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>>42046082

Then, you spot Oberon, sitting at an ornate stone throne at the head of the largest table in the room. Unlike the slumbering fairies surrounding him, the king is awake and sober as a judge. The tarnished point of Gae Bolg is clutched in his diminutive fist, and he seems lost in thought as he examines the broken weapon. After a moment spent in contemplation, turning the fragment over in his hands, Oberon looks up and notices you, nodding simply.

You return the gesture and then, not really sure why, stroll over to talk with the child-like monarch. Again, you're struck by the uncertainty of an unfamiliar system – should you bow, as though you were in a formal setting, or was the respectful nod enough of a display? In the end, you just bow your head again, a little awkwardly.

“Gae Bolg,” Oberon says simply, “A terrible thing. A single strike from this spear could kill any man. Brave warriors tremble before such a weapon,” he points the spearhead at you, holding it like a man about to throw a dart. “What about you, human? Does it strike fear into your heart?”

>Uh, I'm trembling right now
>It's junk
>Is it really such a potent weapon?

>>42046090
>>Is it really such a potent weapon?
"Its hard to tell in its current state "

>>42046090
>Is it really such a potent weapon?

>>42046090
>It looks just as fragile as it apparently is strong.

>>42046138
>>42046273
>>42046290

You've got to ask – is it really such a potent weapon? Stories are good and all, but you're a little unsure of how much you believe them. After all, it doesn't look like much at the moment. It looks, you add, as fragile as it is said to be strong

“They say a wound from this spear would never heal, simply bleeding endlessly until death took the victim. If, that is, they didn't die instantly.” Slowly, casually, Oberon takes the spearhead and runs his finger down the edge of it. No blood is shed, such is the state of the tarnished metal. “Gae Bolg had teeth, barbs that would hook into a man and tear the guts from his body. Now, this piece of scrap is toothless.”

Scrap, you ask with a nervous glance around the hall, if it was just scrap why did he want it returned so badly?

“Because it's a symbol to our people,” the king shrugs a little, “They don't see it as scrap. They see it as our heritage, as an embodiment of our power. When it was lost, people started to talk, whispering about how the court could not defend itself without pacts or treaties. Now, at long last, we have legitimacy again.” Oberon lifts a goblet, carefully sniffing the liquid inside before putting down again, grimacing. “Tell me, human, what do you intend to do?”

Do? Does he mean today? Because you didn't really have anything planned. A few ideas perhaps, but...

“I understand you've been asking around about the cornerstones,” Oberon's voice is light, but serious, “Do you really intend on hunting them down? And for what purpose?”

>I was just curious about them
>I won't let either side claim them
>I'll claim them for (Heaven/Hell)

>>42046340
>I'm still deciding what to do.
>For now, I'm just sure that whatever I intend to do to keep myself and those around me safe, I need to do it before either side claims them.

>>42046340
>To keep me and mine safe mostly. You as a king can understand that surely, probably better than I do myself.

>>42046340
>I'm still deciding. Heaven and Hell don't seem to have our best interests at heart, but I can't just go out and fight both of them myself. Not without some kind of plan at least.

>>42046340
>I was just curious about them
>I won't let either side claim them

>>42046373
>>42046396
>>42046433
>>42046594

You're still deciding what you're going to do, you tell the king. Whatever course you take, however, you're going to do whatever it takes to keep you – and the people close to you – safe. You're not going to let either side of this fight claim them, like it's already claimed so many others. Surely, as a king, he understands that responsibility better than you ever could?

Beside, you laugh a little, you're in no position to take on both Heaven and Hell right now. Not without some kind of plan, at least.

“Yes, well. In either case,” Oberon announces, “You've been a good friend to me and my people, Amelia Bishop. I shall offer what aid I can, but...” his voice drops lower, “There may come a time when I shall need your help again. A mutually beneficial arrangement, you could say. When the time comes, can I rely on you?”

Well that's pretty vague, you think to yourself. With no way of knowing what he might ask you to do – and perhaps he himself does not know what service he will require – there's no easy answer to offer him. You're still mulling over your answer when the king speaks up again.

“Yes, I know – it's not fair to demand an answer now. I shall ask again, should I need your aid,” Oberon steeples his fingers and carefully continues, “Please understand, though, that some doors may remain closed to you should you refuse. An unavoidable consequence, I'm afraid, of having to direct my resources elsewhere.”

Oh yes, you understand perfectly, you tell the fairy monarch. Honestly, it's pretty hard to hold it against him – it's a shitty situation, but this kind of give and take behaviour is the currency of the new world. At least Oberon is being up front about it, compared with whatever schemes are brewing behind Titania's eyes.

“Then I leave you to your business,” Oberon says after a thoughtful pause, dismissing you with a wave.

>>42046658

Which raises the question – what IS your business for today? It seems like this is the first time in a long while where you're in a position to make up your own mind. You could try and research these cornerstones, maybe work out where they are, or you could see if Carnby has done the book stuff for you. On the other hand, there was Forneus' garage sale to deal with – the longer you let THAT particular wound fester, the worse things could get.

Or, in the absence of anything better to do, you could goof off. Wander the city, perhaps, or spend some time with Cassandra. It might seem like wasted time, but trouble has a habit of finding you – all you need to do is wait.

>Do some research, with Carnby if possible
>Return to the hospital to search the basement
>Other

>>42046673
>>Return to the hospital to search the basement
Like she said, this one is on a timetable.

Maybe before we leave ask Carnby if he could look more into the cornerstones so he can have something for us when we get back.

Delegation ho!

>>42046673
>>Return to the hospital to search the basement
Use it to team build with your summons.

>>42046673
>Return to the hospital to search the basement
>DON'T FUCK WITH THAT COFFIN

>>42046836
http://youtu.be/zIjVvnO5lgM

>>42046695
>>42046813
>>42046836

The longer you leave Forneus' stash alone, the greater the chance of some demon stealing something valuable – or dangerous, perhaps – out from under your nose. That just isn't right! You're the one who should be stealing potentially dangerous artefacts from an overcrowded basement! Before you go, though, you want to dig Carnby out of whatever hole he's fallen into and see if he's in a fit state to do some work.

It feels pretty strange, ordering your father about, but if you're supposed to be a leader – and you'll be damned if that thought doesn't still send a shiver running down your spine – you'd better start acting like one. Acting like a leader, in this case, means palming the boring work off on somebody else while you go and do something more exciting.

It doesn't take long to find Carnby. In fact, it takes longer to actually find the archives that you suspected he'd be in. The man looks ghastly, even more unshaven than normal, and with painful looking red eyes. You wonder how much sleep he got last night – or how much wine he drank the night before – but decide against asking. You're not really sure you want to know what he ended up doing. At least he's here, awake, and flicking listlessly through an old book.

You're heading out, you tell him, could he read up on those cornerstones a little while you're away? It's not too much to ask, you don't think, but the sound of your voice brings an agonised wince to the professor's face. He'd agree to pretty much anything, you realise, just as long as it meant you'd leave him in peace.

“Cornerstones, right,” he croaks, “I think I have a book here: 'Metaphysical Foundations of-'”

Woah there, you say hastily, holding your hands up. You're interested, but not THAT interested. Save the digested version for when you get back, okay?

“Fine,” Carnby sighs in resignation as you breeze out of the library.

>>42047012

Cassandra was still sleeping when you stuck your head around the door, and you didn't have the heart to wake her. You were so focussed on your own tiredness that you had forgotten about her – she's in the same boat you are, and you'd wager that she doesn't have half of your natural stamina. You're not expecting any major difficulties, anyway, and you can always flee if things are looking bad.

By now, you can pretty much trace your steps back to the hospital by memory, taking shortcuts whenever possible to cut the journey time down. The hospital itself is looking irritatingly familiar as well, as though it seeks to remind you of how little progress you've made since waking from your coma. No, that's not fair, you tell yourself, you've done plenty of stuff – probably more than you'd ever have achieved in your “normal” life. It's just a little disheartening, seeing everything getting progressively worse around you, that's all.

Dark thoughts, you mutter, putting them out of your mind and striding into the building. Forneus' body has long since vanished, degrading with rapid speed. Even the pools of his blood have faded, drying up and turning into dust in the breeze. Then, standing at the top of the emergency stairwell leading down to the basement, you hear a voice in your mind.

“You, human!” the voice calls out, “Beware this place, there are vermin skulking everywhere. Flee, if you don't have the heart for a battle, but if you do... rewards await anyone who can exterminate these brutes. Show them no mercy!”

Well, that sounds like a pretty good idea to you.

>Summon two demons and descend
>Turn away and leave
>Descend alone

>>42047036
>Summon two demons and descend
Ripper and Valkyrie

>>42047036
>>Summon two demons and descend
Undine and Eligor if he's good to go, jack is Eligor still needs time.

>>42047092
I'll revise to Undine instead of Valkyrie. Probably the safer choice, just wanted to try out our Valk sometime.

>>42047036
>>Summon two demons and descend
This is Eligor's turf so maybe he knows what's down here? Maybe summon him and Undine?

>>42047281
I think Eligor is dead/down for a bit.

>>42047281
>>42047309
>>42047116

>I forgot to mention, all your demons have recovered overnight, so Eligor is a valid option here.

>>42047338
Oh then yeah Eligor and Undine then.

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>>42047356
>>42047281
>>42047116

You're not going to back down from a fight, certainly not against anything that the voice in your head is calling “vermin”. After all, if you cant trust the voices in your head, who can you trust? Still, you're not quite sure who to take down with you. True enough, this IS Eligor's territory and his icon has turned bright again, signalling his return to health, so it makes good sense to keep him around. Plus Undine, you decide eventually, just to have someone with healing magic around if things go south.

Thus prepared, you trot down the stairs and emerge into the gloom of the basement. There are noises stirring the air here, growls and groans that sound like something a wounded animal would make, mingled with the scrape of boxes being dragged. The basement is even less organised than when you last saw it, straw littering the floor from where crates have been torn open amidst shards of broken pottery. No sign of anything dangerous, but that's not a thought that reassures you much.

“The smell of filth hangs heavy in the air,” Eligor rumbles from behind you, scanning the room with his lance at the ready. It was quite a sight, watching him take his demonic steed down the staircase, but you're glad to have his armoured bulk at your back.

Filth, huh? What would he recommend?

“Sweep the halls, crushing all before us,” he replies at once, “Allow me another chance to prove my worth, master!”

>Go with Eligor's plan. Stay behind with Undine to support him
>Go with a plan of your own (Write in)

>>42047583
>Go with Eligor's plan. Stay behind with Undine to support him

>>42047583
>Go with Eligor's plan. Stay behind with Undine to support him
Eligor, you did very well last time, Forneus' caught us all by surprise with that last ditch assault of his.

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>>42047632
>>42047857

It's hard to argue against the warrior demon's enthusiasm, or his desire to repair his wounded pride. You nod briskly, smiling a little as his eyes light up with a vicious glee. He's already celebrating his victory, you realise, and watch as he spurs his horse into life. Thundering away down the first corridor, you have to hurry to catch up with Eligor and his rampage. As you round the corner, you almost trip over the dissolving remains of a grotesque looking demon.

It's clammy and flabby looking, with skin as mottled as a drowned corpse, albeit in a shade more purple than anything you'd ever see in a human corpse. True enough, it has a scent of sickness and decay about it that has nothing to do with its rapidly degrading state. Overall, it's a pretty gross specimen.

>Preta: a demon of sickness and disease, these unpleasant creatures are virtually mindless and will not bear to talk with humans. Weak to magic, these are nevertheless easy to defeat through any means. Don't let your guard down, however, as they can use dark magic against you!

That's what Goetia has to say about the corpse. Interesting, and you're happy to see that there's no sign of Marco screwing around with your phone. Before you can think about it any more, you hear the wet sound of a lance tearing through flesh, and another mutilated Preta is hurled through the doorway in front of you. At least Eligor looks like he's having fun with this plan of his.

“Jeez,” Undine mutters, waving a hand in front of her face as she peers down at the newest corpse.

Yeah, you tell the little demon, you can't help but agree. Then, from the room beyond, you see a flash of black light and hear a terrible shriek.

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>>42048101

“Fool! That won't work on ME!” Eligor, still standing tall as you race into the room, roars. Streamers of hissing magic are clinging to his rust-red armour, but he pays them no heed. Across the room, perched atop a stack of crates, a new demon gibbers and shrieks, pointing around at you and Eligor with mad gestures. A gold mask covers the thing's face, and you can see the glint of new eyes lurking in the shadows. You'll need to end this quickly, before reinforcements arrive.

“Dark magic at work, here!” Eligor laughs, looking round at you, “Stand back, master, I can take anything this wretch throws at me.”

“And I can freeze those skulking fools in their tracks,” Undine adds, copying Eligor's arrogant tone for a moment, before breaking down into a giggle.

>Please roll 2D100 – first for Eligor, second for Undine. I'll take the highest of the first three

Rolled 40, 3 = 43 (2d100)

>>42048236

Rolled 60, 49 = 109 (2d100)

>>42048236

Rolled 11, 68 = 79 (2d100)

>>42048236

Rolled 59, 6 = 65 (2d100)

>>42048236
Lets do it.

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>>42048251
>>42048273

Eligor moves first, spurring his steed into a sudden charge and ploughing towards the masked demon. Strangely, the creature makes no move to avoid the deadly blow, watching and cackling as the lance plunges into the thing's bloated gut. It's a blow that would fell any mortal man, but the shrunken demon doesn't even flinch. Instead, it's hands flop out, gripping the long haft of the metal lance and flickering with growing power.

Sensing danger, Eligor tries to pull his lance free, but the weapon is stuck fast in the demon's clammy flesh. The light surrounding the demon's hands reaches a peak, and you hear a sharp crack as a bolt of lightning discharges wildly. Eligor roars, more out of rage then pain – although there is an undeniable note of pain in that wild cry – and tugs his hands away from the lance. The weapon hangs loosely from the demon's stomach as Eligor moves close, hands outstretched to strangle the life out of his enemy.

As Eligor takes his anger out on the gibbering demon, Undine sweeps her hands out and conjures up a wall of ice surrounding you and her. Some of the Preta are caught in the rising spikes, impaled and hurled, screaming, into the air. The others, the demons remaining outside the border, back away nervously, but a strangely playful gesture from the water sprite sends more icicle spikes shooting out to spear them as well. The stink of demon blood soon fills the air, and the chittering sounds of their screams dies out, one by one. Soon, the only sound left is a rhythmic “thud”. When the ice melts, you can see the cause.

Eligor is slamming the masked demon's head against a crate, over and over again. The gold mask is dented, broken and disfigured, and a thick syrup of tainted blood is leaking out of it. Finally, as you watch, the demon's head breaks open and a soup of darker fluid slops out.

“It's finished,” Eligor tells you, surprisingly calmly. No shit, you think to yourself.

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>>42048501

“Then the fiends are gone, and I owe you a gift of thanks,” the voice in your head rings out. Slowly, like an image gradually flickering into life, a female demon appears. She wears a blank white mask and not much else, baring her midriff with shameless glee. A power radiates from her, strong enough to cause both of your demons to shudder and even send a shiver down your spine. These vermin, as she called them, would have proven to be no problem at all to one of such power.

“Yes, indeed,” the demon shrugs, folding her legs and hovering in place, “I am Scathach, and this was a test. A test of your bravery and your virtue, your willingness to help those in need. I have another test, if it takes your fancy. Human, do you favour strength or guile?”

As she talks, Scathach holds out both hands, each one clenched into a closed fist around some hidden object.

“In one hand is a boon to make you a powerful warrior. In the other, a ward against even the most powerful of curses. What say you, human?” Behind her mask, Scathach's eyes are cold and analytic, “Will you choose strength, or will you choose guile?”

>Strength
>Guile

First actual kills by Amelia for awhile. The only other one was Ghoul back when this started.

>>42048638
>Strength
We really need something for Amelia to defend herself when the going gets tough. That semi automatic isn't going to go far.

In a sense we already have 'Guile' since we use our head so having Strength to back it up helps too.

>>42048638
>Strength

>>42048696
>>42048750

“A choice says much about the individual,” Scathach purrs, “Let this gift, then, steel your warrior's heart.” Opening one of her hands, Scathach reveals a strange lump of bone. It's a jawbone of some kind – human, maybe, or something close to human – that has been modified a little, crafted into a crude knuckleduster. It was also too large to fit within the fist that had hidden it, but you're far beyond the point of being phased by a magic trick like that.

So, you ask as you pick up the jawbone and turn it over in your hands, what is it?

“Hewn from a malformed beast, allow this weapon to lend you an inhuman strength,” Scathach explains slowly, “This is the Bone Fist, carry it with you, and your fists shall cause the earth itself to tremble.”

That sounds dangerous, you remark as you slip the weapon over your left hand. It's a little hard to move your fingers with it on – using it on your dominant hand would make anything that requires fine dexterity impossible – but it fills your body with a potent sense of power. You feel like you could break down walls with a single punch, if that's what you wanted.

>Acquired Bone Fist: Increases strength when fighting bare-handed.

“And now, human, I ask that you leave here,” Scathach asks politely, “I have much to do here, before I can call this a suitable workshop – but please, return here soon, and I shall share my skills with you.”

It looks like you're being dismissed, but you're not quite ready to leave just yet. You've got some questions for her.

>Have you seen a coffin around here? A big one?
>What skills are these?
>Other
>Leave without asking anything else

>>42049069
>>Have you seen a coffin around here? A big one?
I hear its full of beast eyes so don't open it.

>What skills are these?
If you don't mind me asking.

>>42049069
>What skills are these?

>>42049119
>>42049120

What skills, you ask bluntly, before realising just how rude that sounded. Ahem. What skills, you correct yourself, are these? It sounds better, but you still want to sink into the floor and die.

“I can distil the essence of a demon down to physical form, to produce an item of use. That prize, I gave you, is the product of such a process,” Scathach's voice is calm, “Fear not, it will not kill the demon in question, but the subject will not be able to return to material form for a number of years. A curse, for many demons, but if your orders demand it they cannot refuse.”

Oh, that's... definitely a thing. You're not sure if you want to lose any of your demons quite yet, but it's good to have the option of getting more stuff. One last thing, though, has she seen a coffin around here anywhere? A big one, pretty dangerous by the sound of things?

“There was a casket here, yes,” Scathach nods, “I fear it has been moved since. Dragged away by a pack of those revolting maggots, although I know not their destination. Perhaps it is better lost – there are many things that should not grace the light of day.”

Right, you agree, but you can't shake the feeling that you'll be seeing that particular coffin soon enough. Well, you'll be off then, you tell the female demon, who nods gracefully at your departure. You're still thinking about her “skills” as you climb the stairs, contemplating what demon was used to create the knuckleduster still fastened to your left hand. You're still deep in thought, demons long since returned to storage to rest, when you make it outside.

That's when you hear a hushed footstep behind you, followed by the click of a pistol. “Don't turn around,” a soft voice calls out, “Just don't move at all.”

Oh hell – what NOW?

>>42049335

You really thought about leaving your armour at home today – you really did. Anything to give you a little break from the awkward tightness of the bulletproof kevlar. But, oh boy, you're glad you didn't allow yourself that little indulgence. That voice sounded close – they must have been lurking just outside the exit – and you've got no desire to take a second bullet from such close range. Especially not if it involves getting shot in the back – what an awful way to die!

“Whose side are you on, huh?” the voice grunts angrily. There's an accent there – something European, or closer to Russian maybe – and a definite edge, “Well? A whore of God, or one of the Devil's lapdogs?”

Whoever this violent youth – and it sounds like a young voice – is, they certainly don't seem to favour either side of this great battle. Maybe you have common ground there, if only you can convince them of that.

>I'm on my own side.
>Whose side are you on?
>Let's stay calm. What's your name?
>Other

>>42049876
"Not really a fan of either of them to be honest."
>>Let's stay calm. What's your name?

>>42049876
>I'm on my own side.
ive got better things to do than jack around here

>>42049876
>I'm on my own side.
>Let's stay calm. What's your name?

>>42049876
>I'm on my own side.
Both are dicks honesttly
>Let's stay calm. What's your name?

>>42050020
>>42049981
>>42049915
>>42049910

You're on your own side, you tell the unseen attacker carefully. You don't put your hands up – you have that much restraint, at least, and you can't help but wonder if they've seen the knuckleduster on your left hand. When was the last time you punched someone? It's been a while, and you can only hope that you'll be able to pull it off with the same skill you once prided yourself on. If you need to punch your way out of this, of course, but that's seeming increasingly likely.

“Is that so?” you hear a number of quiet footsteps as the figure approaches. Closer still – at this range, they'd probably aim for the head rather than the body. Have you missed your chance?

Let's all just stay calm, you say quietly, what's your name? That seems to amuse your attacker, who chuckles slightly.

“Deathseeker Petra,” they answer, giving you a moment's pause.

Not her real name, surely? You can't stop yourself from asking the question, even if it provokes some kind of violent reaction.

“The world died. The old me died. The new world will have a new name, so why shouldn't the new me?” Another few footsteps, and “Deathseeker Petra” is right behind you. You can smell oil and metal from the pistol, and something else – fresh blood. Your new friend is injured, or so it would seem. Their breathing doesn't sound laboured or strained, and their step was light enough that perhaps it was someone else's blood.

Then again, they're also close enough that you might – MIGHT – be able to land a good solid punch before they can pull the trigger. You always were quick, and with the element of surprise...

>Try and land a punch (Roll a D100)
>Ask if she's hurt
>Ask what she wants
>Other

Rolled 66 (1d100)

>>42050383
>Ask if she's hurt
I can heal you
>Ask what she wants
if she seems to hostile
>Try and land a punch (Roll a D100)

>>42050383
>Ask if she's hurt
>>Ask what she wants

Rolled 23 (1d100)

>>42050428
>>42050383
I'll also give a roll to the 'if she is hostile after asking the other questions.'

Rolled 46 (1d100)

>>42050428
>>42050383

>>42050428
>>42050441

Is she okay, you ask carefully, is she... hurt? You've got magic, you explain before wincing a little at the blunt announcement. So now she knows you can summon demons – wonderful. That was your other ace in the hole. Well, no point crying over spilled milk. You ask, instead, if there's something that the girl wants. Surely there must be something, if she's pointing a gun at the back of your skull.

“Hurt? A scratch maybe. This isn't enough to stop me,” Petra snarls, “I came here for supplies – to steal, like a rat – but I find you instead. You, the summoner who claims to belong to no side. Interesting.” There is a rattle of metal and you feel a weight lift from your shoulders. The gun, at least, is no longer part of the equation.

Slowly, you make to turn around, moving with more confidence when she doesn't stop you. When you see the long red braid of hair, you suddenly realise that you've seen this person before. Briefly, when she was riding away on a horse. She wears crude metal armour, hammered together out of scraps and salvage, and a strange gadget on one arm. A tangled mess of wires, boxy electronics and a touch screen – wait...

“Yes, I too can summon the spirits,” she tells you, drawing your attention back to her face. A worn bandage is wrapped around her head, barely covering the blood matted to her cheek. If that's what she calls a scratch...

>Ask again what she wants. Long term, this time
>Offer her some help
>Attack her
>Other

>>42050789
>Ask again what she wants. Long term, this time
>Offer her some help

>>42050886

So, you ask the young woman opposite you, what does she want, long term? If she's not on either “side” of this conflict, is she just in this for survival? You wonder if this hard-bitten survivor in front of you is a vision of your future – scarred, ragged and pushed to the brink. It's a worrying thought, and one that strengthens your urge to do something with your life. Anything really.

Petra purses her lips, as if she can't quite decide whether or not to trust you. “I'm going to kill every devil I find. Then, if he dares show his face, I'll kill Lucifer himself. After that, God and all of his angels,” she says this bluntly, as if describing something unremarkable. A machete – obviously well-used – hangs from her belt, and her hand never strays far from it. “After that, mankind will be free to chart their own destiny.”

That's... huh. And you thought your plan was a crazy one. At least you have more of a plan than “kill everything and everyone” - but this lunatic...

“Yes, I thought you might think that,” Petra nods, “But in the end, death will not wait for God or Devil.”

Well, uh, not to change the subject or anything, but is there anything you can do to help her? Not with the, um, genocide thing, you mean. Medical help. You've got this wonderful little demon who can heal her wounds in an instant.

“I'll live,” Petra shakes her head, “My own mistake – one I will learn from.” There is a long pause as she studies you. Looking back at her, you can see something of yourself in her eyes – some vague anger directed against anyone you could blame for the state of the world. It's a sobering moment. “Don't pick sides,” the lunatic tells you, before turning to walk away.

Wait, that's it?

“You're on your own side,” Petra shrugs, “I've got no quarrel with you.” The “yet” in her sentence is unspoken, but hovers heavily in the air.

>>42051201
>“I'm going to kill every devil I find. Then, if he dares show his face, I'll kill Lucifer himself. After that, God and all of his angels,”
10/10 would survive in a world of strength

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>>42051201

How the hell did you talk your way out of that one, you ask yourself as you watch the woman stride off, a certified maniac like her? Yet, you can't deny that her philosophy has a certain brute appeal – kill angel and devil both, so humans can stand on their own two feet. Not that much different from what you're hoping to achieve, just in a more direct way. Still, your heart is pounding as you start to walk away from the hospital, heading back to the fairy court.

Your heart has settled into a more comfortable rhythm by the time you reach the border of the court. Cassandra is on the street outside, with Archangel at her shoulder. Glowering with contempt, as if hating every moment of his existence, Archangel swings his sword through the air in several slow sweeps. Cassandra imitates each swing, with a broom handle and far more enthusiasm.

You've had the strangest day, and as you watch the girl swish her “sword” through the air, you're convinced that it's only going to get stranger. Ah Cassandra, you announce as you approach, having... fun?

“Oh!” Cassandra stops mid-swing, laughing nervously, “Amelia, hello! I, ah, I didn't see you this morning.”

That's because she was asleep, you mention off-hand, still looking at her broom-sword in bemusement. Is she planning on doing some extremely aggressive sweeping?

“This is, ah, practice,” she laughs again, looking appropriately embarrassed, “King Oberon stopped by earlier. He said I should learn to fight – I don't know why, but he seemed pretty intent on the idea. It's pretty fun actually!”

>Fighting IS pretty fun, yeah
>Isn't fighting my job?
>Your friend doesn't look very happy about this
>Other

>>42051509
>Your friend doesn't look very happy about this
>Oberon's right though, you probably should in case your phone ever goes bad or your summoning get's interrupted.

>>42051558
>>42051509
I'll second this.

"I've had similar ideas."

>>42051509

This: >>42051558

>>42051558
>>42051632
>>42051920

Oberon has a point, you admit, it's better to have a second line of defence if you can't summon a de- an angel for whatever reason. What you don't tell her is the dark premonition Titania had given you – her vision of Cassandra falling in battle against an army of angels. So both Oberon and Titania are trying to prepare the girl for some future battle – is that specific vision of the future really that much more likely, or do they need her alive for some reason?

Frowning to yourself, you try and put the grim thoughts to one side. Focus on the immediate issue, and the brighter one. Her friend, you nod up to Archangel, who stubbornly ignores you, her friend doesn't look very happy about this. If anything, Archangel looks like he'd rather be anywhere else, preferably somewhere with lots of evildoers to chop up.

“You think?” Cassandra looks up at Archangel, “I guess. These things are always more fun with friends though!”

Well, it can be pretty fun to hit someone, you admit, although you've never quite done it with a broomstick before. You almost got in a fight with someone today, though. Then, slowly, you find yourself telling her about your encounter with Petra. Cassandra listens carefully, pursing her lips and tapping the broom against her shoulder. You're not sure what you're expecting from her – a horrified reaction, perhaps, or a desperate plea to stop her. Certainly, you expected Cassandra to object to Petra's threat against God.

“She's going to meet a bad end, that one,” Cassandra mused instead, “It's a real shame. She sounds nice, in a way.”

Nice? Well, she didn't shoot you in the head, so that's got to be a point in her favour...

“Oh, Professor Carnby was looking for you!” Cassandra cries, “He said he'd found something you were looking for. It sounded pretty important.”

Very important, you nod quickly, before excusing yourself and hurrying off.

>>42051947

“How do you feel about a little tourism?” Carnby asks, when you find him. He's waiting within the outermost limits of Oberon's keep, shifting his weight from side to side as though he can hardly contain his nerves.

Tourism, you say in a flat, unimpressed voice. You're sure he's got something very important to say – that's what he told Cassandra at least – so maybe he should just drop the nonsense and get on with it?

“Ahem, Saint Paul's Cathedral,” Carnby tells you quickly, “I believe that's where the first cornerstone is located. There were certain geographical clues that imply that's where it is...”

Geographical clues, you frown at him, is that really all he's going off?

“Not just that. There is one other, ah, hint,” Carnby looks away. He's doing his evasive thing again, trying to avoid an issue he'd rather not talk about. You wait it out, glaring at him with crossed arms until he relents. “Raphael has descended, as I'm sure you're aware, and he has taken up positions around Saint Paul's. It must be an important place, for him to lay siege to it.”

He's not bullshitting, is he? Archangel Raphael himself, here to claim the cornerstone in God's name. But if that's the case, why hasn't he just taken it already?

“That, I'm not sure about,” Carnby frowns, “Perhaps there's something keeping him out? Devils, keeping him at a stalemate, perhaps? Oh, but if the devils have control of the cornerstone, they would have claimed it and moved on...”

So we know nothing, you sigh. Hey, since when was Carnby willing to help, anyway? He was sure that it was certain death before, why change his tune?

“Well, I'm starting to think that you'll go looking for them either way,” the professor shrugs and laughs a little, “At least this way I can steer you in the right direction. I still advise against going... but you won't listen to me, will you?”

>>42052279

Hey, what seventeen year old girl listens to her father?

“Good point,” Carnby admits, looking somehow pleased at your answer. It's the first time you've just casually called him that. Father. You're still happier with “professor” or “old man”, but you're warming up to the idea. “You're really going to go?”

Maybe not right now, you admit. Cassandra's Archangel – the low budget, nameless variation of the breed – is scary enough, you're not even sure what it would be like to come face to face with the brand name version. Maybe Cassandra could be persuaded to give you her silver cross for a little, just to be sure. But then again, the longer you wait, the greater the chance of something going wrong. You already dropped the ball with Forneus' treasure trove – that damn casket! - and you're not sure you want to lose another opportunity.

Hell, maybe Cassandra will want to come with you. Sure, it seems like a terrible idea – in a choice between you and an Archangel, you're pretty sure Cassandra would be standing on the Heavenly side of the street – but you can't be sure. She's been... moderate lately, calmer about things. You're a bad influence, you think to yourself and chuckle darkly.

So, what to do?

>Head out to Saint Paul's Cathedral
>Try and borrow Cassandra's silver cross
>See if Cassandra wants to come with you
>Some other preparation (Write in)

>>42052537
>>Some other preparation (Write in)
Undine what do your contacts have that can help? Pixie any fae interests in the area? Eligor anything you can tell me about Raphael's forces or Raphael himself?

>>42052606
>>42052537
Yeah see if Undine can figure out who is holding the line against Raph.

>>42052537
See if Alice and her uncles have any jobs they need doing in exchange for some help.

File: PixieSMT3.jpg (266 KB, 1720x2084)

266 KB JPG

>>42052606
>>42053003

You're not going anywhere without a little intelligence – the kind of information that only your ever-growing pack of demonic minions can offer you. Undine has her contacts – whoever they are – and Pixie might be able to tell you about any fairy allies in the area, unless the neutrality pacts keep their hands tied. Finally, Eligor might have information on Raphael himself – it makes sense, the devil seems like the type to profile his enemies. So, one by one, you summon your minions.

“There's a lot of chatter on the Amala network,” Undine warns as you put your questions to her, “Raphael is the weakest of the four Archangels, but he's no slouch. Word is, he's locked out of the cathedral and he's getting pissed off. There's a powerful devil inside putting up a barrier, if the rumours are true. The law can't get in, but the devils can't do anything else.” She winks at you, “Looks like they're waiting for something to break the stalemate, boss. Got any ideas?”

You're certainly thinking of a few, you tell her, any word on who's in there?

“Nothing, boss,” Undine pouts, “Whoever it is, they're keeping their heads down.”

Pixie is next and, after a few moments where she and Undine spit sparks at each other, it's down to business. “I don't know how much help we can be here,” she says with genuine regret, “I'll fight, if you want me to, since I guess I count as a free agent but that's about it. No armies, I'm afraid. But hey, you've got the queen's pendant, don't you? That's something!”

Right, you tell her, thinking of the little amber charm. If something tries to mess with your head, you'll know about it. Then again, if something cuts your head clean off, you'll know about THAT as well – doesn't mean you'll be in a position to do anything about it. If Eligor doesn't have some kind of silver bullet for you, you're on your own.

>>42053356
>>42053343

“Raphael,” the old soldier murmurs when you summon him, “Not a name I've heard in a while. They say he's the merciful one, out of the four, but that doesn't mean much. He'd try and take my head as soon as he sees me, unfortunately. No, worse than that, he'll burn me to a cinder with holy magic. I won't be able to help much against him in a straight fight, not with his power against mine.”

That's not reassuring. Does he have any weaknesses? Anything you can exploit to take him out quickly? Eligor is silent for a worryingly long time – either he's desperately searching his memory for the faintest rumour, or he's trying to avoid giving you the bad news. Come on, man, spit it out!

“Lightning might hurt him,” Eligor begins, doubt lingering in his voice, “It might stun him, at least. He strikes with wind and holy magic, and he's armoured against sword and bullet. Flee, and he'll strike with magic. Get close, and he'll strike with his blade.”

Hell. And this guy is supposed to be the weakest of the Archangels?

“Regrettably so,” Eligor admits, “Yet, should you choose to fight, I will follow you to the very end. My lance drew blood today, and it will do so again!”

Eligor's stubborn pride is actually quite heartening, and as you're returning him to storage – after the shock he had earlier, the old soldier needs as much rest as he can get – you decide that you might be able to get the Hellfire Club on side. You can't guarantee getting Alice on your team, or even seeing her when she's awake, but you might be able to swing something.

It's crazy enough to work.

>That's where I'll finish for today. Next thread on Tuesday, and I'll lurk for a little as usual

>>42053419
Thanks for the run boss.

>>42053419
Thanks for running boss, did us getting more info surprise you?

>>42053795

Asking the demons at the end? That threw me a little, but I had enough in my notes to work with. Thinking on my feet is part of the fun!

>>42053946
Yeah I figured between Undine's contacts, Pixie's knowledge of fae movements and Eligor's experience in the field we'd get something useful.


Jack the ripper < Jack the reaper when?

>>42054054

Amelia needs to confront her true self and learn the meaning of friendship

Wait, shit, wrong game.

>>42054115
Is that a persona reference? cause Twilight Thorn runs a persona quest.

Any other curveballs we did that made you scramble or flummoxed you?

>>42054161

I wasn't expecting there to be such an overwhelming slant towards Neutral, but in retrospect I should have expected it - neutral is perhaps the "best" alignment. That's probably the main thing I can think of.

>>42053419
Ha, I can't believe you actually responded to my idea for asking Team Die For Me. Cool beans.

>>42054269

Well, they do owe Amelia a favour after all the double agent business she pulled.

Plus, she needs all the help she can get

>>42054244
Not the best, but sanest. We had no real reason to go either way.


>>42054361
Don't we ever.

>>42054244
>>42054387
"best" is a strong word. Yadda yadda, lacking in conviction/initiative/power, etc.

Following the saner Neutral routes, we should really be only doing 2 things:
>Find more humans to join us
>Understand the true nature of the war

Although killing Lucifer and God is still neutral. We would just need to spend our time risking our lives for power. Everyday. Continuously.

>>42054551

That's true. Ultimately, when I started running this quest, I sort of expected Amelia to dabble in Law/Chaos for a little bit before possibly going on the straight and narrow.