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>>45417790

You draw a fair few eyes as you ride into town, your hard face glaring out from beneath the wide brim of your travelling hat. Dismounting your horse, a thick cloud of dust swirls up as your booted feet hit the ground. The soil here is dry and lifeless – a sure sign that something is wrong with this place. For a farming town, in the middle of the growing season, this sterile earth can only mean famine.

Hitching your horse to the closest tree, you survey the town and figure out your next move. Gather information, learn the local spirits, and make your move – you'll do this by the book, just like you've always done. You've got enough experience in these matters after all – you're an old man now, or it feels that way at least.

If you had to guess, though, you'd say that the local god – you'd be willing to bet on it being a fertility spirit – has taken offence at something. It's your job to appease them... or destroy their avatar. With no physical presence, the god can't do anything to these people. There will be no curses, but no blessings either. It's a hard price to pay, but some gods are just more trouble than they're worth.

Of course, your training means that you're just the right person to decide how to handle this. You've spent your life on the path of...

>Lightning – the fusion of fire and air, this path favours quick attacks and diverse magic
>Wood – the fusion of earth and water, this path favours defence and social magic
>Mist – the fusion of water and air, this path favours both social and diverse forms of magic
>Metal – the fusion of earth and fire, this path favours potent attacks and defence

let sleeping gods lie

>>45417798
Its a toss up between Lightning and Mist for me.

Lightning cause its awesome, Mist cause the social aspect might help in our job.

Ah fuck it
>Lightning – the fusion of fire and air, this path favours quick attacks and diverse magic
Zap

>>45417798
>>Lightning – the fusion of fire and air, this path favours quick attacks and diverse magic

>>45417798

>Mist

If we ever get in situation where our clothes magically come off, this will handy.

>>45417845
Hah, thats an oddly specific scenario.

>>45417798
>>Lightning – the fusion of fire and air, this path favours quick attacks and diverse magic
Diverse sounds useful.

>>45417798
>Mist

>>45417798
Lightning

>>45417798
>Wood – the fusion of earth and water, this path favours defence and social magic

>Voting is now closed, it looks like Lightning has it.
>I'll typically have a 15 minute time limit for votes. Thank you for participating!

>>45417921
>>45417897
>>45417840
>>45417835

The path of lightning, of course. Those who walk this path are often called Lancers, or disciples of fury, and they pride themselves on being the first into the fight. Even outside of battle, many Lancers will have a spell or trick for any given situation – drawing upon the adaptable winds of magic to fuel their abilities.

>Gained two new spell cards. Spells can be only be used once. Regain used spells by resting and meditating for a short while in a safe place.

>[Fire] Sublime Strike
>“With the proper application of force, any blow can become a killing strike”
>Your next attack will benefit from a +20 modifier

>[Air] Towards the Great Land
>“Distance is no object to you, and those who seek to strike from afar will fear you”
>You may travel across open ground at great speed, immediately closing with distant targets in combat

Pausing a moment to reflect upon your training – the hours spent honing your body and focussing your mind – you find yourself wincing a little. Hard days, but necessary for making you the man you are today. If the Nameless Temple hadn't taken you in as a child, you don't know what would have happened to you. An orphan child, one of the few survivors of a famine struck village, your future was hardly a bright one. Now, at least, you can choose your own fate.

Shaking off those bleak memories, you cast your eye about the dismal village again, your gaze settling upon a young woman. She's very much out of place here, her outfit contrasting the with traditional garb you're used to seeing. She has to be here for a reason. Then again, you're not here to babysit a tourist – the inn, or whatever passes for one, would be a better place to start.

>Speak with the woman
>Visit the local inn
>Take a walk around town
>Other

>Character sheet: http://pastebin.com/z4MpU1Zu

>>45418014
>Speak with the woman
I'm not one to pass up a plot hook. See what her deal is before we talk with the locals.

>>45418014
>Speak with the woman

>>45418014
>speak with the woman

>>45418014
>Speak with the woman

>>45418014
>>Speak with the woman
We strike like lightning, and much like lightning we are easily drawn toward things that stand out from the rest. Interest lighting-rods, as it were.

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>>45418148
>>45418092
>>45418071
>>45418064
>>45418048

If she is here for a reason, you decide a moment later, it might be one worth finding out about. She might already have the information you're looking for, or some kind of lead to start with. She hears you as you approach – not surprising, considering your heavy footfalls – and turns. Intelligent eyes, you notice, set in a face alive with youthful enthusiasm. Maybe a little too much enthusiasm, if anything, and that can be a dangerous thing.

“Hello there!” she announces, before you can get a word in, “Not from around here, are you? I'm Aya, Aya Hinamaru, chief reporter for the Tenngaru Times. That's kind of a newspaper, you know? A newspaper is-”

You know what a newspaper is, you interrupt, you're not that much of a primitive.

“Good, good,” Aya looks relieved, “I heard there was a story worth investigating out here. Did you know that the next town over is having no problems at all with their soil? If anything, they've just had a bumper harvest. Curious, wouldn't you say?”

Very curious, you agree, and that's what you're here to investigate. She might be here to get the facts, but you're here to solve the problem.

“Oh, really?” Aya pulls out a small pad of rough paper, pinned to a wooden tile, and a stick of charcoal, “Then maybe you could offer me a comment? Something for the readers, hmm?”

There's that enthusiasm, surfacing the moment something interesting catches her eye. Some part of you wants to wave her away and get on with your job, but you're canny enough to know that offending reporters can be a dangerous thing. You've read some of the things they print.

>No comment yet. Do you have anything to tell me?
>Tell your readers that I'm ending this famine
>This is a routine investigation, nothing more
>Other

>>45418190
>>No comment yet. Do you have anything to tell me?
Are other towns in the region seeing high crop yields, or it just the one standing out?

>>45418190
>No comment yet. Do you have anything to tell me?

>>45418190
>>No comment yet. Do you have anything to tell me?
Just got here after all. She might know more than us right now.

>>45418215
>>45418224
>>45418267

No comment yet, you say in a neutral tone, does she have anything she can tell you? That other town she mentioned – is that the only one with a higher yield than usual, or is it spread across the whole region?

“Playing hard to get, huh chief?” Aya taps the stick of charcoal on her notepad for a moment, leaving a little black smudge, “Sure, I can tell you what I know – but I'm sticking around here, and I'll be keeping an eye on you. Something about you just screams “interesting news” to me.” She grins, smiling like a wily fox, and flips back to an older page in her notebook. “Okay, so I only came here through one other village and that one was fine. No problems there, and none of the people there mentioned problems anywhere else nearby. Other than the usual problems, I mean. Bandits, having to work too hard, you know...”

Bandits, you mutter darkly, and she's wandering out here alone?

“I can take care of myself, chief,” the reporter promises you, parting her light jacket to reveal a tiny pistol. You might trust something like that to put down a stray dog, but nothing larger. Keeping those doubts to yourself, you nod for her to continue. “But I hear there's been more about lately, bandits I mean. I guess desperate times push people to desperate measures, huh?”

True, you reply as you think back to your childhood and meals of boiled tree bark, hunger makes everyone desperate. She doesn't know anything about the local gods, does she?

“All the villages have their own, I think,” she scratches her head, “Like a mascot or a patron. The shine is probably a way outside of town, if I had to guess. Is that what you wanted to know?”

>That's everything. Visit the inn next
>That's everything. Take a walk and look for this shrine
>Ask a few other questions first (Write in)
>Other

>>45418351
>That's everything. Visit the inn next
While we are here.

>>45418351
>That's everything. Visit the inn next

>>45418351
>>That's everything. Visit the inn next
We should probably give Aya our name at some point.

>>45418372
>>45418399
>>45418425

It's not everything you wanted to know, you tell her with a shrug, but it's the best you could have expected. Right now though, you've got the urge to get out of the warm sun – that inn is calling out to you with a siren song.

“I'll get that statement when all this is over, right?” Aya asks hastily as you're turning away, “Right, chief?”

Ira, you correct her, your name is Ira. You're not the chief of anything. Having told her your name, you turn away and march towards the rickety looking structure, a creaking wooden sign bearing the word “Tavern” hanging above the door. A nameless tavern in a nameless village, it seems appropriate somehow.

“Dodging the question there... Ira,” Aya calls after you, amusement in her voice. Anything else she might have to say is cut off as the wooden door groans shut behind you, plunging you into a brief darkness as your eyes adjust. When your vision returns, you allow your gaze to play around the inn – or tavern, if that's what they want to call it. Dimly lit, with little of the sunlight coming through dirty windows, but cool enough to grant respite.

Having examined the single, large room, you approach the bar and nod to the bartender. He has a mean look about him, the kind of lean desperation that you've seen before. His eyes bulge slightly and his teeth, when he grins humourlessly, are stained.

“Afraid I can't offer much to eat,” he tells you, by way of introduction, “Whiskey though, we've got plenty of.” He tells you this with a wink, rapping a knuckle against one of the wooden kegs behind him. “Trader came through not so long ago, looking to shift it at a low price. Reckon he needed the coin to hire some coins, bandit problem being what it is.”

>>45418542

As you drop a few silver moons onto the counter and he pours a measure of the dark spirit, he carries on rambling. “Bandits all over, these days. They said there'd be more soldiers on the road, keeping the common folk like us safe, but that never happened. I guess little Tatsuhiro is just as much of a liar as his father was.”

Emperor Tatsuhiro, you assume, recently ascended to the throne. Young, foolish and altogether unfit for leadership, in your opinion. Nodding along with the bartender, you take a sip of the spirit. Rough and harsh, just as you were expecting.

“Eh, you ain't one of Sho's privacy men, are you?” the bartender asks suddenly.

Privacy men – you've heard that crude slang before. Emperor Tatsuhiro's secret police, so called because they invade people's privacy. If you were one of them, you ask with a slight smile, would you really admit it?

“Don't suppose you would,” the scrawny man behind the bar chuckles, “Say, traveller, what are you doing here? Not much that would bring someone like you out here these days...”

>I'm here to investigate the famine problem
>I'm a pilgrim. I heard there's a shrine nearby?
>I'm just passing through
>Other

>>45418564
>I'm here to investigate the famine problem
When did it start? Any rumors flying around about what might have caused it?

>>45418564
>I'm here to investigate the famine problem

>>45418564
>I'm here to investigate the famine problem

>>45418564
>I'm a pilgrim. I heard there's a shrine nearby?

>>45418564
These choices bring a thought, how well known/respected is what we do?
Is it something people respect, fear, or just don't know about and/or are skeptic of?

>>45418564
>I'm a pilgrim. I heard there's a shrine nearby?

Anyone getting 1920s Mushi-shi vibes here?

>>45418633

>Wanderers and the Nameless Temple are fairly well known. People with problems often ask the Temple for help, and Wanderers like Ira are sent out to handle things.
>Most people are too wary to deal directly with their Gods, so Wanderers are both respected and a little feared. Some see it as an outdated profession though.

>>45418564
>I'm here to investigate the famine problem
The bandits are bad, but the famine is the real problem, right?

You're here to investigate the famine problem, you tell the bartender. Before you can say anything more, his eyes light up with a desperate relief.

“You are?” he cries, his sudden shout drawing a few eyes from the other sullen patrons, “Ah, forgive me sir, just we've been waiting. Ever since we sent out a petition for aid, we've all been hoping someone would show up...”

So, you reply calmly, when did the problem start?

“A few weeks back would be my guess,” the bartender licks his lips as he thinks, his tongue flicking out in a way that reminds you of a lizard. “Hard to say when the soil started going bad,” he glances back at the keg of whiskey for a moment before looking back to you. Nodding for another, you rub a hand across your cropped hair. You've always hated this part, the sudden flash of servile desperation when people realise that you're here to help them – save them, in some cases.

A few weeks back, you muse, and does he have any idea of what might have caused it?

“Can't say for sure,” the bartender frowns, his eyes shrinking back into that drawn skull of a face, “Mandy's always been temperamental, ever since the preacher died, oh, twenty years back. Never took an apprentice, so there's nobody to read the words and all. A few of us know a little, but it ain't much...”

No priest to offer the proper rituals and sacrifices – could it really be that simple? But if he died twenty years ago, and the problem only started a few weeks ago, something isn't right.

“Say...” the bartender asks slowly, “Is it true what they say? Can you really kill her?”

Not exactly, you explain, but you can destroy her physical form. As far as the village will be concerned, she might as well be dead.

“Good, good,” that tongue flicks out again, “Folks around here, some of us are thinking we might be better off without her. You kill many gods before?”

>I try to avoid violence
>When I've needed to
>It's a first resort, usually
>Other

>>45418740
>When I've needed to

>>45418740
>when I've needed to

>>45418740
>When I've needed to
I at least try to talk first and figure out if the issue can be solved peacefully.

>>45418760
Changing that to "I try to avoid violence"

>>45418740
>I try to avoid violence

We Ginko now.

>>45418740
While I could go either way I don't think we would be Lightning spec if we were super pacifist you know?

>When I've needed to

>>45418740
>Not when it's because nobody knows anything
Someone has to. It's not an easy job, caring, but you all live here right? This is home? It's home for some other fine blokes too.

>>45418740
>>I try to avoid violence
>>When I've needed to

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>>45418190
>I'm Aya, Aya Hinamaru, chief reporter for the Tenngaru Times.

When you've needed to, you admit, but you try to avoid violence whenever possible. You try to talk things out, to reach a peaceful solution before drawing your sword, but that isn't always possible.

“That so?” the bartender raises a thin eyebrow at your careful response, as if he had been expecting something else. Maybe he was – people often take one look at your blunt face and think the worst. With your sword worn openly, you've even been mistaken for a bandit once or twice. “Speaking respectfully, sir, but I don't think everyone round here shares your way of thinking. Now, I know we're simple folk...”

When you resort to violence, you tell him coolly, it's because it's the necessary option, not because you don't know what you're dealing with. He lives here, doesn't he?

“All my life,” the bartender nods with a stubborn pride.

So he does, you agree, and so does this god of theirs, this... Mandy. It's her home as well, so you'd rather see them all getting along famously. You're not sure that the bartender quite understands the point you're making, but he nods nonetheless.

“I suppose this is why you're the one dealing with this,” the bartender admits after a while, “You'll be wanting to talk to her, then? Her shine is, oh, out in the hills. There's something like a path that'll take you there, but it ain't a horse trail. Shouldn't take much longer than an hour for you to make it up, I figure. Easy to find once you're out back, there's an old sign pinned to one of them trees.”

Thanking him for the information you move to drop another few coins on the bar, but the bartender shakes his head. Perk of the job, you suppose.

>A few final questions... (Write in)
>Head for the shrine
>Other

>>45418914
>>A few final questions... (Write in)
Did she ever give a reason why she didn't take a new apprentice?

Then
>Head for the shrine

>>45418932
>>45418914
+1

>>45418914
>A few final questions... (Write in)
anything leftover from the preacher? A home, belongings, etc?

Any elders around here, people who knew the preacher?

Do the kids here know anything about Mandy? Have they been taught or anything, folk tales or bedtime stories?

>>45418914
Anyone doing anything around the shrine lately? Mandy have a sacred plant or animal?

>>45419004
Seconding

This priest, you ask, did she ever give a reason why she didn't take a new apprentice?

“Never got the chance, or so I hear,” the bartender shrugs, “Died violent. Now, I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong. Wasn't no bandit or anything, we didn't have many of those back in the day. She was out walking in the woods, you know, wandering...”

And?

“Bear ate her,” he gives you a humourless smile, “Local hunter heard some of her shouts for help, but he couldn't make it in time. Got a fine pelt off that bear though, made a damn good rug out of it.” Still grinning, and still doing it without a hint of warmth, the bartender nods over to the barren fireplace, and the worn bearskin rug sitting before it.

So she didn't leave anything behind, you ask, this preacher? Notes, books, anything that might have been in her home?

“Oh, she lived up at the shrine. Nicer, in those days,” the bartender rubs his scalp, a trace of warmth finally creeping into his expression, “Some of the older folks would go up there and sing songs, do their chants. I went once, but I didn't care for it. Spooks me a little, to be honest with you.”

Is there anyone you could talk to, you ask, about this priest? Some of the elders that might have known her well?

“It's... been a bad time for the older folks,” the bartender whispers, leaning across and lowering his voice, “Once the foot started growing scarce, some of them just... slipped off in the night. Didn't want to be no bother to their kids.”

An image, then, flashes through your mind. Your grandfather, clad in a white robe, slouching off into the darkness of the forest by the light of the moon. He walked like a man possessed, and they never found him again. Nobody admitted being glad, but everyone ate a little better the next day. You shudder at the thought.

>>45419158

“Alright there, stranger?” the bartender asks, his voice dragging you mercifully back to the present, “Looked like you were thinking some mighty deep thoughts.”

It's nothing, you reply firmly, you're fine. What about the children, are they told anything about Mandy? Folk tales, or information about her sacred objects?

“Corn, mostly. That's about all we used to grow around here,” the bartender muses, “Reckon that's what anyone here could tell you, not just the kids. Not much of it around now, of course. She had a grove, like. Sacred ground that nobody were supposed to walk on or grow nothing in – probably all overgrown now, if the soil is still worth a damn. Don't think anybody's seen it in years.”

A sacred grove. Not uncommon, you think to yourself, for a farm goddess. Thanking him for his information, and for the drinks, you quickly hurry out of the inn. Blasted by sunshine as you're leaving, it takes you a moment to find your way – a task made harder by the linger traces of your bitter memories. Still, it isn't long before you find a worn sign nailed to a thick tree, pointing the way to a rugged path. Not as bad as you were expecting actually, as if someone had walked it recently.

Time passes as you march along the trail, the winding path gradually leading you uphill until the gradient levels out. A few more moments of flat ground, and you emerge into a clearing. Just as the bartender suggested, the one building here is fairly unkempt, the roof almost completely fallen in. Leaning against a cracked fence is another young woman, this one holding a flower out into the breeze.

>Pardon the intrusion. This is the shrine, isn't it?
>Are you... Mandy?
>I've got some questions for you
>Other

>>45419178
>Pardon the intrusion. This is the shrine, isn't it?
>Other
"What's your name?"

>>45419178
>>Pardon the intrusion. This is the shrine, isn't it?

>>45419198
This

>>45419178
>Pardon the intrusion. This is the shrine, isn't it?

>>45419178
>Pardon the intrusion. This is the shrine, isn't it?
>Introduce self, ask for name
gnight

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>>45419198
>>45419205
>>45419249
>>45419269

Pardon the intrusion, you begin. This is the shrine, isn't it?

“You're a polite one, at least,” the woman smiles softly, a hint of cynicism lurking at the corners of her mouth, “Yes, this is the shrine. Do you like it? I imagine there are much finer shrines out there, in the wider world, but I've never seen them. I've never seen much, actually.”

Huh. As if her otherworldly way of speaking wasn't enough of a hint, you can practically sense what she truly is. Still, better to play it safe and to make no assumptions. Still keeping a polite tone, you ask her for her name.

“Mandragora,” she tells you, before wincing slightly, “Ah, but I imagine you were looking for someone called “Mandy”, correct? Those brutes, they've even forgotten my name.”

Mandragora, you repeat, and you're Ira. Now that you're introduced...

“Ira,” the small god before you smiles again, letting the flower she had been examining fall to the dusty ground, “So, Ira, what brings you to a place like this, a place where no human has given worship in many years?”

You're a Wanderer, you tell her simply, and that means...

“I know what it means,” Mandragora's smile fades, “Are you a negotiator, perhaps, or an investigator? Or maybe you're an executioner, here to end my wicked ways?”

If you didn't know any better, you'd think she wasn't taking this very seriously. Gods can be like that, sometimes.

>I'm a negotiator, so how can we solve this dispute?
>I'm an investigator, so what's really going on here?
>I'm an executioner, so prepare yourself for battle
>Other

>>45419367
>I'm an investigator, so what's really going on here?

>>45419367
I'm an investigator, so what's really going on here?

>>45419367
>I'm an investigator, so what's really going on here?
Primarily, the other two come up when the need arises.

>>45419367
>>I'm an investigator, so what's really going on here?

>>45419367
>I'm an investigator, so what's really going on here?

Truth be told, the “job” of being a Wanderer often takes all three into account depending on the situation. You've been all three over the course of your life, but primarily... you're an investigator. So, you ask the spirit with a faint smile, what's really going on here?

“I'd like to know that myself,” Mandragora tells you, a hint of melancholy in her voice, “Something is disturbing my link with the soil, disrupting any attempt to bless the people. I mean, I'm not doing this on purpose!” She falls silent, kicking one of her bare feet against the dusty soil. “...This time, I mean.”

This catches your attention. So she isn't punishing the people of the village for some reason?

“No!” Mandragora protests, “They're hardly the best worshippers in the world, and they've forgotten my full name, but they still believe in me – I wouldn't destroy that on a whim! But something is souring the energy I put into the soil, no matter what I try. I tried investigating this on my own, but I can't even set foot into my grove. It... it hurts, just to get close to it.”

That's the sacred grove, you confirm, isn't it? That sounds like the source of the problem, but the cause? Not something you can say without further investigation. Although, a faint voice in the back of your mind reminds you, her death would end things as well. If her power is being soured, removing her as a source of power...

As if sensing your thoughts, Mandragora turns her cool eyes upon you, daring you to make the first move.

>I've got a few questions for you (Write in)
>I'd like to see this sacred grove
>I'm sorry, but you need to die
>Other

>>45419579
>>I'd like to see this sacred grove

>>45419579
>>I'd like to see this sacred grove
Might not be the cause, but it could be a clue.

>>45419579
>I'd like to see this sacred grove

>>45419579
>I'd like to see this sacred grove

>>45419579
>I'd like to see this sacred grove

You'd like to see this sacred grove. It might not provide all the answers, but it's the best lead you've got at the moment. You say this aloud, to yourself mostly, but Mandragora overhears. Her eyes widen a little at the thought, and she shakes her head quickly.

“I can point the way,” she tells you hastily, “But you'll be on your own. If there's something... anything... wrong with it, you're the one who'll need to deal with it.”

That's fine, you decide, that's what you were expecting.

“Just warning you,” Mandragora says petulantly, “Alright human, follow me. It's not far from here.” Without another word, the small god turns and leads you away into the trees past her shrine. Fallen leaves whisper under her feet – and crunch under yours – until she stops, reaching up to touch her head with a hushed gasp. “Just follow this path,” she groans, “This... this is as far as I can go. The air here, it's so... bad!”

Sniffing carefully, you can't detect any abnormality or irregularity. Then again, you might not be able to, it could be some kind of spiritual taint, one that only a god suffers from. Moving past Mandragora, you stride into the clearing ahead and take a long look around.

It's mostly bare earth, brown and loamy soil exposed to the bright sun. Parts of it are dusted with moss, lichen or fallen leaves, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. There must be something, though...

>Please roll a D100 for awareness, aiming to beat 30, or 70 for an exceptional success. I'll take the highest of the first three rolls

Rolled 5 (1d100)

>>45419730

Rolled 4 (1d100)

>>45419730

Rolled 75 (1d100)

>>45419730
>>45419737
Don't worry; I have this.

Rolled 41 (1d100)

>>45419730
May the curse of Dead City Quest be cleansed from me!

>>45419750
That was close. Nice job.

>>45419750
Nice save

>>45419750

There. One patch of earth looks different to all the rest, but you couldn't exactly say how. Still, your eye is drawn to it like a magnet, and you soon realise what it was that caught your attention. Not only is that part of the grove raised, piled up slightly, but it's also significantly more covered than the rest. Someone had piled up leaves and shredded moss on the raised earth. A second thought strikes you as you take a step closer – the size and shape of the pile is perfect for a grave.

Before you can investigate, though, you hear hushed footsteps from behind you – someone trying to sneak up on you. Whirling around and drawing your pistol – a thick, break action weapon capable of bringing down a wild boar – you confront the sneak. A strangled cry escapes him, and he almost drops his weapon, a heavy musket.

“Don't go any further!” he snaps a moment later, trying to salvage his dignity, “I... I mean it!”

His lower face is covered with a scarf, leaving only his wide, frightened eyes visible. He could pass for a bandit, it only it wasn't for his shaking hands and nervous demeanour.

>Is this supposed to be a robbery?
>Why shouldn't I go any further? Something to do with that grave?
>Give up and drop the gun. You're too young to die
>Other

>>45419855
>Why shouldn't I go any further? Something to do with that grave?
>Give up and drop the gun. You're too young to die

>>45419855
>Why are you doing this? What's this about?

>>45419855
>>Why shouldn't I go any further? Something to do with that grave?
>>Give up and drop the gun. You're too young to die

>>45419855
>Why shouldn't I go any further? Something to do with that grave?
Talk to me kid, what are you doing here?

>>45419855
>Give up and drop the gun. You're too young to die

>>45419855
>Why shouldn't I go any further? Something to do with that grave?

Why shouldn't you go any further, you ask, something to do with that grave?

“No, it's not...” the young bandit begins, before falling into an abrupt silence.

So, you conclude, it IS a grave. Give up, you order, and drop the gun. When the boy hesitates, you take a step closer and press your pistol to his forehead. He's too young to die, you murmur, allowing your voice to reach him. Swallowing hard, sweat building on his forehead and tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, the boy lets his rifle fall from his shaking hands. Better – much better. Now, you say as you lower your pistol to the level of his gut, you're going to have a little talk.

“Talk? No, I mean...” the boy shakes his head, clearly fighting the urge to turn and flee, “This isn't what it looks like, I swear! I didn't hurt anyone...”

So what's he doing here, you ask calmly, and what's this all about? He's got something to do with this famine, doesn't he?

“It wasn't my idea,” he swears, “It's... family. We needed the money, and he was... he had more money than anyone needs, and we could sell the...” Lapsing into silence, he looks down at your pistol and heaves a heavy sigh. “He was a trader, stopping on his way to wherever he was going. He got raging drunk and started talking nasty about us, about our town. I didn't expect my father to just... kill him over it though!”

Slow down, you urge him, who was killed?

“The trader,” the boy breathes, “The whiskey trader.”

From there, the rest of the pieces fit together quite nicely. The boy – Milo – was the bartender's son, working at the same inn you drank at. Poor, with barely enough money to scrape by, the bartender had waited for the uncouth trader to pass out before smothering him. With a body on his hands, he turned to disposal – and Mandragora's forbidden grove offered the perfect hiding place.

>>45420065

Murder – that kind of ill deed is just the sort of thing that would sour the earth. With that amount of spite behind it, it's little wonder that Mandragora was pained by the thought of walking into the grove. Had the body been allowed to fester, the rage behind his death would have seeped into her, turning her into a wrathful, temperamental goddess.

More temperamental than usual, at least.

“What...” Milo ask in a trembling voice, “What are you going to do with us? I'll come quietly, I swear it, but my father...”

You sit down on a fallen log, still pointing your pistol at Milo's gut, and think. You'll need to drag them both to the nearest outpost town and hand them over to the guards. It won't be particularly convenient, and you'll need to send someone out to exhume the body, but it should certainly end the current problem. Then again, even shifting the body would be good enough – and you're not responsible for catching criminals.

“Sir?” Milo asks again, “What's it to be?”

>I'll handle the body. You just get out of here
>I'm taking you in, you and your father
>You've done nothing wrong. Your father, on the other hand...
>Other

>>45420118
>You've done nothing wrong. Your father, on the other hand...

>>45420118
>Other
"Help me with the body and you'll be okay."
>>You've done nothing wrong. Your father, on the other hand...

>>45420118
>>I'm taking you in, you and your father
He knew about the crime, aided in covering it up, and threatened us.
Take his ass to the gallows.

>>45420118
Explain to him that this caused the famine and would have caused even worse things if we didn't find the grave

>>45420118
>You've done nothing wrong. Your father, on the other hand...
>>“Once the foot started growing scarce, some of them just... slipped off in the night. Didn't want to be no bother to their kids."
He and his father are responsible for this. They deserve to be punished.

>>45420223
Whoops, wrong choice, meant to pick
>I'm taking you in, you and your father

>>45420118
>>I'm taking you in, you and your father
I know he's just a scared kid but he's still partially to blame. Besides, we're not qualified to decide innocence or guilt so we should take them to someone who is.

>>45420118
>I'm taking you in, you and your father

>Ah, I meant to call the vote. It looks like taking them both in won it, but it was a close one. Writing now.

>>45420417

This, you say as you nod towards the grave, this is what caused the famine. It would have made things even worse if it had been allowed to go on for any longer. If the body had never been found, you can't say for sure how bad things could have become – maybe even reaching out into the neighbouring towns and spreading the famine further.

“No!” Milo protests, “It wasn't... I mean...” The arguments die in his throat as he sees the cold look in your eyes and realised just how bad his position has become. “Then I have no choice,” he mutters, “I'm as guilty as my father is. My fate is in your hands, sir.”

Closing your eyes for a moment – the boy won't run, and he wouldn't make it very far even if he did – you picture your grandfather's white robe, vanishing from sight, in your mind. Those deaths, all those who chose to die rather than burden their children, are on him as well. That can't be allowed to go unpunished. You're taking him in, you say quietly when you open your eyes, him and his father both.

“I understand,” Milo whispers, “I gave you no choice, did I?”

None at all, you agree. You're not the one to decide his fate, but you'll be the one to bring him to someone who can. Maybe they'll go easy on him – he's just a kid, after all – but that'll be their decision. Now, you ask, he hauled that body all the way up here?

“I did,” Milo nods slightly.

Then he can haul it down again, you say as you stand up, the sooner the better. Once that's done, you'll see about getting his father to come along – quietly, you hope.

“He won't,” this time, Milo shakes his head, “He won't leave here. He won't let you take him.”

Then you'll deal with that as well.

>>45420506

Leading the boy back to Mandragora's shrine – he's unbound, but burdened under the trader's stinking body – you're stopped by the goddess herself. She looks... it's hard to say what the difference is, but you can see something new in her eyes. A healthy light, perhaps, or just a cheerful one. Her smile is free from bitterness and pain, and offers you some meagre solace.

“You did it!” she cheers, “Ah, is that what it was? Ugh, dumping trash on someone else's property – those brutes can be SO awful at times! But it's sorted now, and you deserve a reward.”

You're not very happy with the word “garbage”, but you won't turn down a prize. Gods can be generous, gifting those who have earned their favour with new magic.

“Something for you,” Mandragora says, clasping her hands together for a moment before parting them, a glowing flower blossoming between them, “Something to engrave upon your heart.”

Taking the spell, you let the light melt into your skin and tingle through the depths of your mind, new power gathering there.

>New spell card gained:
>[Mandragora] Gift of the Soil
>”Draw power from the soil, noble warrior, and strike back at those who have wronged you!”
>Immediately regain 20 Health points, and your next attack will receive a +10 modifier.

Now, you've just got to seize Milo's father. Just walking into the inn, though, and throwing an accusation at him? Risky, especially in a small town like this. People, you've noticed, have a habit of closing ranks around outsiders.

>Go alone, and make a public declaration
>Bring Milo, maybe he can convince his father to come quietly
>Wait until dark and confront Milo's father alone
>Other

>>45420566
>>Bring Milo, maybe he can convince his father to come quietly

>>45420566
>Bring Milo, maybe he can convince his father to come quietly
We'll have his testimony which will help in getting the people on our side.

>>45420566
>>Wait until dark and confront Milo's father alone

>>45420566
The dad made his son carry and dig a grave for the man he murdered.
I doubt the dad gives a shit about the kid.

>Wait until dark and confront Milo's father alone
If need be, we take him in the dead of night when the other villagers aren't awake to get in the way.

>>45420566
>Bring Milo, maybe he can convince his father to come quietly

We should do this above board, instead of sneaking and kidnapping.

>>45420566
>Bring Milo, maybe he can convince his father to come quietly

>>45420566
>Bring Milo, maybe he can convince his father to come quietly
Do this on the up and up.

>>45420566
>>Bring Milo, maybe he can convince his father to come quietly

Alright, you tell Milo, he's coming with you. You're both going down to have a little word with his father. You're not exactly hopeful, but Milo might be able to convince his father to come quietly. Even if he can't, the kid's testimony might be enough to keep anyone else from interfering. As long as you don't have a full tavern full of people trying to kill you, you shouldn't have too much trouble with one malnourished man.

“I'd be glad to come with you, if it means my father wouldn't have to... die,” Milo swallows hard, “But what about the body?”

You think for a moment, glancing across to Mandragora. She gives you a slight nod, sensing your intentions. You'll leave the body here for now, you tell Milo, it won't do any harm here. It's out of the sacred grove, and the land is already looking a little healthier – the damage will be undone, in time. Glad to see him offering no resistance – in fact, he offers you his wrists – you knot them together with a spool of rope and give the leash a tug. Not too tight, but he won't be escaping. Well then, you tell him with a firm look, time to visit his father.

You draw a fair few stares as you lead Milo down into town, the hunters and foragers you pass stopping in their tracks to watch. They have closed faces, as if none of them can spare the energy to resist or protest. Milo's father had been thin, no question there, but these men are skeletal. Starvation isn't so bad, you realise bitterly, when you've got the coin to buy food from the next town over. More and more, you're growing to resent that crooked bartender. You try to keep your personal feelings out of your business, but bringing him in will be very satisfying.

>>45420884

The stares follow you all the way to the town itself, with Aya sitting up from her shaded spot beneath a great tree. Wisely for her, she doesn't rush over and start asking questions. What she does do, though, is immediately start scribbling notes in her little book. She's going to be insufferable later, you think wryly as you barge into the tavern.

“Father!” Milo cries, his voice a thin warble, “Please, don't do anything... don't be rash!” His voice is the thing that draws every eye in the building to you, and you see the figures sitting around at the various tables tense up. This must look bad, you realise, very bad indeed.

“Milo!” the bartender gasps, his eyes flicking between you and his son. Realisation dawns, then, and he grows very still. “I don't know what the boy has done, sir, but...” swallowing, buying time to think, “but he's just a lad. No harm to anyone, wouldn't you agree?”

“Father, he knows!” Milo shouts, causing his father to wince, “He knows what we did!”

“Now listen here, boy!” the bartender snaps, “Just hush your mouth. You, stranger, the boy has... fantasies. He doesn't know what he's talking about. How about we share a drink and talk this over, you liked that whiskey didn't you? This one's on the house...” He moves, then, lowering himself beneath the bar – for a pair of glasses, perhaps. Or perhaps not, and he's got some other plan in mind.

>Draw your pistol and fire a warning shot
>Shoot to kill
>Let him finish his motion
>Other

>>45420925
>Step behind his son.

>>45420925
>>Draw your pistol and fire a warning shot

>>45420925
>Draw your pistol and fire a warning shot
Don't make this any harder than it has to.

>>45420925
If he pulls anything use that 'Close the Gap' spell and clock him

>>45420925
>>Draw your pistol and fire a warning shot
The old "rifle behind the bar" trick I bet.

>>45420925
>draw you pistol but DON'T FIRE a warning shot

>>45420925
Draw your pistol and fire a warning shot

Moving quickly, you pull your pistol free and fire the single shot. In such an enclosed space, the sound of the report is deafening, so much so that you see the glass bottle shattering as you shoot it rather than hearing the sound of glass exploding. The bartender jerks upright again, throwing his hands up into the air. The first thing you can hear, as the ringing in your ears subsides, is the heavy clunk of a rifle hitting the ground.

The old “rifle behind the bar” trick. You've seen that one before. Something he keeps there, you ask calmly, in case a privacy man comes knocking? Ejecting the smoking cartridge, you slide a new bullet into your pistol and return your aim to the older man. Next shot, you tell him sternly, won't be a warning – so he shouldn't make this any harder than it needs to be.

“Sir, I don't know what he's told you...” the bartender begins, his voice bereft of all but the most meagre hope, “Always dreaming up some flight of fancy, like I said...”

“Please, father,” Milo insists, “He saw the body, I told him what we did. We've got no choice but to come quietly...”

“What we did?” he licks his lips, his tongue as dry and withered as beef jerky, “Bah, you'd be starving if it wasn't for me. You little ingrate, after everything I've done for you, you still bring this back to my door? Fine, send me to the gallows if that's what you want – better than starving here like a dog!”

It's not what you'd call “coming quietly”, but the fight seems to have left him. As he comes out from behind the bar, slinking over to you, you cast a glance at the other patrons. Most of them, you notice, are very carefully not paying attention. That's fine with you.

>>45421317

At least the nearest outpost isn't too far away. With both the fugitives tied at the wrist and led behind your horse, it only takes a few hours to get there. Even so, it's dark by the time they've been handed into custody. The paperwork alone adds to that, putting you in a worse mood than when you arrived. Apparently the missing whiskey trader had been reported as missing some time ago, by his desperate wife. At the mention of the dead man's family, Milo gasped in pain while his father scoffed, sneering with defeated contempt. You ask about their eventual fate, but the blank faced guard just shakes his head – yet to be decided.

As you're leaving the outpost, you run into a familiar figure hitching up her horse. Aya, breathing heavily as if she'd been riding hard to catch up with you.

“Hey there chief – Ira, I mean,” she says, greeting you with a cheer you can't return, “You got that statement ready for me? I hear everything worked out quite nicely.”

“Nicely” isn't really the term you'd use. Then again, she could probably piece together the facts from any of the tavern patrons who cared to talk. The truth will come out eventually anyway, when the criminals are tried – and probably executed. Telling her now won't make much of a difference, except to your mood.

>Give her no comment
>Give her the truth, it deserves to see the light of day
>Give her the truth, ask her not to publish it
>Other

>>45421394
>Give her the truth, it deserves to see the light of day
Mainly that people shouldnt ever desecrate their God's sacred groves else things like this can happen. Educate people essentially.

>>45421317
>Give her the truth over dinner

>>45421394
>Give her the truth, it deserves to see the light of day

>>45421394
>Give her the truth, it deserves to see the light of day

>>45421452
Simmer down old man.

>>45421449
I can agree with that. Evil begets evil in this case and knowledge can help prevent such things again. Still, while the father is pretty much unrepentant, hopefully the son can grow up and learn to not be a dick.

>>45421521
Maybe the kid can be the new apprentice if he is charged lightly.

>>45421317

>>45421449
Seconded

>>45421561
>Maybe the kid can be the new apprentice if he is charged lightly.
>Thinking the kid isn't gonna hang with his father
Kid's a goner.

Sighing, you nod. The truth of what happened here deserves to see the light of day. If nothing else, it might convince some idiot not to tread on hallowed ground, let alone use it as somewhere to hide a body. That can only be a good thing – and something that would your job easier further down the line. As Aya takes page after page of notes, you recount the story in as much detail as possible. You're doing this to educate people, you stress, not to feed their hunger for gossip.

“Right, educate, got it,” Aya nods, blowing charcoal dust from her notepad, “You're a pretty good guy, Ira. Last time I bothered one of you Wanderer types, he wouldn't even give me the time of day. It could have been good publicity, you know, but he wouldn't even confirm or deny anything I asked!”

Terrible, you agree, so what's she going to do now?

“Me? Oh, I'll need to get these notes sent off to the capital. Pigeon post, you know? Fastest way of getting them to press. I'll need to rewrite them first though, so I've got the spare copy in case of an emergency,” nodding eagerly to herself, blood boiling with the prospect of delivering the news, Aya pulls out a little scrap of vellum. “Oh, here's my card. If you're ever in the capital, come and visit – I'll give you a tour!”

Sounds... thrilling, you offer. You'd love to stay and chat, but you need to return to the Nameless Temple and report your success in person. You've never trusted the pigeon post much, and you've got a fast horse.

“I mean it,” Aya scolds you, “Look me up, I know a good tavern.”

Fine, you sigh as you mount your horse, but only if you get some time off. You're a busy man, after all.

>I think I'll end things there for today. Next thread on Tuesday, and I'll stick around in case anyone has any setting questions or such. Thanks to everyone who made this a great first thread!

>>45421767
Thanks for the thread Moloch.

This has a bit of Raidou in its inspiration huh?

>>45421767
Thanks for running the quest thread.

>>45421813

It definitely does, yes. I feel like the Raidou games had kind of a "between eras" feel to them, mixing technology and mysticism, that's going to be a key element as time goes on.

>>45421833

Thanks for taking part!

>>45421874
How old is Ira?

Has it been a bit different writing from the perspective of an older man after writing from perspective of a couple of teenage girls for so long?

>>45421767
Goals Accomplished:
>Unraveled murder
>Solved town's problem
>Send murderers to jail
>Helped Goddess
>Got new magic
>Hopefully educate people about fucking with gods/goddesses

Goals Failed:
>Didn't hit on/seduce Goddess
>Didn't hit on/seduce Aya

>>45421962

He's about in his mid 30s, which is enough for him to feel like an old man. Perspective wise, I've tried to write him as a little less enthusiastic about things, although no less dedicated to getting the job done. The biggest difference, actually, is that this IS a job - he's not saving the world or anything.

>>45421963

It's a bit early to be putting on the moves!

>>45422027
>It's a bit early to be putting on the moves!
>implying there's ever a bad time to seduce
If there are attractive ladies, or attractive boys who look like attractive ladies, its always a good time to seduce!

>>45422060
What about attractive ladies that look like men?

>>45422060
If it makes you feel better Aya is definitely going to be a recurring character. Probably not Mandy though, tutorial Goddess and all.

>>45422101
She might have nurse joy syndrome with sister spirits though

>>45422097
>reverse traps
I like you, mang.

>>45422101

Aya will be a recurring character, but Mandragora wasn't planned as one. I can't rule out revisiting her at some point though - early days yet!

>>45422118
Did you like Ellie?

>>45422162
No idea who/what that is.

>>45422222
Other Moloch quest.

Nice quints bro.

>>45422268
Ah, if its a long going quest I haven't read it.
Haven't been on the board long and having to read 20-30+ threads to catch up dissuades me from bothering.

This an original setting or something based off an existing one like Devil Sumoner?

>>45422341

This is an original setting, in that I've not deliberately based it off any existing setting. There might be some overlap, but it won't be on purpose.

>>45422337
First quest is 39 threads and the second, the First's direct sequel is 44. Just ended on Friday.

So yeah that might dissuade you. Good read though.

>>45422397
>83 threads
Yeah, that's definitely a lot more than I want to go through.

>>45422492
At most their 200 posts long you could clear it in 2-3 days easy. Good quests.

Something I've decided to do for this quest, actually, is to keep an in-character journal with a summary of each thread. I'll be keeping this in a separate pastebin, and posting it at the start of each thread.

My intention is to make catching up a little easier, and to record important plot information.

>>45422516

Archive binging isn't for everyone!

>>45422516
It'd take me longer than that, probably a week or more. Not much of a heavy reader, and I'd feel like I needed to "catch up" which would make it feel like a chore no matter how much I enjoy it.

>>45422615
Sounds good.

Hey is this set in actual Japan or Not!Japan?

>>45422628
>I'd feel like I needed to "catch up"
Well honestly no real reason to feel like that. Its over. Its just a story you could read whenever you felt like.

>>45422397
Aww fuck. Devil Summoner is over? I been busy with school so I didn't really have time to participate. I hope we got good conclusion.

>>45422667

It's set in a vaguely "Asian feeling" land. Tenngaru, it's called. I'll probably be introducing more and more details over the next few threads, but I didn't want to infodump straight away. Keep the information coming as it needs to come, right?

>>45422714

I'd say it was a fairly good conclusion, yes. No major disasters, at least!

>>45422667
Ah, didn't read the previous post well enough, didn't see it was over. Might give it a read once I catch up on some other shit.

>>45422714
>I hope we got good conclusion.
I'd say so. We did a lot of good in such a dire situation. Everyone seemed to get a happy end.

Did get some blue balls concerning the fate of a popular relationship though :^).

>>45422746
>vaguely "Asian feeling" land
In other words, Ragnarok online/Versailles?

>>45422746
I like the setting and the way you've established Ira so far. I get a bit of a Witcher vibe off him and his purpose. Yknow, the whole PROFESSIONAL thing. And that he deals with the supernatural for a living.

>>45422746
>Keep the information coming as it needs to come, right?
Best way to do it imo.

How long have the Wanderers been around?

>>45422837

I couldn't really say about that. Ragnarok online, at least, sounds like an MMO and I've never really been into those. I just mean that I'm not really trying to replicate one particular Aisan culture, but to draw general inspiration.

>>45422854

The Witcher was a large inspiration, especially on Ira.

>>45422871
>How long have the Wanderers been around?

A long time, but nobody can say for sure. A few generations ago, there was a revolution and a great deal of historical records were lost in the following "restructuring". The Nameless Temple, though, is one of the oldest buildings in the land.

File: 1449500539138.jpg (53 KB, 552x636)

53 KB JPG

Kinda want to replay Raidou 2 again.

Did you know that when I first played those games I didn't know Raidou was a title? So I named my guy Raidou Kuzunoha.

It was pretty funny when people said my full title.

Raidou Kuzunoha the Raidou Kuzunoha X!V

>>45422990

I did the exact same thing