>>295473
>You took something.

>>295473
>>You took something.

>>295473
>You took something.

File: Sanctum.jpg (273 KB, 991x630)

273 KB JPG

>>295502
>>295505
That's right. Your innermost essence reveals that you had Taken something. For the moment whatever intricacies beyond that escape you, though you feel dangerously close to reverting to that mindless state, as if a creeping fog awaits all your senses. You wonder if the creature before you played some part, and as if in response to your glance a deep voice of fretting urgency cuts the lull.

"By the cloak of Akiah and the roots of Vi-Rurua, O great Spirit and Jána of the night; I am Uluwehi of the Aniunakei. I beg of you a boon of strength." He finishes with a note of sadness, lowering his head to the mossy ground.

Though meekly spoken you feel a compelling force beneath his words, you search your instincts as they assert a small but strong term in return: Pact.

You focus more intently on him and see beneath the fear a desperate soul of gentle resolve, and a longing you can't quite pierce. It would be a nourishing soul to have, you think. He's brush-clad with long hair tied behind in sinewy cords, bearded and balding, his dark skin covered with swirling tattoos- you feel they have significance, it radiates from them in much lower notes but with unerring steadiness. One pattern communicates a struggle, a symbol linked to it for the stalking beast that was slain, all surrounded by detailed bands which show the season of accomplishment. An old warrior, you notion. He appears to be covering a wound around his abdomen. His other groveling hand carries a clean and slender dagger, shining black and sharp with well-adorned jewels. Its emanation is more pronounced, more solid, it screams of drawn out suffering and anguish with echoing cries desiring blood and fresh meat pulp.

You know it is not his usual weapon. Aside from its smallness you feel it contrary to his nature- it's shadows are warped and unkind. You think for a moment, examining more closely the nature of its darkness, and as you focus it recalls to you faint and distant memories of your birth.

>It was a place far aneath the shallows within cold depths long lost to light. Though amorphous and yielding, you flow and weave with lively undulation.
>High astride the flickering embers thrust from the deep evermoving heart of the world. Though shifting and inconstant, you flit and dance with spirited grace.
>An abyssal cavern, a gathering of the purest most profound darkness. Though rigid and creeping, you stride and step with unflinching fortitude.
>Quietly concealed by towering nightclouds that cling to lands oppressed by everlasting moonlight. Though fragile and vaporous, you float and fly with ceaseless ease.

>>Pick one.
>>I'll begin writing after 10-15 minutes.

>>295527
>An abyssal cavern, a gathering of the purest most profound darkness. Though rigid and creeping, you stride and step with unflinching fortitude.

>>295527
>High astride the flickering embers thrust from the deep evermoving heart of the world. Though shifting and inconstant, you flit and dance with spirited grace.

>>295527
>>High astride the flickering embers thrust from the deep evermoving heart of the world. Though shifting and inconstant, you flit and dance with spirited grace.

>>295527
>It was a place far aneath the shallows within cold depths long lost to light. Though amorphous and yielding, you flow and weave with lively undulation.

>>295527
For the sake of breaking the tie, I'll change my vote from >>295530 to:
>High astride the flickering embers thrust from the deep evermoving heart of the world. Though shifting and inconstant, you flit and dance with spirited grace.

>>295531
>>295530
>>295551
>Volcano.

>>295536
>Trench.

>>Writing.

File: Uluwehi.jpg (680 KB, 723x973)

680 KB JPG

As he remains knelt you flicker closer through the shadows of the chamber, a slight reduction in the moist chill of the air follows your every step as you begin to feel an ever increasing pressure to oblige his words. Perhaps it’s a power coming from his soul- and so it's a power you'll put to the test. Forming something of a smoky edge you motion to strike the man down at the neck, but your strike halts mid motion. Something far beyond the previously compelling force stays your hand, coiling your pseudolimb as translucent thin chains that neither waver nor budge. Curiously, they carry no notes and no colors of intent- they are strikingly empty. Compared to the lushly adorned stones around you that resonate melodies of ancient waters and verdant growth the chains themselves seem unnaturally void.

Returning the smoky limb to a more sedate form, you lay a warm hand upon his shoulder. He returns a surge of fear- and a pathetic spattering of hope. He does at least cease shivering in the muck of the chamber, the pitiful creature. You reconsider these limits, searching your mind for answers and details. Although you feel impelled to grant a boon you also feel that the nature of such a grantation is not constrained. It would be up to you to decide its method. You also feel that the thin chains are not impervious, and perhaps you could break them, or further attempt to ignore them. You ponder how each inkling of knowledge comes unbidden, and now focused you feel it instinctual, as though you've never been without it.

Regardless, you only feel the pressure to act increasing as the moments advance.

>Write-in.
>Resist the pressure and leave this place.
>Try your best to strike the old warrior down.
>Engage in the accord, after you set the conditions.

>>295599
>Engage in the accord, after you set the conditions.

>>295599
>Engage in the accord, after you set the conditions.

>>295599
>Engage in the accord, after you set the conditions.

>>295608
>>295620
>>295633
>Accord.

Writing.

You flicker with thought, and decide you'll allow an accord for a grantation of strength. It is simple in nature, and an amorphous enough request to allow more advantageous transitions at a later time. As vague as it is you don’t need to grant anything of yourself that you cannot take back, for instance. You warm to contemplations of potential bargains, concessions and demands, and other certainly beneficial technicalities until the old warrior beneath you once again decides it’s the opportune time to break your train of thought.

"O Great Jána of the Night," he begins sullenly, "If you wish my life, you will have it. This I promise," as his grip tightens on the dagger. "But I must destroy the enemies who threaten my people. For this I must have strength. For this I will give everything of myself to the world beyond. For this I will ask power from a Fearsome Jána of the Night." He finishes, whilst you note a raise of resolve with every new statement. He emanates much less fear now, though the hopes themselves are still fragile.

It is good he’s clearly willing to give much more than necessary, as that allows you more freedom in determining for what and for when you extract the price. As it is you who ultimately decides how the grantation used, and when. Your instincts tell you that whatever nature you communicate to him is not set in stone, some loophole or vagary could be established for future abuse. You wonder mildly at the deceptive nature of your intrinsic knowledge while considering your options.

>You'll remain in the man's shadow for the duration of his goal, aiding him in the destruction of his enemies. You will not otherwise aid him- whatever other challenge he faces.
>You'll not sacrifice what little freedom you have. You will follow the man at a distance, and step into his aid when he is in peril and only at your discretion.
>You'll only respond when he calls upon you. You needn't tell him to, and perhaps he won't figure that out, you muse. You'll need to help him if he's near death, but then only.
>Write-in; Come up with your own set of additions & restrictions, or alternates of these defaults, along with whatever else you wish to impression.

And there is what you must take as an Offering to offset the requested Grantation. Considering his desires, and the significant weight of what he’s already offered, you will thus take;

>Write-in.
>The souls of these enemies.
>His offered life, once his goal rests complete.
>Both.

>>Pick one of each, or of Write-ins.

[If you have any questions feel free to ask.

>>295711
We will inhabit the man's body and aid him from within until his goal is reached
>The souls of these enemies.

>>295711
>You'll remain in the man's shadow for the duration of his goal, aiding him in the destruction of his enemies. You will not otherwise aid him- whatever other challenge he faces.
>The souls of these enemies.

>>295732
>>295751
I'll roll a d2 between these if there are no other deciders.

>>295711
>You'll remain in the man's shadow for the duration of his goal, aiding him in the destruction of his enemies. You will not otherwise aid him- whatever other challenge he faces.
>The souls of these enemies.
I was thinking about possible alternatives, but I quite like the sound of these to be honest.

>>295732
>Possession.

>>295751
>>295770
>Shadow.

Writing!

Outwards from your smoky form you emanate impressions of the deal and its terms as clearly as you can. You’ll seek destruction for his enemies while within his shadows, the price for the service being the souls of such enemies he faces, limited to the moment his goal of defending his people completes. To all of this, he nods a simple affirmation and takes a great breath.

"By my honor as a warrior of the Aniunakei, I, Uluwehi, offer the souls of my enemies to you for the aid you grant me, O Great Jána of the Night." He pledges reverently and begins slowly putting the dagger to his other hand. Now revealed you examine his wound more closely, it's a curiously small thing-almost a hole, evidently burnt to staunch the flow of blood. He takes a deeper breath, running the dagger gently across his palm to elicit the faintest stream of red. Raising the new wound to you still bowed, eyes averted, he awaits your seal.

You press a smoky hand gracefully into his palm, and the world erupts in tumultuous exhalations of dark. It seethes from every corner of the chamber, obscuring the pale light and growing shadows far past their soft edges until all is a perfect dark. You notice noises of water and buzzing insects more strongly by their absence as the chamber becomes cloaked in absolute silence. The soundlessly boiling blood between your hands stands out red and shining against the false abyss, and sizzles through the space between you as a fine red mist.

>AN ACCORD IS STRUCK
>Vital Cruor +7

>Current Vital Cruor: 8/?.
>[This is essentially your HP, for now. Your current maximum is Unknown. When reduced to Zero you will not die, but will become largely unable to affect the world.]

The darkness abates fitfully, as though the natural shadows merely contain its determination. He sheaths the dagger, which you note is somehow still clean, into his brush tunic. The silence clings a little after the chamber is returned to its normal pallid glow. Uluwehi, though sweating profusely, moves with renewed purpose as all previous weakness and doubt seem to wither into nothing. Odd, considering you've not given any direct power, just an accord to aid in battle. You flicker into his shadow as it reveals itself against the light of the overgrown exit, and dance obscured from within his movements in celebration of your victorious deal.

(1/2)

File: Sanctum_Exit.jpg (247 KB, 1700x900)

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Uluwehi grabs and dons a wood-pelt mask and spear that had been laid very carefully against a tree some distance from the exit. That's correct, you feel somewhat innately. He was respectful to leave these outside. He then surges with sudden movement, leaping to grab a low branch and climb up to just beneath the canopy, grabbing limbs with the same one hand to swing himself upwards further and faster. How this creature feigned weakness you’ll never guess. Though he starts breathing heavily and with haste, and stops to rest after reaching a solid limb just below the darkening tops of the towering jungle. He then turns and observes, far below, the entrance to the chamber.

You briefly wonder at this behavior until you feel emanations of apprehension, intentions of pursuit, and feel several something’s on the hunt. Gruff voices pierce the cooling night.

“-for sure, but why are we doing it? That snake Gansaul's not our captain and his orders only matter when none of the others are around to tell him off," spits the voice of a well clothed man walking up from the far path to the chamber with no hidden derision. An answer follows behind him, and with no less scorn. “We’re abiding by him. That’s how it works, its called being diplomatic. It’s what we use when cannons aren’t enough.”

“Then use more cannons!” A third interjects jovially while coming up to the other two in even stride. He’s without a beard, in contrast to the others, and wears the least amount of leather. He looks over the entrance with a whistle. “Not going in there,” he affirms to himself, “You two enjoy that mess. I know a deathtrap when I see one.” He adds quickly, just prior to leaning against one of the carved totems. The other two appear to be considering their options, repeatedly flipping a small and shining piece of metal, while you consider yours. Uluwehi looks ready to strike, and eager, which you find acceptable. As far as arms they all appear to be carrying swords, the two older ones wear heavy leathers, with some questionably placed bits of metal. The third appears to be fumbling, or tinkering, with a short metal tube affixed to a stick. The others have multiple of these, slung or strapped to their sides. All in all they don’t impress you much, but souls are souls.

Although they do not look overly threatening, the emanations coming from Uluwehi clearly communicate that these are the enemies of which he spoke. Which you find strange, as he’s clearly stronger than any of them. You consider what you may urge to him as a plan of action, or whether to support the charge that you feel he is about to commit to.

>Write-in.
>Let him charge, you’ll support him from the shadows easily enough.
>Perhaps grant him an impression of a stalking beast, a stress on stealth.

>>296039
>>Perhaps grant him an impression of a stalking beast, a stress on stealth.

>>296039
>Perhaps grant him an impression of a stalking beast, a stress on stealth.

>>296048
>>296064
>Stealth.

Now, it's time for some combat.

Roll me 3d20+21, your current modifiers are Jána of the Night+24, Experienced Aniunakei Hunter+5, and -8 from Old Warrior. Vs. a DC of 40 on the pirates for Uluwehi's ambush.

Also, sorry I'm taking so long. Some stuff needed sorting.

>>296039
>Perhaps grant him an impression of a stalking beast, a stress on stealth.

Rolled 17, 12, 13 + 21 = 63 (3d20 + 21)

>>296101

Rolled 10, 11, 3 = 24 (3d20)

>>296101
wait so we need a 19 or 20 to succeed?

>>296112
I think all together with the mods.

>>296112
er, never mind, was thinking 1d20 not 3d20

>>296113
This anon is correct.

>>296101
Also, I forgot to elucidate on gradients of success. Or the amount of rolls I needed.

Dice are first three 3d20 linked or not. Results are divided into six classes;
Two rolls which pass the DC equals a Success, Three rolls which pass the DC equals a Superb Success.
Only one roll passing the DC means it's a Failure. Zero rolls passing the DC makes it an Awful Failure.
The very unlikely exceptions are as follows;
Three rolls resulting in 5-5-5 or lower before modifiers equals a Superbly Awful Unforgivable Failure, as a critical failure.
Three rolls resulting in 57-57-57 or higher before modifiers equals a Gloriously Outstanding Sublime Success, as a critical success.

>>296119
Nice thanks teach!

And, of course, only one more roll required.

Rolled 4, 13, 14 = 31 (3d20)

>>296101

>>296138
>Superb Success.
>Writing!

>>296143
aw yiss

>>296119
If we're rolling three D20s, how can we ever get three 57s?

>>296236
All three rollers get that or higher in unison plus the mods.

>>296241
I see, thank you.

>>296254
No problem quest bud.

File: Uluwehi_Masked.png (718 KB, 1024x974)

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You urge Uluwehi stealth, the motions of a predator, and striking from an unseen position. He grabs some vines and slides down to ground level with softness. Then he does something you didn’t quite expect. While holding his spear at a rather awkward angle he places his arms forward onto the ground, and does very well to mimic the motions of a stalking beast. You didn’t really precisely this, but you ultimately suppose its fine. Though it seems there are certainly some grave limitations to vague urgings, and you find yourself wanting a voice. He places himself behind a fallen limb, animal posture maintained, and observes for his chance while the night grows darker.

The three men regard each other with wary glances and crossed arms, apparently very content to wait for someone else to take the first step inwards. After several minutes of this one of the older men notes the waning light, and speaks of finding wood for torches. Both of the older ones agree and then look to the youngest with pressuring glances, who in return ceases his tinkering and begins walking towards the jungle while the others resume their previous argument.

Uluwehi follows, and you find yourself having to thin into a hazy smoke to mask and blur his movements. It’s a good thing he evidently knows how to move silently, and know when to stop moving, as you’re sure the young man’s swiveling head went over your crouched forms more than once. After a good gain of distance and after the young man gained armfuls of branches, Uluwehi strikes. “Warmer all the sudden-“ are the last calm words the invader speaks before his throat bursts sideways from sharpened force with an almost silent wet gush.

The world blurs and colors fade. Motes of dust and drops of blood all appear crisp and still as a fading light drips upwards from the slain man. It seems for the moment you take an offered soul time is near flawlessly stopped. You note Uluwehi is also frozen, though you yourself don’t feel largely impeded. The pale energy coalesces into a soft sphere, and you grasp it quickly with dozens of arms and as many hands.

You've acquired a Soul, and must now decide how to put it to use. Only the strongest aspects of a Soul can contribute to your Maturation, and every aspect you integrate will change your nature accordingly.

The strongest Aspects of this young pirate's Soul are...

>SEIZING LUSTS
>BURIED HOPES
>JOVIAL MOCKERY
>Abstain
>>Pick all, one, or two of this offering made to you, Dark Spirit.
>>If you dislike all strong Aspects of a Soul you may also Abstain from choosing.

The roll will still carry into the other two, but this should come first.

>>296288
>>JOVIAL MOCKERY

>>296288
>>SEIZING LUSTS

>>296288
>BURIED HOPES

>>296241
>>296236
I should probably clarify. The three rolls of a 3d20 would have to be read above 57 prior to modifiers, and being unmodified they are very unlikely circumstance.

>>296301
>>296304
>>296307
Hm. For this time we'll go with all of them.

>...still writing.

Is it too late to vote?

>>296378
Yes!
But there's another coming up, no worries.

You take all of the soul’s greatest strengths- the hopes for a better future on the sea to escape your crime, the mocking you give to others to brighten your mood, and a curious want for warm and writhing flesh. You feel reinvigorated, strengthened by strong emotions of a life well risked in your search for adventure on the high seas. You feel the rigging in your hands, the wind on your face, you smile at women in secret from across the town square, and they smirk in turn. For one, a special one, her betrothed is entirely unaware. He took a treasure of yours and in your fury you revealed the secret circumstance, very publicly. He deserved it. You would have done it even if he didn’t, but it made it so much sweeter.

The old pride fades hard, like the colorful world that’d turned grey when you claimed the soul, and you feel yourself far too empty once again. Coming down from your euphoria, you notice now Uluwehi had stalked back to the other two, who he now stands just above on a branch. One of them had begun taking the path away from entrance; the other stopped him to argue patience for their companion.

He strikes down from the night with haste and frees one from his breath smoothly. You estimate the other saw his ally disappear into nothing, as you wreathed the area in darkness pulled from neighboring shadows. He takes a step forward with a hand outstretched, and finds his breath similarly removed. They both had gone to reach for the metal tubes just before their end, and you wonder mildly why they’d choose that over their obviously sharp swords. Then, more quickly than last time, the world eclipses itself in grey as two dimly lit spheres are grasped in dozens of arms and as many hands. One of them remarkably weak, but with some worthy aspects.

>VICIOUS CUNNING
>SCORNFUL DISTRUST
>JOVIAL SLAUGHTER
>BURIED HATE
>WITHERED INTEGRITY
>Abstain
>>Pick any number of this offering made to you, Dark Spirit.

>>296470
>>JOVIAL SLAUGHTER

>>296470
>SCORNFUL DISTRUST

>>296470
>VICIOUS CUNNING

>JOVIAL SLAUGHTER

>>296470
>Pick any number of this offering made to you, Dark Spirit.
Oh, cool. So we can pick multiple. In that case I'll add
>WITHERED INTEGRITY
>JOVIAL SLAUGHTER
To my previous vote.

>>296508
>>296498
>>296495
>>296491
>>296480
It seems you have no desire for BURIED HATE today.

Writing!

>>296470
>VICIOUS CUNNING

You pick and choose appropriately of their greatest strengths. In the next moment you’re raiding an Amrenian village; you reckon it’s the last you’ll have before having to flee east. A militiaman falls to your gun, light blazing forth and ending life in a threat made true. You laugh at them, unsling your other pistol, and fire again. The night is warm with fire; it’s a fire you lit, the judge inside the building pounds futilely against the door. He curses with all the names of all the gods, he curses you with a life a misery and a miserable death. The well-dressed captain looks to you across a line of new recruits, singling you out to stand at his side. He tosses you overboard and orders you to learn to swim. You live, but you’ll never trust orders again. You promise yourself revenge, imperial loyalists be damned.

>Maturation: 3/54.
>TO
>Maturation: 7/54.

You’re churned hard out of the memories. At least you now know how dangerous those weapons are, and remind yourself to avoid being split by the explosive light granted by them. Uluwehi, who you had been attached to this entire time, appears to be shaking profusely. He emanates pained frustration, grunting his way to the chamber and inside. He stops himself hastily and removes his mask and lays down his spear just barely at the threshold. You’ll forgive it, this time.

Inside he lays himself roughly, facing the exit while he catches his breath. His voice deep and perhaps regretful, questions you openly. “O Great Jána of the Night, how am I to fight this way?” He moves to sit more upright, expending great effort to try to see where you are. “What are these fearful visions?” He asks shortly. It seems he dislikes the side effects of your Accord. You restrain yourself from stabbing him for the ignorance of what he should’ve known prior to the deal, and wonder how you’ll explain this through urgings alone. You sense he has no desire to move, or to chase and hunt down his enemies. For the moment he’d rather sit and rest than do anything useful at all. This, you’ll not forgive.

>Write-in.
>Urge him forward, it is night and this is the perfect time for you to strike the enemy. You’re desperate for more souls.
>Urge him an oppression of foolishness. Power is not easily attained, as your second eye reminds you, and this is little more than whining.
>Urge him asleep. Perhaps you’ll let him rest here for now and explore. Your accord is only broken if he kills in your absence, after all.

>>296801
>Urge him an oppression of foolishness. Power is not easily attained, as your second eye reminds you, and this is little more than whining.

>Urge him an oppression of foolishness. Power is not easily attained, as your second eye reminds you, and this is little more than whining.

>>296801
>Urge him an oppression of foolishness. Power is not easily attained, as your second eye reminds you, and this is little more than whining.

>>296801
>>Urge him an oppression of foolishness. Power is not easily attained, as your second eye reminds you, and this is little more than whining.

>>296807
>>296813
>>296816
>>296819
>Hardass.

Unfortunately I'm being dragged away at the worst possible time. Quest will resume most likely at roughly 1:30AM EST.

Also, thank you for playing! I'll try to get back sooner.

>>296843
See ya thanks sir/ma'am!

>>296843
Thanks for running.

>>296843
Thanks for the run, interesting concept you've got going here.

Back.

>And writing.

>>297362
welcome back

>>297362
Welcome welcome.

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You seep a disdaining oppression, a great irritation directed in response to his folly, to which he winces slightly but not fearfully. You urge that power always comes at a price, and form for him faint visions of black ash rolling down mountains in poisonous gusts, follow by firestorms that linger beyond seasons. A terrible curse manifested out of a great offering and a greater cowardice. You impression him in place of the man that demanded it, he who said he would give everything for it, he who was made to keep his promise. Uluwehi remains silent but thoughtful, emanating shades of reverence and a much greater resolve.

“I must return.” He asserts solidly, to which you urgedly agree. He stands and exits the chamber, adorning his mask and grabbing his spear on the way down the path. It is fully night now, and you steadily begin to realize that Uluwehi cannot see in the dark. Mildly annoyed, you don’t expect to be able to grant that sort of sight any time soon, and so urge just lightly where he ought to go and where he ought to avoid. He’s thankful for it, at least. And he had better be, you feel, since such aid is barely above breaking the technicalities of your accord.

The air moistens as you get deeper into the jungle, occasional islands of dim light reveal themselves from various flora and fauna, all of which you carry disturbing lack of memory for. In spite of this it strikes you as grand all the same, darkness so alive with life as motes of light cast deep shadows across serene bends of- You urge Uluwehi to a halt as you feel an unfamiliar echo. It is nothing like him, and nothing like the pirates from before. It is…

>Roll me dice+1d100.

Rolled 14 (1d100)

>>297461

Rolled 46 (1d100)

>>297461

Rolled 98 (1d100)

>>297461

>>297484
thank you

>>297461
And once again I didn't specify the number of rolls desired or their function, for this it's just going to be the highest of the first three.

>>297484
Writing.

I gotta go to bed, OP. Interesting concept though, look forward to seeing more.
Hope my encouragement helped.

File: Loaka.jpg (581 KB, 900x1095)

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You see it in the distance, a blue-green form crawling out beneath a tree trailing slime. You estimate it to be of similar size to one of the smaller men from before, judging by the glow it gives to the trees around it. It raises a trunk like organ as it emanates a savage hunger, and slowly orients itself towards you with a leaping posture. You urge Uluwehi to look in its direction as it springs into action, leaping over great limbs in one long vault with uncanny accuracy. “Loaka!” He exclaims while jumping out of the way, a great slimy thud taking his place shortly after.

And then it’s gone- to Uluwehi’s sight you suppose, its glow now faded and body obscured. Apparently knowledgeable about what this is he too leaps to action, jumping several limbs higher towards the canopy while the ‘Loaka’ leaps to hit him in midair. They never meet as you impression him the locations of branches and what sides to swing to in the near perfect darkness. At last you manage the perfect arrangement to impression upon him an accurate strike, slicing the creature deep and forcing it into a sad squealing tumble down the many limbs from where you’d climbed. It appears very dead and much splattered by the time it reaches the bottom. Uluwehi drops down and examines the corpse with haste.

Driving a spear tip between some part of its great antennae he extracts white lines of what appear to be thick tendons, which he slurps down as the body begins slackening to a puddle soon after. “Loaka is good for eating,” he explains once you urge some curiosity, “all parts poisonous, except these.” He punctuates by slurping down another. He takes some time liberally coating his spear with the creature’s effluences. Once finished, he begins marching back to the previous path, and you both return to your slow but sure treat through the jungle darkness.

In the distance, casting long flickering shadows parted just slightly by great vines is a light. “My village.” Uluwehi clarifies sadly.

>Unfortunately I’ll be stopping here. I’ve overestimated my workload a fair bit, and will continue at 5:00PM EST today. Thank you very much for playing. Questions, concerns, criticisms, and more are all very welcome.

And thank that anon dearly for the 98. The 14-48 range would’ve had you in deep trouble, as opposed to critically beasting the encounter.

>>297556
G'night anon.
It certainly did.

>>297627
Thanks for running, and you're welcome for the 98.

>Quest resuming in one hour.

>>298715
I'm waiting OP, I like this quest

File: Aniunakei_Village.jpg (372 KB, 1420x868)

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Parting the sparse foliage, you both examine the scene. There is a great deal of light here in the form of regularly spaced torches, though quite a few appear waning and on the verge of cutting out. You feel the totems at the gate emanate no noteworthy power, easily dismissed as simple ornaments of bone. The scenery and doorways echo faintly of past activity, ceremonies and festivals that trace back generations, the raised voices of elder debate, and the playful laughter of pestering children. The village itself appears largely unmolested save for spilled baskets of knobby fruits and the occasional imprints in the dirt of former struggle. The dwellings themselves are built into the great roots; cultivations of glowing fungi illuminating them from within.

You sense no emanations or otherwise mindful presences, and inform Uluwehi as such. You also see no blood and no bodies. Uluwehi frowns and strides quickly towards a fresh and very roughly cut path at the furthest edge of the village. He begins following it, indirectly from the side, while you urge him gently through the darkness of the night. There is a slight breeze as you make your ways over hills and through twisting fallen limbs. He breaths deep and emanates memories of calm waters as far as the eye can see. It surprises you in its clarity, alongside a sudden shock that centers his focus. He urges you, this time, to forward him at a greater pace. You do so, just slightly, and once again carefully enough that it does not strictly overturn your accord.

You feel you’ll be treading this path for a good while, and decide to take advantage of the lull. You emit direct curiosity at Uluwehi, and question the nature of the marks upon his skin. You don't need him doubting you through your personal ignorance of trivial details, so you frame it as a test of knowledge with an additional issuance of challenge.

(1/2)

“This,” He starts, touching the form of a great serpent sprawling across his left arm, “was the monster named Akodi Urami, a terrible beast who ambushed the fishermen of our neighbor tribe. Ten men long, thirty men to move, I slayed the creature by spear after trapping it in a cave.” He elaborates proudly. Pointing to the other across his chest he adopts deeper, quieter voice, and slows his walking. “The ashen tiger was a mistake. It had been trapped by a stranger who wrecked his ship against our southern shore. It was a majestic beast, two men high and six long, black teeth longer than spearheads and the strength to fell great trees.” He halts, mulling over the memories. You feel great sadness from them. “But far from home. It ate the stranger and all his men, avoiding all our tribe, and only then did it begin stalking our beasts. We had to hunt it when we found the forests growing quiet and the trees growing sparse. Months we stalked that beast, and never did it fight back. It’s end was made with poison. My mask and dagger are made from its gifts.” He mulls over more, some further details you feel he’s hiding from you. “This was all when I was young.” he finishes solemnly.

As he resumes moving you feel you’re still quite a ways from your destination, and Uluwehi slows further to a cautious pace, likely wanting to get the drop on anyone ahead. You could utilize this opportunity to gain more information, or urge for any details you feel wanting.

>Open Write-In: Ask Uluwehi any questions you’d feel will have pertinent answers on the way to your destination, though remember these will be asked through urgings so it will pay to be creative.

>>298926
I'm glad, anon.

Also; here's your character sheet.
>http://pastebin.com/fUbaui1h

>>298942
What's happened at the village? Why does he need our power?

>>298942
lets see... key details like the tribes main source of food, goods the pirates might be after, more details on the pirates in general... maybe some info on the island itself such as if its in a chain of islands or alone, where the nearest large settlement besides his village is and uh... that's what i've got for now.

>>298998
>>299008
Going with these and-
>Writing.

I've got a question; would our available abilities and skills have changed depending on where we hailed from?

>>299008
>>298998
I agree with these

>>299047
Yes. Though the initial ones there, so far, would be largely the same for their starting points. They are far from their maximum complexities.

For example, those bonuses are for very specific kinds of darkness and the ones for the other Jána are different.

Your birth location and the circumstances which attained your second eye will become more relevant as you mature and acquire soul aspects.

And of course, all this knowledge is innate.

>>299089
Explaining one spectrum to give a more accurate example; An abyssal birth would've had the greatest bonus in Perfect Dark, while the cloudmired birth would've conferred not the greatest bonus in darkness but the least of maluses for Daylight Shadows.

Anyway, back to writing.

You urge a question of his tribe. “They were taken,” he answers flatly. Then you urge further as to the necessity of your power, after all so far he hasn’t done anything that would’ve been impossible for himself alone. “My strength would not let me face them all,” he speaks painfully through clenched teeth. “Their numbers are great, their weapons fearsome. One of them commands the winds and waters, and he is stronger than I.” You thankfully note no emanations of fear during the majority of this, but rather a self-aimed disgust. At the very least he’s not afraid of them, just afraid of falling short of success.

You urge further, a question of nourishment and a question of neighbors. “We eat our island’s beasts and keep to ourselves.” You then urge curiosity at the furtive lengths he goes to avoid naming this place. “It is forbidden to speak the name of our home, these islands, by law of the first spirits. It is kept secret and revealed through the shining stones when any Aniunakei comes of age, and you test me well to know that I will never speak it.” He stops, and adopts a wearied disdain. “Our neighboring tribes are distant and we’ve no need to speak with them, they spoke the names they were taught to protect, and no spirits would answer them after. They fell to these invaders many years ago, when I was small. We’d thought we were safe, their great boats passing by,” he emanates annoyance. “Some would wreck their boats against the shores, but the spirits ensured none could leave and none would last. Even ones we felt near worthy would fall to sickness,” he finishes shortly.

Then, a question of their desires. “I do not know what the invaders want from us. We let them settle and search the boats left here. They called us foolish for denying the shining trinkets they pulled from them. They attempted to settle more. Deeper into our home. Our jungle does not permit it, as many fell ill, and they’ve ignored us ever since. This was several seasons past. I do not know what changed their desires,” he takes a breath and postures, “I would like to know myself.”

(1/2).

You begin feeling extreme emanations, of many multitudes from people like the ones before, and all in a mess of action and blurring intent. Frontmost are feelings of celebration, spilling passions in numerous grades of joy and bliss. Beneath those as though an undercurrent are petty angers and subdued hates, and smaller still you feel something like a connective fondness- and though small, it feels near omnipresent. It’s a disorienting mess of souls and desires that you find arduous to sort through, like searching through a pile of caustic splinters for diamonds.

You move slowly, the chill of the night air removing itself in your smoky wake, as Uluwehi crouches in response to faint voices up ahead. Stalking slowly out of a bush you come upon a cave that marks the crude path’s end. You sense no emanations within the cave itself, its absent people and activity altogether, the celebration you feel to be quite a distance further than it. However, it is very well lit with various forms of torches spaced regularly and numbering in dozens. You’ll be constrained to Uluwehi’s shadows by an uncomfortable margin.

>Urge him through the unguarded cave.
>Urge him go around.
>Urge him a different sort of plan. (Write-in).

>>299324
>Urge him through the unguarded cave.

>>299333
Seconding

>>299324
>>299333
this

>>299324

>Urge him through the unguarded cave.

>>299333
>>299361
>>299364
>Into the light.

And,
>Roll me 1d100, best of the first three.

Rolled 8 (1d100)

>>299374
O Fortuna do not forsake me.

Rolled 31 (1d100)

>>299374
>>299374

Rolled 94 (1d100)

>>299376
The dice gods are not pleased.

>>299386
>Writing.

File: Pirate_Cove.jpg (323 KB, 1100x659)

323 KB JPG

Urging that he advance, you cling tightly to his shadows. The wavering of the torches divides the dark fitfully, blocking and remaking paths in flitting motions as the smallest of breezes rustles Uluwehi’s brush uniform. You find these flames and their shadows reassuring, even as constrained as you are, their heat and smoky emanations lending your mind a brief respite. If there were more fire, and if that fire dark, you feel you’d be at home. The soulful emanations of people in great numbers washes closer like a heavy tide as the cave widens into a great open chamber.

The first things you notice, as Uluwehi presses himself away from the precipice before him, are the ships. One setting sail and one docked, and though they tower high and you find yourself comparing them to the smallest of the jungle’s trees. They recall to you pleasant memories of clinging to rigging and feeling the crisp sea air nibble against your face. It also imparts an injustice as you recall being thrown overboard into cold water, and you remind yourself to stab that loyalist dog when next he sleeps. You’re of half a mind to go looking for him, until Uluwehi reminds you of his presence by nearly slipping in his attempt to climb a jutting rock.

He perches himself low, and scans the ramshackle docks and houses for his tribe. This place too is well lit, and you see in the distance a great number of people spilling drinks into cups from great barrels and then into their mouths with all numbers of distorted emanations. They swing from ropes- and sing and dance, in no ways operable of the ancient powers, as they celebrate an unknown success. The amount of guns is staggering; you see two on at least every other person, while some seem content to cover themselves with the weapons. Beyond the dwellings, beyond the crowds, and just nestled on the docks behind the ship, you see cages of chained people. Uluwehi sees them shortly thereafter, emanating confusion and a deeper extreme of hatred that you did not previously feel him capable of. For a good moment he considers all of these creatures his enemies, and you note an overbearing desire to wade into a slaughtering frenzy. As the moments advance, he feels increasingly less inclined to bend to your urgings.

>Prepare yourself to support his frenzy. You do, after all, require a great number of souls.
>Urge that he search for some greater vulnerability. Being a hunter, perhaps he’ll listen to a hunter’s logic.
>Suggest restraint and stealth- though it will be extremely difficult with the crowds and light.
>Urge a prepared solution. (Write-in)

>>299544
>Urge that he search for some greater vulnerability. Being a hunter, perhaps he’ll listen to a hunter’s logic.

>>299544
>Prepare yourself to support his frenzy. You do, after all, require a great number of souls.

>>299544
>Urge that he search for some greater vulnerability. Being a hunter, perhaps he’ll listen to a hunter’s logic.

>>299544
>Urge that he search for some greater vulnerability. Being a hunter, perhaps he’ll listen to a hunter’s logic.

>>299555
>>299568
>>299574
>Seek weaknesses.

>>299565
>Rampage.

Writing.

He stands and crouches to leap- the sort of leap that would be able to carry him from great limb to great limb of the towering jungle. You urge, strongly, the fastidiousness of a hunter’s mind. You urge reflections of the emanations he gave while speaking of his neighboring tribe’s folly. You urge the dedication it takes to trap a great serpent and end its life. You do your best to grant a vision of what it looks like when a man is shot in the face by a pistol at four paces, followed by a repetitive focus on great numbers. He relents, letting his grip slacken from the spear while his legs loosen. Returning to a crouch, restored to more dangerous senses than rage, he observes all the celebration with a cold and viscous gaze.

With a hunter’s eye he takes all things in, the loud merriment, the composition and behavior of the crowd, the locations of light, the guards around the cage and ship. The guards are all concentrated around the same areas; they do not drink and do not move. They are expecting something. Or perhaps keeping the merriment from spilling into a more sensitive area, you conjecture, as you witness one of the guards drop a stumbling man with a hard blow. Uluwehi focuses on the torches, of which you note the distances seem very intentioned. There are many around the crowds, all hung up on isolated posts, with none arranged close to the ramshackle dwellings. The dwellings themselves are dark, and appear vacant. You confirm so to Uluwehi by noting a very sparse amount of emanations from their area. Past the celebration, in a corner now revealed by consistent observation, are masked men loading with careful slowness what appears to be large barrels of glowing fungi.

The docks beyond all this have only three methods of access. One would have to go past the crowds and guards, exit the docks from the ship itself, swim to it and climb from beneath. However, you sense no small amount of savagery within the dark waters. As you refocus your senses, an emanation from the ship itself wrests your attention away from the waters. It is a soul, and it’s the strongest yet you’ve felt. It radiates a pristine and happy confidence, cruel layers of trickery, and overflows with energetic ambitions. You are not so mindless to not understand your own greed when you feel it, but the pressure to seek out this soul is tremendous. You pinpoint its location, and find it unmoving within a chamber of the ship. You ponder how it’s definite enough that you can tell, as otherwise weaker souls are only as much as hazy mirages in comparison.

(1/2)

Even Uluwehi’s emanations, which you’d considered strong, pale before its strength. You find the smoky warmth of your dark drying the air as you dance excitedly between the shadows behind Uluwehi. You calm after a moment, stressing your mind the barest of self-urgings to focus on the task at hand. Uluwehi’s accord requires the deaths of these invaders if you want their souls, while he himself is now much more focused on his caged tribe. If you can get him to cross paths with that soul, and take it- Well, the possibilities reveal themselves warmly. You note with concern that getting to the cages may mean very little, as well as a broken accord, if you’re unable to leave with Uluwehi’s tribes safely. Those cages, of course, are locked with great chains.

>Urge him sneak through the dwellings, where there’s the most dark and least people. This may require later going through the guards, or the ship.
>Urge he go through the water, and swim beneath the docks to the cages. You are sure there is something dangerous in the water, but the water is indeed dark.
>Urge he seek the ship itself, if you can find an entrance from the water you’ll be closer to that strong soul, and beyond the guards on top you sense no others within it.
>Formulate upon this information an urging much planned. (Write-In)

>Gonna wait a bit on this one. I know good plans take time, so no rush if you’d like to write-in.

>>299844
>Correction
>*or exit the docks from the ship itself, or perhaps swim to it and climb from beneath

>>299853
knock a few torches down with rocks, start afire to distract everyone, then use it t sneak in.

>>299868
supporting

>>299853
>>Urge him sneak through the dwellings, where there’s the most dark and least people. This may require later going through the guards, or the ship.

>>299853
>Urge he seek the ship itself, if you can find an entrance from the water you’ll be closer to that strong soul, and beyond the guards on top you sense no others within it.
So, the ship has guns stickin' out of it all over the place presumably. Which means you've gotta have gunports. That's an evenue through which a skilled climber might sneak in. Then maybe he can requisition one of the weapons these stranger folks use, or perhaps find some way to sabotage whatever it is they use to make the explosion which propels the projectile. Since you can't just sling something that small that fast with no driving force behind it.

Plan is generally to seek out the gunpowder store on the ship and set out a nice long line of gunpowder to act as a fuse. Light that shit and dive into the water while the ship goes up in flames, thus providing a distraction for us while we free the folks in cages. Only problem is I'm not sure if we would know enough about gunpowder to know how to do all that.

>>299868
>>299888
>>299889
>>299902

Two for fire and distract, one for sneaking / one for sabotage.

However, Dark Spirit, heed well that the docks housing the cages are rather close to the ship. Injuring what your Accord desires protection of is a sure violation of its terms.

Without further deciders, I'll write for
>Try to start a distracting fire, then use the confusion to sneak in.
In ten~ minutes.

>>299902
Try for this, if we know enough to pull it off.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

With two for fire, and two for sabotage, I'll roll a d2.

>1; FIRE
>2; BOOM

>>299954
Fire & Distract it is.

Roll me dice+3d20+25 [Jána of the Night(Dusk)+24, Experienced Aniunakei Hunter+5, -4 from Old Warrior.] vs. a DC of 45.

Rolled 8, 6, 3 + 25 = 42 (3d20 + 25)

>>299965

Rolled 10, 3, 3 + 25 = 41 (3d20 + 25)

>>299965

Rolled 1, 19, 13 + 25 = 58 (3d20 + 25)

>>299965
Rollin

>>299977
>>299978
>>299979
>Failure.
>But so damn close.

Writing.

You urge to Uluwehi a scheme- you’ll start a fire by knocking down the torches, and once distracted by the blaze you’ll sneak past the crowd to the cages. He consents, and begins picking out the appropriate rocks for the task. From a darker area of the winding path much closer to the celebration, he winds an arm and shoots a rock hard towards a torch. It falls short by a wide margin and knocks some pitiful mortal in the head, who then falls abruptly to the ground. It draws some laughs, and the curious gaze of a guard. Well, they can’t be dead, you didn’t get a soul. You aid him more directly the next time, picking a better target- where the crowd is most active.

Pressuring your smoky warmth around his arm you coalesce a firm extension, his limb just slightly more wreathed in darkness than before. You wind up a swing, and your aim strikes true as a torch falls to the ground among the inebriated people furthest from the cages. It draws fearful gazes as it falls on the dock- which do not immediately light up in flame. Instead, being overzealous to snuff it out the celebrators kick it between themselves across the dock. Never in one place for long enough, it only imparts the weakest of flames to the wood- which are then stomped on.

As the event continues drawing laughter and jeers from onlookers you note a quick signal shifts through the guards on the ship, and then through the guards around the cages. One gestures towards where you stand. Few actually emanate wariness, but several depart the top deck with gazes fixed upon the winding path where you and Uluwehi remain shrouded. They walk with purpose through the crowd, taking up two torches between them from the posts, much to the dismay of the celebrators. You know that the path to the dwellings won’t be open for much longer. You feel the strong soul within the ship begin to stir and release an emanation of small curiosity.

>To the dwellings- though you’ll be cutting it close if you are to cut them off.
>To the waters and then the ship- they’ve dispersed their guards to searching.
>Same, but instead to the cages directly.
>Urge-in.

>>300088
>>Same, but instead to the cages directly.
Lets take care of the cages first. We might be able to deal with everything else later.

>>300088
>To the waters and then the ship- they’ve dispersed their guards to searching.
I feel like just opening the cages would probably get everyone caught.

>>300133
>>300139
I'll pray for a decider within the next few minutes, and then roll a d2 for these as well.

>>300088
>>To the waters and then the ship- they’ve dispersed their guards to searching.

>>300088
>>To the waters and then the ship- they’ve dispersed their guards to searching.
Switching to this.

>To Water and Boat.

And, roll me another 1d100!

Rolled 95 (1d100)

>>300166
lets go boi

>>300173
I know it's not technically improbable, but the way you guys consistently roll in the 90's ranges for the d100s has me awfully suspicious.

Anywell,
>Writing.

>>300185
Don't worry, I'm sure we'll be doing something important and get a crit fail on a d100 at some point. I mean, our luck has to run out at some point or another.

>>300189
We could always start failing d20 rolls and getting crits on d100s. Though d20 rolls generally seem more important.

Uluwehi is easily moved to the waters as the guards from the ship begin ascending the winding path. The splash is an afterthought amongst the noise of the celebration, and he treads the water quickly towards the dock. You find it odd that though the waters are dark your vision is not piercing them, and your knowledge is lacking for the issue. This is darkness, too, you feel- it shouldn’t be obscured from your sight so completely. You feel something sense Uluwehi’s disturbance from below, and emit a strangely nuanced intent, something twisting, something crushing. Thankfully whatever produced them quickly loses interest in your disturbance of its waters. Though, that interest may not be lost forever, and you recall in your mind how high the docks are compared to the waters. Perhaps if someone was thrown in…

You reach the ship in short order and Uluwehi begins his climb. You form semisolid smoky footfalls for him as minor extensions of the shadow edged wood, as you’d rather he not slip back into the waters and drag you with him. You come upon a hole with a great metal barrel sticking out of it, you clarify its dangerous potential to Uluwehi and he avoids placing himself in its view. Attempting a squeeze past it you both note a series of great letters embossed in shining metal just above the rows of gun. The Mad Jewel. Your secret knowledge grants you nothing on this particular name. Uluwehi grunts while stuck between gun and window edge.

You push him hard and notice the restraining barrel very easily moved as it rolls backwards in one smooth motion. Freed, he tumbles in- then rights himself with uneasy poise. You feel mild concern as he appears to mimic a lame hunched elder, but your attention becomes quickly overshadowed by a lack of feeling. You can’t sense the strong soul from before, or the crowds outside. You can hear them, their laughter and dancing, but the souls and emanations seem beyond you. It’s as though you’ve been blinded. Shifting a smoky limb outside the hole a couple paces, you stretch your form just barely outside the ship. Nothing. The emanations from the crowds are silenced, and you feel no souls, not even Uluwehi’s. You dig into your instincts for an answer, revealing only vague notions of spells and curses.

This may pose a problem.
>Write-in
>Search the ship for whatever is causing this, and end it.
>Urge Uluwehi to the last location you estimated that strong soul to be.
>Stealth to the top deck, and assess the situation of the cages more closely.

>>300283
>Urge Uluwehi to the last location you estimated that strong soul to be.

>>300283
>Urge Uluwehi to the last location you estimated that strong soul to be.

>>300294
>>300297

Best of three, 1d100 please.

Rolled 76 (1d100)

>>300318

Rolled 58 (1d100)

>>300318

>>300331
>Writing!
>Though, rolling another higher than this might change things.

Rolled 70 (1d100)

>>300318

Whatever it is you can leave it to another time; you’re still quite focused on the memory of that soul you sensed from the edges of the cavern. You know it must be close- it was in one of the rooms closer to the top deck. You hear a crack of bone and swirl your abyssal gaze in haste towards Uluwehi, who appears to be stretching. You’d thought something broke, for a moment. You emanate irritation while considering the lack of your greater senses, but urge the man forward towards the room you believe houses the strong soul.

Uluwehi, aided by you, creeps noiselessly through the ship. You twist your eyes around as you can to cover any potential blind spots. For every door you open and every step you take there’s a dulling sensation -not quite an emanation- and you find yourself repeatedly tapping Uluwehi to focus. There’s something very wrong with this ship, you feel. Normally when you look at something the nature of its history is revealed; the stones of the dark chamber from before spoke of the ancient waters they once called home, the jungle itself speaks of life in even the most silent corners, the village and it all its colorful past. But this place is dead. Void. Examining its construction more closely grants nothing, it appears as little more than mixtures of black and deep brown woods-

The boards are regularly spaced, you realize suddenly. You look over the interior of the last deck to the door you’ve been urging Uluwehi towards, and you note a certain geometric profile to the arrangement. It’s near perfect; the spacing shapes coils and lines to even out circling repetitions all throughout the deck. You feel greatly that you should not linger here much longer. And as if in response to your thoughts, Uluwehi slowly opens the door from where you estimated the strong soul to be. There is a flash that pushes you back- and a bang. You feel Uluwehi’s body swerve with sudden force, a dodging reaction honed from a young age.

(1/2)

File: A Pirate, A Captain.jpg (152 KB, 629x964)

152 KB JPG

From within the room all you see is a smoky grey haze, illuminated by goldenly ornamented lanterns that shine solidly on the edges of the room. “Normally speaking,” a hard growl cuts through the haze, “When a man boards my ship, their will is surrendered to me.” Uluwehi moves to advance, spear in hand, and the figure within the haze moves forward. A worn and scowling face is what you first notice, and then his wound- a gash upon his arm. You didn’t even see Uluwehi move, you note somewhat proudly. He must have struck through the smoke. The man’s pistol is on the ground, now harmless, and though he carries another you’re certain he would fail to reach it in time. As Uluwehi readies his limbs for vicious motion, he’s halted by the man’s apparently undeterred advance.

“Davidge Gansaul,” he says with a sardonic bow, “and you” he adds with a sneer, “are trailing water onto my carpet.” Uluwehi does not make the mistake of looking down, to which the pirate smirks ruefully. “I presume you are the warrior your people speak of so highly,” he resumes a tall posture, though not quite as tall as the tribesman poised to strike. “The one who will rescue them,” he says quietly, to which Uluwehi responds with a confused grimace. “They've told me so, by way of my ship,” he clarifies with a too-quick smile. “Slayer of Seadragons, Raider of Secrets, Eater of Tiger Hearts,” he drawls in a mocking crescendo. You make no attempt to restrain Uluwehi as he begins rearing his spear, “But seeing as you’ve already won,” he remarks casually as Uluwehi’s grip tightens, “Perhaps I might propose a better offer for your tribe than my life? A more likely return on investment, if you will.”


>Options, of where there will be plenty, next time!
>Gonna end it here for tonight guys, I’m slowing down in the head.

And so once again, thanks for playing! Thread will continue tonight at 5:00PM EST.

>>300512
Haven't been able to participate in it so far, but I'm enjoying this quest.

>Quest resuming in one hour.
>Trivial fact: it took six captchas to post this.

File: Cabin.jpg (62 KB, 960x520)

62 KB JPG

He's attempting negotiation; you seethe with emanations of resentment. You would curse him now if you could. Words that hold no weight and no accord upon the soul may be overturned and broken, like warm fresh glass cast against rock or water- shattering easily under duress. More importantly, if Uluwehi figures to solve this peacefully you won't get more souls from the deal, and will be forced to come up with some other method. You scrutinize the room in a quick moment. Two great lanterns on its edges illuminate silver embroidered furnishings and richly colored tapestries. The carpet, now wet, is a red richer than blood. Center to it all is a great wood altar, deeply brown, upon which rests a small lantern and thin off-white sheets of many etchings. Examined closely you determine they’re not spiritual in purpose, though their true nature remains hidden.

His voice is much higher than Uluwehi’s, just a hair below a tenor. It doesn’t grate you, though based on Uluwehi’s tension you estimate he does not share your indifference. You’ve not allowed him to see you, as you’ve transposed your form within a shadow between him and Uluwehi- so should he move to strike, or shoot, you’ll ensure his final mortal failure. As you turn your twin spheres you realize the cages on the connective docks are clearly visible through the curtained windows, you count something less than four dozen people. Somewhat innately, you feel as though that’s not a lasting number. The tribespeople within are all similarly brush-clad, and you see no obvious wounds, though strangely there are clothes in the invader’s fashion all piled into various corners. Still absent you estimate the guards remain searching elsewhere, though you’re curious whether the raucous celebration smothered the sounds of this Davidge creature’s gun.

You refocus on the enemy. You recall the pristine confidence, the layers of cruel trickery, and its great ambitions. You don’t feel the emanations at the moment, the souls of the world still obscured, but you know he must be planning something. Though similarly obscured to you you can still urge to Uluwehi a course of action with some difficulty- or let him do as he pleases. In any instance, you’ll be wary to the pirates motions, and to any suspicious noises from the door now closed.

>Urge nothing and let Uluwehi make the judgment on his course of action.
>Urge that Uluwehi kill this man. The cages are right there, and the guards are gone.
>Urge a certain determination- to the effect of listening to the man’s words.
>Urge something else; Write-in.

>>302517
>>Urge nothing and let Uluwehi make the judgment on his course of action.

>>302517
>>Urge nothing and let Uluwehi make the judgment on his course of action.

>>302548
>>302550
>Writing.

>and also
What do you guys prefer as a waiting time for votes, is ten~ minutes alright or would you prefer longer? Please share your thoughts.

>>302569
I don't mind either way. Maybe some longer times at the beginning like this to let some more people arrive and get involved.

>>302569
I'd say about 5 minutes would be good

>>302872
too short, 10-15 is good for a quest this size.

You elect to allow Uluwehi an action of his own choosing, and the silence between the men extends in a heavy contrast to the loud singing of the celebration. He can’t now be waiting for you to urge him an action, can he? Your accord did not demand that you coddle him. “This ship’s spell,” he answers solidly to the pirate, “meddling in thoughts. End it.” The smallest appearance of defeat, for one small moment, seems to interrupt Davidge’s ever present smirk.

He returns to his previous expression with an answer. “Oh,” he remarks placidly, “that tiny bit of magic? Of course,” he grits, removing a black-brown band from beneath his sleeve, placing it on the ground with as much grace as his wound allows him. “It’s draining. Besides, I wouldn’t want to interrupt the loaders,” he says coolly. The emanation’s resurge back in waves and you feel nearly as blinded as you were before, and all the aspects you sensed of his soul are still there, though you see that they’re being slowly subdued. You feel he’s losing certainty in something, some plan not turning out as he determined. You note the slightest beads of sweat on his brow, and a certain nearly imperceptible wavering to his posture. You wonder why, as he doesn’t emanate the sort of nervousness that causes such things.

Uluwehi makes his way to a lantern, spear still trained on the shaky pirate, and pushes the small handle, then pulls, then turns- and is met with success as the lantern dims and the flame vanishes. He does this four the other four, the three in the corners of the room and the one on the strange altar. The dark of the room becomes near impenetrable, the only light thin streams from distant dockside torches. For how calm he appears he emanates an extreme eagerness for violence, with an odd undertone of your previous urging of a hunter’s fastidiousness, seemingly retained. He’s holding himself back from action, but he’s certain of something you can’t quite grasp. He returns his masked gaze to Davidge. Sensing no particular emanations of insight aimed at the pirate, you estimate that this is not the one who commands the winds and the waters.

Thorough and deep, he begins, “I will listen to your words. This is not the first time I’ve listened to your kind’s words. Speak well, and speak quickly.” Though strong of soul, the pirate appears entirely smothered by the circumstances. You venture that his night vision is probably not as good as the old hunter’s.

“I’m not spiteful man.” He says evenly, and given his emanations it appears true. However, that makes him more dangerous rather than less, as inclinations of spite grant a deeply manipulable weakness. You communicate to Uluwehi as much, and his hand turns his spear. “Your people are not injured. They have been fed, given clothing, and treated with dignity."

"In cages." Uluwehi adds solidly.

"-Yes, in cages. They are prisoners, but they're not maltreated,” so he says, though his emanations differ from his words. Uluwehi unsheathes his dagger- it emits the same as before, a raging craving for blood and cries of suffering and anguish. Davidge rushes to continue as it glints in the dark, “my intel suggests," he indicates the cages outside, "that you won't leave without them, and are very unwilling to risk their lives. Your 'honor' forbids it,” he says without confidence, apparently trying to shake the tribesman in front of him. "I walked your village. You have no riches, and I knew that when I and my companions settled this cove. Your people speak of something greater. Proud of their heritage, they didn't need coercion for it."

He becomes just slightly more confident, to your annoyance. "Its power I seek. My ships are well-armored, and I've equipped them with the best of modern munitions. But compared to the navies that will soon sail these waters all my ships put together are as threatening as a sack of blind kittens. Sixty-four guns of four vessels doesn’t beat thrice that number in guns and eighty more in ships." “It does not beat the magic they have in addition to those numbers." he adds with cool haste. "What you have is what I need. Rituals, bound spirits, magical artifacts, blessings, curses." He waves a trembling hand in a failed dismissive gesture. "Colorful words for power, but power all the same,” he says with a heavy breath. "And an intriguing affinity for language," he admits.

"All language is true. It is no difficulty to learn another's," Uluwehi states simply.

"For your people, certainly," he says, unsteady. He emanates confusion at his own behavior.

“Loaka poison,” Uluwehi remarks with deep and distant slowness, “Numbs, slows. It is painful to die to. The beast enjoys its meals screaming.” The pirate grows a shade paler. “I do not know the cure,” he continues, “Only our healer does. And it affects your people greatly,” he finishes with a sort of feigned lamentation. You muse decidedly that you’d nearly forgotten the Loaka, but it turns out to have been quite fortuitous. “You are trying to bargain, but this is no deal. You free my people, you come to our village, and Ijana decides if you live.” He says, intoning each term with finality.

“And how will you free them if I’m dead? What of my men and my guards?” The pirate spits the questions.

(2/3)

Uluwehi emanates a supreme certainty- his soul appears strengthened by it. He breathes, and answers with the same deep and distant slowness of before, “You will scream as you die. Your guards will run here. This boat is dark, like our jungles, and I am a warrior of the Aniunakei.” The pirate emanates no confidence, and slowed by the poison you feel his intentions slide between dwindling options.

You feel his soul relent into defeat long before he affirms with a weak nod. Uluwehi motions for him to move out the door, while you consider possible interjections.

>Though you wished for this pirate's soul, and your first accord appears near completion, you'll let this play out.
>This isn't particularly to your liking, as you did want more souls, and though resistant at the moment perhaps you could urge Uluwehi a change of opinion- and have him return to eager violence.
>In spite of Uluwehi's goals, the pirate is closer now, and you can see the definition of his soul and ebbing life- reach out and Take it.
>Something else. (Write-in)

>>302953
>>Though you wished for this pirate's soul, and your first accord appears near completion, you'll let this play out.
>Encourage our gracious host to either keep making accords with us or to have other worthies do the same. After all There seem to be more invaders coming soon, and we hunger for souls still.

>>302967
Supporting

>Though you wished for this pirate's soul, and your first accord appears near completion, you'll let this play out.
>see if we can eat a guard's soul or five for transgressions against tribal members
>ask our esteemed guest more about the identities of the invaders

>>302967
>>303011
These can be combined, with the exception of;

>see if we can eat a guard's soul or five for transgressions against tribal members

To which I will pose a vote of:
>Attempt to take a guards soul.
>Do not.

>>303035
>>Do not.
>Do however watch for perfidy.

>>303051
Second.

>>303051
>>303055
>Writing.

You’ll let Uluwehi maintain the course- but urge some curiosity at him to ask Davidge what invaders he speaks of. You hide within his shadows as you all move above deck and to the connective planks of the dock. Being of very nearly the same thoughts, he’s nudged with ease. “Who did you speak of before?” He asks at the shaky captain who’s doing his best to put up a hand to the guards rushing from the crowd, who then stop in confusion, but follow behind when the tribesman and pirate walk forth. You keep attention to their motions and emanations closely.

“Who else?” He says with derision, emitting something close to fear- the first you’ve felt from him in fact. You note that earlier when Uluwehi told him he would die screaming he only felt bitter- not afraid. “The Emperor Amren in all his glorious fervor, of the Empire formed from his name,” he speaks quietly. “Not content with the largest continent, the largest armies, and the most numerous collections of magi,” he drawls bitterly, “Decided to kill a God and take its power for himself, or so I’ve been told by those who’ve been graced with his great presence.” He takes a shaky breath, and continues with more seriousness, “What I know is he has many ships, like my Mad Jewel, only bigger, more armored, and shooting with power greater than gunpowder alone. What I’ve gathered as genuine intel is that his magi have found for him the methods thought lost to the ancients, and he’s seeded his armies and navies with the results.” He says with a frail but confident emanation.

You come up on the cages, and he motions to a trailing guard who then takes a key out of a belt pouch. You wonder why he didn’t keep it on himself. The tribespeople inside are all variations of sizes and expressions- they’ve all stood long since the procession from the ship was noticed by the crowd, and they emanate awe towards Uluwehi. He nods deeply to the most withered of the tribespeople, four elders, and you sense a deeply mutual emanation of gratitude and respect between them.

“Blackwren won’t like this,” says the guard in a warning tone as he hands the key to Davidge.

“Blackwren can shit all the wind he likes,” he barks back with a scowl, “They’re needed for something more important.” Saving his life, you finish his unsaid thought. He unlocks the cages with haste, one after another, and begins leading the procession through a less populous corner of the onlooking crowd. You feel their confusion mark the air, and an apparent dying of all the previous joviality they’d had, and then a sudden surge of hostility.

Roll me 1d100, Best of three. Best of luck.

Rolled 88 (1d100)

>>303364

Rolled 45 (1d100)

>>303364
ok

>>303378
>Writing.
>Although, it is still possible to roll higher than this.

Rolled 55 (1d100)

>>303413
sad state of affairs, having to roll twice

I hate to do this a second time, but there's something I need to address. Quest will resume in I hope two~ hours. I'll try to be back sooner.

>Back
>And writting.

A brash and threatening voice rips through the crowd. “Where the hell do you think you’re going Gansaul?!” Uluwehi gestures at the shaky pirate to continue leading the procession up the winding path towards the cave, and then turns with you in tow towards the approaching hostile crowd.

“No,” he speaks deeply and simply, planting his spear to punctuate the statement. Knowing that won’t be enough you afford the moment to gather and twist the shadows behind him, compressing, shifting, and releasing darkness in smoky waves. The dampness of the cave removes itself, and many reel back instantly, though you note Uluwehi sweats profusely he remains solid in stance. In the low light of their torches it works well; they emanate fear, and none step forward. The procession behind you finishes filing into the well-lit cave, and as Uluwehi turns up the winding path you strengthen the darkness in his wake. As you know by their emanations, none intend to follow. Pitiful creatures, though you’re growing tired of pity- it would be just as well to smother them.

Following the cut path in Uluwehi’s shadow, you mull over Davidge’s words. There are few things that are called Gods. As far as you know they’re all spirits of some form, or would have to be. Though the spirits called Akiah and Vi-Rurua, which Uluwehi swore by, are unknown to you. But a spirit cannot be killed, they can only have their attachments to the world severed, or so you feel intrinsically. It is rumor and false words. The ships don't matter, not truly. Only the greatest heights of day would impede your movement on the shadows of waves, while the vessels themselves hold an abundance of dark corners. If accorded to move freely you’d have a hard time believing any number is a threat at all. The mentioning of Magi has you concerned. Your secret knowledge reveals that this is a name for mortals with power, inheritors of the essential truths, or ritual practitioners. You muse that a manufacture of the latter is what called you here. However, you know at least from the construction of the pirate’s ship what he meant by putting ancient knowledge to purpose.

(1/2)

File: Ijana.jpg (292 KB, 1600x921)

292 KB JPG

Your thoughts are interrupted by a gaze from one of the tribespeople who had been trailing behind to place themselves just aside Uluwehi, and right next to you. That not quite right, you feel, you should be obscured unless you interact with the mortal world directly. You stare back, but her gaze into your twin abyssal spheres is absolute- she emits only a deep sense of focus. Like many of the other tribespeople she carries swirling marks on her body, and they resonate with you; a twisting one along the stomach speaks of spirits called and offerings made, and along matching ones on the arms emit sicknesses and their solutions. This is healer Uluwehi spoke of, you think, as the woman looks to him and then back to you, emanating strongly concerned intentions.

“The invader believes Loaka poison kills,” she says lightly, drawing Uluwehi’s attention, “And that I am the only one who can heal him.”

“The invaders believe many strange things,” he returns innocently.

“Ulu,” she whispers, gaze still affixed to you, “what creature did you call?” Uluwehi shrinks at the question, you feel him searching for answers. Well, you can let him fumble, but perhaps you can aid his answer?

>Urge his silence.
>Urge that you’re an ally.
>Urge that you are a great and fearsome Jána of the Night.
>Write-in.

>>304139
>Urge that you are a great and fearsome Jána of the Night.

>>304139
>Urge his silence.

>>304139
>>Urge that you’re an ally.
>One who hungers, but keep to the spirit and letter of an agreement if treated well.
>Also wave hi to the with/healer/girl human

>>304139
>>Write-in.
Let Uluwehi answer for himself. The Healer does not seem to be afraid of us and there's no need to call ourselves an ally.

>>304173
Supporting.

>>304173
>>304195
>writing

He begins speaking, then stops. “Later,” he says quickly. Ijana switches her gaze from you to him, and sustains it unblinkingly for a good seventy paces. Taking a great breath, he starts again, then stops again. Ijana’s focused gaze continues its assault on his senses. “A spirit,” he whispers at last, emanating a tense and extreme dread. You wave an unconcealed smoky limb for emphasis, and notice the corners of her eyes tighten in response, though she doesn’t look back to you.

“What kind of spirit?” She asks with quiet severity, glare sustained.

He answers quickly, “Of the Night, but-”

“You read the calling stone,” she interrupts, and then breaks her stare to look forward- away from him. You feel as though the entire jungle around you is awash with her emanations of supreme disappointment. When next she speaks it is with the same quiet severity as before, “Out of all the spirits you could have called, you called a Darkjána.” Uluwehi opens his mouth but she glares it shut. “Not an Earthjána of Vi-Rurua, who would heal your wounds and bind the invaders. Not a Seajána of Akiah, who would drown them and sink their boats. Not one of the Sky who would strike them down where they stand.”

“One of the Sky would have difficulty in a cave,” he posits gently, as you notice the oncoming fungi glow of their village.

Ijana continues berating undeterred, “Darkjána are hungerers of wicked fates. They seek evil acts of and upon whosoever calls them. They are of the Dark, and for that reason they sway the hearts of men like we move legs to run. Contorting their wills and actions towards the wicked fates they seek.” They’ve stopped outside the village now, while the other tribespeople file in. You note some spare some pitying glances in Uluwehi’s direction, but none approach the two, a thorough dread marking their quick scarcity. You see the pirate from before has apparently collapsed, and perhaps he may have a while ago during the journey, and is now is being carried into one of the fungi illuminated houses.

“I have not been controlled,” he says with open agitation. Ijana crosses her arms and roots her gaze back into him, though he does not falter this time. “The Jána of Night first hid me when stalking my enemies, then let me know of an ambushing Loaka when my vision was not enough. Telling me the places of trees and fallen limbs, it led me through the dark to the invader’s cave. During this it tested me with questions, but it was a test I passed. When I was enraged seeing our tribe trapped it spoke of focus- and revealed to me a plan to take the invaders with cunning. It helped me scale their ship, and trap their leader. I have not been controlled,” he finishes with tense determination.

(1/2)

“Ulu, you are a fool,” she says condescendingly, as though addressing a child. “What did you promise to offer the Darkjána?”

“The Souls of my enemies,” he returns hesitantly, “until my people are defended from these enemies.” He’s leaving out some fairly significant details, but those are indeed the essentials.

“Good,” she snaps, then begins breathing more easily as you feel the emanations of hardened concerns relax. “Darkjána are capable of taking much more than what is offered. You are lucky, Ulu, not clever,” she says, turning to walk towards the dwelling where the pirate was placed. “I must give our guest water and a blanket, lest he succumb to two days of sneezing.” Uluwehi watches her go, and you feel as though he’s suddenly become very weary of life- similar to that as what happened back at the chamber, though much more thorough now.

Technically, your accord is complete, and you're free do seek out someone else for another. You could perhaps bend Uluwehi for a transition into another, though it would be difficult as you feel he's certainly about to announce the end of your deal. Alternatively, you admit a certain curiousness as to the nature of the pirate's healing, and as to the depths of the jungle surrounding you. You consider your options while pacing your smoky form between Uluwehi's shadows.

>Urge to Uluwehi an extension of your deal- though it will be difficult.
>Follow the healer, you're mildly curious of their knowledge.
>Explore; perhaps you'd prefer to see the extents of this island and it's jungle.
>You could, you suppose, return to the chamber of the Seeking Stones. Your innate knowledge speaks something of their importance.
>Write-in.

>>304455
>Follow the healer, you're mildly curious of their knowledge

>>304455
>Follow the healer, you're mildly curious of their knowledge.

>>304455
>Follow the healer, you're mildly curious of their knowledge.

>>304458
>>304459
>>304463
>Healer

I'll probably start writing in about 30 minutes, gonna eat something.

>In the meantime,
What are your own opinions on the urgings you've given so far? Are they kind, purposeful, cruel? Please share your thoughts and their details, Dark Spirit.

>>304490
Purposeful. In my opinion, the majority of our actions have been tactically guiding us towards the power we seek.

>>304490
We've not been kind nor cruel. Someone gave us a pact and we abided by it. as long as someone doesn't try to fuck us over we will abide and help them.

Back, fed, and
>writing

>>304533
This. We've been pretty neutral so far and I'm curious as to how long we'll stay that way. I was pretty tempted to branch off from neutral when the option came up to Take Davidge's soul though.

>>304596
Lawful neutral is an interesting role to play. I like.

Uluwehi considers Ijana’s words thoroughly, you feel. He does not dismiss them, but places them in the back of his mind. As far as you feel, what you’ve driven -and only barely- Uluwehi to do has not been punctuated with seeking misery for him and all others he’s come across. They have been specific, not peremptory, and aligned with your accord. Truly, you’ve not stretched or tested their limitations as much as you could have. Although tempted to at moments, you’ve maintained a firm tact in regards to the deal. Uluwehi interrupts your thoughts with a deep breath, addressing you openly. “O Great Jána of the Night. Our accord rests complete. I, Uluwehi, thank you for the aid you’ve granted me in slaying the enemies who threatened my people,” he finishes solemnly, emanating a gratitude similar to the level he emitted in the presence of the elders. The world does not cloak itself in darkness or absolute silence, as instead you hear a deep and distant ting, and some emanation from a place far away of stern acknowledgment.

>AN ACCORD RESTS COMPLETE

You unhinge swiftly from Uluwehi’s shadow, and he looks about fruitlessly for your form- you sense he’s not entirely sure the deal had been ended. However, you are obscured and free to move, and you note an absence of the pressure you first felt upon opening your second eye. Uluwehi elects to unmask himself as he walks away and into one of the villages many quiet dwellings. The night, you feel, will last for quite a bit longer. You shift yourself across the earthy shadows with purpose towards the healer’s abode.

Looking in, you note an abundance of strange instruments with a myriad of emanations. They’re hung up on trailing vines just above a great number of small jars, while Ijana appears to be preparing something of a greyish-green mixture in a small stone bowl. Davidge is rested across a mat close to the root wall, emanating discomfort and a strong soul beneath even while unconscious. You take a moment to gaze at the work of the Healer, and note that her soul appears to carry a similar strength to Uluwehi’s, though of a greatly different nature. Its emanations are composed; focused on individual and clear concerns, interspersed faintly by slivers of contempt. All the smaller issuances you feel appear weighed down by a heavy resolve- though there is hidden some greater more immediate concern even further beneath that. You shift your form in closer, removing the moist of the jungle air with each step, to get a clearer look deeper into-

“What,” Ijana says gently, to your surprise, while turning smoothly to face your intrusion, “are your intentions, Darkjána?” The emanations are different now; they carry no fear, only respect and an attempt at discernment- something you have memory of but do not recall feeling since awakening. Is this creature trying to read your Soul?

(1/2)

While curious of this one’s spiritual knowledge, you consider what you’ll do to divine it further, though you wonder if it knows that’s your intent. The pirate stirs fitfully beneath a blanket while you consider your options.

>Write-in.
>Impression something of a student of yourself, upon a teacher of her. Perhaps that'll be enough?
>Emit curiosity, and inklings of want for secrets. Perhaps a possible accord, though given her earlier speech you’ll make it clear that the purpose is for knowledge.
>You’d not want to start another accord so soon- you’ll communicate your best as to ask of her spiritual knowledge. (This will require write-in's for question)

>>304753
>Emit curiosity, and inklings of want for secrets. Perhaps a possible accord, though given her earlier speech you’ll make it clear that the purpose is for knowledge.

>>304753
>>Emit curiosity, and inklings of want for secrets. Perhaps a possible accord, though given her earlier speech you’ll make it clear that the purpose is for knowledge.
>Grant her a vision of our memories. We are not like others, stay true to the pact with us, and we will be true to the pact with you.

>>304763
>>304777
>Writing

You emit to Ijana curiosity, and inklings of a want for secrets. You pose the idea of an Accord for it, and she appears to consider it, for a moment. Then dismisses it in an instant before you emit anything further- it’s a sudden and concentrated refusal.

“I may not grant you what you want, Darkjána,” she begins gently, “it is not my place to share the secrets of my mother, and her mother, and her mother before her. Not in great detail, and only to council the elders or our warriors who may, foolishly, engage in deals with spirits they know nothing about.” He impression differently, trying hard to grant a vision of your memories- which match Uluwehi’s words to every moment. They’re diluted in their details, but you feel certain that if there were a lie she would feel it, and logically the absence of any lie should be convincing enough.

“And there are Jána of Vi-Rurua who are bloodthirsty for conflict, though they are also most often called upon for healing. A dark one like you who acts outside their sphere is not unknown, but I may not make an exception even should you be exactly what you claim.” She pauses thoughtfully, emanating a consideration of options. She continues, adopting a severe but still respectful tone, “My blood, as all Aniunakei, was bound to the pacts of great spirits by our ancestors. ‘The Curer will not grant their secrets to any not kin, no Aniunakei may speak the sacred name of their home,’ and many other precious conditions.” Bringing the bowl of greyish-green goop to the pirate, she sets it upon a cloth rested on his chest.

She addresses with a return to gentleness, “If you are willing, I am in need of help,” and you begin feeling a return of the concern that was hidden beneath the heavy resolve before, “but it will not be easy, even for a Jána of the Night. The offerings for it would not be trivial, but I will place heavy restrictions within this accord, as I am no such fool as Uluwehi is.” She finishes, awaiting an answer while rubbing goop over the pirates wound, neck, and face. The air within the dwelling becomes warm while you decide an answer.

>Write-in.
>Perhaps you’d rather not strike an accord then, and will refocus on something else.
>Agree, you’ll strike an accord, though she’s unclear as to what you’re agreeing to.
>You’ll listen to its terms, but make no promises- though you know she’ll sense your doubt.

>>304900
>>You’ll listen to its terms, but make no promises- though you know she’ll sense your doubt.

>>304900
>>You’ll listen to its terms, but make no promises- though you know she’ll sense your doubt.

>>304900
>You’ll listen to its terms, but make no promises- though you know she’ll sense your doubt.

>>304916
>>304920
>>304923
>writing!

You emanate simple curiosity upon the conditions. Ijana emits back to you a mild contempt for your wariness- alongside a heavy unblinking gaze. For a moment, you feel as though you’ve committed an impasse, and begin growing a notion that you’ve caused offensive. However, she relents to an answer after a long passing of silence.

“I am called a Healer, as my mother before me, and her mother before her. We carry the duty of calling upon the spirits to heal what we alone cannot, and abide by the ways of our people’s ancient secrets to create the medicines that keep us strong,” she says sternly, intoning each duty with a rise of pride.

Then, much more softly than before and with echoes of burden, “I sent my daughter to gather some much needed medicines from the far jungle just before the raid of the invaders,” she confides, and you question the wisdom of sending a child on a purpose like that. Ijana notes this from you easily. “She is not without protection,” she clarifies sternly, “the beasts of the forest will not go near her, and she has been raised able to eat even the harshest of our home’s poisons.” The duty of a healer must be much more extensive than the name implies, you venture. “It is,” Ijana responds to your open emanations with pride, before returning to gentle concern. “But my daughter has not returned for a day and night. And I would sense her if she were close.” She pauses to wipe the goop off the pirate’s skin, and you note the wide gash Uluwehi caused earlier is scarred over- with pinkly fresh skin, rather than the ugliness you feel it would naturally tended to.

She returns her focused unblinking gaze to you, and speaks reverently. “I ask that you bring her back to this village as safely as you can manage. I ask that you not attempt to control her actions, or mine, for the extent of the accord. I ask that you protect her from anything that may cause her harm for the extent of the accord. I ask that you do not attempt to divine our precious secrets from her, or me, for the extent of the accord.”

You shift smoky limbs to a posture close to meditation. These conditions are rather definite and much restricted compared to your first accord. You conclude that Ijana has indeed interacted with spirits before and certainly much more than Uluwehi had. She’s using the right language, specific unambiguous clarities, and setting durations correctly. It is not an accord for which she’s willing to let you set the conditions and price.

“What I will offer, for the great amount that I ask of you,” she says emphatically, “Are the fragments of souls that all Jána of the night desire; to be given upon completion of the accord, numbering twenty, no more and no less. I pledge to honor this number and amount as weighed against all my soul, and all my blood, all that I am as a Healer of the Aniunakei.” To this you emanate confusion, though she does not answer your questioning issuance. Aspects can be given? You wonder how, and realize quickly that it must be another secret held by the duty of a Healer, to which Ijana nods.

You feel Ijana’s finality for all these terms, she will not change them- of that you’re certain. You’re left thinking of the deal whilst under her gaze, while the pirate has begun to snore.

>Decline, and leave for other notions.
>Accept, and strike an accord with Ijana.
>Write-in.

>>305014
>Accept, and strike an accord with Ijana.

>>305019
>Strike an Accord

Next time! I feel like this was a good session, and am open to thoughts anon's might have on things so far.

In any case, the quest will resume today at 6:00PM EST.
...we've only just begun.

>>305037
>thoughts anon's might have on things so far
I don't have much to say, unfortunately.
Other than that I hope you're not disheartened by the number of players - your quest is pretty good.

>>305040
I'm glad you think so. Truthfully, I've gotten many more players than I thought I'd get within the first three sessions.
I'd planned to maintain the quest on a minimum of two players for up to ten sessions, and so far things have exceeded that expectation.

Anywho, I gotta sleep. See y'all tonight.

>>305014
>Accept, and strike an accord with Ijana.
Thanks for running

>>305037
>thoughts anon's might have on things
Maybe I'm just a bit slow but the writing level seems a bit higher for this quest than others I've read so far. Not a bad thing, but it did take me a while to get the hang of the writing style and how the choices worked and what everything means. The character creation in the beginning is what mostly threw me for a loop, makes me kind of glad I showed up after that had passed.
Can we have multiple accords? What happens if two accords conflict each other? Just a couple of questions that came to mind, feel free to ignore them if they'll be answered in the quest itself.

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>>305545
>Maybe I'm just a bit slow but the writing level seems a bit higher for this quest than others I've read so far.
>pic

>a while to get the hang of the writing style and how the choices worked and what everything means
That I was afraid of. Rereading the previous posts of the first sessions showed me just about a good dozen commas that could've been replaced by smoother non-punctuated transitions. I tend, and I think this true, to lean towards complex divisions more often than they're worth. Hopefully it will get better over time.
Thankfully, and this I can promise, it will only be certain character choices in the future that are framed as obliquitous as the initial chargen.

And since it may be a while before this becomes relevant, I'll say the following answers are part of your Secret Knowledge.

>Can we have multiple accords?
Yes, and later, (or soon, it depends) there'll be different kinds than the ones you've covenanted so far, just as there'll be different kinds of offerings.

>What happens if two accords conflict each other?
You'll be warned prior to sealing the agreement if it appears that certain accords may cross or contradict each other. Although multiple accords that last for a longer periods may not initially appear to conflict, circumstances can change their situation or the desires of those who've asked them of you.
If you find yourself forced to choose between one or another, well, spoilers.

As an example of these circumstances;
Your first Accord where you stuck to Uluwehi's shadows and didn't stray from them for long would've contradicted any alternate accord that required leaving his shadows for a task.

>>305894
Finally all caught up, couldn't follow the session yesterday but looking forward to it today Osc.

>>306603
Excellent.

And;
>Quest resuming in one hour.
>And also, the character sheet has been updated: http://pastebin.com/fUbaui1h

>>306771
I am eager

Taking good note of all the details, you emit affirmation to Ijana. She nods again, and then returns the bowl of goop from the pirate to her sitting place, reaching behind one of the larger pots for a deep wooden basin. It emits nothing noteworthy on its own, but appears worn and well used. She then takes a small knife that had been hanging alongside the many small instruments of the dwellings vines. It, very differently from many of the others, emanates something you feel to be sacred. It is of a singular purpose, and you feel that purpose is offerings.

Pausing in concentration upon you, she whispers, “For the nature you hold,” she leaves the statement unfinished as she exits the dwelling, returning with one of the torches from outside. She steps with care to keep the fire away from the vines of her home. She sets the basin on the mat between you, and holds the torch just above it. You’ve maintained your previous semi-meditative posture while taking this all in, and feel emanations of stern resolution awash all around from Ijana.

She takes the small knife gently across the wrist of her torch bearing hand, and you both patiently watch the blood pool into the basin. There is quite a lot of it, you think, as it begins filling up to its edges. Your innate knowledge informs you that it is appropriate; the greater the demand of the accord, the greater the method of sealing, and similarly greater is the price to be paid.

Once filled, she looks to you, and closes her eyes. Uluwehi did this too, you recall, and you wonder what sort of offensive it would’ve caused. It is not profane for a mortal to witness the abyss, or the sealing of their own accord, so perhaps it’s just their tradition. She then turns the torch down into the blood, knife held aside, and just as it touches the crimson surface you press two smoky palms into the offering gracefully alongside its contact. The world erupts in tumultuous exhalations of dark. It seethes from every edge of every instrument, every tiny shadow cast by the illuminating fungi, obscuring all light until all is a perfect and silent dark. The blood begins to mist, red and shining against the deep abyss.

(1/2)

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Suddenly, a vision is thrust upon you. A great place of dark fire, of heat that withers mortals in moments, of sudden explosive force and poison wind, of quickly shifting shadows that cannot be outrun, of firestorms and deafening roars- then nothing, as you’re shifted out of the vision. The silence begins to fade as the last of the soundlessly boiling blood in the basin finishes its consecration. The world returns as the abyss abates slowly, lingering determinedly on the hardest edges of darkness as long as it can.

>AN ACCORD IS STRUCK
>Vital Cruor +18

>Current Vital Cruor: 26/??.
>Vital Cruor threshold (15) passed!

You extend a limb towards the fading torch, and note your influence is greater- you move the flickering darkness of the flames easily, and shifting the darkness shifts the paths the flame take upon its fuel. Noting a dead ember that had sparked off the torch, you lower a hand to it and the ember reignites. You try this with an isolated vine with no success, then with the edge of the wooden bowl- no success. It seems that, for the moment, this is restrained to a fire already made. You make a mental note to urge, in the future, that mortals you accord carry some amount of flame with them. Looking to Ijana, you note she’s rubbed some of the greyish-green goop on her wrist while you were occupied. She looks to you thoughtfully as the torch between you smolders diminishingly.

“A seal well made, Jána of the night,” she states the sudden compliment, an odd cadence to her words. Her emanations differ once again, and you wonder why they’re changing so quickly. She looks away, and there is a certain affection mingled with something like a minute deceit. Have you been tricked? You would not like to have been tricked. The pirate, throughout all of this, has been snoring.

>Emanate something of a question as to the swiftly changed feelings.
>Don’t bother, instead ask the direction of the far jungle, and begin making your way.
>Write-in.

>>307189
>Don’t bother, instead ask the direction of the far jungle, and begin making your way.

>>307189
>Emanate something of a question as to the swiftly changed feelings.

>>307189
>>Emanate something of a question as to the swiftly changed feelings.

>>307189
>>Write-in.
Emanate something along the lines of caution. Warn her not to cross us, or we'll be sure to cross her. Would be a shame if something happened to her daughters.

>writing

You emit a questioning sentiment to her change in behavior, to which she responds, “I wish you luck in bringing my daughter back,” and nothing else, as she then begins busying herself with a basin of water. You emanate, slightly greater, a line of caution and warning. Something similar to what you used to urge Uluwehi to action, but much reduced. "No, Jána, our accord carries no dishonesty," she says gently. Perhaps not, yet you venture that while an accord itself can be well balanced there is much more to an agreement than its wording. The intentions behind its foundation, and any number of other inclinations that may be interpreted from it, can lead even solid accords astray.

The gentleness of her voice maintains, alongside the previous measure of deceit. “I was only considering that your task may destroy you, Jána, and was hoping it would not.” You waver a bit, flitting in the soft shadows of the fungi before emitting a strong desire for clarity. “The difficulty of this task is not our jungle, nor the beasts within it,” she begins, voice lilting almost playfully, “it is my daughter. That is the difficulty you will face,” she finishes with the first true smile you’ve seen from her, and it emanates potent danger and no measures of kindness. You’re stunned for a small moment, but recover after considering that a child could hardly be dangerous. “Oh we will see, Jána, we will see,” she says to your open emanations, cruel smile maintained.

Turning away from you she lifts a small circle of corded hair from a pot, and turning back hands it to you, of which you have to maintain a semisolid smoky limb to hold properly. “This is what I use to search for her, all the times she becomes stubborn to my words. Use it well, it will strengthen your sense of her soul. Once you reach the far jungle it will lead you to her.” You secure it around a smoky wrist, noting to beware of this healer in the future, her emanations not far from the evilest you felt in the pirate’s cave.

(1/2)

“Speaking of,” she says, discerning your thoughts with only mild concentration, “your efforts to aid us are temporary,” she looks to the snoring pirate with disdain. “The invaders still live, and so we are still threatened. This one here is not the one who forced us into cages. It was a warrior who commanded the winds. His men called him Blackwren,” she says bitingly. You recall the name; it was mentioned in passing by the guard giving Gansaul the key. “It was he who bested our youngest warriors, and it was he who defeated Uluwehi. After caging us, he left on his boat. This one,” she indicates the perpetually snoring pirate, “arrived later, bearing many trinkets and barrels of awful tonics.”

She begins with the earlier cadence of before, “He invited some of our people on his ship, including myself, for questions. He wanted to know of the powers we held, the secrets of our rituals and medicines, and how we learned their language so quickly. But his spells would not affect those holding the title of Elder, or myself.” She pauses to look behind you, staring at apparently nothing. “Such are the powerful gifts of the ancient spirits,” she says reverently. “This one, to my sight of his soul, has lived seeking to twist benefit out of all that he sees. The other,” she says darkly, “has lived hunting for struggles and fame in battle.” She then looks to you with unhidden cleverness, adopting a subdued but still cruel smile, “Perhaps your journey will allow you more of what shall aid us against them. Until then, do well to bring my daughter back, my dear Jána of the Night,” she finishes with the too-gentle tone, nodding somewhat respectfully. You’re not quite sure what to feel about this- you emanate placid confusion, tempered with various uncertainties.

Is there anything you wish to emanate in return, before you depart, Dark Spirit?

>Nothing. Go finish this accord.
>Write-in.

>>307544
Ponder how a spirit can be considered ancient.
It seems like they're more timeless to me. If not, how old are we?

>>307544
>>Nothing. Go finish this accord.
Lets get this one over with while it's still dark out. It'd suck to get caught in battle in broad daylight.

>>307544
>Nothing. Go finish this accord.

>>307544
>Nothing. Go finish this accord.

>writing

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Deciding to take your leave, you turn out the dwelling, and let the hair cord guide you along the shadows towards the far jungle. You take a moment to ponder how both Uluwehi and Ijana considered spirits, calling particular ones ancient. As far as you feel, that’s not quite right, and they are most likely speaking of spirits their ancestors dealt with. Perhaps, you muse, being constrained to mortal time would make a spirit look ancient. Yet so far as your innate knowledge professes, spirits do not differ in something like age, but in power and the strength of their souls- and of course as much in knowledge. Perhaps that is what they speak of? They equate wisdom and knowledge with age, so a spirit who has such things may be perceived as an elder of sorts.

You look to your own smoky limbs as you flit over the illuminating flora of the jungle. You know that you were born, and would venture that other spirits are born, but then how? And then how old are you? It should not even be a question, you feel innately, though you feel you must question it- and this too you feel innately. You pause to smolder over the paradox as the canopy begins thinning and the night sky becomes visible. Looking up at starlight and skydark, you wonder. You don’t have the wisdom or knowledge that would match what mortals call ancient. Beyond that, you’ve yet to meet another spirit here, though Ijana did speak of calling upon some for healing- you feel you would have sensed any such spirit from a long ways away. Especially if there had been any in the village, and certainly no others came to protect them from these invaders. Is their talk of spirits largely just baseless superstition? You would like to think not, as Ijana’s accord were very thorough, and you have difficulty believing it was the first accord she’s sealed.

You ponder the possibilities as you come upon the edge of the fungi illuminated jungle, noting a rather harsh change from foliage to sand, water, and crisp sea air. You suppress the assorted memories of the aspects to focus on what the cord has led you to. The Far Jungle- you see why it is named as much. It’s on a completely different island; visible from this place only barely poking out through an unusual fog. You venture a guess, and take a smoky step into the dark, cool waters. Shallow. You turn your abyssal gaze around, and discern no other paths to the island. It seems you’ll have to walk- though the emanations of the sea concern you.

(1/2)

What you feel, you’re not quite certain, the sea itself is heavy with emanations that you would perhaps call ancient. It emits great potency in its depths, and you feel mixtures of animal hunger, warm peaceful waters, violent shredding storms, and something else- something vile and intelligent. But it’s gone quickly after. That’s different, it did not disappear from your senses like the world did from within the pirate’s ship, it seemed to reduce to nothing when you began focusing on it specifically. You wonder at the pace with which you should disturb these waters.

>Go quickly, you’d rather get the girl and come back before night ends.
>Go slowly, you don’t want to attract anything you’d have to fight off.
>Write-in.

>>307814
>>Go quickly, you’d rather get the girl and come back before night ends.

>>307814
>Go quickly, you’d rather get the girl and come back before night ends.
I ain't scared of no Cthulhu.

>>307814
>Go quickly, you’d rather get the girl and come back before night ends.

>>307845
>>307852
>>307855
>Zippity Zoop.

Roll me dice+1d100, best of first three.

>Go slowly, you don’t want to attract anything you’d have to fight off.

Sort of interested in spirit combat tho

Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>307875
Time to crit and punch Cthulhu in the face with a shadow punch. Or crit fail and get eaten by a fish.

>>307902
I'll start writing with this roll in ten minutes, but you may want one better.
>Still, you guys manage to get pretty good rolls all around.

Rolled 51 (1d100)

>>307875

Rolled 91 (1d100)

>>307875

>>308012
nice

>>308012
REWRITING!

>literally no bad rolls on 1d100s: the quest

You’ll go quickly. You shift yourself into the darkness of the shallows, the cool night water warming just slightly at your advance. Though carrying the sensing cord, and thus having to maintain a smoky limb to hold it, you make good distance. You’re roughly three quarters there when from beneath you sense an emanation of vile triumph, a well laid trap bearing fruit.

You shift quickly, turning your abyssal gaze to focus on where the emission rests- and then find yourself swatted across the surface shadows of the water hard by a movement, for a brief moment you’re as a dark skipping stone along the surface the though waves.

You right your smoky limbs; forming a multitude to regain your solidness upon the dark waters. Examining yourself you appear largely unharmed, feeling that the strike had only hit water, and feel quite lucky you didn’t get knocked towards the depths far away from the shallows. Though you didn’t get a good look at the creature.

The vile emanations surge towards you tinged with some sort of dutiful desperation, but with the very short distance between you and the shore you reach it with haste- using your multitudes of smoky limbs to carry you across the darkness of the water and onto the shore. If this had been during the day it would likely be impossible, you think, while the creature fumes at you with a strange despair from the shallows behind you. It’s intelligent, you feel, and you wonder if you should emanate anything towards it, perhaps a feeling of victory?

>Taunt it, you won after all. It should know how well you know that.
>You don’t feel the need to, and would rather journey onwards.
>Emanate something else.

>>308110
>the though
>*of the

>>308110
>Emanate curiosity. what is it, why is it, and why did it attack?

>>308110
>>Emanate something else.
Emanate power or something to make it fear us. Lets make it so that it won't mess with us on the way back.

>>308130
I'm in agreement with this.
I kinda want to pick a fight so we can beat it and enslave it, but eh. Job to do.

>>308130
>>308133
>>308156
Since none of these are contradictory, I'll combine and-
>writing!

You’re curious, and you emit so openly. You question why it attacked you. The shallows stir, white froth birthed from just below. Directed at you is a sense of duty, word bound to soul, and you know of what it speaks very well. An Accord is the reason this creature attacked you. You question what it is, to which it questions what you are. As terse as that is it’s a good enough answer.

You emit something of your power- a searing smoky darkness, to intimidate it into submission. It returns angrily that it knows it’s much stronger than you are, and that its senses are better than yours. It emits to you its duty, and you receive the faintest of visions; a small brush clad little girl, hair adorned with simple orchids. Then a surge of great determination- and anger. It emits that it will wait for you to return, and when you do it will maintain its Accord. It imparts the faintest vision of a two-eyed smoky creature crushed between rows of teeth. It feels its victory is assured.

>Leave this thing and turn your attentions to the sensing cord.
>Perhaps you have a response, or a question further? (Write-In)

>>308266
>Leave this thing and turn your attentions to the sensing cord.

>>308266
>>Leave this thing and turn your attentions to the sensing cord.
Well shit. Healer totally set us up to get killed didn't she?

>>308266
Perhaps we need not fight. Can spirits accord with one another? If they can, maybe we can accord with it to do things it cannot, being restrained to water. But such should likely be done when we finish our current accord.

It performs a duty, so there is no hostility to be had on a personal level.

>>308266
>Leave this thing and turn your attentions to the sensing cord.

>>308281
>Can spirits accord with one another?
Quite so, according to your innate knowledge.

If you have something in mind to propose, you could do so now, if you feel it something it may acquiesce to.

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is sitting at the water's edge and talking to this thing an option? We've been wondering IC about the age and power of spirits and we know little to nothing about any other spriits or how they generally act and function in this world.

We can take a moment to talk to this one and, by extension, uncover the darker secrets of our own identity and the bredth of our potential powers

>>308297
ask who it is, how it came to be, what other spirits it knows

maybe ask about the types of elemental spirits the healer was talking about earlier

Eh, the daughter certainly doesn't want to be followed.

>>308320
Sure, just ask what you'd like to know, Dark Spirit. Though you're uncertain of it's willingness to answers, you can always ask.

>>308342
>>308342
also ask how it was summoned and the nature of it's accord ritual and the one who contracted it. Deep sea spirit ally is a go

>>308337
>>308281
>>308355
If there's no additions I'll write for these questions, and then finish with
>turn your attentions to the sensing cord.

>and clackity goes the keys

>>308364
sounds good to me.

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You shift your smoky form within the shadows of a tree, noting that one’s here are much smaller. You flit across the sand making the shyest of imprints as you make your way to a resting posture just by the dark shallows that conceal this spirit. You make an effort to emit no hostility; acknowledging that it has a duty to hold, and you’ll bear it no ill will for its Accord. It returns a bitter dismissal, but you maintain the undertone regardless. After a few small moments it appears to relent just slightly, and so you emit that you’ve been Accorded to walk to this place- you do not emit the details, though you each know you’re hiding them. It acknowledges that it will answer what it can.

You emanate curiosity at its name, it emanates that it was Accorded not to speak unless spoken to by the one it protects. You question who, it returns a vision of the orchid-adorned girl. You hope this is the only spirit she put between herself and her mother. At your thinking of the Healer, it emits a bitter amusement, though it doesn’t clarify, and you feel it does not intend to. More importantly, it has a voice and it could speak with you were it not disallowed its use at the moment. It seems the Healer’s daughter also enjoys heavy restrictions. You emit further curiosity for the conditions that were struck, but it emits only scorn in return. You try for more information on the little girl, or perhaps the Healer, and you’re splashed back hard by a heavy wave.

Trailing your dripping smoky form, you return to the water’s edge- trying very hard to maintain your emanation of peace. You emit interest as to how it came to be, to which it quickly responds with pleasure. You’re granted a slightly stronger vision than before, of deep cold waters with heavy currents, well traversed by ships in great numbers. Sailors drop offerings into the waters, ranging from coins that shine like the sun to well-worn personal effects of great sentimental value. It takes them as payment for fighting off certain dangers of the sea and changing currents to become more favorable. It collects these in secret places, and then gives them as gifts to travelers with wearied souls.

It helped something, is its last tone to the story.

With how clear the vision is you feel this spirit is hiding most of its power from you, and conclude evenly that it would’ve been a hard fought battle. It then emits sadness, and loss, though with no visions you can’t entirely discern why. Yet you are sure, that waters cold and the ships many, it’s far from where it was born. Then there is a sudden resurgence of dedication. It won’t show you mercy when you try to cross these waters, it will not fail its duty twice and allow its Accord weakened further.

You ask if it knows of other spirits, to which it returns yes. You’re granted a vision of a two-eyed smoky darkness crushed between many rows of jagged teeth. You don’t dignify its fantasy with a response, instead turning your attention to the sensing cord. You focus- and are met with much more information than you’d expected. You wonder if it’s because such a device is supposed to be used by mortals who are not so sensitive to souls.

Somewhere deep on this island is the one who’s most connected to the cord of hair, and you sense the soul’s emanations- they’re joyful, amused, and thrilled. Though, as powerful as the cord is you can’t divine specifics. Further, there are two others that the bracelet responds to, but these much more weakly. Somewhere wet, from which comes a simple and solid emanation of fear. Somewhere high, where rests a simple emanation of lust- though for why or what remains obscured. You consider your options while shifting between the splashes issued forth by the sea spirit.

>To the depths of the island, you’re sure the girl is there.
>It’s much closer, so perhaps you’ll take a look at the source of fear.
>Though quite high, it’s not too distant- maybe find out what’s creating that lust.
>Write-In.

>>308638
>To the depths of the island, you’re sure the girl is there.

>>308638
>Though quite high, it’s not too distant- maybe find out what’s creating that lust.

>>308638
>>Write-In.
Lets investigate whichever one is closest.

>>308683
Ah, didn't read the choices very well did I? Lets check out the source of the fear.

>>308665
>>308674
>>308683
Would anyone venture a tie-breaker?