how to destroy it?” you ask, and dare to hope.

“Of course! Just burn it, it’s nothing but enchanted paper and glass! The magic is in the power source, and I have no idea how to get up there,” she says wearily. “Grand.”


>”I’d like your help killing or capturing the conspirators.”
>”Can you send word to the other Firesouls and ask for help?”
>writein
>>
>>32357278

She doesn't think you're a messanger. JUst asking out of the blue might not have the desired outcome. you need to gain their confidence before you ask for such a thing. Also why tell them about the superweapon now? Might that do more harm then good?
>>
>>32357450
>>32357451
.4 seconds between posts. Oh, the irony.
>>
>>32357450
>”I’d like your help killing or capturing the conspirators.”
>”Can you send word to the other Firesouls and ask for help?”

Why not both? Though if we can find and destroy the power source for the weapon that takes priority.

>>32357451
I disagree for reasons.
>>
So the power source is the key, is it? That doesn’t seem valuable if it’s isolated up in a flying city. Teleportation and flight magic are both impossible…well, lost, anyway; the Spirelings could have done it, but they’ve been extinct for over thirty one centuries.

“Do you think other Firesouls could help?” you ask. “To kill or capture the conspirators?”

“Help? I imagine they could, but…if you don’t know who the conspirators are, then not much,” she says helplessly. It’s odd to see someone so powerful look out of their depth. “Maybe in battle…we can’t survive exposure to the Orb more than anyone else, but if you can get me close enough, I can guarantee I can kill the user before they can activate it.”

“I’ve approached the Brotherhood already, and they’re willing to help if I pay them, but…” you trail off. “Well, I don’t blame them, they’re a business. The Firesouls are different. I’m hoping that you’ll be there when I need to kill the ringleaders of this group.”

“I can, but not unless I know with what I’m working,” Garren says. “Look, I was willing to let my curiosity not get in the way before, but if we’re going to be working together, ambiguous stories about ‘awakening powers’ will not be sufficient.”

“It’s true, though, when I woke up after taking a hit, I had new abilities,” you protest.

“From what source, Sergeant?” Garren presses.


>Reveal your true nature
>Don’t cooperate
>Use a Divine Speech ability to elude the question
>writein
>>
>>32358058
>Reveal your true nature
Tell her not to reveal it outside the Firesouls though.
>>
>>32358058

> [Use Divine Speech] None that I can say! I had put it down to me developing The Gift late. You say its not that?
>>
>>32358157

Asa had specifically said it may not be wise to lead with the fact we're a Herald - hence my suggestion (>>32358178) of using our power and being evasive ;)
>>
>>32358213
We're not leading with it. Leading with it would be walking up to her and saying "I'm a herald, come help me."
>>
I don't want to leave this to a coin flip. I'll wait a bit longer for input, then write the next post.
>>
>>32358237

Fair, i'm still up for a slightly more cagey answer at this point and try and get them more interested/work out more about whats happening with us through them before fully revealing, but im happy(ish) either way
>>
>>32358531
Yeah, I don't really want to lie to or try to redirect the most powerful people in the setting. Seems too risky.
>>
>>32358058
>>Reveal your true nature
Cat's practically out of the bag already. Leaving it mysterious is just going to make her mistrust us.
>>
After several seconds of awkward silence, you cross your arms over your armored chest. “Traveler…I know what the Firesouls can do. I know your capabilities. I came to you anyway.”

“You knew you had something to hide?” Garren asks flatly.

“I…” you trail off with a pained expression on your face. “Please. I trusted a very small number of people with this. The King, the Governor, the Captain-General, the local Master of the Brotherhood, my husband. That’s…about it.”

Garren takes a step forward, though her hands stay far from weapons. “So you’ve tapped some source that threatened your loved ones?”

“No, no. She would never do that.”

The silence that fills the room is so loud that it’s deafening. Garren’s eyes go wide, as does her mouth. Her eyes flash gold again, and now you can feel a distinct tingle in your forehead, where she’s staring with all your might. “Oh.”

“You see?” you ask quietly, feeling quite surreal.

“No,” she whispers. “I…I don’t. Why keep it secret? Every time I’ve spoken to Asa, she’s lamented her loneliness, her sorrow for the loss of the innocent days. Why not tell the world? Why not tell every elf that they have a friend?”


>”Because the conspirators will panic.”
>”Because it scares me shitless.”
>”Because I haven’t unlocked all my powers.”
>”Because nobody remembers the old protocols.”
>writein
>>
>>32358590
>>32358667

Okay i'm sold, let's not risk getting the Firesouls pissed at us for lying to them.

Thinking about it, can we use our Divine Voice Power to get Asa to speak through us (i think thats what happened before) to help with the convincing at a suitable moment?
>>
>>32358987

>”Because the conspirators will panic.”
We don't want anything to set them off while they still have that orb.
>>
>>32358987

"Because the conspirators might panic if they learn a Herald is after them. Worse i'll lose the advantage if they realise I have not yet unlocked all my powers.

I need friends. Friends who will help me contain this threat now before it can dig itself deeper or cause more havoc. Friends who can lend me power I cannot yet tap. Friends who remember the old protocols so many have forgot.

That is why I have come to meet the Firesouls, Traveller"

----

See if we can make Asa make our voice boom for lulz, might as well demonstrate a little bit of the power
>>
You can not even understand how happy I am that someone is finally using the >writein option. I've had to say every single thread that part of your leveling bonus is dependent on how often you use it, and only now is someone actually using it.


I'll keep the floor open a while longer then write the next post.
>>
>>32359239
Writing in makes me feel awkward.
>>
“To be blunt, Traveler, the conspirators include some fairly wealthy and well-connected men. If they found out that the Pantheon were on to them, they’d panic. They might even activate the weapon.” You shrug, despite the tension. “That, and I haven’t unlocked all of my powers yet. If they knew…”

“I see,” Garren says faintly. “Well.”

“I’m approaching you, the King, the Brotherhood, all the old guard, because I’m hoping that some of you will remember the old protocols, the old powers. I’m hoping that will help make this safer.” You press your finger against the gem, feeling the alien coolness against your skin. “I need friends. I need allies. I can’t fight them alone.”

“A Herald is never alone,” Garren corrects you. “But…I agree.”

“So you’ll help?”

“I didn’t say that,” she points out. “Frankly, I think you should write a missive to Master Sun and see if he can destroy the corpse of the demon powering the Orb from afar.”

“I thought you said that couldn’t be done.”

“It can’t be reached,” she says. “It could be destroyed remotely.”

“Can you contact him for me?” you ask. “Not like I know his postal address.”

“I could,” she says. “By letter. That’s about as fast as I could go. I can’t fly. Besides, it may turn out that he hasn’t done it yet because he wants that particular derelict city intact for some reason.”

You consider that. “Is it worth trying anyway?”

“Undoubtedly.” She shrugs, and the last of the tension disappears. “So. Do I live up to your expectations?” she jokes.

Your shoulders sag a bit in relief. “More or less. I admit, I’m relieved you look so young.”

“Even though I’m a hundred and thirty?” she asks drily.

You stare. “You…are?”

“I mentioned that century of training, didn’t I?” she laughs.

>questions
>go home
>>
>>32359849
>Make sure she knows to keep our Heraldship quiet
>Ask her to get news to us if Sun either does destroy it remotely, or if he refuses to do so for whatever reason.

All I can think of.
>>
>>32359923

+1

Also can we run through the list with her and see if she has any leads? Can Firesouls do scrying and suchlike?
>>
She flicks one hand, and the glowlights in the room grow brighter. The increased light makes her appearance clearer. The cloak is what you thought it was, but the robe underneath is a disturbing affair. The way the light touches the fabric, it looks for all the world like a fire is burning her. It’s not just an illusion, either; you swear you can see the flames. The armor under that is enchanted, but subtly, it has a muted shimmer you’ve never seen before. “Nice kit,” you say. “What is that enchantment? On the armor?”

She taps it with one finger, but it doesn’t make a sound. “Stealth.”

Wow, that’s enviable. “Wish we had a few suits of that in the Auxilia,” you remark.

“They don’t know how to make it any more,” she explains. “This is salvaged Dommen armor. Their females were basically shaped like elves or humans.” She crosses her arms over her chest and looks over at you. “So…what do you want to do now?”

“Well, I’d appreciate it if you kept my Heraldship quiet,” you say. “With respect, I…”

She raises a hand to cut you off. “I knew you wanted it concealed the minute you directed me in here, fear not.”

Well, actually, you were just so overawed you couldn’t speak, but she needn’t know that. “Good…I’d also like it if Master Sun could contact me when he gets the letter, so could you make sure it has a return address?”

“I can, yes.” You jot down your address and pass it to her on a scrap of paper. “Very well.”

“I also have this,” you say, producing Asa’s list. “The conspirators.”

She takes the list and reads it in silence. “Hmm. Four dead. Elger Moor, though…I feel like I’ve heard that name somewhere. I don’t recognize the others.”

You sigh in disappointment. “Worth a try.”

>Ask her something else
>Go home
>writein
>>
>>32360138
Nobody can do scrying. The Gods could, but, well, the name of the quest should be sufficient to explain that one.
>>
>>32360415
>go home
We've had a productive day

>>32360449
we'll just have to undead them
nevermind zombie gods are horrifying
>>
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>>32360415
>You jot down your address and pass it to her on a scrap of paper
Man, Elsa(Someone Else) is awful at the spycraft thing. We're trying to remain covert, sending messages containing your personal address far away via something as insecure as a letter is an awful idea. Especially if you're concerned at all about a certain powerless husband who lives there. Even if the Firesouls have some sort of (magic)cipher for communicating just the fact that the destination can't be hidden is valuable intel to any potential enemies of Asa or the Firesouls.

The return letter should be addressed to the Traveler, the King, or Ekrine.
>>
>>32360681
She's also not a spy by training.

Ot also didn't occur to me.
>>
>>32360681
I thought about asking for that, but we don't know if Traveler is staying in the city, and governor and king hate us.
>>
>>32360812
Neither of them hate you, you just REALLY failed a speech check.
>>
>>32360415

"Would you be able to send word to other Firesouls inquiring about Elgin? The sooner I have more information, the more I can do to stop this "
>>
A stray thought occurs to you. “Er, Traveler, maybe you could just have the reply sent to Master Culler at the Brotherhood Chapter House? I shouldn’t be sending letters through the post.”

Garren chuckles. “Firesoul mail doesn’t really get intercepted much, but all right.”

“Okay then.” You straighten your half-cape and cinch your bandana. “I suppose that’s that. Where will you be staying, Traveler? How should I reach you?”

“I’m in the penthouse of the Imperial,” Garren informs you. “I’ll be in town for a few weeks, doing guest lectures.”

“Then this is goodbye, for now,” you say.

Garren surprises you by sticking out one hand. The armor she’s wearing is so fine that it could be paper-thin at the fingertips. The Dommen were master crafters. “Ah ah, not yet,” she says lightly. “Traveler Latona Garren, servant of the Hall of Fire.

You grin and shake. Her grip is unchallenging, just pure business. “Sergeant Elsa Ledren.”

“A pleasure, Elsa. Forgive my invasiveness, before. It’s a rare day that a Firesoul can be surprised.” She pulls her robe, cloak, and hood closed and turns to go.

“What does your name mean?” you blurt out.

She hesitates at the door. “Pardon?”

“The word Firesoul. What does it mean?”

She doesn’t reply for several seconds. “I’ll only tell you because you could ask Asa, and she knows.” She turns back to face you and pulls her cloak off entirely.


(con’t)
>>
You gasp. The fire around her body isn’t a projection, it’s not an illusion. It’s actual fire, trapped in a magic sheathe of some kind, as thin as the glass wall of your alchemic bullets. It’s not burning nothing, either. From that angle, it looks like it’s burning…

“Flesh?” you whisper.

Garren nods. “My flesh. We earn our names by walking through enchanted fire at the end of training. I don’t mean coal-walking, anybody can do that. I mean we’re lit on fire and forced to walk through a maze while burning.”

“How can anyone survive that?” you ask, flabbergasted.

She offers you a thin smile. “Nobody dies. The fire burns like real fire, but it doesn’t consume your life. If you fall, Master Sun is there in an instant, extinguishing the fire and healing you.”

“Then…how do you escape the maze?” you ask.

“You don’t. You have to find something inside it. It’s placed at the end of the maze, and the path is randomized, but always the same length. Once you find it, the fire in your flesh turns into cloth, and that’s your uniform.” She quirks a grin at your horror. “Makes Auxilia hazing seem small-time, doesn’t it?”

“What is it you have to find?” you ask, ignoring the slight at your Auxilia.

Garren taps her cheek. “A mask. Enchanted metal. It lets us see people’s souls, inside their bodies. It’s what I was using before.”

“But you’re not masked.”

“I fused it into the bone in my face.”

That comment produces an awkward silence. “…Small-time, yeah, that’s a good word for it,” you mutter.

She chuckles. “Good day, Herald. I’ll be watching you with interest.”

The door shuts behind her.


>wat do
>>
>>32361271
>go home
been productive and it's probably late by now
>>
As bracing as that experience was, it’s time to go to work. You dispatched that Shadow this morning, or rather the King did. Maybe he’ll have results by now.

Besides, you admit to yourself as you leave the Academy, it’s been a long day. Jerome will be home by seven, and it’s about four o’ clock now. If you take your time, you can be at Darril’s with an hour to spare.


As you walk, you feel your forehead gem warm. [Elsa, I have news,] Asa says.

{Go on, my Lady.}

[The conspirators seemed to have little planning in place for if they were discovered. I think they were expecting the attacks on the convoys to have diminished any chance of anybody seeing them during the exchange. You took them by surprise more than we may have realized,] Asa explains.

{Good to know. Will they go underground now?}

[If they associate Feathers’ capture with someone being on to them, yes. Have they? I doubt it. All freelance mercenaries have enemies.]

You sit down on a bench on the roadside, looking for all the world like a soldier a bit hung over after leave. {So should I continue picking off the mercenaries?}

[Absolutely. Even if Kotrick didn’t give the Orb to one of them, and he may have, he could call on them for help if you target him directly.] Asa voice sounds a bit distracted compared to her cheer earlier in the day. [How about you?]

You close your eyes. {I’m taking a break. Heading to Darril’s house, going to spend the evening reading in bed or something. It was a tiring meeting with the Firesoul, Garren.}

[Ah, you met her? Will she help?]

{Once she knew what was happening, she said she would. She can’t help much with the investigation, though.} You sigh under your breath. {Are they all that crazy? Walking around on fire to graduate, fusing metal into their bones…}


(con’t)
>>
[Not crazy. Purposeful. They commit horrible acts to their own bodies so that they can understand the depth of power and magic in this world. They sacrifice to access the Well of Life so that they can live long enough to understand the world’s mysteries.]

{And who stops them when research becomes control?} you ask cynically.

Her answer comes at once. [Master Sun. He’s as close to invincible as anything ever has been.]

{Not more powerful than you,} you protest.

[I remind you of my creator’s fate.]

{…I’m sorry.}

[Nonsense.] Her voice cuts out for a second. [I’ll have the list done by tonight. I’m thinking over what Feathers said. Good evening.]


Darril’s door is shut, but your key lets you in. You shuck your armor in the privacy of your room and lounge on a chair on the small balcony on the top floor, with a pitcher and cup of ale at your elbow. It’s been a long day, all right.

“How did I manage to annoy a Firesoul, enrage the King, and insult the Governor in one day?” you whisper. You sip your ale and sigh into the foam. “I hope that’s not one of my powers. Irritating people into being vulnerable.”


The afternoon is yours.
>Just relax until some family come home or wake up
>Plot, scheme, and plan (make suggestions!)
>>
>>32362056
>Plot, scheme, and plan (make suggestions!)
yeah so those cultists
I'm thinking we go to the leader whose name was given to us, make sure she's actually the leader, then reveal ourselves as a herald to her. That way we can direct the group through her, and not a lot of people know we're a herald.
>>
As you sip your ale and stare into the fading autumn light, you think about the people you’ve met today. The Circle…they have potential. Do you really need to assert outright control? At least, this early? At most, they’re a potential asset. The sheer vehemence of the King’s objection to your making them into spies or even errand runners makes you uneasy. Have they run astray of the law at some point?

This ‘Arisa’ that was mentioned. She’s a priestess of some kind? She seems to be in charge. Maybe you should meet with her in person, alone, and reveal your Heraldship to her. That might make things easier, getting the leadership on board first.

You munch on some carrots from the little basket of vegetables in the kitchen as you stew and stir the facts in your head. Maybe the Circle would be best served with minimal involvement. Right? They’re just people living their lives, they don’t seem like half-naked savages dancing around the fire. That would be pretty cool, though. Maybe you should ask Asa what the old practices actually were.

The sun crawls through the sky as you lean back in your chair and try to relax. This is a complex affair, you decide wearily. If only there were someone else you could confide in. Jerome shouldn’t have to bear the responsibility alone.

You remember some of the old stories. The Heralds from the old days were more than advisors to the Emperors. They were tribal leaders, shamans, war leaders. Is that who you want to be? You have no idea yet.

“Damn it, I came up here to relax,” you whisper to the winds.

The sound of a door behind you makes you start in your seat. Darril’s face appears above you, peering down. “Hey, Elsa. How’re you feeling?”


>”Lonely.”
>”Tired.”
>”Upbeat.”
>writein
>>
>>32362921
>"Exhausted. Busy day."
>>
The weariness in your smile isn’t fake. For someone who only needs to sleep two hours per night, you sure are tired. “I’m exhausted. I had a busy day.”

“Yeah? Been seeing someone about…you know, the…” he trails off.

“Yeah. She’s helping.” You offer him the ale and he takes a gulp. “How about you?”

“Eh. I’m all right. Work, you know. There’s a new teacher at work, he’s not very good. He’ll improve,” he says with a shrug. “He’s just young.”

“Mm.” You scoot over so he has room to sit down. “You have a great view here, Darril.”

“Thanks. I like it. Certainly paid enough for it.” He grabs a carrot and chews as he gives you a speculative glance. “Why do you wear the bandana in the house?”

Oh. Um.
>writein
>>
>>32363482
Oh god
I forget if our hair is long enough to justify saying it keeps hair out of our eyes.

If not just say it's comfy and we like wearing it.
>>
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>>32363601
Depends on who you listen to.

(no)
>>
>>32363733
Yes that picture may have confused me in the past

Anyway if not just say we like wearing it. Personal preference.
>>
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You try not to visibly tense up. It’s a perfectly harmless question. “Just because it’s comfy. You get used to it in the field, you know?”

“I guess. We’re not allowed to have headwear at the academy, it’s ‘distracting,’” he says, with massive air quotes. “You wouldn’t believe the shit they make us do there. Rules after rules after rules.”

You snort. “Oh, I believe it. They have regs that make no sense in the Auxilia, too. All kinds of arcane precedent stuff about who gets to sit first and last at the table in the mess, that sort of thing.”


The two of you just chat until Laura wakes up and pokes her head out on to the balcony. Darril rises to prepare dinner while you finish your snacks and drink. As the others leave, they close the balcony door behind them.

Alone again, you stand up and walk to the balustrade, leaning over it slightly to look at the busy street three floors down. “Quite a view, alright.”

[Sorry if I’m interrupting, my daughter, but are you free?] Asa’s voice suddenly asks.

You straighten up and tap your forehead. {Sure, go ahead.}

[I have the finished list.]

{Good! Can you drop it off now?}

“I can.” You turn to see Asa sitting where you were before, list in hand. “Updated.”

“Excellent,” you say, crossing to read it over. “Let’s see…”

(con’t)
>>
Explorer: Unknown
Crime Boss 1: Don Kotrick, local crime lord, location unknown – suspected to be in noble quarter
Crime Boss 2: Elger Moor, Gifted Mage, and second-in-command of Kotrick, location unknown
Mercenary 1: Everett Soutri, former Army officer, location unknown
Mercenary 2: Unknown
Mercenary 3: Gardener ‘Hooks’ Dunwaith, Gifted, hiding with a leather curer somewhere
Mercenary 4: Kerry Ding, War Mage, Orondian expatriate, lives in a small farmstead in the woods near ambush site
Mercenary 5: Unknown
Mercenary 6: Faye Whitehand, referred to as ‘Feathers’. Captured alive
Bodyguard 1: Richi Donnai. Deceased
Bodyguard 2: Heldo Donnai. Deceased
Invisible bodyguard: William Laurenz. Deceased)
Kotrik’s hitman, name unknown, handle ‘Forest’


You look over the list, trying to see what’s new. There’s something off here…

Roll 1d100+10 for Perception.
>>
Rolled 93 + 10

>>32364194
>>
Rolled 69 + 10

>>32364194
Kotrik's hitman looks like a new addition
>>
You look up at Asa in dismay. “There’s thirteen names on this list!”

“Yes,” Asa says quietly. “Kotrick hired an assassin to protect himself after you spotted him in the forest and killed the Explorer’s bodyguards. And since he wasn’t present for the original trade, he may have the Orb for safekeeping.”

You nearly slam the list down on the balustrade. “Fan-fucking-tastic,” you snarl. “I get to kill more people.”

“You managed to capture Feathers.”

“And I nearly killed her and her son in the process!” you snap. “The sight of that little boy, screaming his lungs out, cradling a broken arm, hugging his mother so I can’t kill her…”

Asa’s Avatar climbs to her feet and walks up to you. “What are you saying, Elsa? That it may be difficult to capture or kill over a dozen people?” she asks calmly.

You just want to take a swing at her. “Seriously? Is that what you’re giving me?” you snarl.

“You annoyed the King and Governor today. Shall you add me to the list?” she points out.

You clench both fists tight. “…Sorry. I’m just angry about this cloak and dagger bullshit. I’m a soldier. I kill people I can see, who are trying to kill me and take my land. I’m not an assassin.”

“No, you’re a Herald.” Asa clasps your hand and pries your fingers apart. “You sold your soul to me, my daughter, and gladly so. Do you think I undertook that responsibility lightly? Do you think I ask you to do the same? Nothing about this is just or fair. All you must do is remember the consequences for failure, and the rewards for success.”

“What rewards?” you ask coldly. “The power you’re giving me scares me, and I can’t always control it. It’s driving Jerome away.”


(con’t)
>>
She blinks, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m not the woman he married, and he’s hiding it poorly,” you mutter. “He almost came out and said it.”

“Well…all right, but I meant the bit about the powers you can’t control.”

“I mean…” you fumble for an example. “When I was speaking to Dietrich. I felt like you were speaking through me, but I didn’t want you to. Then, I gain the ability to make that happen, and instinctively, I can use it. But while I was learning it, or unpacking it, or whatever, I had no control!”

Asa closes her eyes, and the corners of her lips tighten. “Oh.”

“Oh…what?” you ask. “What’s ‘oh?’”

“I…hmmm. I remember this happening before…” she squeezes your hand between hers. Her touch is really warm. “All right…if I recall, that means that you’re somehow tapping abilities in the order other than the one in which you were supposed to be able to tap them…I may be able to help with that. It’s been three thousand years, and it can be hard to remember when so many people are dying.”


Your anger fades a bit at that last part. “People are dying?”

“Everywhere,” she says with unaccustomed bitterness. “All over.”

“I mean…is there another rift in the south?”

“No, just a continent full of my children,” she sighs. “I was never built for this. I was supposed…” she grimaces and pulls away. “Never mind. Sorry your Heraldship wasn’t…installed correctly, or whatever the terminology should be.”


>“What were you ‘supposed’ to do?”
>”Is that all?”
>writein
>>
>>32364498
>“What were you ‘supposed’ to do?”
>>
She looks so unlike the glowing, beatific portrayal you’re used to from the stories – and even seen – that you can’t help but ask. “What are you ‘supposed’ to be, my Lady?”

Asa looks at you with a distinctly challenging air. “Do you really want to know?”

When a demigoddess is challenging you, you’re careful; it’s a natural reaction. “I…”

“It’s no secret, you can look it up in the Mages’ Academy library you were in this afternoon,” Asa says. “I bet the Circle knows. But do you want to see it first-hand?”

>Yes
>No
>>
>>32365192
>Yes
>>
It feels weird only running for one person, but all right.


This next writing piece will take a while, it's not interactive. Stick around.
>>
Holy shit, the board is moving fast right now. I have to bump just to keep it alive long enough to post my writing.
>>
>>32365332
I dunno about just one person
those overnight bumps don't come from nowhere
I think it's just me voting and several people lurking, which I don't really mind.
>>
“I…I have to, don’t I?” you ask. You feel your throat tighten as it starts to dawn on you what Asa’s offering. “You’re going to share a memory with me, aren’t you? And I have to see it?”

“You don’t have to. You could go through this task I’ve set before you thinking you’re the first to suffer for it,” Asa says. Her voice is almost emotionless. “Why should you? Believe it or not, my daughter, I love you, and I want you to live through this.”

You grimace and sink into the chair she just vacated. “No pressure, huh?”

She stands in front of you, shimmering in the evening light. “What’s your decision?”

You close your eyes. “Do it.”


(con’t)
>>
You are Cal Me’ren, a Herald of the Goddess. You stand before an army of several hundred thousand, all roaring your name.

Not Mai’te’s. Not Ghalad’s. Not Asa’s. Yours. You’re the one who’s going to lead the elves to victory over the Felis. Their paltry remnant can’t stop your divine cause!

“We are not fighting because we can, but because we must!” you bellow, fist raised high. “The Felis took everything from us! Our wealth, our pride…but not our lives! We stand against the beasts today! Forever! We will drive them into the dust!”

=My son!= Mai’te’s voice suddenly shouts in your head. =The Dragon-men, their liege is fallen in battle! The Felis are days from their capital!=

You hear her voice, and channel it through your own mouth. The army listens enrapt to their mother’s words. As she finishes, the parade ground erupts in thunderous cheers.

Both hands thrust high, you tilt your head back and cry aloud. “We march! We take the Felis today!”


(con’t)
>>
You are Dumatri, first Shaman of the Sea tribe. The rough waves are lapping hard at the foundations of the wall you led your people to build to keep out the rising sea. Despite your best efforts, the people are threatened.

“Shaman?” a voice asks. A kid, probably five, is pulling at your hand. “Why isn’t Mai’te helping us?” she asks. Fear is written across every part of her features.

The blue lines on your skin ripple as you crouch to hold her shoulders. “She is, child,” you say quietly. “She showed us how to delay the seas.”

“The wall didn’t stop it!” the kid wails. “It’s just rising!”

A radiant glimmer of light across the sand makes you both turn. An Avatar – of Ghalad, from the look of him – appears at your side, trident grasped in one hand. “Dumatri, little brother, are you well?” he asks. His awe-inspiring voice silences the weeping little girl in a moment.

“No, brother, I’m not,” you admit. “But…the wall still holds, for now.”

“The Sea tribe stands firm, I know,” Ghalad says kindly. “Do not think your sacrifice will be forgotten.”

“Sacrifice?” the kid pipes up. “Who’s being sacrificed today?”

Ghalad kneels to smile at the girl at eye level. “Not who, child. What. This wall was protecting something greater than a single village.” He leans forward and kisses the kid on the forehead…about where your own brand is. “Now. Go. Pack your food and join the caravan. All right? Your future lies elsewhere, little one.”


(con’t)
>>
You are Avis Barkley, warrior of Strevain, fighting for your life. You’re not a Herald, damn it, why did Asa pick you for this? Did you make her angry? Or were you just the last one alive after that stupid woodsman killed himself to get the word to Haret?

You duck the skeletal arm of the awakened corpse you’re fighting and fire your crossbow into its spine, pushing it back. You ram your foot into the arrow and break the corpse in half, but there’s more, so many more…too many! No! They got Regna’s legs, they’re pulling the horse out from under you!

Nooo!


(con’t)
>>
You are Willow, the last-born child of the King of the Wood tribe. Your people are happier here than they were in your old home, where the strange people with the round ears cut the trees and pissed in the rivers. You rose to become the Speaker of the Gods when a snake bit you, far from the others, and left you dying in the woods.

A man you didn’t recognize – but somehow knew – had appeared, offering you much power, and you took the offer. Now, he has shown you how to lead your people away from the others. The Demigod – for that is who he is – showed you the humans were meaning to trade, not fight.

At that moment, he’s sitting beside you, or his Avatar is. His trident is resting against the tree, within reach, and you’re curled up in his lap. Half-asleep and most relaxed, he’s stroking your hair, murmuring the last few words of a story you like. You don’t think you’ve ever been this content.


(con’t)
>>
You are dead. Who are you? Dead. Who were you? Alive.

You stand in a field of indescribable beauty, surrounded by the wisps of people who were, and


“NO!!!” a voice screams.

You are Elsa Ledren. You’re on all fours, trying not to scream, while an Avatar of Asa is looming over you, her projected face a mask of absolute horror. “Oh no, oh no no no no,” she babbles.

“Mother, mother, where’s the field,” you mewl. “I can’t see it, it’s all gone away…”

“No no no no no,” Asa whimpers. Her Avatar disappears.

“Mother, siblings, one two three, brother gone and mother dead, only sister left for me…” a voice says. It’s yours, you think. A rhyme from your childhood. Or…the childhood of a person whose life you saw?

A tornado is forming overhead, there’s no clouds. The world is spinning, and you’re not even drunk.

Suddenly, clarity. Crystal clarity in your head. Absolute confidence. You shoot to your feet and stare up into the tornado, defiant.

Screams, all around, on the streets, from the balconies, from the windows. Everybody’s screaming in sudden, pious fear.

Not you. You’re grinning. You see.

You SAW.

You saw into the afterlife. Not much, and it’s not the one that’s left to you, not Asa’s pitiful steel cage, but the bountiful fields of heaven; gone forever, with Mai’te’s demise. You will never be there. You will never get to go.

So why do you feel so fucking GOOD?

Defiance? That’s what you saw. A Herald guiding an army to defy invaders. A Shaman defying the weather. A noble warrior, defying an ancient evil. A little Speaker, defying death and race to lead and obey at once. A ghost…defying reality. Feeding memories to Asa from within the depths of heaven, before being snuffed out forever.


(con’t)
>>
That’s Haret up there, spinning the clouds and preparing to kill the city. He knew. He saw you see too much. He detected Asa’s accidental slip. And, to be fair, it was an accident, you’re sure of that.

But you gained something from that.

{DEFIANCE!} you scream in your mind. {HARET! VIER! I’LL DEFY THIS! I’LL DEFY YOUR HESITATION!}

Whatever Asa did to clear your head, it’s not going away. Power like you’ve never felt rushes through your limbs, power you haven’t earned. Power you can use.

“Elsa, Elsa, listen to me,” Asa suddenly says from behind you. You turn to see Avatars of all three demigods, standing on your balcony, staring at you. Haret’s face is filled with simmering rage. Vier is cold, disappointed. Asa…she’s so embarrassed, she looks like she could melt. “Listen, my daughter, remember-”

“Shut up,” you say. You walk right up to Haret’s Avatar and look him square in the eye. “Lose the windstorm, sir.”

Haret snarls. “Show respect.”

“Show patience.” You jerk a thumb at the teeming hordes of panicking people. “These people did nothing. Asa made a mistake in trying to do the right thing. Avis Barkley died so a nation wouldn’t, and stopped a superweapon like the Orb in the process. You were wrong then. Want to be wrong now?”

He backhands you, sending you reeling. “Idiot girl,” he snaps. “This isn’t about your station! Or your country! This is about Asa showing you heaven! The one thing we may never do!”

“There used to be two, from what I understand!” you bark, blood pouring down your face. “And one was creating Heralds!” You march right back up in his face. “I’ll take that image to the grave! I have to! Even knowing my grave will be far worse! If that’s what it takes to save Clen, then damn me, I’ll do it!”


(con’t)
>>
“Elsa, please,” Asa whispers. “Don’t shout.”

“Lady Asa, you want this,” you remind her. “You want a Herald, you want to prove Haret wrong. You want to make this place live again! You want to defy! Defy the rule, defy the conspiracy, defy the broken world!”

“I do!” she wailed. “But it’s not worth your life! I love you, my daughter, I can’t see you die for this!”

“Haret won’t kill me,” you say. “That’s a rule too.”

Haret draws himself up…pauses…looks up…looks at his sister…vanishes.

Vier shoots you a stunned look and vanishes as well.

Asa squints and rubs her eyes as the tornado overhead disappears as suddenly as it appeared. “There will be concessions for that, my daughter,” she manages. “Oh, I’m a fool. I wanted to reassure you…show you the righteousness of your cause…and I showed you heaven. Something you can’t have, no matter how much you deserve it.”

“Sister.”

“Hm?”

You tap your chest with one bloodied thumb. “I’m your sister. I remember now. Mai’te was our mother.”

“…True. But, for the sake of appearances…” she says awkwardly. “I love my role, Elsa, unwilling though I was to assume it.”


(con’t)
>>
You nod. “Fair enough.” You daub some blood between your fingers and rub them as the screams from below turn to confused shouting. “Haret better tell a pretty story to the people to explain that.”

“He’s talking to the King now. Maas is…enraged beyond all reason,” Asa says. “I’m not particularly sympathetic, I admit. He…this was my fault, but he should not have done that.”

“No kidding, that hurt like a bastard,” you mutter, gingerly probing your split lip.

“I meant the tornado, but…” her voice trails off as she sees the wound. “Oh. Here.” She taps her finger to the cut and it heals. The spilled blood vanishes. “So…that was unforgivably stupid of me.”


>”I can’t blame you for wanting me to pull my head out of my ass.”
>”Why did you just pick old Heralds and heroes at random? Why not screen them to make sure that didn’t happen?”
>writein
>>
>>32367441
>"Why was Haret so angry you showed me heaven? Angry enough to wipe out the entire city just to ensure I died. Is the knowledge really that forbidden?"
>>
>>32367441

Off topic, but that's some pretty powerful shit you just wrote there. Kudos to you for it.
>>
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>>32367564
Thank you very much.

I write at my best when I'm sleep-deprived.
>>
>>32367616

It shows. Some of your best stuff from earlier eras was written at ate/early hours, depending on where in the world you are.
>>
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You glare over at where Asa’s Avatar is still looking a bit shamefully at you. “Why is Haret so mad? Because you showed me heaven?”

“Yes.” She sighs. “It’s forbidden outright. Beyond not helping anybody, it’s just cruel. Why show you all what you can’t have? Imagine if the Circle were powerful enough to convince the world that the absence of heaven was reason enough to kill their neighbors, or that prayer would bring it back. It would be a never-ending, solipsistic holy war.”

“Yeah.” You right the chair and sit down as you hear footsteps approaching from inside the house at a sprint. “You may want to go before they see you.”

“Right.” Asa’s Avatar disappears just before Darril rounds the corner.

“Elsa! Are you all right? What was that?” he demands.

“Divine turf wars, no doubt,” you mutter, swigging the ale. Long day, indeed.


ABILITY UNLOCKED: ELYSIAN MEMORY
New Divine Ability unlocked!

Elysian Memory: Elsa draws on borrowed memories of heaven to overcome fear. Guaranteed success against mind control and horror spells.


END OF THREAD
(new art by Eversor!)
>>
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So that was bonkers!

See you all Friday!


I told you i'd run until monday!
>>
>>32367910
thanks for running!
>>
That was pretty cool.
>>
How and why the fuck am I awake?

I may as well explain what happened up there.


Elsa was getting mad over the random shit she's expected to take care of in her job, which is perfectly understandable, I think. Asa, who is not even remotely supposed to be the sole divine agent for elves, wanted to share some memories from previous Heralds with Elsa, so she could get a better idea of what her job is supposed to be like.

What she actually did, purely by accident, was show random shit Heralds have had to do over the years, like lead armies, evacuate villages, or even what the little girl Herald did: nothing that others couldn't have done anyway, she was just given Heraldship out of pity. Then there was Barkley, who was a reference to my previous book. The thing at the very end was Haret and Vier losing patience with Asa getting exceptions to the rules and fucking them up, ignoring that her plan worked perfectly last time (in the book An Unjust Scourge) and Elsa reminding Haret of his propensity for ludicrous overkill is actually bad.
>>
Oh, derp, and Asa also wanted to explain what she. Asa, is supposed to be like: more a loveable big sister figure than an actual goddess. Other races had similar approaches, Mai'te just made it more literal than most. Not all races did that. It's part of why Asa's character is so tragic.
>>
>>32371593
>googled unjust scourge
>got results
wow, I did not expect this
time to read it if I can find something that isn't just a synopsis
>>
>>32375037

Pish.

Here.

http://www.mediafire.com/view/fu9xgabz4s33ble/An_Unjust_Scourge.docx
>>
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Actually, here's Travelers and Their Tales, the prequel to both Dead Gods Quest and An Unjust Scourge.

http://www.mediafire.com/view/a7sf9zgh5kgw9k2/Travelers_and_Their_Tales.docx

And the pic is the city in which An Unjust Scourge takes place.
>>
>>32375115
>>32375169
thaaaanks
nanowimo just gave me an excerpt



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