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/tg/ - Traditional Games

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It's time for Dead Gods!

Setting: Cender
Season: Early spring
Year: Post-creation 3975, post-Collapse 3008
City: Clen
Crime rate: Unsustainable

For old threads, look here! http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Dead%20Gods%20Quest
NOTE THAT QUEST 22 WAS NOT ARCHIVED, IT CAN BE DOWNLOADED HERE: http://www.mediafire.com/download/7g6zn4rhzwnaw5e/22.zip
For updates, check twitter! @Someone_else___

Elsa's Character Sheet! http://pastebin.com/ezsJzAWG

Resident artist: Eversor_
This is Tarsh, the world of Dead Gods. On Tarsh, the Pantheon is stretched to the breaking point by the deaths of all but three of its dozens of members, with the remaining members largely serving advisory roles when they appear to mortals at all.

In this quest, you assume the life of Elsa Ledren, a young Sergeant in the Skirmishers of the Auxiliaries, the support forces of the Royal Army of Cender. You were on a long-term assignment’s first leg when you were attacked and killed in the forest. Your divine Pantheon member, Asa, brought you back to life with a mission: track down and kill the people responsible for trafficking the ancient magic weapon that killed you and your men. You discovered a large conspiracy to traffic and use these ancient weapons, and have been stealthily – or not – killing them off. In previous threads, you knocked off seven of the thirteen conspirators, but the remaining six now at least know who you are in general, even if some seem not to have grasped your divine connections. For some reason, they’re communicating poorly.

In the origins of the world, there were fourteen gods, and each created a race in their image. Yours, the elves, were created by Mai’te, who then created two demigods, a man and a woman, to liaise with the people, and also created the Heralds. These were normal mortals endowed with some of the powers of the demigods, and able to telepathically communicate with Mai'te, her children, and each other.
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A cataclysmic war, referred to hereafter as the Collapse, erupted about one thousand years into creation, and all but three demigods, all but two races, and all the gods died off. The tattered remnants of the world held together through the power of the three surviving demigods, including yours; the female demigod of the elves, named Asa. Three huge alchemic weather machines keep the world habitable, while the demigods have dispensed with the use of Heralds in favor of Avatars: physical projections of themselves that can walk and talk like people.

The afterlife was dismantled in the wake of the Collapse, and now, all souls are simply ‘inverted’ in the seas of Chaos outside reality after death, and absorbed by their corresponding demigod.

You were assigned by your King to track down a gang of bandits that had sided with the secessionists in the southlands, but were ambushed and nearly murdered by the conspiracy and their ancient weapon, the Orb of the Feathered Demon. Because the weapon can kill demigods, the Pantheon survivors made you a Herald in secret, and have charged you with killing the ten conspirators who survived the battle in the woods.

Previously, you took the step you've been dreading, and revealed yourself to the world. The reaction was instantaneous, but you didn't stay to watch, you immediately headed home to let Maas handle the fallout.

All mechanics are based on a 1d100+modifier roll.
The smooth, stone walls of your bedroom are nice and cool against your back. You’re leaning against them, watching Jerome’s breath stir the curtain next to his head, and thinking about things. The speech today went well – very well. Magnificently well, compared to what you were expecting. You never knew you had it in you.

You shift your shoulders against the stone as that thought turns over in your mind. Maybe you didn’t have it in you. Maybe… maybe it was all Asa’s influence, and you don’t have any public speaking skills of your own. But… no. That’s silly. Your squad always fell in line when you gave the order, before.

Your husband shifts a bit in his sleep, distracting you from your inner thoughts. After the speech and a quick, dazedly distracted dinner, you had settled down beside the fireplace in more casual clothes and just tried to relax as you thought about how your task had changed. After a while just spent stewing, Jerome had pointed out that it was late, and he had to go to bed. The two of you had retired, and after three fitful hours, you had awoken, as confused as ever.

What possible benefit could there have been to revealing Moor and Kotrick’s names, you wonder. Why would Asa do that? Wouldn’t they just fortify themselves into a corner, or flee the country?

You had tried asking Asa, of course. After two tries a few hours back, you had raised her, but all you got in return was [… Co-ordinating… ten thousand Avatars… in every court… in the world… try later.] Which just bodes so well.

>It’s the middle of the night. Do you want to do something, or go somewhere, or try to raise Asa again?
I'll go with the winning vote after dinner!
Put on some scruffy clothes and go look around the town. See how people are reacting to the news. Maybe check out a bar or something and hear what people are saying.
[x] butter the gods
This sounds good. I do not recall if it was answered, but can makeup of any kind hide the branding?
I like this answer best.
It's never come up. Yes, it can.

Maybe the middle of the night can be your ally here. It’s time to do some recon.

You walk into the bathroom and light a candle, then grab some simple makeup – it’s so old and cracked, you suspect it’s from your wedding two years ago – and daub it over your brand. If you’re going to do this again, you should buy more.

When your brand is concealed as bast it can be, you put your gblack bandana on over it, then slip on an old coat and walk downstairs. You thumb the Gem to pass along your plan. {Sister, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m going to go survey the town a bit. See what the people think of me.}

[… Be safe,] Asa’s voice replies. [Don’t be on… the streets at sunrise… without backup…]

{Gotcha. Thanks.]

Outside, you tug up the collar of your jacket and walk down the alley behind your house, after checking to see if there was anybody watching the door. There wasn’t, and neither was there any sort of fresh damage to the door. You lock it behind you and walk quickly into the night.

The nearest bars are all military affairs, where the senior noncoms and junior officers go to get smashed. You can’t go there, you’d be recognized. You keep walking through the empty streets until you find a little dive bar at the end of a long row of houses.

You push the door open and walk in, carefully taking in the crowd as you do. There’s very few people here, actually. It’s not one in the morning, but the crowds are breaking up. That’s probably not an issue. You walk up to the end of the counter and sit down.

The tavernkeeper walks up, drying a mug in his hands. “Getcha’ something?” he asks tiredly.

“Half-pint of lager,” you say quietly. “And the news.”

“Only one piece of news in Clen,” the barman says, passing you your drink and accepting some cash. “There’s a Herald again.”

>Keep quiet and see what else he says
>Ask a question
>Go play darts and listen to the crowd
>>Ask a question
"Heard that much on the road, along with a ton of other rumors. Did you hear the announcement yourself?"
>Go play darts and listen to the crowd
Also, grab some peanuts. Eat something. It'll help absorb some alcohol so we're not too muddled and our tongue slips.
You snag some peanuts and munch while he files away the money. “Yeah, I heard that on the road,” you tell him. “I can’t believe it. What’s his name?”

“Didn’t hear,” the barman says. “And it was a woman.”

“Yeah? Huh. Where is she, the castle?”


“How did people find out?” you ask.

“I wasn’t at the announcement, myself,” he says, putting an empty bottle of wine away. “I’m getting all this second-hand.”

You nod and scarf some more peanuts. It would be foolish to drink too much, even if you suspect your Well-tapped body can filter alcohol pretty well.

A few older people are filtering out, and a few new people are shooting darts. A pair of younger people are playing some Morris in the corner, and there’s about six people at barstools and tables.

>You have enough money for maybe four more drinks on you. What do you want to do now?
>>Keep quiet and see what else he says
>Keep quiet and see what else he says
Darts. Slinging and darts are not that much different.
You decide that the barkeep is probably the best source you’ve got right now, but while he’s busy, you take a look at the rest of the room.

You peer over the edge of your mug, and see that the two people playing Morris could be dead to the world, for all the moving they’re doing. There’s a stack of discs beside them, so they’re probably in the end-game. Both are human men, but they don’t look a thing alike. The three playing darts are wilderness elves, and they’re all wearing Artisan’s Guild uniforms. The barflies are all looking pretty sauced, and they’re talking.

“Don’t make a damn difference,” one slurs. He tips back his ale and shifts on his stool. “Heralds or whatever, the Guard are still gonna fuck us.”

His nearest co-inebriate shakes her head. “Not in the open. They’re scared now. Asa’s watching.”

“That why she wasn’t at the speech?” the first one grumbles. “’Cuz she’s watching?”

The woman shrugs, but one of the others speaks up. “If there are ancient weapons in the city, I’d prefer this to a tornado,” the younger dark elf says.

The other two make noises of assent and go back to gulping ale. The barman walks back over and leans on the bar surface near you. “Get you anything else?” he asks.

“What’d the Herald say?” you ask, feigning disinterest. Curiously, you can feel the faintest stirring of Asa’s power in your heart – apparently, faking a mood is easier now. That seems like an odd power for a Herald to have, but whatever.

The barman shrugs. “Apparently, there’s a weapons cache, and two criminals, in the city somewhere.”

“What does she expect us to do?” you ask, sounding mildly frustrated.

“Just keep our eyes open, I guess? There’s talk of some fighting in the noble district, but I don’t know more,” the barman says with a shrug.

“Thanks,” you say, and you head for the dartboard. Time to learn more.

The three dark elves look at you as you wander over, and you nod to acknowledge them, but they don’t address you. You stand in silence as they finish the game – one is vastly better than the other two – before one turns to you. “What, you want in?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say with a nod.

“Play for keeps?” he asks, jerking his head at a dry glass with some coins in it beside the dartboard.

“What’re the stakes?” you ask.

He grins. “Half the amount in the glass per round, one – to – one bet. Winner takes two thirds of the bet, the last third goes in the kitty. First player to get three double bullseyes in a row takes the kitty, even if they lose. Kitty gets to two hundred in cash, the bar keeps it.”

You look at the near-empty glass. “Somebody just win?”

“I did, last night,” he says proudly.

You can afford two losses with the cash you have on you.

>”You’re on.”
>”Let’s just shoot for fun.”
>”Nah, I’ll just watch.”
>>”You’re on.”
You offer up a confident little smile. “You’re on.” You drop a few bits of copper on the table and grab the blue darts as he grabs the red, and his buddies sit down to watch the game. “So who goes first.”

“All yours,” he says, gesturing broadly at the board.

You grab one dart and focus your military skirmish training on it, sighting down the little missile like you’re about to snuff out a bandit raider. You flex your elbow in one whip-like motion.

>ROLL 1d100+20

(please don’t use Marksmanship, you’ll destroy the board)
Rolled 43 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

Rolled 43 + 20 (1d100 + 20)


Your dart lodges in the cork between the outer bullseye and the inner ring of the 14.

The other player nods appreciatively. “Nice.” He throws his own, and it sticks neatly in the 19 slot.

You haul back and thow again, and your dart sticks into the disappointing 4 slot. His second throw nets him another 19. The score is 459 you, 463 him.

“So, you see the speech today?” he asks casually.

ROLL 1d100+20, first three, also, what do you want to say in reply?
Rolled 85 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>ROLL 1d100+20
Rolled 51 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>ROLL 1d100+20, first three, also, what do you want to say in reply?
"Nope. Was on the road. Kept hearing rumors most of the day though."
You let another dart impale the board before replying. It’s a satisfying double bullseye. His eyebrows raise as you collect your darts. “Nope,” you say smoothly. “I was on the road all day. Coming in from Margent, you know. But I’ve heard rumors. Did she really channel Asa?”

“Sure did,” one of the other Artisans says quietly. “Never heard anything like it in my life.”

“Incredible,” you say, echoing his tone. The other player nails the outer bullseye and tsks at his poor showing. Your next dart hits the 20, whils his next also hits the outer bullseye. 389 you, 413 him. Still anybody’s game. “What did she actually say?” you ask.

“Not much, but she promised that the Herald would help catch the criminals,” he says.

Rolled 10 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

Rolled 30 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

Rolled 17 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

You pitch your dart and wince. This shot sucked – it stuck in the 2. His doesn’t. It lands squarely in the 15. Your next one is a bit better – 20. His 19 nearly matches it, and your 2 that follows disappears into his 14. 365 for him, 365 for you. A tie, with no end in sight.

“You have the oddest luck,” he observes.

“No kidding,” you mutter. “I’ve been out of town for two weeks. Has this Herald actually done anything?”

“Not really, but… well.” He clears his throat. “I’ve heard she blew up a building, killed a bunch of people.”

“No shit? Why?” you ask, in concern you don’t have to force.

“Who knows?” he asks rhetorically.



>”When did it happen? (stall for more info)”
>”Let’s talk about something else. (what?)”
>finish conversation and just play the game, then go home or do something else (what?)
Rolled 70 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>”When did it happen? (stall for more info)”
Rolled 10, 14 + 40 = 64 (2d100 + 40)

All right, I guess I'll roll for the other two. Where is everybody tonight?
Rolled 34 + 20 (1d100 + 20)


>”When did it happen? (stall for more info)”
You haul back and throw another dart, and grin in satisfaction as it hits the inner bullseye. His response knocks it away as it hits the inner bullseye, but your next two throws are terrible, and they just hit the 12 and 9, while his hit the 9 and the Double 11. 294 for you, 328 for him.

“So… when did the Herald blow up the building?” you ask.

He shrugs. “A few days ago. I wasn’t there. Apparently, she was with some people, and they helped her.”

“What does it mean?” one of the older men asks. “She’s a Herald… what could be happening?”

“Did the King say anything?” you ask.

He nods. “He said that we should be vigilant and respect the Herald’s authority. That was about it.”

“So nobody knows anything?” you ask. “Hmph. Frustrating.”


The shooter collects your darts and his, and flips one over his finger. “Hey, you’re pretty good. You play often?”

>Lie. “Yeah, all the time.”
>Truth. “No, I was a ranged fighter in the military.”

Rolled 29 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>Truth. “No, I was a ranged fighter in the military.”
Rolled 92 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>Truth. “No, I was a ranged fighter in the military.”
Rolled 70 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

Okay, got the last one, I guess.
You let another dart rip, and this one sticks in the 19, while his hits the Double 16. “I was a ranged fighter in the military, before I sort of lost the job,” you say.

“Mmh, that sucks,” he says idly.

You fire again. “Perfect!” you chuckle. Sure enough, the dart is lodged squarely in the middle of the double bullseye.

He sighs. “Oh well.”

“So, how about you? What do you do?” you ask as he throws. His shot hits the inner ring of the 7.

“I lay bricks for the Guild,” he says. “We all do.”

You nod. “You working on the garrison?”

“Nah, they’re done,” he says as your shot impales the double 5. His return shot hits the outer bullseye, bringing the score to 215 for you and 264 for him.

>I’ve learned enough. Let’s wrap this up and go.
>Ask more questions of somebody (whom? What?)
>I've learned enough, let's wrap this up and go.
>>I’ve learned enough. Let’s wrap this up and go.
Let's win the dart game and blow this joint. See what's going on on the streets.
The two of you trade darts back and forth until you squeak out a close victory, though the cash remains in the jar. You collect your winnings and head back out into the night, pulling up your collar and musing on what you’ve learned.

So the enemy’s message did get out, but these guys at least don’t buy it, you think to yourself. The streets are almost empty, in fact, with just the occasional Guard wandering on patrol.

The whole city is quiet. It’s a bit odd, really, you’d think there’d be more going on, what with the arrival of a Herald in public.

But maybe it’s a hopeful sign, you realize. Maybe the quiet means that everybody’s just waiting to see what you do next. That’d be a lot of pressure, but not more than battle.

That thought stirs a memory. Before the speech, Asa gave you the knowledge of the locations of the families of the people you killed. What do you actually want to do with that knowledge? Asa said that absolution would come from improving their lives, somehow. You could just give them money from the war chest, but that seems a bit shallow…

>Any ideas on how to advance this?

>Page Asa
>Ask Jerome in the morning
>Drop by in regalia and speak to them in the morning
>Drop by in disguise and speak to them in the morning
>Drop by in disguise and speak to them in the morning
>Drop by in disguise and speak to them in the morning
We don't wish to draw that much attention to ourselves.
>Ask Jerome in the morning
>Page Asa
They might have some ideas as well before we head over.
You tap the Gem as soon as you’re sure as nobody’s looking. {Sister, are you feeling better?}

Her voice is a bit haggard, but it’s clear. [Yes, thank you. We were informing the Kings of the world what you are, and that I have a Herald again. Most were either annoyed that you’re Cenderian military, angry that I didn’t kill off your city when historically, we’ve done that for other nations, or delighted that we’re sending somebody to help mortals fix the problem on their own.]

{That’s something,} you think.

[It is. What can I do for you?]

{I want to continue the idea we had about my seeking absolution of some sort,} you tell her. {How should I best proceed?}

[Invite them to someplace neutral,] she suggests. [Someplace nice. A place you can appear in a measure of privacy and dignity alike. Then, reveal yourself to them, ask for their forgiveness in exchange for an act of service. Let them decide, and remember that you can reject unfair requests, or requests I can’t grant.]

>Ask something
>”But what if they want my life in return for what I did?”
>”And you’ll give it to them if it is something in your power?”
>”And you’ll give it to them if it is something in your power?”
{So if it’s in your power, they’ll just get whatever I negotiate for them?} you ask.

[No, no. If their request is fair, but not something you can grant alone, I’ll step in. Don’t worry, I’ll walk you through it.] Her tone lightens a bit as she changes the subject. [How did your reconnaissance mission go?]

{Well, I guess. I won a game of darts,} you joke. [But really, what happened was a bit confusing. It looks like Soutri’s message did get out, but most of the world is just waiting to see what I do next.}

She can clearly detect what you’re thinking from your choice of words. [Which isn’t what you signed up for, I know,] she says. [Don’t be afraid. I revealed your name and the name of our enemies for a reason.]

{Yeah, about that,} you think, jumping on the chance. {Won’t Moor and Kotrick just fortify themselves so much I’ll never get another crack at them?}

[Not likely,] she says confidently. [You killed all six of their best men, and all three of Novai’s. That’ll take the wind from the sails of the rest. Trust me, they’re more vulnerable now, and while that does make them dangerous, the whole city is now searching them out. If I were you, I’d go see if that lead you asked Darril to follow paid off.]

{Hmm. Okay, I will,} you promise. Your house looms over you. {But for now, I’m going to rest.}

[Of course, sister. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.]

I'm in for the night.

Please, please, please keep it alive overnight.

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