>>45938633

“You've got a lot of nerve, stranger,” the leader of your happy band of harassers declares, prodding you in the chest with his cudgel, “You think we don't know everything that goes on in this town? You think we don't listen to the word on the streets?”

You weren't exactly making much of an effort to hide your investigations, but you decide against pointing that out. You're talking right now, and not fighting. That's a good start to any working relationship. Now that a leader has emerged, the rest of the mob seems to hang back, waiting for a signal to attack or retreat. You take a moment, as an uneasy silence descends, to study the leader. Although he carries himself with the kind of bullying swagger you'd expect from a mob leader, his eyes suggest a certain intelligence – a sensitivity, even. This is a young man with a very personal stake in this affair.

“So, stranger, I hear you like asking questions,” again, he prods you with his cudgel. That's fine – you'll take that over being prodded with a knife any day. “How about answering a few for a change?”

That's fine with you, you reply in a cold voice, you're all ears.

“Maybe we should cut an ear off,” one of the voices – coming, you note, from the back of the mob – bellows, “See how smart he is then!”

“Enough,” the leader snaps, an unforced authority obvious in his tone, “You don't have the air of one of Kurasu's men, but I can't think why else you'd be here, asking about Tobin. Tell me, stranger, what are you looking for here? There's nothing but suffering and misery to be found here.”

>I have my own reasons for looking for Tobin
>I want what you want, nothing more
>I'm a Wanderer from the Nameless Temple – and you don't have the authority to question me
>Other

>>45938639
>>I have my own reasons for looking for Tobin

>>45938639
>>I have my own reasons for looking for Tobin
He might know something about the recent death.

>>45938744
To add to this we should use our bountiful harvest spell to make them more trusting.

You've got your own reasons, you begin carefully, for looking for Tobin. You don't care about his protesting, whether it is legal or not. All you want to know about is the recent death they had here, the one that has everyone shaken up. You say this calmly, allowing an easy flow of magic to enter your voice and sooth the mob. They seem to loosen up slightly, lowering their various weapons as your words sink in.

“Here, Naoha,” one of them begins, “Ain't that the reason why Tobin-”

“Quiet, you fool!” the leader – Naoha, apparently – hisses, “You want to know about that, stranger? Most people around here, they try not to think about it as best they can. Someone coming and asking questions about that... that's just as suspicious, in my eyes.”

From what you heard, you explain, the victim talked about a god in the heart of the mountain before he died. That's what you're here to investigate – claims of divine activity. You'll take any help they have to offer, but you're just as happy to stay out of their way as long as they're willing to do the same. So, you ask, how about it?

“You're definitely not with Kurasu?” Naoha asks, a grudging note of acceptance creeping into his voice as your magic bends his will. He probably doesn't even realise it himself, you think, but he can't help but see you in a more trusting light. “Listen,” he continues, “We shouldn't talk out here, in the open like this. If you want to share information, come to the shack down the street there – you see the sign?” Pointing, he indicates a particularly thrown together looking building. “I'm willing to take a chance, but only because I'm desperate. I could use a newcomer like you, alright?”

[1/2]

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>>45938997

“So you're not going to murder us?” Aya asks, her voice light and strained.

“That would cause a lot of problems,” Naoha smiles slightly, “For everyone involved.” With the assembled mob dissolving at a nod, Naoha starts to turn away. “Oh,” he adds, “And make sure you're not followed, okay?”

When the last of the armed protesters have dispersed, you let out a slow breath and relax. A situation like that could become a massacre very quickly – you're just glad you decided against visiting the Imperial commander before they encountered you. Had they witnessed you leaving Kurasu's company, it would have been nearly impossible to convince them you were no threat – magic or no magic.

“Man,” Aya sighs, “Am I glad you were here. I don't think I would have been able to walk away from that one.” Opening her light jacket, she slips out her tiny, toy-like pistol and gazes ruefully at it. “Even this wouldn't have done me much good. Only two shots, see?” Breaking the weapon open, she reveals the pair of glossy metal bullets – tiny things – settled neatly within both barrels. Looking at the weapon, you feel a sudden chill – you've seen those slender bullets before, left behind by Miura's captors. For Aya to have something like that...

“What?” she asks, noticing your gaze, “I know it's not much, but I like to keep it around. Besides, you've seen it before – first time we met, remember?”

True – but that was before you could make the connection. You'd forgotten about it until now.

“Anyway,” Aya shrugs, moving to put the pistol away, “We should get going, right?”

>Right. Let's see what Naoha has to say
>Right. We should go looking for Tobin
>Wait, can you tell me a little more about that pistol of yours?
>Other

>>45939074
>Wait, can you tell me a little more about that pistol of yours?

>>45939074
>>Wait, can you tell me a little more about that pistol of yours?

>>45939074
>>Wait, can you tell me a little more about that pistol of yours?
Suspicious.

>>45939074
>Wait, can you tell me a little more about that pistol of yours?
Where did you get it? More importantly, WHO IS SUPPLYING THEM, BECAUSE AS A REPORTER YOU KNOW THIS RIGHT!?

Wait a minute, you say quickly as you reach out to stop Aya's hand, can she tell you a little more about that pistol of hers? You'd like a closer look at it as well, if she would allow that.

“Huh, don't you have your own?” Aya raises an eyebrow as she turns the pistol over, offering you the grip, “A big cannon too, not a little toy like this.”

Ignoring her comment, you let your gaze wander over the pistol as you search for any kind of gunsmith's mark or identifying features. It's beautifully made, lightweight but strong, and the insides are finely crafted. The bullets aren't exactly the same as the casings Tawn showed you, but the similarity is obvious – a prototype, perhaps? Like the gun itself, the ammunition has nothing in the way of identifying markings. How, you ask as you hand it back, did she come to own a weapon like this?

“I was given it,” Aya explains, still puzzled by your line of inquiry, “By a friend of the family. Well, more like a friend of a friend, but still. My father knew him, and he was the one who built our first printing press. Funny story actually, he always claimed that he invented the damn thing – but he wasn't that old. I mean, he WAS old, but not that old.”

And he just... gave it to her?

“When he learned that I was going out as a roving reporter, yeah,” Aya shrugs, “He said it was just a little toy, something he made in his spare time. Did you know that it's impossible to buy bullets for it anywhere? He gave me a few boxes with the gun, and I've been running low ever since. I'm starting to think I'll have to get them custom made, but I wouldn't even know where to ask about something like that. Why are you so curious all of a sudden, anyway?”

[1/2]

>>45939389

These things, you reply quickly, just interest you. Weapons and such, especially rare examples.

“Huh,” Aya frowns at you, “Kind of a collector thing, you mean? Well, my father could probably tell you more. Why not stop off at the capital when we're finished with things here? It's not THAT far away, I guess, and you might be able to learn something new. The old man, though, he's probably passed by now – it's been a good few years, after all.”

Nodding silently, you file the information away for later use. Maybe you'll take Aya up on her offer later – anything you learn now might prove useful in tracking down the cult or, at the very least, the one supplying them with weapons.

“So, are finished playing around with guns now?” Aya asks, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth, “Because I'd like to do some investigating now.”

>Right. Let's go speak with Naoha
>Sure. We should start by tracking down Tobin
>Just a few more questions... (Write in)
>Other

>>45939408
I'm for disclosing it now. It was plain to everyone that shots were fired in the festival, right?
>Aya, the guns that were used in the festival weren't made by the emperor. I strongly advise you to look into this VERY QUICKLY.
>And if I hear so much of a peep of "he's a family friend, totally trustworthy", I will remind you that I've already brought your concerns to the Mentor twice.

>>45939461
>It was plain to everyone that shots were fired in the festival, right?

>Yes, that's common knowledge by now. It was assumed that normal rifles were used, however.

>>45939408
>>Right. Let's go speak with Naoha
When we're finished here. Definitely ask >>45939461 though.

Sometimes, you've got to give a little to get a little back – information, in this case. Thinking your next words over carefully, you ask Aya what she knows about the Dragon's Head Massacre.

“About as much as everyone else knows, I suppose,” Aya shrugs, “A gang of unknown attackers shot the place up. Nobody quite knows why – although everyone seems perfectly willing to point the finger or blame their favourite target. Why do you-”

The weapons they used to attack the festival, you confide quietly, weren't made by the Emperor or any known gunsmith. There's no way of being certain, but you think that her “family friend” might have been the one to make them. Or, at the the very least, the one to design them. She might want to look into this, you advise quietly, and to do it quickly. Friend of the family or not, this man could be connected to some very dangerous people.

“You're serious, huh?” Aya's voice grows quiet and sombre here, a rare thing for her, “I mean, I'm not going to say that he was a sweet old man or anything – I didn't know him that well – but he never struck me as the... the criminal type.”

All you're saying is that she should be careful, you warn Aya, and to think very carefully about this matter. If she remembers anything else about it...

“I'll tell you,” she confirms with a nod, “You bet. I just...” Shaking her head, she forces a smile, “But hey, we've got other business right now. Time to focus on the problem at hand.”

Naoha, you decide with a nod, is the best place to start on that front. He seems to be willing to cooperate – for now. If you can keep on his good side, he might be a valuable source of information. That's the thought, at least, that carries you down the muddy street to the shack. There is a sign outside, just as Naoha said, but it's blank. A pretty pointless sign, in other words.

Shrugging, you enter.

[1/2]

>>45939741

It's pretty bleak in here. A few chairs, a ratty rug spread out on the floor and empty bottles discarded in the corner. The walls are bare, decorated only with the occasional poster shouting out some slogan or another. This must be where the protesters gather to discuss important business – or to sit around drinking. The latter, you must admit, looks to be the more popular option.

“You came,” Naoha says as you enter, “Good. I didn't want to speak in the open streets like that. We don't know for sure, but Kurasu seems to have agents among the population. Word seems to reach him, in either case, whenever we plan a demonstration. There will always be troops waiting for us. Needless to say, I can't go looking for Tobin myself – I'd lead them right to him. You, on the other hand, might have more luck.”

Maybe. Being an outsider can have its perks.

“I can't say for sure, but I think Tobin is hiding out in an old ruin to the west of here. I've never been there, but he mentioned it once,” Naoha bites his lip, allowing a moment of anxiety to slip through, “I don't want you to bring him back here or anything, just tell me if you find him. Or... bring me some kind of proof. He'll probably be writing his terrible poems, wherever he is – bring me one of those, and I'll know you found him. That's what you wanted, right?”

>That's what I wanted. I'll be back later
>I want to know more. Tell me how this started – right from the beginning
>The signs I saw coming in spoke of judgement. Care to explain that?
>Other

>>45939857
>I want to know more. Tell me how this started – right from the beginning
>The signs I saw coming in spoke of judgement. Care to explain that?

>>45939857
>>I want to know more. Tell me how this started – right from the beginning
>>The signs I saw coming in spoke of judgement. Care to explain that?

>>45939857
>I want to know more. Tell me how this started – right from the beginning
>The signs I saw coming in spoke of judgement. Care to explain that?
Sup Loch

>>45939408
>>Right. Let's go speak with Naoha

You want to know more, you insist as you pull across a chair and sit. Right from the beginning, you ask, how did this start?

“This all started when the Emperor sent his soldiers into our town,” Naoha says bitterly, “They told us that we were being relocated here, and that we'd be given good jobs. When we got here, though, there was barely anything. Before we could even start mining, we had to built the place up from nothing. Well, that was a bad start – already, people were starting to complain, to speak about resistance. That was all it was though, just talk. We tried, Tobin and I, to get some kind of organised protests together but nothing would stick.”

“Why?” Aya asks, “It seems like it would be easy to get people on your side.”

“The local captain – this was before Kurasu arrived – was smart. When we argued about living conditions, he claimed we were spoiled. When we complained about how dangerous the mines were, he claimed we were cowards. No matter what we said, he made it seem like we were just refusing to do our duty, to the country and to the Emperor,” Naoha pauses here, letting out a heavy sigh of frustration. The memories, it seems, are still raw in his mind.

But something changed, you deduce. Those signs you saw outside spoke of sin and judgement – what can he tell you about those?

“Those were Tobin's idea. He was out walking in the woods – roaming about like always – when he found something. He said later that it was a stone slate, an ancient thing with words he could read. It spoke of the god that once watched over this region, a cruel god of judgement and punishment, capable of seeing a man's sins. We thought...” Naoha looks down at his feet, embarrassed, “We thought people would take us more seriously if they thought we were being devout. I guess it worked.”

[1/2]

>>45940007

>Hello!

>>45940228

It certainly did, you tell him. But something went wrong, you ask, didn't it?

“It sure did,” Naoha grimaces, “People really listened to what we were saying. We claimed that the miners were trespassing on sacred ground, defiling it and inviting divine retribution. Tobin's words, of course, not mine. The locals really believed us, so the soldiers started bringing in outsiders to work – as well as sending Kurasu to watch over the mining. That's when things got really rough here... and then there was the death.”

The death, you repeat, the man who clawed out his own eyes.

“That's the one,” the young protester shudders, “When that happened, Tobin panicked. He fled, and I've not seen him since. Even since then, the miners have been talking about things – hallucinations, visions when they delve too deeply. It's true, don't you see? It's all true – they keep talking about their nightmares overwhelming them, drowning out their minds. Some of those poor convicts they have working, you see the scars on their faces. They're trying to shut the visions out, any way they can.”

So, you ask slowly, this god...

“I can't tell you,” Naoha shakes his head, “Tobin could, but he kept his secrets close. He told us what we needed, and nothing more. The longer things went on for, the more scared he seemed to get, like he was blaming himself for this all. You'll have to ask him about it – if you can find him.”

>Then that's where we're going next
>What can you tell me about Kurasu?
>Hold on, I need some more information... (Write in)
>You ARE to blame. Kurasu should know of this
>Other

>>45940262
>First of all, I think you should understand that by hiding behind a cruel god of judgement that you didn't even believe in was in part what led to this.
we might not want to mention stuff like waking up gods they weren't supposed to, though.
>What can you tell me about Kurasu?
about what he "found". Have you seen him talking with a man wearing a steel ring?

>>45940262
>Then that's where we're going next
Before I go though.
>>What can you tell me about Kurasu?

>>45940262
>>Then that's where we're going next
>>What can you tell me about Kurasu?
Really hoping we can avoid this Kurasu guy.

Leaning forwards in your seat, you study Naoha for a long moment. First of all, you begin, he needs to understand that he has to shoulder some of this blame. By hiding behind a cruel god of judgement – even one that he doesn't necessarily believe in – he has played a small role in what's unfolding here.

“I... I suppose I know that now,” Naoha sighs, slumping slightly, “We were desperate. What more can I say? We thought we'd all be sent to die in the mines, crushed or suffocated or... or just killed if we resisted.”

It's hard, you realise, to associate the man before you with the firm leader you saw before. It's almost as if unburdening himself as drained most of Naoha's strength – or perhaps stolen away strength that was never his to begin with. He was so suspicious before, but now he seems desperate for anyone he can trust. There is an atmosphere of fear hanging over this town, and it has done terrible things to these people. Grimacing slightly at the thought, you announce that you're going to look for Tobin now. Before you leave, though, is there anything he can tell you about Kurasu? Particularly, has the man even been seen speaking with someone wearing a steel ring?

“Kurasu?” Naoha seems to regain a little strength here, his hatred for the man giving him new life, “He's a bastard, and no mistake. The way I hear it, he was the one who wanted to use convict labour. He'd have us all arrested and thrown into the pits, if he wasn't worried about a riot. No, that's not right – he's not worried about a riot, he's worried about not having enough soldiers to kill us all. He was sent here to keep the mines working, no matter what methods were needed to achieve that.”

[1/2]

>>45940649

And the steel ring?

“I don't know,” Naoha shakes his head, “He never comes down into the slums. Did you see a larger building, up on the ridge as you came into town? That's his headquarters, and he rarely leaves. If he needs to make a declaration, he does so from the balcony. It's almost like... it's almost like he's just as afraid as the rest of us, even with all his soldiers and enforcers.”

“Maybe he is,” Aya murmurs, “Although... why?”

“I don't know,” Naoha shakes his head again, the motion seeming to sooth some growing anxiety, “He keeps the mines shut up tight, only the convicts and the guards are allowed down there. People like us are kept far away. You too, if you tried to look into the mines. At best, you'd be turned away. At worst, you're risking arrest or a bullet in the gut.”

That, you think, might be a problem later on. If this god really does lie in the depths of these mines, you'll need to go there yourself at some point – even if it means braving armed guards and the god's illusions. Pushing those concerns aside, you rise and thank Naoha for the information. Now, it's time to seek out Tobin.

“Remember,” Naoha says with a note of desperation, “Just bring back something that proves he's alive. That's all I want.”

And that's all you're going to bring back. You're at the door when Naoha's voice – tentative, this time – sounds again.

“And... you were wrong,” he says nervously, “I DO believe. After everything that's happened... I don't have much choice.”

Those words still ring in your mind, even as you're striding through the muddy streets. Fear grips this town, and everyone in it. So much so, in fact, that it's a relief to be leaving the ramshackle buildings behind and returning to the wilderness. Once the trees have you in their embrace, you finally feel like you can breath easily once more.

[2/3]

>>45940712

Following the rugged ground – there isn't a hint of a path here – you travel west at a careful pace, stopping often to check the area. At first, there are no signs of any buildings, or any kind of habitation at all in fact. Then, visible only as a set of straight ridges in the earth, you see the foundations of some ancient building. This must be the right track. Pressing on, you emerge into something that almost passes for a clearing – a clearing dominated by a crumbling stone shrine. Truly ancient, by the looks of it, and home only to things the world has left behind.

Cautiously approaching, you flatten yourself against the doorway and listen. Someone hides within, their heavy breathing giving them away easily. Leaning around the corner, you spy a glimpse of a golden haired boy – a young man really, but something about him is impossible to view as anything other than a boy – hiding behind the cracked altar. Holding out your empty hands in a peaceful gesture, you slowly approach.

“You!” Tobin cries, “Don't... don't come any closer!”

Halting, you obey. It's okay, you tell him calmly, you can talk from this distance. That's what you're here for, after all – just to talk.

“Just to talk?” Tobin grows less apprehensive, desperation warring with paranoia in his eyes, “You wouldn't happen to have any... any food on you?”

Sighing, you empty your pockets and produce some trail rations. Salted meat and hardtack, but he accepts it eagerly. When the food has vanished, Tobin looks about ready to answer your questions.

>Naoha told me about your god. Care to give me the details?
>Is there a reason you're hiding out here?
>I won't force you to come with me, I just want something of yours to bring back to your friends
>I need to know something... (Write in)
>Other

>>45940799
>>Naoha told me about your god. Care to give me the details?
>>Is there a reason you're hiding out here?
>>I won't force you to come with me, I just want something of yours to bring back to your friends

>>45940799
>Naoha told me about your god. Care to give me the details?
>Is there a reason you're hiding out here?
>I won't force you to come with me, I just want something of yours to bring back to your friends

>>45940799
>I heard you found a stone slab here.
>Lemme guess, it wasn't there before. I'll tell you now that no god planted it there.

>Naoha told me about your god. Care to give me the details?
>I won't force you to come with me, I just want something of yours to bring back to your friends
Don't pressure him to take up the mantle of leader again, that would be cruel.

>I need to know something... (Write in)
Does he know what Kurasu thinks about the mines to shut them down at night?

>>45940799
>>I need to know something... (Write in)
I think we should see the stone slab he found. It might have important information.

Naoha told you what happened, you ask calmly, but you don't know anything about this god. Can he give you the details, perhaps?

“Zulathoon,” Tobin whispers, drawing the alien syllables out into an inhuman rasp of a word, “Oh, how I shudder every time I think of that cursed name. They had to build his temple out here, you know, because they couldn't get any nearer to his tomb. The ancient priests, I mean, the ones that grovelled at his feet.” Swallowing hard, he runs a hand through his hair, “Now, he protects himself with a nightmare barrier. Men who try to pass through it lose their minds – you heard about the man who clawed out his own eyes, right?”

You heard, you confirm, you've heard quite a lot about it in fact.

“Then you know!” a kind of manic energy enters Tobin's voice all of a sudden, “Men cannot bear the weight of theirs sins, for Zulathoon confronts them with their worst, their darkest moments! But don't you see? This is all MY fault – I brought him back, waking him from his deathly slumber!”

And that, you guess, is the reason why he's hiding out here?

“Kurasu would have me killed,” the young man says heavily, “Even though it would do him no good. He sees me as the leader of this struggle, and would execute me as such. His spies are everywhere in town, but they don't dare roam far. He keeps them close, in case he needs their iron fist at a moment's notice.”

Tobin, you realise, is unstable. Paranoid – although perhaps rightfully so – and barely capable of keeping his emotions under control. The strain must be getting to him, with a fair amount of guilt adding to the problem. You're not here to bring him back to town, you assure him, but you'd like something of his. Something to reassure his friends, that's all.

[1/2]

>>45941139

“Yes, they deserve to know that I'm continuing the struggle, as a king in exile!” Tobin barks out a shrill laugh – isolation hasn't been good to him – and dives back behind the altar. Emerging with a pack, he spills out some papers and hands one sheet over. Glancing at the scrawls covering it – you'd rather not read it now – you tuck the note in your pocket. That's good, you tell him gently, that's why you came. Now, though, you had other questions.

You've heard, you begin, that Kurasu keeps the mines closed up at night. Does he know why that might be? Perhaps the officer has some idea of what's going on, correct or otherwise?

“Perhaps he covets it,” Tobin tells you in a conspiratorial whisper, “Seeking to harness Zulathoon's power for himself? In the dark of the blackest nights, he communes with the great dead god. Pleading, you see, for some small fragment of the great one's power. Of course, I cannot say for sure – what sane man can grasp the mind of a madman?”

You're starting to wonder that yourself. Drawing in an uncertain breath, you ask about the stone slab he found. It wasn't here before, was it? Someone – and not some god – must have planted it here. You say this slowly, but Tobin seems to recoil at your words. Perhaps, you press on gently, you can see this slab?

“No,” Tobin's denial is flat, leaving no room for negotiation, “I cannot. I would not burden your mind with the terrible knowledge contained within. I could not, in good conscience, blast your sanity away.”

“Ira,” Aya whispers as she grasps your sleeve, “I'm not trying to take over your investigation, but I need to speak with you outside. It's important.” Tugging at you, Aya drags you outside and then glances back. “You don't... actually believe him, do you?”

>Don't you?
>I'm not sure yet
>What do you know about this?
>Other

>>45941233
>I'm not sure yet
>What do you know about this?

>>45941233
>I'm not sure yet
>What do you know about this?

>>45941233
>>What do you know about this?
He's pretty crazy but I don't think we can discount everything he's saying.

>>45941233
>>I'm not sure yet
>>What do you know about this?

You're not sure yet, you admit, but is there something she knows about this?

“I'm no expert in all this god stuff,” Aya reminds you, “But I AM a reporter. I talk with a lot of people, and some of them aren't entirely legitimate. Some folks you meet, I like to call them fantasists – and you want to know what they do? They lie. They lie so often that sometimes they don't even realise they're doing it. Sometimes, they even believe their own lies.”

And she thinks Tobin is lying?

“I don't think he's given us two true words,” Aya shakes her head, “I mean, he's pretty difficult to read so I might be wrong, but something about him tells me that he's making all of this up. All of it.”

But, you argue, he's also one of your few sources of information. If he's misleading you about this, you'll have even less to go on than you started. Is she suggesting that he's trying to lead you into a trap, or get you killed?

“No, I don't think so,” Aya frowns softly, “I don't think he's actively malicious. He's not looking for attention, either – he could get plenty of that just by waving a sign in town – so I don't know what he gains from this. I mean, say he is lying – why?”

Why indeed. So, you ask, how would Aya approach this? If she was leading this interview, as a reporter, how would she handle a man like Tobin?

“Hmm,” Aya ponders this for a moment, “For Tobin, I'd just come out and say it. Ask him if he's talking shit, and see if that shocks the truth out of him. A more subtle approach might be best though – like I said, he's hard to read. I'm leaving this one with you, chief.”

Great. Trying not to scowl, you return to the broken shrine and face Tobin. How, you wonder, should you play this?

>Tobin, drop the act. You're just wasting my time
>I want to believe you, Tobin. Give me a reason to
>I believe you, Tobin. What can I do to help?
>I wanted to ask you a few questions... (Write in)
>Other

>>45941662
>I want to believe you, Tobin. Give me a reason to

>>45941662
>>I want to believe you, Tobin. Give me a reason to

>>45941662
>>I want to believe you, Tobin. Give me a reason to

>>45941662
>>I want to believe you, Tobin. Give me a reason to
"Show me the slab. I can handle it."

I think I know who the god is...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P-busojcI7Y

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>>45941861

You want to believe him, you say gently as you give Tobin the most reassuring look you can, but you need him to give you a reason to. Start with the slab, you continue, you can handle it. If he trusts you enough to share that, you can work on building your relationship from there.

“You want to see the slab?” Tobin sighs, “Even knowing what I told you?”

Even knowing what he told you, you confirm, so perhaps he can show it to you?

“I can't do it,” he shakes his head, “I just can't. Please, sir, you must understand that-”

“There IS a slab,” Aya says suddenly, cutting him off, “Isn't there?”

You're about to scold her, accusing her of ruining the slow progress you were making, when Tobin's face falls. He looks so glum that her words could only have been the truth – a mere accusation wouldn't cut so deep. Raising an eyebrow, you glare at Tobin until he cracks.

“I SAID it was a slab, because it needed to feel genuine,” he insists, “Nobody would have believed me if I told the truth, that it was a revelation from god! I was sitting here, within this sacred space, when the memories – ripped from some primal age – came upon me. I KNEW, don't you see? I knew the eldritch truth, revealed to me in flash of blinding inspiration!”

So, you ask slowly, he took this “revelation from god” and used it as the backbone for a political protest, claiming that the mining was trespassing onto sacred ground?

“Don't believe me, stranger?” a sly note creeps into Tobin's voice, “Why not take a stroll into the mines and see for yourself. How else do you explain a man clawing out his own eyes? Go ahead – go and confront Zulathoon, if you doubt his power. He lies at the heart of the mountain, that's what everyone says. That's what everyone believes.”

>Fine. I'll go and see for myself. I'm leaving
>Tobin, I think you need help. Go home
>Tell me something... (Write in)
>Other

>>45942019
>Tobin, I think you need help. Go home
>I'll go and see the mines for myself.

>>45942019
>>Tell me something... (Write in)
Tell me about your mother, see if he bullshit that as well.

>>45942019
>>Fine. I'll go and see for myself. I'm leaving
Pretty sure he made it all up now.

He needs help, you stress, he needs to go home and get a decent meal. Not trail rations, decent food. He needs to see his friends, as well, just to get some human contact. It might calm him down a little.

“I can't!” Tobin cries, “I can't go back there, don't you see? Kurasu could have got to anyone by now, I could be arrested as soon as I step foot back there.”

An idea, then, strikes you. Could he tell you something about his mother, you ask, anything he can tell you at all?

“My mother is a saint,” Tobin replies, his face softening as fond memories – if they are truly memories, and not delusions – fill his mind, “She works very hard, and I try my best to make her life as happy as it can be. That's why I write, you know, so she can read my poems at night and relax.”

Glancing to the side, you swap a meaningful look with Aya. Lying, even about something this mundane? You're... you're going to leave now, you tell Tobin, perhaps you'll check out the mines with your own eyes. If you find this god of his, you'll be sure to treat it with the respect it deserves. Then you turn and leave, barely willing to stomach Tobin's insanity for much longer. Once you're outside, and a reasonable distance from the shrine, Aya hurries to your side.

“I knew it,” she gloats, “He was lying through his teeth. I mean, a revelation from god? Please.”

But, you point out, he was right about one thing. Why else would a man gouge out his own eyes? Fear can do strange things to people, but there are clear and obvious restrictions. Without an answer for that, Aya can only follow you in silence as you walk back towards town.

“In either case,” she says glumly, “I think you're right. We need to get into the mines somehow, but-” She stops suddenly, tilting her head to the side and listening hard. You do the same, and slowly the sound of raised voices reaches your ears. Not quite the sound of a riot, but it's close.

[1/2]

>>45942478

Hurrying, you both return to town in time to see a gathering of people – not just protesters, but regular townsfolk as well as guards – surging towards the ridge overlooking town. Moving, you can't help but notice, towards Kurasu's headquarters. All the while, a dolorous bell chimes over and over again as if to summon them, luring them into the clearing beneath the large building. The murmurs you hear range from the furious to the terrified, with the occasional shout of rage rising above the background rumble – yet still, the people gather.

Drawn along with the movement of the crowd, you look up at the balcony as a skeletal man lurches out, gripping the banister with bony hands and glaring forth. This can only be Karasu, his thin body enveloped by a crow-black uniform.

“People of Pit Progress,” he shouts, his surprisingly powerful voice carrying to reach you, “I have gathered you here to act as witnesses. Observe, if you will, the punishment for those who refuse to work, for those who seek to abandon the Emperor's duty.” As he pauses in his speech, a pair of soldiers push forth a bound prisoner, with two more equally defeated looking souls following. You recognise them – members of Naoha's mob.

“These rogues have been convicted of stirring up insurrection, of plotting rebellion and acts of sabotage. The punishment for these crimes is death,” Kurasu barely glances at the prisoners, “Are there any who would confess, and take their crimes for themselves? Prove their guilt, and grant these prisoners their innocence?”

Nobody in the crowd steps forwards. Everyone in the crowd seethes with anger. A single spark – that's all it would take to cause an explosion right now.

“Ira!” Aya hisses, “What are we going to do?”

>We do nothing
>We can't let Karasu do this
>I've got a plan... (Write in)
>Other

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>>45942664
I'm having a hard time coming up with a way to stop this without it becoming a full blown blood bath.

>>45942664
>We can't let Karasu do this
I guess talk to Karasu, tell him that even as an outsider we can tell that these people are at the breaking point and if he executes those men it won't be fear that he instills, but something he can't control.

>>45942664
>>We can't let Karasu do this
>>I've got a plan... (Write in)
Best I can come up with is marching up there and demanding to speak directly to Kurasu. I don't know if something that bold would work though.

>>45942664
He convicts them yet would allow other people to take their place if they can prove their own guilt?

Does that mean he doesn't actually have anything on these dudes and are just using them in hope that real insurrectionists come forward?

>>45942664
>We can't let Karasu do this

>>45942917
I assumed this was an attempt to get the ringleaders to step forwards or something like that. Maybe it's just about trying to intimidate people as well.

>>45942664
>I've got a plan... (Write in)
Announce our presence, tell kurasu there is reason to believe the behaviour of the towns populace is being influenced by a divine entity, offer to correct the problem by investigating the mines which should restore order to the town

You can't just let Kurasu do this, you spit back, but how can you stop it without turning this into a bloodbath? Even someone throwing a rock at one of the waiting soldiers might be enough to spark off a riot, so how can you bring this whole process to a halt?

And what kind of crooked system is Kurasu running, anyway? He's convicted these men, but offers people the chance to take on their guilt – for what purpose? Is he trying to lure out the real rebels, or is this just some kind of sick attempt at intimidating the population? The entire farcical process is so disgusting that you can't stop yourself from pushing forwards, pushing through the crowd until you reach the line of guards.

Even as the guard before you eyes you up nervously – even from a glance at his face, you know that he doesn't want a riot any more than you do – you look up at the commander leaning over the balcony. His head is twisted down to look your way, your brute approach drawing his eye. Calling his name – and shocking the crowd into silence in the process – you demand to speak with him. He doesn't know what he's doing, you shout, he's making a big mistake.

“And who, I wonder, are you?” he calls back. By his side, the prisoners shift and shuffle nervously. The script, they realise, has changed. Some faint hope has been dropped into their laps, and now the vague chance of freedom is visible before them. “Speak!” Kurasu barks, “Make yourself known, outsider, or I shall have you clapped in irons.”

You are a Wanderer of the Nameless Temple, you declare, and you have reason to believe that the town has come under divine influence.

Silence, then, as if you've just spoken a truth that everyone was too afraid to admit aloud.

[1/2]

>>45943159

“Guards,” Kurasu barks after a moment, “Seize him. Have him brought inside – I wish to hear what he has to say. Take these prisoners back to their cells – they've won the right to another sunrise, at least.”

As the guards grab you and roughly drag you up towards the house – you'd be perfectly happy to walk, but you let them have their moment of glory – you cast a glance back over your shoulder at Aya. She looks nervous, but flashes you her best attempt at a reassuring smile. It feels, somehow, as if you should be the one reassuring her right now. You let that issue go, though, as the crowd draws in to hide her from view.

When the guards finally let you go, you're standing in an austere building – one made with carved stone, rather than wood. A far older structure, perhaps, brought up to modern standards when the town as being established. Sitting behind a simple desk, smoking a slender pipe, Kurasu fixes you with a curious gaze. Closer up, you see how frightfully old he is – barely clinging to life, if your guess is close to the mark. An old man, clinging to his meagre power by any means necessary.

How pathetic.

“So?” he croaks, his voice worn out by the effort of addressing the crowd, “Let's hear what you've got to say.”

>I believe there is something in the mines that is behind the problems in the town. I can solve that problem
>You need to loosen your grip on the people here. It's causing a disturbance in the local spirits
>Tell me, please, why you're doing this
>Other

>>45943288
>Other
>I believe there is something in the mines that is behind the problems in the town. I can solve that problem
however add that he needs to loosen his grip on the populace, as that is what has caused the god to awaken from its slumber

>>45943288
>Tell me, please, why you're doing this
The things about Gods is they mirror the town, and vice versa. What we have here is a toxic loop of fear and dread feeding a good of fear of dread which creates MORE fear and dread in a rapidly sinking cycle of self destruction. The fact you're being so heavy handed is only making it worse. That crowd was a breath away from rioting.

>>45943288
>Tell me, please, why you're doing this
Emperors orders or no you have to remember that these people were uprooted from their home and forced to live and work under bad conditions. Even without whatever Spirit is causing issues, people have a breaking point.
>I believe there is something in the mines that is behind the problems in the town. I can solve that problem

>>45943288
>>Tell me, please, why you're doing this
I want to hear how he justifies all this in his own words.

Why, you ask as politely as possible, is he doing all this?

“This?” Kurasu repeats slowly, “What do you mean by that?”

Everything. Public trials – although you can hardly call what you just witnessed a “trial” - and executions, convicts send to work themselves to death, and whatever else he's been doing. No matter what the Emperor's orders are, you continue, he needs to remember that the people here have been uprooted and forced into poor conditions – he's pushing them to breaking point!

“And?” Kurasu asks eventually, “Do you not realise, Wanderer, that I have my own orders to obey?”

Gods, you point out, are a reflection of their people and their land. This fear and dread that he is propagating has given rise to a god of fear and dread – a god that only keeps the toxic cycle moving forwards towards destruction. Doesn't he realise how close those people were out there to rioting?

Kurasu stares at you with glassy eyes, pondering your words. “Tell me, Wanderer,” he says eventually, “What do you see when you look at this place? At this... revolting place at the edge of the world?”

What?

“I see the place where I might die,” he continues, “And I don't like the idea much. I want to leave here, to return to the capital as soon as I can. For that, I need this mountain emptied, carved apart and hollowed out. Only then can I return to my rightful home – no different from the rest of these people. And the convicts – who do you think they are? These are not thieves or vandals, these are murderers and rapists. Had they not been sent here, they would have gone to the gallows. Is it not better to send these men into the pits, and not innocent men?”

That's not what you're here to debate, you argue, you're here to solve the town's problem. The cause of which, you add, is lurking in the depths of the mine. His treatment of the people has provided the fuel for this fire, but you might be able to put it out.

[1/2]

>>45943690

“Indeed?” Kurasu raises a thin eyebrow, “And you're telling me that all our problems will be solved, and that the people will become happy, hard workers?”

No, you shoot back as you resist the urge to roll your eyes, you're saying that you can put an end to whatever it is that's making his miners claw out their eyes. The rest of the problem is all down to him – and he's the only one who can put an end to it. Unless, of course, he wants to cause a riot here? A massacre of every citizen that dares to resist his iron fist?

“Failure here,” Kurasu admits with a perverse smile, “Would see me brought back to the capital – as a failure, perhaps, but one that would be well-treated. I would see out the rest of my days in peaceful retirement. Whether it is in a cell or in my own home matters little to me now, as long as it isn't here.”

This man, you realise with a cold shudder, is a monster. Utterly soulless. Is this what the Emperor's vision of the future creates, what his idea of progress demands? For a brief moment, you wonder if your cult enemies might not have a point – if this is what the future represents, resistance would be perfectly understandable.

“Wanderer, I have little interest in discussing politics with you,” Kurasu says, his voice turning bored, “I grant you permission to enter the mines. Settle this god – I would prefer it destroyed, but I leave the matter to you – and you will be released. Until then, consider yourself a prisoner, held for conspiracy charges. Sabotage, say, or rebellion. It doesn't really matter what. Now,” the old tyrant offers a thin smile, “Are you ready to get to work?”

>Show me to the mines, then
>Never. I'll fight my way out of here if I need to
>Tell me something... (Write in)
>Other

>>45943790
>Never. I'll fight my way out of here if I need to
"I'll be investigating of my own free will. If you or your guards want to detain me, you had better be prepared for me to defend myself. And I don't think your soldiers attacking a Wanderer trying to fix things would go over well with the populace here."

>>45943790
>Never. I'll fight my way out of here if I need to
I've killed more Gods than you have guards. I work for peace, you work against it. I will do this in my own time, and in my own way. You don't want a problem with me old man. I've beaten monsters out of your nightmares for longer than I care to count.

>>45943790
>>Tell me something... (Write in)
If words of your failure to manage this place reach the Emperor or whoever put you in charge here, he won't call you back to the capital you tool, but send you down there to mine with all the criminals.

How can you be that dense old man, that's like so fuckin' cliché.

You've always been hot blooded. It's not something you let rise to the surface very much these days – you've had control and composure hammered into you over the years you've spent in the Nameless temple – but it's there, beneath the surface. Now, as you're processing the fact that Kurasu has told you, more or less openly, that he could arrest you on bogus charges, you let a little of that old fury slip back to the surface.

Never, you tell him coldly, you'll cut your way out of here if you need to – but you're not going to bow down and accept his petty tyranny. You're going to investigate this matter, and you're going to do it fully, but you're NOT going to do it at the behest of frightened old man. Forcing a glacial smile onto your face, you point an accusing finger at Kurasu. If word of his failure reached the Emperor, you sneer, does he really think he'd spend the rest of his days in a comfortable cell? You rather imagine he'd spent what little time he has left down in the pit, just like so many others have done.

“You can't speak to me like that,” Kurasu rasp, his own fury rising to meet you, “I'll have you detained, arrested. I can have you sent to the gallows, you-”

Go ahead, you dare him, but you'll defend yourself – and you've killed more gods and monsters than he has soldiers. What does he think the people would do then, if they see his soldiers attacking the man sent here to restore peace? The anger he's seen already will be nothing compared with the riots that will follow.

He could arrest you, true, but then his town will burn. Spitting that line out, you turn and march out of his room. The old man doesn't rise to follow you, his ashen face staring towards the far wall. As you're leaving, you grab the first guard you see by the arm. The mines, you demand, lead the way.

He doesn't argue.

[1/2]

>>45944187

Perhaps something of your conversation made it out of Kurasu's chambers, because the guards that have gathered around quickly part to make way for you. They glance at each other as you pass them by, as if waiting for someone to make the first move. One of them, surely, as to try and stop you? But, you imagine every one among them thinking to themselves, they won't be the first. And so you reach the entrance to the mines unmolested, guided there by your nervous captive.

“You want to go down,” he tells you, a tremor in his voice betraying his youth, “Down as far as you can go. Listen, uh, I wanted to say... we're just following orders. I don't got anything against the folks here, but the boss says-”

Everyone, you tell him bitterly, is just following their orders. Without waiting for an answer, you push past the young guard and enter the gloomy mines.

In his arrogance, Kurasu never even relieved you of your weapons, leaving you with the satisfying weight of your sword and pistol around your waist as you walk deeper down into the dark tunnels. Convicts, chained together in long lines, stop their work to stare as you pass them by, silently regarding you with deadened eyes. Then, as you're passing a group of them, a voice calls out.

“Sir!” the young voice cries, “Sir, wait!”

You recognise that voice. Pausing, you turn and look at the boy. It's hard to tell, with his broken nose disfiguring the soft face beneath, but...

“Sir, it's me, Milo,” the boy insists, “Remember? My father, he was...”

The innkeeper, you realise, the murderous one. Milo can't disguise a wince as you say that out loud, but he nods regardless.

Small world.

>Official business, Milo. I can't stop to talk
>You look half dead. Are you okay?
>How do I get you out of here? You don't look like you'll last another day
>Other

>>45944325
>You look half dead. Are you okay?

>>45944325
>You look half dead. Are you okay?

>>45944325
>You look half dead.
>How do I get you out of here? You don't look like you'll last another day

>>45944325
>>You look half dead. Are you okay?
>>How do I get you out of here? You don't look like you'll last another day
Never expected to see him here.

Looking at the boy, you end up asking the most obvious question to cross your mind. Is he okay? A foolish question, really – he look half dead.

“I'm tougher than I look, sir,” Milo replies, trying to act tough even as some of the other convicts scoff and sneer, “I won't let this place beat me!”

He reminds you of Koa. Thinking of the young apprentice, you feel a pang of what might be guilt in your chest. No matter how brave he might try to act, you seriously doubt that Milo could last another day down here. Even if he did, what about the day after that? How many days of backbreaking labour could he last down here before finally giving up? No, you won't let that happen. How, then, do you get him out of here?

“You mean freeing me?” Milo gasps, “Sir, I don't know what... I mean... Sir, I'm a guilty man, guilty under Imperial law. Wouldn't you get in trouble for freeing me?”

Maybe, you shrug, but that's your business.

“Well,” the boy sounds doubtful, “The guards have keys, if you happen to find a spare pair...”

You'll keep your eye open, you tell him, but that'll need to be an ongoing matter. You're not about to assault a guard for his keys, not yet at least. Still, can he point you to the lowest part of the mines? Your question is met by silence, even striking the other prisoners dumb. Slowly, Milo points down one of the branching paths.

“That way, sir, and it's a straight path from there. You're not really... thinking of going down there,” Milo pauses, “Are you?”

It's business, you tell him flatly. Then, after thanking him for the advice, you set off down the tunnel he pointed out to you. As you walk, you feel the gallery of dead eyes following your progress.

[1/2]

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>>45944643

As you follow the tunnel – just as Milo said, it soon straightens out into a single, unwavering path – you try to steady your mind. If what you've been told is true, the god surrounds itself with a veil of nightmares. What lies within, you wonder, what phantasms would it drag out from the shadows of your mind?

You think you've got an idea. The knowledge of what might be coming does little to steady your nerves. In fact, it almost makes things worse – you're so involved with trying to control the anxiety that grows within your heart that you barely notice the transition when it happens. When you snap back to reality, or whatever dream-like state you've wandered into, you feel something strange. You've got... hair. Long hair that falls around a face that is suddenly young again. Then, before you can marvel at the situation, a rending pain strikes you in the stomach.

Hunger. Desperate, gnawing hunger that leaves your whole body weak and pale. Just putting one foot in front of the other is a struggle, the weight of your weapons practically dragging you down to the ground.

“There there,” a cold whisper reaches out to caress your vulnerable mind, “Hush little boy, hush.”

No. Not this. Anything but this.

>Press on. It's an illusion – it can't hurt you
>Turn back. Nothing is worth this

>>45944803
>Press on. It's an illusion – it can't hurt you

>>45944803
>Press on. It's an illusion – it can't hurt you

>>45944803
>Press on. It's an illusion – it can't hurt you

>>45944803
>Press on. It's an illusion – it can't hurt you
We have a job to do. And dammit, were nothing if not professional.

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It's an illusion, you tell yourself, it can't hurt you. Repeating those words like a mantra, you press on up the path to your shrine. You've lost count of the number of times that you walked this dirt road – in the reality of your childhood and countless nightmares – and this time is no different to the rest. It's only when you feel your throat cracking that you realise you've been shouting, over and over again. Desperate pleas for help, threats that you could never hope to fulfil, or offers of terrible bargains. Anything that might bring the life back to your village and end this deathly famine.

No, that's NOT what you were shouting – an illusion, you were screaming, just an illusion.

Then you feel it. Long fingers, like those belonging to a skeletal claw, reaching down to grasp your face. Falling to your knees, sluggishly fumbling for your sword, you feel that claw tilting your head up. “You've impressed me, little insect,” the voice purrs, breathing a gust of revolting corpse scent across your face, “Take your life and savour it – I grant you this mercy...”

You know what's coming next. You can't bear what comes next.

“Ah, but there's a catch...” the voice begins, “A price in two parts that you have to pay. Half now... and half later. Now, you're only a boy, but soon you will be a man – and then, I shall call upon you once more. Then, you must pay what you owe me...”

It's too much. You need to fight this. Fight it now, like you never could as a child – or else, you might not be able to fight it much longer. Already, the urge to block out those nightmare images by any means necessary will overwhelm you.

>Please roll a D100, aiming to beat 50 or 80. I'll take the highest of the first three!

Rolled 45 (1d100)

>>45945102
I WILL NOT CRACK

Rolled 27 (1d100)

>>45945102

Rolled 9 (1d100)

>>45945102

>>45945118
>>45945127
>>45945149
welp GG quest over.

>>45945164
We wouldn't die because of a single failed roll, right?

Right?

The sword falls from your numb fingers, clattering upon the stone tiles. Just as it fell back them when you were a child, your own helplessness coming back to haunt you. Flowing like liquid shadows, the nightmare sweeps up over you and drives you to the ground. With more hands than any one being should ever have, you feel it touching you and holding you down.

You've tried so very hard to forget what it did to you. Now, with that meagre last line of defence stripped away, there is only one path that lies ahead of you.

Faced with complete failure, utter defiance is the only response. You refuse to see this – and the biting, grinding pain that drags you, screaming, back to reality is the greatest act of defiance you can muster. The inky blackness that descends upon you is a welcome relief, a blessed respite from the mental assault that you buckled under.

Yet, there is one small mercy – you wake to see the rugged stone floor of the mine stretching out ahead of you. You... see it? Looking down, you see the dark blood covering your hands, but still you can see it! Shuddering, afraid of what you might find, you reach up and touch your face. Above your left eye, row upon row of deep gouges, where your fingers very nearly emptied the socket. Your right eye, though...

Howa always said that you might suit an eye-patch. You never took her seriously.

>Serious wound gained, maximum Health reduced to 90
>Current Health: 45/90

Savouring what little vision you have, you look down the tunnel and see a dull glow. Light, coming from the heart of the mountain. The bastard that started all of this, waiting for you. Seizing your sword, bearing your teeth against the crushing pain in your head, you force your feet to move. You're going to finish this.

[1/2]

>>45945464
>lost an eye
well shit.

>>45945490
Well I suppose it wouldn't be a Moloch quest without someone losing one.

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>>45945464

Staggering, limping, you follow that reddish glow until you reach the source. Seated atop a twisted throne, shrouded in a phantom light, you see – through the one eye you have remaining – the dead god Zulathoon. It even looks like a corpse, propped up in farcical parody of divine life. An idol, thrown together with bones and broken limbs, crowned with horror and adorned with a glowing, beating heart. Snarling, the sound coming low and feral in your throat, you tighten your grip on your sword.

Normally, you'd try and talk. You'd try to work this out peacefully.

This isn't a normal occasion.

“Please,” Zulathoon's creaking, ancient voice rasps, “Do it. Kill me.”

Wait. What did it just say?

“Kill me,” it repeats, “End this wretched existence. I was never meant to be – please, return me to non-existence.”

>Fine. It'll be my pleasure
>I want answers first. What are you?
>No. I'm no executioner – there has to be a way of solving this peacefully
>Other

>>45945580
>>I want answers first. What are you?

>>45945580
>I want answers first. What are you?

>>45945580
>I want answers first. What are you?

>>45945580
Channel your inner Mik and haggle like a jew.
You wanna die? Then make me an offer worth my while.

>>45945815
?

>>45945837
The MC from another quest, known to haggle with spirits on a regular basis.

Just killing this monster would give you no pleasure, not without figuring out why you're doing it. No, you want answers first – what is that thing?

“A god, born of delusion and desperation,” Zulathoon rasps, “The land here is poisoned, tainted by the grief and suffering of the people here. That energy, that despair, yearned to take form and become a false idol. Only when one foolish child created a faith did this mass take the name Zulathoon, judge and tormentor of this pit. As he said that men must be judged, so Zulathoon judged. As he said men must be punished, so Zulathoon punished.”

He means... Tobin did this? His “revelation from god” - in truth, little more than a flight of fantasy – gave the people's fear a form and a name. As belief spread, passing from one man to another, the god became real. No wonder, you realise, that Tobin was so startled when the first signs of a real god started to show up. By that point, though, his creation was beyond whatever control he might have had – if he ever had any control over it at all.

“Yes,” Zulathoon sighs, dust escaping his weary body, “The nightmares that shroud me are not my doing, not my curse upon this land. I was created for this, as a blunt instrument to spread fear and discord. Even now, tendrils of my creator's paranoia reach out to contaminate the land. Would you end this torment, Wanderer? I will not resist you – I welcome it. Or perhaps you wish for power, for me to buy your sword?”

[1/2]

>>45945913
Oh.

Still it would set a bad precedent to have bribes from gods dictate how we handle situations.

>>45945924

He's offering you a gift?

“A bribe,” Zulathoon gurgles, his one arm creaking down and opening its grip. Inside, formed of dusty smoke, is a spell card. Reaching out, you touch the curse and welcome it into your heart. It burns, entering you, but it's a good burn.

>New spell card gained:
>[Zulathoon] Eyes on the Inside
>“The memory can be a terrible thing, Wanderer. Master it. Bend it to your will and use it well.”
>By touching a person, you can take a glimpse at some of their most significant memories. The target will feel a groping sensation in their mind, but cannot automatically trace it back to you.
>Alternatively, by touching a person you can trap that victim in their own worst memories. Only humans can suffer this, but they will be stunned and disorientated until they can break the illusion.

“Now, Wanderer,” the dying god rasps, “Will you do as I ask? A single blow to the heart, and all this can be over.”

>Grant his wish. Kill Zulathoon
>Refuse. You don't want any more blood on your hands
>Other

>>45945968
>Grant his wish. Kill Zulathoon

>>45945968
>>Grant his wish. Kill Zulathoon

>>45945968
>Grant his wish. Kill Zulathoon
offer comfort to the god by informing him we'll do what we can to ensure his existence is forgotten

>>45945968
>Grant his wish. Kill Zulathoon
You were never meant to be, I hope you can find peace in me erasing you.

>>45945968
>>Grant his wish. Kill Zulathoon
Hopefully we can turn this fuckup into something beneficial, gonna be hard though
Can we ask him a bit more before killing him?
Sounds strange that a god would manifest that fast, how many died for him to appear this fast?

>>45946067
I don't think anyone died, but the despair of the living is pretty strong here.

>>45946067
>Can we ask him a bit more before killing him?

>Currently writing the next post, so could you list the questions you'd like to ask? I can work them in before the end.

>>45946088
It took a while for Melancholia to take over, and she was a god that existed already. Here this town is a few months old, right? Something must have been done to speed up his "birth".

>>45946099
Basically how come he was "born" so quickly? Does he know the proper god of this land?

Perhaps it's a rush of sympathy that reaches you then, because you give the god a weary smile. Rest assured, you tell the thing, you'll do everything you can to make sure its existence is forgotten. If you have your way, it will never surface in this world again. It was never meant to be, but maybe erasure can grant it some peace. You just wish it had been an easier process – Tobin has a lot to answer for.

Before you land the final blow, though, you wanted to know one thing – how could he have taken form so quickly?

“The poet gave me a name and a myth,” Zulathoon explains slowly, “And the people were all too willing to believe. They spread the name and the myth quickly, giving me more power with every time they shuddered in fear. This pit was the perfect womb for a god of suffering to be born, fed by every tear that has been shed here. I wish it was not this way – brought into this world so quickly, the birth agonies were always going to shatter the peace.”

It makes sense. Solitude, when Melancholia was born, had a handful of monks without a name or any real belief. Even so, their despair slowly gave her life. Here, when the fearful people had been given a name to curse, it would never take as long. Was there another god here once, you ask Zulathoon, a divine power that he grew from?

“I know not,” the god tries to shake his head, stiff bones barely moving, “If there was one to come before me, even their memory has become dust. Wanderer, please...”

Nodding, you lift your blade. You know what you have to do.

[1/2]

>>45946450

In the Nameless Temple, there are many different versions of the killing arts taught. They vary, all serving different purposes. There are elegant and beautiful ways of wielding the spear and sword, and brutal ways to fight with bare knuckles. Above all else, though, there is one platonic ideal. The greatest way of ending a life – a single thrust to the heart, the perfect balance of grace and efficiency.

Taking your sword, you step forwards and drive your blade forwards, splitting the grotesque heart adorning Zulathoon's chest. Sighing once, the god slumps back and begins to crumble to dust. At the very end, there might be a smile on his terrible face – or maybe you just see what you want to see, searching for some faint glimmer of light in this awful pit. Turning away, you sheath your blade and begin the long walk back to the surface. Hopefully, Kurasu won't try to have you arrested as soon as you leave.

He'd need to try damn hard, that's for sure.

>I'll have to end this here for tonight, unfortunately. Next thread on Sunday, and I'll stick around in case of any questions.

>>45946571
Thanks for running Moloch.

I'm guessing the lost eye can't be healed like the last wound we got considering Howa's leg hasn't been grown back.

Do we need to carve out an angel eye replacement and give it to a Celtic witch?

>>45945968
>>[Zulathoon] Eyes on the Inside
It could be one of the most kindly way to ends someone life without it suffering or the cruelest torture method.

>>45946640
How is making someone experience their worst memories kindly?

>>45946635

The reduced health can be recovered, but the eye itself won't grow back. No replacements either, unfortunately!

>>45946640

Well, the torture part is true - the spell doesn't let you choose the memories, it defaults to the worst ones available. Zulathoon doesn't have any power over nice thoughts!

>>45946730
So is that the fifth eye lost if your quests?

London Petra's first eye lost offscreen.
London Petra's second in the maze
Dominion's
New Cycle Petra's Dominion eye
Ira's

We should keep a counter.

>>45946829

I swear, I didn't plan for it to happen to Ira. I thought we'd be able to beat the 50 mark, at least.

I will confess, though, that crippling injuries like this or Howa's leg are something I kinda like using. I find it interesting to explore how characters deal with them.

Also, five might be a little low. I think there were a few other demon eyes that got slashed throughout Devil Summoner. Not sure how many though!

>>45946904
>I think there were a few other demon eyes that got slashed throughout Devil Summoner.

Off the top of my head: Uriel.

But yeah there is probably more. I should go back and count them up sometime.

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85 KB PNG

Hope Ira can wear the injury with style.
I dread Howa and Aya's reaction tho.

>>45946951

I think there might have been one when Mother Maya was being carved up, but I can't be exactly sure about that. Also, this strikes me as a very macabre thing to keep track of.

>>45946986

Eye-patches can be very stylish though!

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118 KB PNG

>>45947014
Between both Ira's and Howa's (loss of limb) injuries they equal 1 Petra.

Lets pray that number doesn't get higher.

>>45947014
>this strikes me as a very macabre thing to keep track of.
This is /tg/, that's hardly the worst thing we could keep count of.

>>45947057

I like the idea of using Petra as a measurement of how fucked up a character gets. "On a scale of one to Petra, how badly were you hurt?".

>>45947077

Well, true, but then you're starting to get into FATAL territory. Not a good place to be.

>>45947145
>What kind of character you want?
>Just Petra my shit up.
>Say no more.

>>45947145
Lets say 1 Petra is 2 crippling injuries.

>>45947207
Would that be specifically an eye and an arm or random loss of body parts?

>>45947243

1 Petra is equal to 2 crippling injuries and an unrequited crush. So, Ira and Howa still qualify!

>>45947318
So, how long have Howa been pinning for Ira?

>>45947318
So how much will Howa cringe when she sees this and Ira mentions she said he'd look good with an eyepatch?

>>45947384
Probably not that much cause the 'Holy shit you lost your fucking eye, are you alright!' will be at the forefront of her mind.

>>45947363

She's been holding a torch for him for over ten years, and perhaps even longer. They were childhood friends, and that can always involve awkward feeling. Either way, it's been a long time!

>>45947384

I don't think she'll ever stop feeling bad about it, but that comes later. The main thought, I feel, will be >>45947425

>>45947473
When exactly will she come out and say it? Has she noticed how oblivious Ira is?

>>45947318
Howa still has a chance if she can breakthrough the sisterzone. Its going to be tough though.

So does Petra in a sense, but thats left into headcanon territory since you left it vague. And even if it doesn't work, she still gets to spend eternity with her best friends.

And any eyes lost can be reformed! Hurray!.

>>45947520
>>45947544

She's old fashioned - it's Ira's place to make the first move, as far as she's concerned. Plus, since they so rarely spend long periods of time together, she's almost given up hope. Almost, but not quite.

She does her best, dropping hints and trying to get through to him. I think Ira is, to a degree, willfully oblivious though - far easier to live his kind of life when you don't have any attachments!

>>45947581
She's gotta do something drastic. Maybe Aya's presence will light a fire under her ass.

>>45947647

Well, that would certainly be a motivating factor!

Really though, relationship stuff is never going to be a huge part of the quest. At most, a little relaxing downtime between missions and chasing after cultists, just to show that Ira does have some small life outside his job.
I'm a little biased though. I see Howa as a big sister type.

woah there, another eyeball lost to Moloch. Leave it to the dice gods to actually fail a DC50.

....I don't blame anyone for not trying this, but what would have happened if the melancholia card was played beforehand? Does the eyeball just become sorta...tougher? And then his hands just keep scratching and clawing at it.....blech.

I wonder when the hell it will be considered okay to use this memory card.

>>45947769
moloch your thoughts on
>>45947981

Also Howa being the woman he comes back too seems cute.

>>45947981
the guy with the steel ring got his name written on the back of the card.

>>45947981
>>45948029

I would have probably ruled that Ira was unable to use spells while he was fighting off the illusion. It takes a certain element of concentration, and he wasn't able to gather his power. He was, essentially, falling victim to the same spell he later gained. Using the card before would be a little tricky. I would have probably lowered the target number required to escape from harm.

As for using our newest spell, it could be used to stun someone and escape from combat. A nasty trick, but you wouldn't need to kill or injure the victim.

>>45948119
Can cards be...fused?

If we helped the same god twice, would we get a second card aligned to them, or would we get the choice of "upgrading" the old one?

There's really nobody in the Empire that we can tell "you have really shitty bureaucracy if the mines have gotten this bad", is there? Aya's got her work cut out for her.

>>45948246

Helping the same god twice would yield a second card. However, that card might be a flat upgrade on the previous one - letting us use both cards. For example, Mandragora could give a card that heals 20 health, and a second one that heals 30. A straight upgrade, but we could still use the lower level spell for lesser wounds.

Spells can't be fused - largely because I don't know how it would work.

As for the mines, the people in the Empire likely don't know how bad it is. The further out you get from the capital, the more people start to do things their own way. For Kurasu, that means crushing the people. Unfortunately, this is the price of the Emperor's vision!

>>45948367
>the people in the Empire likely don't know how bad it is
that's what I said, "really shitty bureaucracy".

But then I'm biased because I have a parent in HR and hear plenty of inefficiency horror stories.

>>45948419

They don't have very good record keeping, yes, but there's also a certain degree of "if it works" involved. Kurasu's system is brutal, but it keeps the mines working - in the short term, at least - so complaints are overlooked. On the other hand, if the protests and resistance caused the mines to grind to a halt completely, things might start to change pretty quickly!