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>>46770068

“You'll be staying in the capital for the next few days, then?” Ra asks meaningfully, “And you'll have some spare time on your hands, am I correct?”

Technically so, you admit slowly, but perhaps you already had plans. Important plans, the kind that can't be changed on such short notice. The vagueness of your words – that lingering “perhaps” - clearly doesn't do much to convince Ra. In truth, you're not trying very hard to deter him – he's obviously got an idea about how you could spent the next day, and you're pretty curious about it.

“I thought you might be interested,” Ra lifts his decanter of whisky and pours a generous measure into his glass, offering it to you. As you accept the drink, he continues. “It's a matter that concerns Tawn, but I feel it might be more suited to your talents,” without taking his eyes from you, Ra wets his lips with the strong spirit, “As a Wanderer, I should say.”

Something to do with a god then, you ask, but isn't that a little strange? Tenn has no native gods – not any more, at least – so why would he require the services of a Wanderer?

“This city wasn't always like this,” Ra suggests, “It wasn't so long ago that there were still a few last priests hanging on here, with their devoted followers. Well, time changes things.” He shrugs lightly. “Of course, I'm merely offering you the chance to step in. If you'd rather I handled this through official channels...”

Sending a Writ to the Nameless Temple, in other words.

“Of course, it'll be easier to arrange that invitation if I don't have to keep an eye on this situation,” a sly light enters Ra's eyes, “You understand what I mean, don't you?”

>I scratch your back, you scratch mine. What do you need?
>I don't like playing these games. Do this by the book, or handle it yourself
>I had something else to take care of. Find someone else to handle this
>Other

>>46770073
>I scratch your back, you scratch mine. What do you need?
Good to see you running Moloch

>>46770073
>>I scratch your back, you scratch mine. What do you need?
We've gone on jobs without Writs quite a few times.

>>46770073
>>I scratch your back, you scratch mine. What do you need?

You understand perfectly – you scratch his back, he scratches yours in turn. It's the way of things, here at the capital, and a man could labour for a century without changing that. The Mentor probably has a lesson about that – a wise man choosing not to move against the tides, perhaps – but then, he has a lesson for most things. Some of them are even right.

So, you ask Ra, what does he need?

“Do you know of an island west of here?” Ra asks in return, “Dreary place, really, and not one that people like to talk about. There used to be a great prison there, and the Emperor – in his infinite wisdom – decided that it would still serve as a place to... keep certain elements isolated, shall we say.”

These elements being cultists, you guess, or those suspected of being in league with the cult.

“Really, anyone who might pose a threat – ideological or otherwise – to the Imperial throne,” Ra shrugs, “Dissidents, revolutionaries, anyone fool enough to raise their voice a little too loud. I dislike the practice, needless to say, but I can understand the appeal. The alternative would just be shooting the poor bastards, after all, and they might still be found innocent this way. In either case, Tawn travelled there recently to interrogate some of the newest arrivals. That was several days ago now, and he hasn't returned or even sent word back.”

And now he suspects that something has happened, you guess, is that it? Not a prisoner uprising – that would be messy, and hard to hide – but something else. “Something” being the word, a vague and aimless way to describe the unknown events.

“I sent a number of men across, with orders to look around and return back,” the old man sitting across from you stares down into his glass of whisky, “One returned, claiming that some of the others were lost. Not dead or anything like that – lost.”

[1/2]

>>46770251

The silence draws out, Ra's last word hanging in the air like a lead weight. After a few moments, the old adviser clears his throat. “I won't lie to you, Ira, I have no idea what could have happened to them. Even the lowest assumption – that a god might have something to do with this – is based off nothing but a hunch. I can't say how much of a risk you'd be taking, if you choose to handle this matter, but I believe you to be capable of resolving it. There's the matter of Tawn, as well...”

Looking out to protect his successor, you ask mildly, is he?

“Perhaps so,” Ra acknowledge the point with a slight nod, “But, on a more personal level, I don't want to abandon him. In my own way, I feel as though I had a hand in his maiming – that's why I've been looking out for him since. A minor slip of professional detachment, but one you can understand, I hope.”

You understand it perfectly well. Some cynical part of your mind also recognises another reason for Ra to keep Tawn in the discussion – you're less likely to turn down this task when there's a friend involved.

“I'm glad we're on the same page,” Ra raises his glass, “Do you have any questions? I have a boat prepared, if you wish to head out immediately.”

Of course he was prepared, you think to yourself, of course.

>I'll head out straight away
>What else can you tell me about the prison?
>I'll handle this, but later – I have other business first
>I've changed my mind, this is too much of a risk
>I had a question for you... (Write in)
>Other

>>46770313
>What else can you tell me about the prison?
>I'll head out straight away

>>46770313
>I had a question for you... (Write in)

Deets on any recent prisoners, any prisoners of note who have been there long term, who we're supposed to be contacting and who is supposed to be watching the place. FYI shit is always getting smuggled in and out of prisons.

>>46770313
>I had a question for you... (Write in)
How often do people that just speak their mind get thrown in there?

Is there anything else he can tell you, you ask, about this prison?

“At the moment, it's fairly empty,” Ra begins, “A few dozen prisoners at most – although I fear that there will be many more before the end of this... unpleasant situation. There are relatively few guards, as well, since the number of captives is so low. If there has been some kind of uprising among the prisoners, we won't have the risk of it getting out of hand, not with these numbers. That's what I can give you in terms of practical numbers, but I did a little of my own research about the old prison.”

What about recent prisoners, you ask, or any long term ones? Is there anything significant on that front?

“I don't believe there many that could be considered “long term”, but some are more recent that others,” Ra's hand slips out to touch his glass again, his finger tapping against the rim, “You might know one of the prisoners, actually – he was taken from the south-east. Hali, I believe his name was.”

You know him all too well, you mutter, but you never thought he'd still be alive.

“He was considered too “useful” to be executed straight away,” Ra grimaces, “I couldn't guess what kind of state he's in by now. As for new prisoners, there were a pair of young men suspected of planting a bomb in one of the Emperor's factories. Until we know if they acted alone or not, they're being kept behind bars as a precaution.”

And what about the guards on-site, you ask, who should you contact? Is there anyone still watching the place?

“I was told that some of the soldiers I sent after Tawn remained outside, on the docks – they are, apparently, still standing guard. If you can get inside, I'd like you to get in contact with Tawn, or any other Imperial agents that might have... that might still be there.”

That might have survived. That's what he wanted to say.

[1/2]

>>46770503

You're about to leave, when a bitter thought strikes you. How often, you ask softly, do people get thrown in prison just for speaking their minds?

“Rarely,” Ra offers a thin smile, as if that excuses everything, “Typically, a man can complain to his neighbour without inciting trouble. If we prosecuted everyone who said a word against the Emperor, we'd never have the time to do anything else. It's usually only when someone tries to incite trouble that the guards step in – calls for a change in leadership, say. I don't approve of the practice much, but I feel it has validity in these troubled times. We don't need a thousand different rebellions and revolutionary groups springing up while we deal with the larger problem.”

Maybe they wouldn't have to deal with revolutionaries, you think to yourself, if they weren't so quick to dish out oppressive punishments. Ra talks of inciting trouble, but the Emperor has done his fair share to fan the flames of conflict. He's hardly blameless.

“Oh, you might be interested in this,” Ra adds, oblivious to your dark thoughts, and hands over a thin gathering of paper, “I read into some accounts of life in the old prisoner. Statements from guards stationed there, among other things. It had quite the reputation, believe it or not. Well, from there on, I leave the matter in your hands – I won't try to give you orders.”

Good thing, too – he doesn't have that authority.

“The party is the day after tomorrow,” Ra reminds you, ignoring your comment, “Don't forget to dress nicely. You're a nobleman, now, so you have a reputation to uphold.”

Waving off Ra's veiled comment, you bow slightly and stride from the palace. As the cold night air strikes you, it occurs to you that Aya might still be drinking alone, celebrating Kurasu's promotion in her own way.

>Head to the docks and sail to the prison
>See if you can find Aya
>Stop and check Ra's notes
>Other

>>46770617
>See if you can find Aya
>Stop and check Ra's notes
Tell her we've got work, have a drink while going over Ra's notes

Then
>Head to the docks and sail to the prison

>>46770617
>>46770663
This works.

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If you're going to vanish off to an island prison for the next day or so, the least you can do is let Aya know beforehand. It won't take long to meet up with her and relay what Ra told you about the political motives behind Kurasu's promotion either – it doesn't excuse the injustice, but it does cast it in a different light.

And it might be nice to get a drink while you're there, something to warm you while you go over Ra's notes. With that in mind, you follow the dark streets – still bustling with the remains of the grumbling crowd from before – to the address Aya gave you. It leads you down a particularly dark and dismal backstreet in the Low Residential quarter, ending up a door marked by a red paper lantern. Despite the bleak surroundings, that red glow has something cosy about it, something that strikes you as immediately familiar.

Inside, the bar is both cramped and crowded, each factor making the other worse. Aya is sitting at the bar, leaning on it and gesturing to the bartender for a fresh drink. Taking the bowl he offers her – filled with some pungent spirit that you can smell over the background scent of sweat and cooking meat – she glances around and waves you over. Fighting through the crowd, one hand on your valuables at all times, you struggle to the seat next to her.

“Thought you might not make it,” Aya shouts, raising her voice over the hum of voices, “Guess you managed to get into the palace, huh? Got friends in high places, do you?”

As a matter of fact, yes. As Aya listens, dividing her attention between the bowl of liquor and your words, you explain a little more about Kurasu's promotion. As you expected, it doesn't exactly improve her mood.

[1/2]

>>46770891

“Bah!” Aya curses, “One rule for him, another for the rest of us. You think we'd get given a nice new job if we screwed up? Course not, we'd get thrown in jail like common criminals!”

Speaking of jail, you begin patiently, you're going to be heading back to work soon – and that's where your work will take you. There's no way of knowing when you'll be back, so she should go ahead with printing her paper without you. Everything she needs to know, in either case, is already in her notes. The mention of notes reminds you of the papers Ra gave you, papers that you had tucked into your pocket without a second thought.

As the bartender gives you a drink of your own – the same clear, medicinal smelling alcohol that Aya is drinking – you skim over them. They don't paint a very pleasant picture of the old prison – if anything, it sounds haunted.

“Dark eyes watch me from every corner and cobweb,” one guard apparently testified, “I never felt alone.”

“Working here was like having a great spider perched upon my shoulder at all times,” another had said, “I never slept well.”

“Tempers flared all the time,” a more official report – some words hidden behind bars of black ink – claims, “Many fights broke out for little reason. Both guards and prisoners experienced paranoia and erratic behaviour...”

None of that sounds good. Tucking the notes away again – you'll keep them close, just in case there was something you missed – you drain the bowl and shudder. How can Aya drink that filth?

“Heading out, huh?” Aya asks, a faint slur in her words, “Gotta keep moving, huh?”

>Got that right. I'll see you soon
>You don't know anything about this prison, do you?
>After reading that, I think I'd rather stay
>Other

>>46770994
>You don't know anything about this prison, do you?
>Got that right. I'll see you soon.
Don't drink yourself under the table.

>>46770994
>>Got that right. I'll see you soon
>>You don't know anything about this prison, do you?

>>46770994
>Some spooky stuff, but doesn't sound like I'll be losing my other eye
>Always keep moving

>>46771096
>but doesn't sound like I'll be losing my other eye
Jinxed it.

>>46771134
that was the point, yes

Keep moving forwards, you agree grimly. As you're standing to leave, a thought strikes you – maybe word of this prison has reached her ears as well. She doesn't know anything about a prison island to the west, you ask, does she?

“Don't know what you're talking about, chief, I'm a good girl. I don't cause no trouble for nobody,” she giggles, a defiant flush rising in her cheeks, “I've never been caught, at least. No, I think I know the place – grim little rock out in the sea, right? You can see it from the docks, so it can't be far away. You'd never get me to swim out there, though.” She shudders a little at the suggestion, a quick drink lifting her mood again. “From what I hear, it's real, uh, political. The kind of place that folks don't come back from, you know?”

That's what you were worried about. The longer you spent in the capital, the more you can understand why people are drawn to the Seer – although if Aya's story hits the right buttons, that might change soon enough. Thanking Aya, you rise to leave when she speaks up again.

“Hey, wait a minute,” she frowns into her bowl as she thinks, “I might have heard a thing, once. This is history, old stuff, so it might all be wrong. The way I heard it, when they closed down the old prison, they just let all the prisoners go free. Course, most of them never got charged with anything, so...” A shrug, then, as Aya takes a drink, “Anyway, one of the prisoners settled down in the slums. Only, he never left his house. He just boarded it all up from the inside and just... died in there, I guess. That's what the old story says, least. I guess maybe some people get used to the inside of a cell, huh?”

Maybe, you murmur, or maybe there was something else at work. Nothing good, certainly. With one final warning to the reporter – don't drink too much – you emerge back into the cold night air.

[1/2]

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>>46771234

At least the docks are easily found, even with your thoughts full of dark rumour and speculation – you just need to head west, towards the sound of water lapping against stone. You've never liked docks much, for reasons you've never quite been able to pin down. The smell, perhaps, of rotting fish and dank wood. Pushing your lingering distaste as far from your mind as possible, you look about for a boat. Ra said there would be one ready, didn't he?

“Hey, stranger!” a voice calls, drawing your attention to a striking woman. It's hard to say what is so striking about her, save for the threat of violence that seems to lie behind her eyes. Aggressive as she is, there is no malice in her voice – not yet, at least. “I'm looking for a guy, maybe you know him?” she asks as you approach, “Ira something, I think. Palace business.”

Ira Furyo, you confirm, that's you. Ra sent her, did she?

“Sure, I'm on the old man's books,” the woman nods, “Captain Murasa, at your service. I'm sort of his messenger girl, when he needs someone travelling the waves. Come on, I'll show you to the prison.” She hesitates a moment before leading you away. “Don't envy you this job,” she comments, “I've seen more than enough prison cells in my time. Even if I'm not getting locked up in one, I don't want to go anywhere near them.”

A colourful past, then. She looks like the type.

“You're one to talk,” Murasa jokes, “Anyway, this is my ship – the Hijiri, fastest girl on the waters. Huh, she's wasted on a short hop like this. There's room below, if you want to grab an hour of rest while we make trip.”

>I'll take you up on that. I could use the rest
>I'd rather stay up on deck with you, ask you some questions
>Other

>>46771386
>I'd rather stay up on deck with you, ask you some questions
So how did Ra scout you out for this kind of job?

>>46771386
>I'd rather stay up on deck with you, ask you some questions
What do you do for a living? I can't imagine Ra has you working for him all the time. That seems more of a call you when he needs you kind of deal.

>>46771386
>>I'd rather stay up on deck with you, ask you some questions

You'd rather stay up on deck, you explain as you board the gently swaying ship, and talk with her a while. You've got a few questions you'd like to ask her, for one thing.

“Get to know me, huh?” Murasa flashes you a quick grin, “Sure thing, stranger. I was told I might end up working with you sooner or later – ain't you the guy who got given an island? - so we might as well clear the air. Give me a moment though, I've got to get this old girl moving. Practically steers herself once everything is going, though, so we'll have time.”

Fair enough, you reply as she strides off across deck with a confident step. You don't know much about ships, but the Hijiri seems like a particularly sleek example of the craft. As the sails above your head billow and fill with the stirring wind, the vessel slowly takes motion. Even this minor shudder is enough to have you reaching for support, bracing yourself against the railings at the edge of the ship. A few moments pass before you adjust to the constant motion, by which point Murasa has joined you – her pace easy and relaxed, speaking of a lifetime spent at sea.

“You look green as a frog, stranger,” she helpfully tells you, “Not one for sailing much, huh?”

You tend to stick to dry land, you tell her stiffly, when you can help it. So, you ask in an attempt to change the subject, how did Ra scout her out for this job?

“Funny thing about that,” Murasa shrugs, “I guess I was sort of a bandit. Made a nice living intercepting military ships – you know, they move all kinds of resources and supplies between the outer islands and the mainland – until I got a little too cocky and found myself in a dungeon. Then, old Ra showed up with an offer. He needed someone like me – resourceful, like.”

A criminal, then. That explains her little “prison cell” comment.

[1/2]

>>46771664

“I'm legit now, on the straight and narrow!” Murasa assures you with a wide grin, “Ra wouldn't bail me out for a second time, you know? Gods, but I miss it sometimes – I'm a free woman at heart, following the ebb and flow of the tides and wind.”

So what else does she do for a living, you ask, or is this a full time deal for her? You've got to admit, you don't quite see her as a permanent part of Ra's staff. Does he just send for her whenever he needs a ship?”

“That's about right,” Murasa nods, “Most of my other time, well... I won't say it's a prison he has me in, but it's damn close. A nice little house on an island, but I sure as shit can't leave whenever I like. Sounds harsh, doesn't it? Better than a cell, at least – like I said, one taste of the Emperor's hospitality was enough for me. Guess that means I'm rehabilitated, huh?”

Sure, you shrug, close enough at least.

“Anyway, I make myself useful to him – useful enough that he can't get rid of me,” Murasa leans across the railing and spits into the water below, “My old line of work, you got to know people – troublemakers, you know? They type who were looking for guns, but couldn't just go out and buy them. Revolutionaries, I guess you'd call them. I got them what they needed, and now I have sort of a network. Got eyes everywhere, see?”

Looking out across the dark waters, you allow yourself a scowl. She's a profiteer, you think, the type to take advantage of whatever life threw in her path. How many of those stolen guns have ended up in the hands of cultists, bandits or rebels? You wonder if she even knows – or cares.

>I'm going below deck. Call for me when we reach the prison
>I've got something to ask you... (Write in)
>Other

>>46771730
>>I've got something to ask you... (Write in)
"Did lots of these get shipped around?"
Show her out revolver.

If she answers yes.
"Aren't they pretty rare? How'd you manage to procure them?"

Then
>I'm going below deck. Call for me when we reach the prison

>>46771780
>out
our*

>>46771780
>>46771730
+1

>>46771730
>>I've got something to ask you... (Write in)
Does Ra utilize your network? You'd think he'd be interested in shutting down arms dealing, but then again the man is subtle.

Glancing around at the Hijiri's top deck, you check to see if anyone is watching you. The few crew members you can see are all busy with their own tasks, and none of them shoot you even a passing glance. With that, you turn back to Murasa and produce the revolver Soma gave you, drawing it from the depths of your coat. It's a pretty light thing, actually, light enough that you almost forgot you were carrying it.

Did she ever see many of these getting shipped around, you ask as you hold out the pistol, or rifles like them?

“Like that? Not many – I dealt in military issue stuff, lots of single shot rifles and the like,” Murasa takes the gun from your grip and turns it over in her hands, examining it from all angles. “This ain't military, is it?” she asks, “Too pretty for that. I've never stolen any of these – I'm no art dealer, stranger.”

Fine, you reply with a shrug, no harm in asking.

“Hold on, I said I didn't deal in them, not that I've never seen one before,” Murasa spins the revolver around and holds the grip out to you, “One time, I saw a guy who had a gun right like that thing. This was... man, I don't know. Maybe a couple of years ago. Anyway, he was one of my regular, ah, customers. I don't know what he did with all the hardware I brought him, and I never asked. Anyway, I was there with a shipment, regular as always, when he pulled this gun on me – right like that pretty thing there – and told me that this would be the last time we were doing business. Said he had a new supplier, the bastard.”

Someone who could supply him, you guess, with better weapons than the military were using?

“Got that right. I guess I was lucky to survive that one – we settled our differences like businessmen, and then I was shown the door,” Murasa shrugs, “Never seen him since. Good riddance.”

Interesting. So the cult isn't just keeping their guns to themselves, they're shipping them out to other groups.

[1/2]

>>46772020

So, you ask as you process this information, how often does Ra use this network of hers? You would have thought he'd be more interested in shutting down illicit arms dealing, but perhaps not – Ra is subtle, you wouldn't be surprised if he had his own plans going on.

“Well, I ain't much of an arms dealer these days,” Murasa gives you a regretful grin, “But sometimes he gives me a shipment to run. Course, it's not coin I'm swapping them for, but information. It's rare, but there are some things that only criminal scum like me get to know. Most of the time, I'm running messages between spies and agents, folk he's got buried deep inside the types I deal with.”

Somehow, the idea that Ra has agents inside whatever various revolutionary groups are hiding out in the corners of the land doesn't come as a surprise – he IS the spymaster, after all.

“The way he tells it, he pulls strings to keep these groups quiet,” the captain shrugs, “Keep them arguing about politics, rather than actually taking up arms and doing something about it. That's good, I guess. Hey, I'm no smart guy like him, I just steer the ship – he knows what he's doing, Ra does.”

Maybe, you mutter, you certainly hope so. Then, before you can say anything else, a shout from one of the crew draws your attention to the approaching island. You'd been so absorbed in Murasa's story that it had almost crept up on you.

“Looks like we're almost at dock, thank the gods,” Murasa fishes a totem out of her clothes and kisses it, “Smooth sailing, just the way I like it. Last time I was running up in the north... Well, no matter,” she shakes her head, “Looks like this is your stop, stranger.”

>It sure is. See you around, Murasa
>Call me Ira next time
>I had some last questions... (Write in)
>Other

>>46772119
>It sure is. See you around, Murasa
>And call me Ira next time.

>>46772119
>>It sure is. See you around, Murasa
>>Call me Ira next time

Sure is, you reply as you gaze up at the foreboding tower jutting out of the rocky island. The island itself is bleak enough, with barely a few scrubs of rough vegetation clinging boldly to the rocks, but the tower itself is something else entirely. A cylindrical pillar of crumbling stone bricks, it somehow seems like it should lean to one side – as if that looming threat of collapse was the natural state for such a despairing structure. The few windows you can see are all barred, and the smallest fraction of them have any lights blazing from within.

See you around, you tell Murasa as the Hijiri slides gracefully into dock, but she should call you “Ira” next time. After all, you might well be working together more in future.

“Can't wait,” she assures you with a grin and a nod, “Anything to keep me on the open waters, friend.”

You're glad to give her the excuse. As you stride down onto the pleasantly solid ground, you look around for any sign of the soldiers that were supposed to greet you. There is one man, a particularly haggard looking remnant leaning against the doorway, but that's it. With the first sparks of danger flickering in the back of your mind, you approach him and reach down to touch his shoulder, startling the man awake.

“What?” he yelps, “Is it time to leave? Please tell me we can... I can leave!”

Slow down, you tell him, he needs to explain the situation first. What happened to the others?

“Others, right, there were others,” the soldier painfully pulls himself upright, nodding vaguely to himself, “They went inside. Couldn't stand it out here, you see. Couldn't stand the hunger.”

Hunger, you repeat softly, when was the last time he ate?

“Couldn't say. Maybe the day before yesterday,” the soldier shakes his head, the thin light of mania entering his eyes, “I had the last of the food. I hid it, you see, I'm not proud of that.”

[1/2]

>>46772444

Stop, you order, the firmness in your voice drawing his wide, frightened eyes to your face. Take a breath, you instruct him, and then start at the beginning. What, exactly, happened here?

“Five of us, sir, we got sent here chasing after an Imperial agent. Said he went missing here, they did. We got here, and one of us went inside straight away – only, he never came out again,” on shaky legs, the guard drags open the heavy prison door to reveal a new portal – one that swirls like mist and glows with a cold inner light. “You can go through it, sir, but you can't come back out. It goes solid when you try.”

Staring at the gate of fog, you nod silently for the man to continue with his story. What happened next?

“Well, we decided to send a man back to the capital, take word to the Emperor, while the rest of us waited here,” a shudder runs through the soldier, “Only, we got tired of waiting. There were supplies within, supplies and shelter – one by one, the rest of them tried going inside. That's all I can tell you, sir, all I know.”

If you want to know more, you say to yourself, you'll need to get answers from those inside the place. Only, once you're inside...

“It goes all solid, won't let you come out again,” the soldier nods, “Stick a hand in, that's all it takes. You need to push through, or cut the hand off. That's the only way you'd get out of it.”

Glaring at the misty portal, you think hard about how to deal with this. Once you're inside, you won't be able to leave until the matter is resolved – and there's no way of knowing what that might take.

>Enter the fog
>Retreat to the capital. This is too much of a risk
>Ask the soldier a few questions... (Write in)
>Other

>>46772556
Fugg. Well we are as prepared as we can be. Full HP and all spell cards available.
>Enter the fog
Have Murasa take the soldier back.

>>46772556
>Ask the soldier a few questions... (Write in)
How do you know it goes solid when you try to come back out if you never tried going in...?

>>46772556
>>Enter the fog
Worried.

You stare into the colourless deep fog for a few moments longer as you consider your options. Really, you don't have any other options – not unless you wanted to abandon Tawn to whatever fate he might meet in there. How does he know, you ask suddenly, that it's solid on the other side?

“Sir?” the soldier asks, “What do you mean?”

He said that it goes solid when you try it from the other end, you explain, but he obviously didn't try going through it. How, then, does he know that it only goes one way?

“The others didn't come back out,” he offers weakly, “What else explains it, sir? Least, assuming they're still alive, that is. If they could leave, if any of them what were in there could leave, I figure they would have done so by now.”

So they could, technically, all be dead in there. Slain immediately, so that they couldn't even turn back and leave through the door they just entered. That's... far from reassuring. Sighing heavily, you point back to the Hijiri. Talk to the captain, you tell the soldier, and she should see him back to the capital. At the very least, she can probably find some food for him.

“Yes sir, thank you sir,” the soldier bows with undisguised relief, “Good luck in there, whatever happens. Wishing you the best, sir!” He throws those last few words back over his shoulder as he turns and scurries back towards the Hijiri. Soon, you find yourself alone on the dock, faced with the mysterious portal before you.

Well, you mutter, nothing else for it. With that resigned whisper, you press through and enter the fog gate. It tingles on your skin – not quite like dew or light rain, but close – and your vision fades to grey for a few short moments. Quickly, the blankness clears, and your sight returns to you.

[1/2]

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>>46772928

Nothing kills you, not straight away at least.

The fog opens out into a bland and unassuming corridor, the ceiling high and filthy with cobwebs. With only blank walls to either side of you, all you can do is pace forwards into the next door, slowly easing open the ajar door. It takes you into what you assume to the main section of the prison, a grand circular chamber with the outer walls hollowed out and converted into cells. The bars, thick iron things that belong more on the cage for a wild beast, allow a clear view of whatever luckless prisoner was inside. The centre of the room is a tower, as blank and featureless as the prison itself was from the outside.

The central tower seems to have a door of its own, although that one is closed – whether it is locked or not remains unknown. When you hold your breath and grow still, you hear a few echoing noises – coughs, say, or the shuffle off distant movement. There are still some people living here, at least.

Well then, you say to yourself, where to start?

>Check the central tower
>Check the ring of cells
>Follow the sound of coughing
>Other

Please excuse the rough map.

>>46772928
>enter the fog gate
Getting awful dark souls in here

>>46773001
>>Check the central tower
It's right in front of us.

>>46773001
>Follow the sound of coughing

>>46773001
>Check the central tower

>>46773001
>Detect magic

>>46773044
>>46773001
Probably a good idea.

>>46773001
>>Check the central tower
Give the front door a quick test while we're here. Make sure if we really can't leave.

>Sorry, can I get a quick 1D100 for using our detect magic spell? This is aiming to beat 30 or 70, and I'll take the highest of the first three.

Rolled 44 (1d100)

>>46773174

Rolled 33 (1d100)

>>46773174

Rolled 88 (1d100)

>>46773174

Dubs

Before you do anything, you want to be sure. Turning back the way you came, you return to the softly glowing fog and press your palm into it. Calling it “solid” would be a stretch, but it doesn't yield when you push against it. It doesn't yield, and you certainly can't pass through it. Whatever else he told you, the soldier was right about this – you can't leave.

Fine. That just gives you some damn good motivation to get to the bottom of this, and the quicker the better. The tower in the middle seems like a good place to start, but you've got another weapon in your arsenal that you wanted to test out before trying anything else. Closing your eye, you focus on your breathing for a few moments, letting it fall into a deep and steady rhythm. The physical world seems to grow distant as you attune your senses to a higher realm, seeking out whatever traces of magic you might find. Your senses light up with the majesty of it all, a network of glowing lines like nothing you've ever seen.

It's almost overwhelming, in fact, a golden web that surrounds you and the entire prison. It feels almost like eyes looking down upon you, looking out from the ceiling and every filthy corner. Yet, there's something else, something that feels... hidden. Looking past the web of spun gold, you delve deeper into the lurking malignancy. If the magic that surrounded you was beautiful, then this presence is ugly. It hides deep down, far below you, but that's all you can learn from this distance. Focussing harder on it only sends a pang of pain through your mind, dropping you to one knee.

Grimacing, you open your eye and gaze at the ceiling. The pattern of gold lingers for a few seconds, before fading until only cobwebs are visible.

Strange. Strange indeed.

[1/2]

File: Tawn (Better Times).jpg (194 KB, 1066x1599)

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>>46773340

Still clutching a hand to your head, you shake out the last traces of the magic and focus on checking the central tower. Lowering one hand to the grip of your sword, you reach out and touch the handle. In a single burst of motion – it's fast enough to leave you dizzy, sending your heightened senses into a chaotic whirl – you throw the door open and stride inside, scanning your new surroundings for any threats.

There are three people here, none of whom are anything close to a threat. Two of them are soldiers, sitting sprawled on the ground and clutching their rifles close, while the third man still has his back to you. The sombre black suit he wears is the first thing you notice as the third man lurches around to look you in the eye, but it's the arm in the sling – mostly covered by a shoulder cape - that really gives the game away. It's Tawn Moriya, although you've never seen him looking quite so rough.

His eyes are bright, shining with a carefully controlled lunacy, but the one cheek that isn't hidden behind a blank mask is hollow, speckled with dark stubble. He limps over to you, his step uneven, and meets your gaze without flinching.

“Ira,” he says quietly, his voice flat and hard, “They sent you, did they? Good – you won't shirk from this, will you?”

This, you repeat calmly, what is “this” exactly?

“Our duty. Finding the truth,” as Tawn's voice grows louder, some of the slur returns to it, “Even if it means dragging it out of these wretches.”

>Slow down, Tawn. Tell me what's been going on here
>Are you saying the prisoners are to blame for this?
>What is this place, this other tower?
>I need to know something... (Write in)
>Other

>>46773458
>>Slow down, Tawn. Tell me what's been going on here
>>Are you saying the prisoners are to blame for this?
>>What is this place, this other tower?
>>I need to know something... (Write in)
"Is there a way to get below the prison?"

>>46773458
>Slow down, Tawn. Tell me what's been going on here
>Are you saying the prisoners are to blame for this?
>What is this place, this other tower?

Slow down, you tell Tawn, you need to know what's been going on here. He can tell you that, can't he?

“I came here to get information about the cult. We took one of their members prisoner, and I'm certain that he's still holding something back. Then there were the anarchists, two damn brothers who nearly blew up a factory full of innocent workers,” Tawn snarls, “I needed to know the truth – I had to come here myself, to make sure I'd have it. Only... not long after I arrived, that damnable wall sprung up, that impenetrable fog. Since then, I've been trying to get these cult bastards to stop whatever cursed magic they're using. They are proving to be remarkably... resilient.”

He's blaming the prisoners for this, you confirm, is that what he's saying?

“Who else could be doing this?” a dark anger fills Tawn's eyes, “They waited, don't you see? They waited to trap someone like me, someone worth making an example of. Now they've got you as well – but you're not going to roll over and die, are you Ira? We've dealt with these bastard before, this time is no different.”

When was the last time he slept, you wonder as you see the mania in Tawn's eyes, or even rested for a little? When you saw him last, in Garuna, he had shown signs of paranoia but nothing this bad. Turning away from his burning gaze, you look at the inner tower. It's a strange thing to look at, ringed with narrow slits to peer out of and decorated with little else. What is this place, you ask quietly, this other tower?

“From here, we can watch them,” Tawn lurches over to one of those slits and looks out, studying an empty cell on the far wall, “But they can't see us. They can NEVER see us. Any time, any day, there could be a soldier looking into their cell, watching them. I found a journal, a book by the old governor of this place. Do you know what that does to a man, Ira?”

[1/2]

>>46773798

“It breaks him,” Tawn tells you as you shake your head slowly, “As sure as torture or fear can break a man, this surveillance, this constant watchful eye, can bring even a strong man to his knees.”

The guards who wrote of their experiences here felt as though they had been watched as well, while the lone prisoner who had returned died alone, having shut himself away from the world – away from prying eyes, perhaps. This is no natural prison, you think, something is terribly wrong here. Your mind returns to that malignancy, that sinister presence that had lurked far below the prison itself.

Tawn, you ask quietly, is there a way of getting lower? Beneath the prison itself, perhaps?

“Lower?” Tawn turns, giving you a blank and unreadable stare, “Yes. Lower. There were some caves below, but they were mostly flooded. I went there... once. It's too dangerous down there, I don't recommend it.”

Dangerous or not, you tell him, you need to go there. You need to check something, and it might hold the key to escape.

“...Fine,” Tawn grunts, turning away from you, “I can show you the way, if you really must see for yourself. You're wasting your time, though – I'm certain that one of the prisoners is to blame for this, I just need to figure out which one. Help me with that, Ira, and you'd be making good use of your time.”

>Fine. Let's talk about the prisoners...
>I'd like to speak with the prisoners by myself. They might open up to a new face
>No, I want to see these caves. Show me
>Other

>>46773912
>>I'd like to speak with the prisoners by myself. They might open up to a new face

>>46773798
>I'd like to speak with the prisoners by myself. They might open up to a new face

"But Tawn I need you to listen to me. I sensed a tainted presence under this prison that's probably causing this. Hali, the cultist, was just an apprentice at the Nameless Temple when he joined the cult. He doesn't know the magic to pull something like this off and I doubt your two anarchists do either."

>>46773912
>>I'd like to speak with the prisoners by myself. They might open up to a new face
They might have a less biased take on things.

>>46773912
>I'd like to speak with the prisoners by myself. They might open up to a new face
Also, magical interrogation. Caves afterward.

You're not convinced by Tawn's mania, you just don't see how the prisoners could be responsible for all this. However, they might have a different perspective on matters, one that could shine a less biased light on this situation. For that reason alone, it would be worth speaking with them. You'd like to try that, you suggest to Tawn, they might be a little more willing to open up to a new face.

“Yes, perhaps. They might be desperate enough to put their trust in anyone they don't view as a servant of the Emperor,” Tawn reaches up to touch his face, his fingers curling back into the palm of his hand before ever making contact, “Very well, Ira. Talk with them. Get what you can out of them. I'm certain that it's one of two – Hali, the traitor apprentice, and Rin, the anarchist. Start with either of them.”

Weren't there two anarchists, you ask quietly, two brothers?

“Not any more,” Tawn turns away from you, refusing to elaborate.

Tawn, you say to him, he needs to listen to this. You sensed something beneath the prison, some tainted presence that might be the cause of all this. Whatever it was, it was too advanced to be something Hali could conjure up – the boy was just an apprentice – and it's obviously far beyond the skills of a mere anarchist. It HAS to be something else.

“Something the cultists brought with them, then,” Tawn tries to shrug, his right arm hanging limp and refusing to comply, “Or something they woke up. I don't care what, but if you can drag the truth from them... do it. Whatever it takes.”

You have your own ways of getting answers, you promise.

>Start with Hali, the traitor apprentice
>Start with Rin, the anarchist
>Try something else... (Write in)
>Other

>>46774272
>>Start with Hali, the traitor apprentice

>>46774272
>Start with Hali, the traitor apprentice

>“Not any more,” Tawn turns away from you, refusing to elaborate.
Worry.jpg

>>46774272
>>Start with Hali, the traitor apprentice
Not sure how much the bomb guy might know about this. He might not even be a cultist.

>>46774272
>Start with Hali, the traitor apprentice

You're best off starting with Hali, the former apprentice. He's more likely to know a little more about what's going on here than a hapless anarchist.

“Good idea, but I should warn you,” Tawn looks back, meeting your eye once more, “He's tougher than he looks. You might need to loosen his tongue a little. Either way, he's in cell... ten, I think it was. This floor – the upper levels are still deserted. Unsafe, maybe, this place is still half-built.”

Grunting out a vague thanks for the information, you turn to leave. You're really not very comfortable with Tawn's new act, and it's hard to know how much of it can be blamed on being trapped in this place. Given command of this lonesome prison, without anyone to calm him or call him out on whatever abuses he has overseen, how much of a monster has he really become? How much of a push did he need to slide into callous brutality?

Perhaps it's too early to say – you've not even seen Hali or Rin yet. Last time you saw Hali, you recall, he was already looking worse for wear. Takino's soldiers had been cruel with their interrogations, and you can't imagine this place being much of an improvement. Preparing yourself for the worst, you follow a wide circle around the perimeter of the prison, counting off numbers crudely painted above cells. When you reach ten, a weak cough draws your gaze to the kneeling boy.

Hali looks close to death. There's no easy way to put it. He wears nothing but the rags of his breeches, and the soles of his feet are bloody from walking across rough stone. His torso is filthy, patterned with bruises and a sickening dent in his ribcage. As he looks up at you, you can't help but notice how hollow his cheeks look, hunger lending him a desperate look. One arm hangs limp at his side, while the other raps out a panicked rhythm against the nape of his neck.

[1/2]

>>46774662

“You, Ira, you're here?” he rasps, the words coming quicker than you thought possible from such a weak looking figure, “You're not a part of this, are you?”

This. No matter who you ask, the situation always boils down to a vague and unpleasant word - “this”. What else could it be called, other than a vile mess? Grimacing, you look sternly at Hali and try to gauge how stable his mind might be. He looks half-starved and desperate, but that is, perhaps, understandable under the circumstances. What interests you is his assumption – leaping straight to the possibility that you might be involved in some greater scheme.

If that's what he means by “this” at least.

“Gods, I don't care,” Hali shakes his head, “Everyone here has lost their minds. Pointing fingers, obsessing over wild conspiracies, we're all just looking for answers. I get that, I get that – I really do! But what am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to have done?”

>Hali, who did this to you? Can you tell me who hurt you?
>Apparently, you're the one keeping us all here – any truth to that?
>What do you mean, “everyone” has lost their minds?
>Let me ask you something... (Write in)
>Other

>>46774749
>>What do you mean, “everyone” has lost their minds?

>>46774749
>>What do you mean, “everyone” has lost their minds?

>>46774749
"I just got here Hali, I'm trying to figure out what's going on."
>Apparently, you're the one keeping us all here – any truth to that?
"Though it looks to me that you're just being used as a scapegoat for things people can't explain. I'm sorry this happened to you."

>What do you mean, “everyone” has lost their minds?
"Explain what's been happening as you've been seeing it."

Settle down, you tell the boy in an attempt to keep him calm, you just got here. You're trying to figure out what's going on, the same as everyone else. From what you've heard, he's supposed to be the one keeping everyone here – is there any truth to that?

“Me?” Hali tries to shake his head, but the motion causes him to cough into his hand. You see a little blood there, as he wipes his palm on the already stained rags he wears, “That's what THEY say. You don't believe them, do you?”

The way it looks to you, he's been reduced to little more than a scapegoat for anything that the others don't understand. You're sorry, you tell him with a sigh, you're sorry that this had to happen to him. As far as you've seen, he's been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Still, if he is cooperative, you might be able to get the answers you need to make sure that everyone leaves here alive. To start with, what did he mean when he said that “everyone” had lost their minds?

“I mean, everyone is desperate,” Hali swallows hard, “The Imperial, the... the lapdog, he rants at me about walls of solid fog and something that won't stop watching him. It's nonsense, I can't conjure up walls of fog like that. Besides...” Hali's voice drops low, becoming a sulky pout, “I'm the one who's being watched. All the time, asleep or awake, something keeps studying me. Rin is no different, he's just as mad as the others.”

Rin, you repeat the name, can he tell you about Rin?

“He hasn't been the same since his brother went missing,” Hali drops his voice to a whisper, “He said to me, once... he said that only one man was going to walk out of here. Only the strongest will survive. What if he's right? What if something is keeping us here until only one of us is left?”

That's not going to happen, you assure Hali. You just wish you could be as certain as you sound.

[1/2]

>>46775063

So, you continue as you push your doubts aside, is there anything else can he tell you? Anything about how he's been seeing things, not about how the others see them?

“I don't know what's going on,” Hali tries to shake his head again, “I've been praying to any god I can think of, pleading with every god in the land, ever since I got here. If they have the answers, sir, they aren't sharing them with me.”

It's impossible to judge from a few words, but the boy's faith seems pure – almost blinding in the intensity of its desperation. If there was a god here, once, what might that sudden faith do? It might be enough to wake a slumbering deity, or to stir an apathetic one to action once more. A god could certainly produce that kind of power you felt beneath the prison, but that taint you felt...

Maybe it's time to dig a little deeper.

>Ask Hali a few more questions... (Write in)
>See what Rin has to say about things
>Speak with Tawn about heading underground
>Other

>>46775156
>>See what Rin has to say about things
Not sure we'll get much but its good to cover all bases

>>46775156
>See what Rin has to say about things
Quickly, then get underground.

>>46775156
>See what Rin has to say about things

>>46775156
>See what Rin has to say about things

It's hard to say how much sense you might get out of Rin – especially if he's ranting about the survival of the fittest – but you might as well get as much information as you can. No matter how twisted his viewpoint might be, it could offer some vital piece of the puzzle. Finding him, though, is another matter – which cell is he hiding in?

You settle for another circuit of the tower, roaming around and glancing in each cell you pass. The constant pattern of iron bars flashing past your eyes slowly grows hypnotic, lulling you into a kind of walking sleep – until, that is, a hand grabs your coat as you pass by. Moving on instinct alone, you bat the hand away and nearly draw your sword before you stop yourself. The hand belongs to a scrawny man, practically squeezing through the bars with how tightly he has pressed himself against them. Although his body seems to shout out a desperate urge to escape, his eyes are dull and glassy – cold, even.

“Another one, huh?” he whispers, the words hissing from dry and cracked lips, “You bastards aren't making this easy for me, are you?”

Taking a single step away from his cell, you meet those cold eyes. Rin, you ask, is it?

“Rin, is it?” the man repeats, “As if you don't know. Of course. I saw you – you came from the tower. Are you the one in charge of this mess? Finally decided to show your face, huh?” His face contorts in a scowl. If he had any saliva to spare, you think, he would have spat at your feet.

>I'm not in charge. I'm trapped here, just like you
>What happened to your brother, Rin?
>Only one person is leaving here – that's what you think, isn't it?
>I won't waste my time talking with a lunatic
>Other

>>46775452
>>I'm not in charge. I'm trapped here, just like you
>>What happened to your brother, Rin?
>>Only one person is leaving here – that's what you think, isn't it?

>>46775452

>I'm not in charge. I'm trapped here, just like you
>What happened to your brother, Rin?
>Only one person is leaving here – that's what you think, isn't it?

>>46775452
>>I'm not in charge. I'm trapped here, just like you
>>What happened to your brother, Rin?
>>Only one person is leaving here – that's what you think, isn't it?
"Why do you think that?"

>>46775452
>Who is watching, Rin? Do you know?

You're not in charge here, you tell Rin in what you hope is a calming voice, you're trapped here just like he is.

“Really,” Rin glares at you, his eyes burning out from beneath a wild tangle of hair and a full beard. Slowly, with a kind of deliberate irony, he steps back and raps his knuckles against the iron bars of his cell. Then he reaches through the bars again, waving his hands through the empty space around. His point is a simple one – he's the one in a cage, not you.

Sighing, you move onto your next question – what happened to his brother?

“Taken,” Rin grunts, but the mention of his relative softens his harsh glare slightly, “Taken to...” Frowning, he looks down at his hands and begins to count off his fingers. When he runs out of fingers, he throws his hands up in disgust and points up, to one of the upper levels. “He went there, and he never came back. It was the Emperor's man who took him, the one without the face.”

His choice of words sends a shiver down your spine until you realise that he might be talking about Tawn. With that blank mask covering much of his scarred face, he could almost appear faceless – especially when dealing with a madman. So, you think, Tawn took Rin's brother out to one of the cells on the upper level and came back alone. He said those cells were still being built, didn't he? A good place to hide a body, perhaps...

“I'm glad he's gone,” Rin says suddenly, a sullen and reluctant tone in his voice “It makes this easier for me. Having to do for family like that...”

Of course, you think, his survival of the fittest theory. He said that only one person was going to leave here, didn't he? What makes him say that?

“Because that's life, that's nature,” Rin's voice drops to a cruel whisper, “That's what the gods want, right? Society is for men, they don't care about that stuff. All they want is for us to return to our true nature.”

[1/2]

>>46775725

That could have come out of one of the Seer's rants, you think bitterly. Was Rin involved with the cult after all? He doesn't seem to talk of the gods with any kind of reverence or faith, just with a simple familiarity that fanatics often assume. Maybe not a cultist, but maybe someone who has fallen prey to their manipulations. An easy tool, one to be armed and pointed at a target.

But that's not what you're here to investigate. You've got more important matters to consider, right now. Quietly, you take a slight step closer and think about your next question. He's being watched, you ask, isn't he? When Rin's head dips in a jerky nod, you move on. Does he know who's watching him, you press, who or what?

“That's obvious,” he breathes, “It's the spiders. Webs everywhere, don't you see? And their little black eyes...” Shaking his head, Rin gazes up at the dark corners of his cell, “So many eyes...”

The spiders. When you saw that golden web of lines, they seemed to follow the same clumped path as the cobwebs on the roof. You just didn't put the two together until now. Maybe... maybe that lurking horror is using the spiders as spies?

Shaking your head, you decide to focus on the immediate matter. It seemed like Rin pointed to cell 21, on the second floor. His brother's remains might still be there. Then again, Tawn has some questions to answer...

>Investigate cell 21
>Speak with Tawn about heading underground
>Ask Rin a few more questions... (Write in)
>Other

>>46775865
>Investigate cell 21

>>46775865
>Investigate cell 21
We've got a lead, go up before we go down.

>>46775865
>>Investigate cell 21

>>46775865
>>Investigate cell 21

>>46775865
While we are up there we should look through all the cells and rooms upstairs, there were lights on in the Windows after all.

You might as well stick your head around the door to cell 21 and see what you can see. After all, while that fog gate is in place, nobody is going anywhere – Tawn can wait a while, if need be. Aware of the potential risks - crumbling stone, say, or rusting metal – you find a set of stair and ascend to the second floor. Calling it a “floor” seems to stretch the point – it's not much more than an iron mesh floor curving around the next layer of cells – but it seems stable enough.

With the rattle of your footsteps echoing out through the tower, you arrive at cell 21 – the door stands open and the cell empty – and look inside. No body, that much is obvious, but there is one very distinct feature. In the back wall of the cell, a ragged hole yawns out and down. A rope, one end tied around one of the cell bars, leads down into the abyss. Cautiously approaching, you crouch by the hole and gaze down into the darkness. It could go on forever.

When you knock a few loose pebbles down it takes a long time for them to land, only the hollow splash of water marks the end of their fall. Could this be the route to the caves? It's not impossible for a man with one working arm to descend this way, but it's not something you'd be willing to risk trying. Could Tawn have been mad enough to try it?

As you consider the issue, you leave the cell and look around, scanning the few other cells that you can see. A few of them are occupied, but the other prisoners look barely responsive – outright catatonic in some cases. Whatever is wrong with this place, they seem to have fallen prey to it. You could try speaking with them, but what would be the point? You'd get as much information by talking to the walls.

>Descend into the caves below
>Find Tawn and ask him some questions
>Other

>>46776181
>Descend into the caves below

>>46776181
>>Descend into the caves below
Not sure what'd we ask him. Lets go deal with the source.

>>46776181
>Descend into the caves below
It's go time

>>46776181
>Descend into the caves below

File: The Spider.png (589 KB, 1024x640)

589 KB PNG

Reaching out, you give the rope a firm tug. Seems safe enough, you mutter, safe enough to support your weight at least. Taking a tight grip on the rough material, you lower yourself down into the ragged hole, bracing yourself against the wall with your feet. It isn't so hard to “walk” your way down, the air around you growing cold and damp as you descend. When the rope finally ends, your boots touching jagged stone, you let a slow sigh of relief escape you.

You'll worry about climbing up later.

Tawn called these caves, and he certainly wasn't lying or exaggerating. Glowing slime, lichen maybe, clings to the walls here and offer some faint semblance of light, enough to glint off the slowly stirring water.

Enough to light up the dark shape floating face down in that water, and the slick black leeches that cling to it. The water is lively with those bloodsucking things, little black flashes that writhe in bloated contentment. You've got no idea what Rin's brother might look like, but you think you've found him. Who else, after all, would be down here?

The smell of decay hits you a few seconds later, causing you to grimace and cover your mouth. As you do, you see something disturbing the surface of the water, something that isn't a darting leech. A deep ripple, the product of a heavy footfall. That titan footstep is soon followed by another, and another still, this one closer as they speed up. You barely have the time to haul out your sword and pistol – your old, reliable single shot – before the vast creature is upon you.

Then it stops, looming over you and staring down with the black, glassy eyes of a giant spider. Mouthparts click softly as it hesitates, as you both hesitate.

“Fascinating,” the voice – thick and barely human – boils through your mind, “Simply fascinating.”

>Excuse me?
>What... are you?
>You're a monster. You don't deserve to live
>Other

>>46776528
>Excuse me?
>What... are you?

>>46776528
You know Moloch, when I read about fog gates and webs I thought of Armored Spider too. Let's hope this one is as easy is that one.

>Excuse me?
>What... are you?

>>46776528
>Other
Hello, My name is Ira. May I have yours?

>>46776528
>Excuse me?
>What... are you?

This... wasn't what you were expecting. When a giant beast, a spider clad in armour, crawled out to tower over you, you had prepared yourself for a frustrating battle. Not... this. In your floundering confusion, you ask the creature to repeat itself. It sounded like it said “Fascinating”.

“You insects are truly fascinating,” the Spider repeats, “All of you, different in your own ways. A few tiny tugs on your strings, and you all behave as though the world was ending. You obsess over schemes, you plead for divine judgement, or you focus on simple survival – even at the cost of those around you.”

And those wild delusions were all wrong, you realise, because nobody was able to approach the situation with a clear mind. Tawn's paranoia, Hali's fear of persecution and even Rin's desperate urge to survive – they all consumed them, because of this thing's influence. “Tugging their strings”, it said – as if men were simple toys for it to play with, to mutilate as it wished.

What is he, you ask the Spider, what is it?

“I had a name once,” the creature tells you, the monstrous front legs shifting either side of you, cracking the rock with their sheet weight, “I lost it, I think. When the last men left this place, I lost the things men give – a name, an understanding. A sense of... empathy. Is that the word?”

And when men returned...

“I started to think again,” the Spider confirms, “But only just. I wanted to learn about you insects, you people, so I watched. When watching told me nothing new, I intervened.”

Speaking of names, you add as a thought strikes you, your name is Ira.

“Ira. A man's name,” the Spider hesitates, pausing for a long time as it searches its memory. “Panoptes,” it says, “My name. Panoptes, the lurking fear. Men worshipped me with their fear, once. I never asked for fear, but that's what I was given.”

[1/2]

>>46776866

A god of fear, born in this boiling cauldron of dehumanising paranoia. Is it any wonder that the poor creature was tainted and sinister, when this prison is the kind of shrine that men built to it? Even without the body slowly rotting in the underground lake, polluting the water, it's no surprise that the god turned out wrong.

The question, then – what to do with it?

“Yes,” Panoptes agrees, “What will you do, insect? No, man – not insect. Man. Ira.”

It sounds more confused than evil, you think, like someone waking from a long and deep sleep. But then, isn't that exactly what has happened to it? Even so, for trapping Tawn and everyone else here - for studying them with a cold and callous hunger for knowledge – can this creature really be forgiven?

>Let us go, Panoptes. We are men, not insects
>You deserve to die for what you've done to us
>Men should not settle here. You should return to sleep without us
>Other

>>46776960
>Let us go, Panoptes. We are men, not insects
If you wish to converse with men, do so without trapping us here, if you wish to sleep, we will let you sleep. But if you try to keep us here I will put you down permanently.

>>46776960
>>Let us go, Panoptes. We are men, not insects

>>46776960
>Let us go, Panoptes. We are men, not insects
It seems like it's getting its memory back just by talking to us; it doesn't need to keep us captive unless it's actively malicious.

>>46776960
>Let us go, Panoptes. We are men, not insects.

"This is non-negotiable. Release your hold on us or else only one of us is walking out of here."

When he started the temple Mentor should have chosen the most impartial wanderers to become religious advisors for the emperor

>>46776960
>Other
If you wish to know more about men, then trapping them and setting them against each other is not a healthy way to go about it.

Let us go Panoptes, you tell the spider. You are a man, not an insect.

“Yes, a man,” Panoptes lowers his vast head, gazing at you with blank eyes. You can see your reflection, warped and distorted, in those black orbs. “You are all men, and I have hurt you. I see that now. This is... empathy?”

It is, you nod, and it's not always a pleasant thing to feel. If he wishes to speak with men, he doesn't need to trap them or torture them. If he wishes to sleep, though, you can do your best to keep men from straying onto this land. Whatever he wishes, a note of steel enters your voice as you warn the spider, he shouldn't stop you from leaving. That is not up for debate – if he wants to keep you, to keep all of you, trapped in this experiment of his, you'll be forced to put him down. If that means only one of you will walk out of here, so be it.

There is a soft click as Panoptes rattles his mouthparts together, the inhuman sheen of his eyes offering no clue to his true feelings. Could he be studying you like a spider eyeing an insect, or weighing your words like a fellow human?

“I have hurt you,” the fearsome god repeats, “If you wish to have revenge, I will not hold it against you.”

Shaking your head, you let out a weary sigh. If he wished to know more about men, he picked a damn poor way of doing it. Trapping them, and setting them against each other was never going to give him a healthy view of humanity.

“I realise this now,” Panoptes lets out a long breath, mist boiling out from his mouthparts and forming a delicate shape that hangs before you, “The seal has been broken. You can come and go as you please. This is a gift, Ira, for you,” the delicate form of frozen mist rises up to your eye level, “What I have learned, I share with you.”

[1/2]

>>46777328

Reaching out, you take the spell card with a cautious hand, fearful of what kind of knowledge the god – the lurking fear, it called itself – might impart. As you feel it inscribe itself upon the matter of your soul, the answer comes as a surprise.

>New spell card gained:
>[Panoptes] Testing the Web
>“Fascinating, you insects are fascinating. Tell me – what binds you? What connects you?”
>By focussing on a group, you can gain insight into the various bonds shared among the members of this group. The members of this group will feel a vague unease, but they cannot trace is back to you.

You bow your head slightly as you accept the magic, thanking the curious spider for its gift. You're free to go, you ask, correct?

“Yes, I have stripped away the barrier,” Panoptes' great head bobs in a heavy imitation of your slight bow, “The only thing keeping men here are the bars you brought here.”

That's not really something you can blame on him, you admit, that one is on the Emperor.

“Now,” Panoptes lowers his head a fraction more, offering those eyes – so fragile, so vulnerable to steel or shot! - to you, “If I have wronged you, Ira, you can take recompense.”

>Execute the god
>Let it survive
>Other

>>46777474
>>Let it survive
Guy just wants to learn. Nothing wrong with that.

>>46777474
>Let it survive
>Other
Try to it a priest or something, Maybe a hobby too, like knitting.

>>46777474
>Let it survive
"All I ask you to do when learning about men again is that you keep an open mind. Every man is different from each other. They can be cruel or kind, wise or ignorant, etc. Also, fair warning, mankind is going through a turbulent time right so you might see some ugly sides of us, but that's not everything we are."

>>46777474
>By focussing on a group, you can gain insight into the various bonds shared among the members of this group. The members of this group will feel a vague unease, but they cannot trace is back to you.

Okay, if we pull this card off at the right time at the party, maybe when all the military leaders and Sho are gathered together we could get ALOT of info.

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>>46777474
>Let it survive

>What we found: Panoptes
>What we expected: Shelob
>What we got: pic related, just bigger

Executing Panoptes like this wouldn't sit right with you, not when the creature has just tried to learn about the men that had woke him from his slumber. He doesn't deserve death – he needs guidance, a priest to tend to him. With a heavy sigh, you take your hand from your sword and hold it out, palm up and empty.

All you ask, you tell the spider as it rises up once more, is that he considers all men to be different. Some are cruel, other generous and kind. Some men are wise, others are foolish. And... you grimace slightly as you continue, mankind is going through some rough times at the moment. If he is going to study mankind, he is going to see some ugly things. Just remember, that is not all that men are – or that they can be.

“I will watch with care, Ira,” Panoptes rumbles, “And with an open mind. You ARE all different – I learned that soon enough.”

Then the matter is settled, you decide, he can live as he pleases.

“Then I would ask one last service of you,” the spider asks, “One plea that you might answer. The body...”

You glance across at the body of Rin's brother, floating face down in the waters of the underground lake. It's already started to bloat with decay, and shoals of fat leeches swirl around it. Someone is going to have to fish that out, you think, and it's got to be you.

You've got a glamorous job, and no mistake.

>I'll have to end things here for tonight. Next thread on Friday, and I'll stick around for a while in case anyone has any questions!

>>46777792
Thanks for running?

...how are we supposed to get that body out of the caves?

>>46777869
>Thanks for running?
Thanks for running.*

Whoops missed the period key I guess.

>>46777869

I imagine a harness of some kind, even an improvised one, would be enough to lift the body out. It might require a good bit of hard work though.

>>46777965
Are the guys calmed down now?

>>46777792
Thanks, we should get Tawn to do some meditation to calm and temper his paranoia. I mean he was a wanderer so he should know some.

>>46777985

Panoptes has withdrawn his influence, so any terror or paranoia that people are going to be suffering from is purely a human problem!

>>46777965
So would Tawn and Ra have issues with a giant spider god under the prison?

>>46778008

His mental stability is a problem. He didn't take very well to his injuries, and it's starting to become a liability.

>>46778029

Ra would probably suggest moving the prison elsewhere, or closing it down entirely, although the final decision lies with the Emperor. Tawn might be more willing to use the place - especially if it was going to be a home for suspected cultists!

>>46778069
>Tawn might be more willing to use the place - especially if it was going to be a home for suspected cultists!

Tawn pls.

>>46778069
Can we just point out how unreasonable he's being? I mean we lost an EYE to Zulathoon and we're not trying to kill all gods.

>>46778113

I wonder what's going to put Tawn in more danger, his edgy new lifestyle or the massive amount of salt in his life.

Probably both - he really needs to sort himself out!

>>46778155

But yes, I think we should probably have a word with him - a serious one. I think the betrayal part hit him the hardest, but that's really no excuse for indiscriminate revenge. In either case, we'll likely end up discussing the issue with him next thread.

>>46778155
Well to be fair, they are much different scenarios. Zulathoon didn't mean the shit he was doing and wanted to die.

Murasi betrayed him and cultists wanted to kill him and his men. He also lost a lot more than an eye.

He's still gotta chill tho.

>>46777474
spoooooky

>>46777474
I just realised how fucking op this card will be at the party, what are you scheming Moloch?

>New spell card gained:
>[Panoptes] Testing the Web
>“Fascinating, you insects are fascinating. Tell me – what binds you? What connects you?”
>>By focussing on a group, you can gain insight into the various bonds shared among the members of this group. The members of this group will feel a vague unease, but they cannot trace is back to you.

>>46778326

It's actually something I prepared for a much earlier part of the quest, only things got a little out of hand and I wasn't able to find a good time to slot it in. This is something of a convenient coincidence, in terms of timing!

Needless to say, I'm glad to have some time to plan out what it might reveal!

>>46778326
Used at the right moment we can get a lot of insight on the Emperor's inner circle. See if Sho really idolizes the Military or he is being used as a puppet for one.

>>46778387
What's the range on it? Can we encompass the entire party like Panoptes did to the prison?

>>46778486

I imagine we could take in the entire party, yes. It might be best to use the spell when everyone is gathered in one place - to hear a speech, say, or during a meal.

The range is largely a matter of plot convenience. As long as all the relevant parties are in roughly the same place, I'd count it as working.

>>46778580
So Ira is going to have to clean himself up for the party huh? Does he have to wear a suit?

Too bad Howa is going to miss this.

>>46778655
>Implying Howa does not have a teleport spell card

>>46778655
maybe someone will take the first photograph.

.....oh no, photographs are going to cause a revolution in faith.
>the camera sucks out your soul!
>it fucking summons a god who does just that

>>46778686
>My Ira-senses are tingling!

>>46778655

He really should wear something nice, and suits are quite fashionable in the capital right now. Getting him cleaned up, though, that's the real challenge - war might be easier!

>>46778686

She can teleport, but only when someone tries to flirt with Ira. Even then, it only teleports her to a place where she can glare from the background!

>>46778779
>Even then, it only teleports her to a place where she can glare from the background!

Depending on how Liberal your definition of flirting is, she might already be in the city, or even on the boat!

>>46778779
>Getting him cleaned up, though, that's the real challenge - war might be easier!

Taking a hot bath and shaving. My god the horrors they'd inflict on poor Ira.

>>46778926

He's the rugged, outdoorsy type - it's not in his nature to be clean and groomed!

>>46778830

>Ira finally arrives back at the docks
>Howa is there, staring daggers at Murasa
I can imagine it happening, actually!

In either case, I'll need to head offline for now. The next thread should be on Friday as planned

>>46779032
Night Moloch.