>>3946406
here to steal first post

>>3946406
The erratic throbbing of your pulse drowns out the rioting, the cruelty of your captor, and even the incessant beat of the music around you. The blood slaked across your bandages is a deeper crimson than the passages before you, the haze that's settled over your vision, or the fire adorning Remigius' head. The horrific pressure in your gut, the weight of the drugs forced into you, the suffocating grasp of the demon around you, and every excruciating step you're being dragged through is almost worse than any Catalyst you've survived.

This is my fault. I could have stopped at any time. I could have shown Mercy. I could have listened. I have tried to be manipulative, to be cunning, to push my luck, to do everything other than what I was asked to do— and where has it taken me? I'm alone. Why do I keep pushing everyone away? Why don't I ever stop?

A part of you is cognizant that the succubus is still talking. Time stretches on, further than your limits have been stretched tonight, and your hellish procession continues. Her lair is a labyrinth, devoid of markings and utterly foreign to you. For all your knowledge of the ruins, for all of this domain's Flesh, you have never felt so lost.

I still deserve the blessing of the Gods, don't I? For all of my recent sin, haven't I done everything in Their name?
Haven't I dedicated my life to Mercy? Why can't I feel Them?
Is it the drugs? Is this Remigius' doing? Or have They finally forsaken me?
What have I ever done to deserve Them?

Remigius' words intermingle with your haphazard pulse, and you're uncertain which one is more indicative of your impending death.

"We're here, Daddy. Time's up. I know you must have a hard time recognizing when someone is showing restraint, but here it is. Here's some fucking courtesy."

Through the pounding heat, the rush of blood, the unbearable weight in your stomach and the constant desire to lay down and die, you try to focus on what the demon is gesturing to.

It's a cage.

The labyrinth seems to open out into an arena encased entirely in bars made of bone, sinew, veins and viscera. Though you've scarcely been able to tell the source of the rioting before, you now see countless demons gathered around the chamber that looms ahead. It stretches to the ceiling, at least 50 feet high, and spans across an equal width of the room. Your pulse and the screams of the demons ahead are deafening.

Remigius whispers in your ear with all the intimacy and violence that you've come to expect from her.

"I know you only want one thing. I'll give you a fight. You give them a good show, and I'll let you leave. I'll get the drugs out of your system. I'll even fix up your body!"

My body. Mercy, what has she done to me? Would Agriculture see fit to bless me, after everything she forced into me? Would Flesh even be able to work through me?

(1/2)

>>3946408
"You go crying back to your friends, you bitch and you plead for forgiveness, and we pretend like none of this ever happened— but you fucking humiliated me in private, Daddy. I'm going to do the same to you in public."

Your reverie is cut short, her threats instantly realized, as you're promptly shoved forward into the chaos and crimson. The jeers and taunts from the crowd are unbearably explicit. You long to shut out the abuse, to pray, to attune yourself to something other than the overwhelming reminder of your failures.

This can't be the end. They can't all be right.
I'm not a heathen, am I?
I can't be worse than a demon.
Did I not succeed in protecting my friends, time after time?
Have I not remained honest— to myself, to the Gods, to my enemies and everyone else that's trusted me?
I absolutely succeeded in aiding Yech. No one can deny that I've shown him Mercy.
I'm not a complete failure.
This fight can't be over.

"I gave you more chances than anyone should have ever given you, you piece of shit. You'll show Yech a good time, you'll give him everything he needs, and you won't do a damn thing for me?! You want to try and play me— we'll fucking play! Let's hear it! You tell me everything you want to say, you show me all that hate, all that fucking insecurity! Lay into me! Or would you rather me just keep beating on you?!"

You're pushed forward again. The heat of so many bodies pushed into the arena is crushing. The air is stifling, your heart uprooted through your lungs as you stagger forward. The cage leers ahead.

"So what's it going to be?! Are you just going to fucking take it?!"

This demon has possibly severed my connection to the Gods, tried to ruin my body, my mind, and has never once shown me anything but hostility. She's utterly insane, and she wants me to talk to her?

>A) You'll fight Remigius.
>1) But you want it to be a fair. No Gods, no Magic, no shape-shifting, no drugs, no restraints. You won't be humiliated.
>2) And you'll crush her. After everything she's done to you, you aren't holding back.
>3) Though you won't touch her again. Take what she can dish out, like you know you can, and try to find equal footing. Talk to her while she lets all of her aggression out. It's clear that she won't back down so easily.

>B) You won't do this.
>1) Apologize for everything. Make it clear that you want to listen, that her words haven't fallen on deaf ears. See if there's any way you can make amends, before things escalate any further. Maybe there's still a way to salvage your mission.
>2) Threaten her, if you have to, but do everything in your power to not get into a fighting ring with a succubus. There's no telling how badly this could end. Make it clear that you aren't willingly doing anything else that Remigius wants you to.

>C) Write-in.

>>3946412
>>A) You'll fight Remigius.
>3) Though you won't touch her again. Take what she can dish out, like you know you can, and try to find equal footing. Talk to her while she lets all of her aggression out. It's clear that she won't back down so easily.

>>3946412
A2

>>3946412
We need to call her out on her bs I think but anyone who says or think we aren't also in the wrong is wrong.

Fighting her is the worst thing we could do right now

we should just ask her what she wants then, straight up , no pussyfooting around, she answers that question straight and we work from there. What does she want us to do, or want from us

>>3946416
>>3946421

have we learned nothing?

>>3946422
>>3946416
changing my vote to this

>>3946422
Adding on so this is more like an actual write in.

We need to apologize for our behavior , sincerely. We thought our hand was forced. and in that we made mistakes. She has to see how her treatment didn't help in any way, and we cannot help her if we don't know what it is she needs from us. She knows there are things we can't give her, just as there are probably things she can't give us. Both of us need to speak for once , without the innuendo or contempt from either side

Idk , thought about doing that in an actual quote but getting the speech patterns was a tenuous proposition at best

>>3946428
Appreciated dude, no worries about write-ins being verbatim.

Leaving this open for just another 15-20 minutes or so since you guys are so on the ball.

>>3946422
Exactly fucking right. If we fight her now, even lay a single hand on her, we're only going to continue to prove her words. Chin up chest out as best our battered and addled form can.

>>3946412
>B) You won't do this.
>1) Apologize for everything. Make it clear that you want to listen, that her words haven't fallen on deaf ears. See if there's any way you can make amends, before things escalate any further. Maybe there's still a way to salvage your mission.

To make it official.

>>3946421
One for crushing her

>>3946422
>>3946423
>>3946425
>>3946428
>>3946451
>>3946453
And overwhelming consensus otherwise to apologize.

Locking the vote here, writing now!

>>3946463
Your clenched fists, your gritted teeth, the swell of abuse and resentment in your gut and all of the hatred you hold for this demon's kind is unbearable.

You can't stand it any longer.

Have I learned nothing?

Through the haze of intoxication, you try to straighten up, to turn and face Remigius. She stops shoving you the moment you show sign of directing your focus towards her. The succubus bristles, her hair on end, but you don't permit her to talk over you any longer. Against the backdrop of so many other monsters, her meek and manic form seems a lot less intimidating.

Though you're battered and broken, you still put your best face forward. It's too much to take your arms from your sides, to stop the tremor or to stand completely straight— but you soften your expression, and look to your tormentor with absolute sincerity.

Even if the Gods aren't here with me now, I still have lived to serve them. I am a preacher.
It's been too long since I've acted like one.

"I'm sorry."

Your soft-spoken words are nearly drowned out by the roar of the countless demons surrounding you both. It's impossible to tell if the succubus is toying with you, or legitimately can't hear you as she leans in again, screaming.

"What?! You're joking— you must be fucking kidding me! After everything you've done—!"

"Stop. Remigius, your treatment of me hasn't helped, and I've thought my hand has been forced— but even I can see that this isn't getting us anywhere— that I was horribly mistaken. I'm sorry. I know you don't want to hear what I can or can't do, but I can't help you if I can't even begin to understand what it is that you need."

The flush of the demon's domain, the scarlet of her hair and the crimson on your wounds is nowhere near as red as her eyes. It's obvious that she has been crying. She bores into you in disbelief and no small measure of rage.

"You must still be drugged. There's no fucking way that you'd listen to me. Shut the fuck up and fight me."

There's still absolutely something in your system. Though your senses are dulled, you do everything in your power to hold your ground, to put out your chest, to straighten up further and make yourself clear.

"There are some things that I simply can't do for you, Remigius— just as there are some things you won't do for me. Please, try to understand."

The succubus stiffens even further. You're reminded more of a cat that's been cornered than of a demon, as she silently glares at you.

"You can't let your guard down, can you? You won't show any weakness here— surrounded by your friends— will you?"

(1/2)

>>3946500
She practically hisses back at you.

"I've told you what I want. You still don't fucking get it."

"Is it even possible for us to speak plainly to one another? Without any innuendo— or contempt? I understand that you want me to live up to your expectations, Remigius, but I can't even begin to understand what they are if you won't stop attacking me or pushing me to sin. ...I can't fight you."

So much distress crosses the demon's face, you have to wonder if you've actually wounded her merely through words alone.

"Why should I believe you? How the fuck can you expect me to trust you, when everything you've done has told me otherwise?"

>A) You aren't a liar. If nothing else, your word has always been your bond. Promise Remigius that you won't lay another hand on her, and see if she'd be willing to deescalate this nightmare in return.

>B) She doesn't have to trust you. You've given her absolutely no reason to. Admit that you've failed her, and own up to your mistakes. Maybe she'd be willing to acknowledge her own failings if you start to, first.

>C) Acknowledge that you're almost entirely incapable of defending yourself right now. Don't mince words: you don't like anything about your current situation, and you want out. Ask her if there's somewhere safer you can speak, and leave it at that.

>D) Write-in.

>>3946501
>>A) You aren't a liar. If nothing else, your word has always been your bond. Promise Remigius that you won't lay another hand on her, and see if she'd be willing to deescalate this nightmare in return.
"I am a lot of things, but i am not a liar, i couldnt lie about a pair of keys, how could i lie about this?"

>>3946501
>B) She doesn't have to trust you. You've given her absolutely no reason to. Admit that you've failed her, and own up to your mistakes. Maybe she'd be willing to acknowledge her own failings if you start to, first.
The first step to reform is admitting to having a problem. She's been pretty adamant about telling us where we've gone wrong, but it might be best for her to hear it straight from our mouth in earnest. I'd also like to add in the promise not to lay a hand on her from A, if possible.

>>3946510
>>B) She doesn't have to trust you. You've given her absolutely no reason to. Admit that you've failed her, and own up to your mistakes. Maybe she'd be willing to acknowledge her own failings if you start to, first.

>>3946505
>>3946510
>>3946513
Locking the vote here, going with the B majority with the bit from A as requested.

Trying to leave a bit in between these updates to give everyone some time for discussion and to digest everything, so thanks for your patience guys. Writing now!

>>3946520
Had to unexpectedly take care of an errand, actually writing now. Apologies for the delay.

>>3946543
The urge to clutch at your sides, to double over in agony, to lay down and die is rapidly becoming eclipsed by the need to do something decent. You fight through the discomfort and self-resentment to look straight at Remigius.

"Don't."

She recoils.

"...what?"

"You don't have to trust me. You shouldn't. I've given you no reason to."

Either the constant din of the demons around you is becoming easier to ignore, the cocktail of drugs in you is spurring you on, or you're actually feeling better about what you're doing. No matter the reason, you manage to keep talking.

"We've both been in the wrong here, but I can't just stand here and pretend like I haven't failed you."

"Are you trying to imply something, you little shit?"

"I'm trying to speak plainly, Remigius— but you don't have to take my word for it. I don't expect you to."

Merely trying to stand upright and speak at length is so taxing that you have to stop a moment. Cringing from the cramps in your stomach, hands on your knees, you're stunned by the fact that the succubus actually waits for you to finish what you have to say. You look up to her, in a cold sweat, your conviction unwavering.

"I swear I won't lay another hand on you."

Remigius looks so disgusted that it comes as no surprise when she actually spits on you.

There's a roar from the dozens of demons on every side of the arena.

She looks around, wildly, seemingly in no state to handle your apology or your situation as you wipe off her judgement.

Is this too little, too late? What more can I possibly do?

"I'll ask you again, Remigius: what do you even want from me?"

Wide-eyed, the demon looks to you with the same shark-like grin as before. Her expression is so entirely unhinged that you want to draw back. Your reaction is delayed, and she brings herself close to you once more, to the jeers and whistles of the crowd. Leaning in impossibly close to you, drawing out a groan as she grasps onto your fractured shoulder, she presses her lips to the base of your neck, whispering into your ear.

"You want to know what I want? I want you. Not the pomp and ceremony, not the fear or insecurity. Not what you want to prove and not who you think you need to be. I want you as you really are. I thought you'd forgotten yourself, and now I've got this whole fucking stage with no show to put on. You're humiliating me again, Daddy—"

There's a hand slipping from your shoulder to the countless scars along your back. You realize a moment too late what the demon's intent is, as she pulls you in flush against her. The chaos of the audience is altogether lost to her heat and insanity.

"I don't know what to do. I want to kill you, here and now— but you're teasing me, Daddy. You can't just give me what I want when everyone is watching. You're obscene. You should have saved this for the bedroom. How am I supposed to get us any privacy now?"

(Options in next post)

>>3946571
>A) Offer for her to stage a fight with you. The demons get their show, she gets some mania out, you get your kicks, and you can hopefully leave without a fuss. Make it clear to Remigius that you will keep your word, but that you want to help her maintain appearances. They do seem to be very important to her.

>B) Keep her close. Keep talking. Tell her what she wants to hear. You've never hesitated to talk about yourself, your tenets or your Gods before. You won't shy away from this attention now. Not when she clearly needs you.

>C) Pull away, and simply tell Remigius to dismiss her demons. She has ultimate control over her domain and every demon under her. You've only encountered a handful of demons in your entire life that you didn't ultimately control, either. Assert yourself, your focus, what you know you do best.

>D) Write-in.

>>3946571
>>A) Offer for her to stage a fight with you. The demons get their show, she gets some mania out, you get your kicks, and you can hopefully leave without a fuss. Make it clear to Remigius that you will keep your word, but that you want to help her maintain appearances. They do seem to be very important to her.
"Remigius, the real me? Im not sure i know who that is, the church is all ive ever known."

>>3946572
>B) Keep her close. Keep talking. Tell her what she wants to hear. You've never hesitated to talk about yourself, your tenets or your Gods before. You won't shy away from this attention now. Not when she clearly needs you.

>>3946578
This is literally what she said she was tired of us doing, we should shut the fuck about the gods and try to explain ourselves

>>3946572
this >>3946577

>>3946572
>>B) Keep her close. Keep talking. Tell her what she wants to hear. You've never hesitated to talk about yourself, your tenets or your Gods before. You won't shy away from this attention now. Not when she clearly needs you.
Dab on Remi


in all actuality,

>Write-in
"Humiliating me won't give me what you really want, you know. You wanted to know me? Well, your little coterie doesn't help things any, and putting on a show won't do anything but assuage damaged pride. People like us have no use of pride."

>>3946614
Adding
>A) Offer for her to stage a fight with you. The demons get their show, she gets some mania out, you get your kicks, and you can hopefully leave without a fuss. Make it clear to Remigius that you will keep your word, but that you want to help her maintain appearances. They do seem to be very important to her.

to the vote. I just want to tell her the truth about what shes doing first.

>>3946578
Going to go with the majority on this one

>>3946577
>>3946595
>>3946614
>>3946632
For the write-ins and to fight. Absolutely digging the discussion guys. Writing now!

>>3946634
You stay in the succubi's arms for a moment longer, enough to speak to her discreetly. It's not that you want to hide the truth from the demons in the audience.

It's that you respect her wishes enough to caution her before she makes another mistake.

"Humiliating me won't give either of us what you really want."

"I know."

"You do?"

"Of course. This is all for them, Daddy. This has never been about me."

"I thought you wanted to know me. Your coterie is not helping, Remigius."

"What do think you know?"

"Putting on a show won't assuage damaged pride. People like— like us— have no use for it."

The succubus pulls back, her bare body and utterly weakened form glaring back at you. You practically fall after her, righting yourself as quickly as you're able. She looks down at you, as you put your hands to your knees once again.

"What makes you think I have any pride? What makes you think you fucking know me?"

"The church is all I've ever known, Remigius. I scarcely know what to think of you."

"And I suppose that's why you don't fucking know yourself, either?"

"I don't know. I want to help you, Remigius. I won't fight you, and I can't say I know with any certainty who you expect me to be."

I have no idea who I even am. I know what I want, what I need, but who I really am?

"...I can at least help you with this."

The succubus looks at you with utter disbelief as you raise your chin to her, discreetly beckoning for her to hit you.

"Go on. Stage it. We'll keep up your appearances. I have no use for any pride, remember? You do what you need to do. I know how important this is to you."

There's a long pause. It's heavier than the drugs, the weight dragging you down, the exhaustion and pain edging back into the corners of every inch of your body.

Remigius raises her arms to the demons around you both.

(1/2)

https://youtu.be/FbmnDBDHWKc

They instantly silence themselves.

Her voice rings out in the same uncanny resonance you've heard so many times before. The speech clings to the walls, the floor, rattling the bones of the cage looming before you and shaking you to your core. Though her tone is unbelievably vibrant, you can feel the sag in her shoulders, the defeat with which she begins to push you forward towards the death trap ahead.

"Thank you all for your ABSOLUTE LACK of fucking patience! I know we've lost quite a few heads tonight, but who'd like to see one more roll?!"

The surge of jeering and rioting the moment Remigius provokes the audience stands every hair on your body on end.

She could command them all to try and kill me at any moment.

She quiets the chaos with another wave of her hands.

"That's too fucking bad— my maleficent monsters, you'd all blow your loads before we get started! I know you've been waiting all night! I'm here to reward you, my darlings, my demons!"

There's a surge of agreement, of applause, and silence once more.

"Our HONORED guest, the Father HIMSELF, has had the unprecedented privilege of my undivided attention! AND DO YOU ALL SEE WHERE IT'S GOTTEN HIM?!"

Remigius is looking your beaten, bloated and entirely ravaged body over. You feel the eyes of a hundred demons on you, and there is nowhere to hide, nowhere to turn. The succubus is refusing to touch you in plain sight of what is surely every demon in her domain, with nothing to distract you from her voice and the total command she holds over the room.

"As a token of OUR appreciation, we're giving him yet another gift! AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT IS?!"

The demon is pointing straight at you.

She's asking you directly.

She's finally speaking plainly.

Mercy, no.

"OH, DON'T BE SHY, DADDY. You might not know us, but we sure know you! Go on. Tell us. Let us know how you'd like to spend your time in the fuck zone."

The look on Remigius' face says that she's trusting you to not step out of line. Every word that falls from her lips is more abrasive and horrific than the last. Something about the way she's pointing to you reminds you of a spell, and though you're not certain of the mechanism, you strongly suspect she's about to amplify whatever you say next.

>A) You'll "fight" Remigius. You can't imagine putting on a convincing display in your current state, but you'll try. Pull every punch, banter, and distract the audience— but don't lay a finger on her.

>B) You'll "fight" her, and don't put on a show. Make it obvious to everyone in the audience how thoroughly she's worked you over. This is too much. You don't want to die here. Not like this.

>C) You'll let her beat you within an inch of your life. Keep your judgement to yourself, but you'd rather her humiliate you than to touch her. Your disgust for so much degeneracy is absolutely mutual.

>D) Write-in.

>>3946681
>>B) You'll "fight" her, and don't put on a show. Make it obvious to everyone in the audience how thoroughly she's worked you over. This is too much. You don't want to die here. Not like this.

C is like...too much, and I doubt A will work quite well , but I am willing to change my mind if convinced

>>3946684
Remember, the goal is to give her what she wants and to show Mercy.

>>3946685
Right but would that be C? we're so thoroughly beaten already that I fear for our health kek

>>3946681
>A) You'll "fight" Remigius. You can't imagine putting on a convincing display in your current state, but you'll try. Pull every punch, banter, and distract the audience— but don't lay a finger on her.
dab dab dab, she promised to fix our body after she was done anyway

>>3946689
>>3946684
right ...so I guess I change to A I suppose

>>3946681

>A) You'll "fight" Remigius. You can't imagine putting on a convincing display in your current state, but you'll try. Pull every punch, banter, and distract the audience— but don't lay a finger on her.

>>3946689
addon writein: tell her we can consider chaste handholding in the fuck zone

>>3946694
based and mercypilled

>>3946692
>>3946691
>>3946689
>>3946688
>>3946685
>>3946684
Going with the majority for A here. I dislike doing majority votes in most cases but Remi is making a special kind of hell.

Vote is locked! Writing now.

>>3946699
backing this >>3946694

>>3946699
>>3946713
As you expected, as soon as you begin to speak, your voice is amplified throughout the entire arena. You try to put on your best show, but you are a terrible actor, and the spotlight is making your speech dramatically worse than it would be otherwise.

"I'll— I'll contend with you, Remigius. I'll show you what you asked— what I promised. We'll fight."

There's a huge surge of jeering, of various bodily fluids being thrown from the crowd, of an overwhelming consensus that no one wants to see what you have to share.

The finger being pointed at you promptly pulls away, before you can say anything further.

It's almost as if she's scared of what I might say.

"YOU HEARD THE MAN! HE WANTS A FIGHT! WHAT MORE COULD WE ASK FOR?!"

The uproar from the audience is deafening.

You make a small show of putting up resistance against the succubus as she pushes you adjacent to the cage. The haze around the edges of your mind are gradually lifting, leading you to wonder in part how much time you've spent in Remigius' domain, and just how drugged you still are.

Rather than a door opening to gain entry, the succubus shoves you aside to rip the flesh and sinew of the cage apart with her bare hands. After making the opening, she takes a moment to smear a huge quantity of the blood and viscera over herself.

You look to her with legitimate disgust.

She grabs you by the throat, and drags you inside.

You can't help but choke through her grasp, coughing, smiling. You sincerely grin as you dig into the ruse, the pain, the suffocation.

"It isn't too late— to consider holding hands here, is it? Something chaste—?"

The smile wanes. You genuinely want to dodge away from the punch directed straight at your abdomen, but it's impossible to move with your usual dexterity. The blow sinks in, taking with it the rest of the air from your lungs and any doubt as to how soft your body has become over the course of the week.

There's a cry from the crowd, as you fall to your knees, blood coming to your lips. There's little pain, only enough to barely grab your attention, but the blow had to have done some serious damage for you to respond in such a way. Remigius lifts your head with one of her feet, not even bothering to touch you with her hands.

"Disgusting. Let's see you use your fucking blessings now."

With righteous frustration, you stagger to your feet, and spit another wad of viscera to the floor.

"I've been called worse— felt worse— looked worse. Is this really the best you can do?"

(1/2)

>>3946805
The demon lets loose a scream, throwing herself at you, and tackling you both to the floor. You both tumble for several moments, fighting for dominance. She's all too eager to play dirty, spreading the blood from her hands across your face. You want to retch, and the moment of hesitation gives her the upper and. Pressing your head to the bottom of the cage, Remigius pulls back hard on your hair, and you lean into the motion. Pulling with her aggression, giving off the impression of attempting to slip out of her grasp, you only going harder into it.

Remigius leans in, whispering to you as she tries to grab your the arm connected to your fracture shoulder, which you expertly work into her hands.

"You're not bad at this. ...you wanted my best, though, Daddy? Here it is!"

Dread and elation hits you, harder and faster than any other blow the demon has dealt to you.

She's going to break it. I doubt Flesh could heal the wound in my current state. Mercy certainly wouldn't. Mercy, she's not hesitating—

>A) Pull away, as quickly as you can, and hope to keep the damage to a minimum. You can't afford such a serious injury when you're uncertain of your connection to the Gods, and it will look like you're putting up an honest fight.

>B) Try to subdue Remigius in turn. You swore to not lay a hand on her, but maybe you can do something desperate enough to distract her. Pull away the moment she loosens her grasp.
>1) Make a scene. Have her pull on your hair, the rest of your body, anywhere that you can conceive of to protect your tenuous chastity and the damaged bone.
>2) Say something so explicit that she'd have to stop. (Write-in literally anything you think might work)

>C) You're a terrible hand-to-hand combatant without the Gods, and you swore to not lay a hand on Remigius, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
>1) Try to hold her hand. That'll show her.
>2) Try to get her off of you. The struggle might make things worse, but you will at least still be keeping one of your promises to her.

>D) Let her have her way, her show, and the injury. You said you'd go along with her ruse, and you're going to commit.

>E) Write-in.

>>3946810
>>D) Let her have her way, her show, and the injury. You said you'd go along with her ruse, and you're going to commit.
You all set us on this path, take it like a fucking man.

>>3946810
>>D) Let her have her way, her show, and the injury. You said you'd go along with her ruse, and you're going to commit.
The gods are tired of our shit anyway might aswell take it like a fucking man. Mercy didnt raise no pussy.

>>3946810
>D) Let her have her way, her show, and the injury. You said you'd go along with her ruse, and you're going to commit.
walk steady and carry a big Dichard

>>3946815
>>3946821
>>3946846
Hoo boy. Alright. Let's do this. Vote is locked, writing now.

>>3946810
>D) Let her have her way, her show, and the injury. You said you'd go along with her ruse, and you're going to commit.
"Do it. Show me what you want from me, so I can help you."

>>3946914
Take it like a fucking man. The church didn't raise me to be a coward. I set myself on this path. Take it like a fucking man.

"Do it. Show me what you want from me. Let me help you."

https://youtu.be/a6BbvCC0VI0

There's absolutely no suppressing your scream. It tears through the roar of the audience, the sickening snap of the bone, the excruciating and perfect agony that causes your arm to go slack, bruises to blossom, and for gold to burst before your eyes.

Every ragged breath from your chest, deeper and heavier than the drugs, causes another surge of pain to crash into you. Remigius simply leans back and watches the fruits of her labor, your hitching breath, your struggle to maintain your composure.

Through gritted teeth, through blood and the inescapable release, you drag your head along the floor, to try and get up, to keep up the fight.

The crowd somehow becomes even more wild.

Remigius grins to you, broadly, pulling you up, onto your knees. The sudden movement elicits another scream, as the bone shifts and the break moves freely. There aren't enough drugs in all of Corcaea to dull the momentum.

"MERCY—!"

You're jerked again, harder, onto your feet. You can't speak coherently, but a cacophony of haphazard gasps and pleas to your Goddess are falling from you like so much blood from your lips. You can't think. You clutch, instinctively, to the site of the break, to steady it, to reduce as much permanent damage as you possibly can.

Restraint. Discipline. Conviction.

Mercy.

Mercy.

Mercy—!

The succubus is keeping you on your feet, embracing you, and moving you just enough to constantly aggravate the break.

She whispers to you once again, though you can scarcely hear her over the chorus of your devotion.

"Not bad, Daddy. Not bad at all. Don't you dare disappoint me now. We're almost through here."

Her voice rings out through the arena, the vibration coursing through you. You lean into her, desperate for something to steady the pleasure against, the pain, the blessing, the curse.

"Can you all please give it up for our favorite loser?!"

The pandemonium of your audience reaches their climax, the sound of their revelry collapsing in on itself as you struggle to remain concious and in control.

It's a losing battle.

Remigius looks to you with so much depravity that you instinctively pull back. You instantly regret and savor the motion, unable to still yourself, taken back into her grasp in an instant.

She moves to raise your arm above your head.

"Take a bow, Daddy, and I'll go get you patched up. Just like I promised."

(Options in next post)

Oh, good. During this act would have been the perfect time to see if Agriculture could work against the poison in our system, but no, let's not do that. Let's immediately default back to violence. That's what I get for having things to do.

>>3946920
>A) Try to think of of the church, of Ray, of fishing along the cold river Morinburn, of getting out of the ruins, of taking long walks through the streets of Eadric— of anything and everything you possibly can other than the present moment. Anything to steel yourself.

>B) Take the bow, the pleasure, the pain, the injury and the demon's appreciation without another moment's hesitation. This is the path you chose. You're going to enjoy it.

>C) Pray to Mercy to grant you restraint.

>D) Pray to Flesh to save yourself from catastrophic damage.

>E) Write-in.

>>3946924
>>A) Try to think of of the church, of Ray, of fishing along the cold river Morinburn, of getting out of the ruins, of taking long walks through the streets of Eadric— of anything and everything you possibly can other than the present moment. Anything to steel yourself.

>>3946922
If it makes you feel better, anon, it's not too late. You're still drugged.

>>3946924
>>A) Try to think of of the church, of Ray, of fishing along the cold river Morinburn, of getting out of the ruins, of taking long walks through the streets of Eadric— of anything and everything you possibly can other than the present moment. Anything to steel yourself.
THINK OF GWEN TOO

>>3946922
Prayer is a bad move in front of the demons , they aren't exactly pleased by it , and we are trying to "help" her

>>3946924
>>A) Try to think of of the church, of Ray, of fishing along the cold river Morinburn, of getting out of the ruins, of taking long walks through the streets of Eadric— of anything and everything you possibly can other than the present moment. Anything to steel yourself.
Whisper gently in Remi's ear, like a soft zephyr of the North Wind: "Do it, pussy."

>>3946924
>B) Take the bow, the pleasure, the pain, the injury and the demon's appreciation without another moment's hesitation. This is the path you chose. You're going to enjoy it.

>>3946935
>THINK OF GWEN TOO
and everyone else ... especially Ofelia :^)

>>3946924
>A) Try to think of of the church, of Ray, of fishing along the cold river Morinburn, of getting out of the ruins, of taking long walks through the streets of Eadric— of anything and everything you possibly can other than the present moment. Anything to steel yourself.
Don't give up. See if we still have some kind of tentative link to the Gods, see if we can COUNTERACT THE POISON IN OUR BODY THAT IS LITERALLY INHIBITING US.

So glad I missed it. So glad people can't read a room and immediately default to the violent option. So proud of everyone. Let's see how much more fucked this can get. LET'S GO.

>>3946924
>With this pain you suffer, your path is shifted for the better. You have to admit, despite your faults here, Remigius did in fact help you. Yech's help was in one way, hers is another. Maybe... maybe there is hope for you yet? You've lasted this long, and truths aren't always immediate to set in. Maybe, in the midst of this chaos, there is hope to be had in yourself. A hope you didn't hold dear before, a hope you rejected in favor of wallowing in hypocrisy and ignorance. A hope you are forced to confront and accept.
>Maybe... in the bowels of this utter hell... Mercy exists in a different form.
>A) Try to think of of the church, of Ray, of fishing along the cold river Morinburn, of getting out of the ruins, of taking long walks through the streets of Eadric— of anything and everything you possibly can other than the present moment. Anything to steel yourself.
>Whisper gently in Remi's ear, like a soft zephyr of the North Wind: "Do it, pussy. Finish driving in how wrong I am... so I can be better for once."

>>3946931
>>3946935
>>3946938
>>3946939
>>3946940
>>3946941
>>3946942
>>3946945
Wow you guys. That was fast. I'm floored. Love you all so much.

Vote is locked. Writing now.

>>3946965
I won't give up now. Oh, Mercy, I won't stop. There's no stopping this. Not for Celegwen, for Ofelia, for all of the women I could ever be with— Mercy, this is a blessing. This has all been for the better. I can't pray. I don't need to. Remigius has been helping me, all along. There's hope. Nothing can ever be easy for me, and Mercy, it doesn't have to be— there's hope, despite my hypocrisy and ignorance. I've rejected so much, but I know now. I have to confront it. I have to accept it.

There's Mercy here, in a different form.

Think of Ray. Think of Celegwen— think of fishing. Cold mornings on the river Morinburn. Walking down the streets of Eadric, through the dead of winter. Think of baking, of Ofelia, and of everything that I have waiting for me when I get back, to the surface, of hope and light and relief—

https://youtu.be/ZX27xtlt4Qo

"Do it, Remigius! Do it— do it, do it, drive it in! FINISH! Show me how wrong I've been—! SO I CAN BE BETTER, FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE—! MERCY—! MERCY!"

-----

No one visits you in the darkness.

Not that you're aware of.

You awaken, sitting upright, your arm in a sling, in a change of clean clothes. Not only is the acute pain in your abdomen and shoulder gone, your clothes fit properly again, and almost resemble your old robes.

Your bandages have been replaced underneath them.

Your head is a lot clearer.

Someone has changed your clothing while you were unconscious.

The red light of the arena, the countless demons, the chaos, the haze of the drugs and most of the discomfort is entirely gone.

Your eyes adjust to the light, as you try to figure out where you've awoken.

It looks like you're in a bar, well decorated and largely vacant. You are situated in the center, sitting in a reclining chair opposite a small table lined with more red candles. Several large windows across the stools and empty tables reveal the landscape of Remigius' domain. A bloody sunrise is breaking over countless demons leaving through countless doors.

There's a dull ache in your shoulder, and in your lap.

Remigius is sitting on your lap.

You want to bolt upright, to back away instinctively, your body instantly anticipating agony.

She keeps a hand firmly on your shoulder, muttering something under her breath.

She's in a different form than the ones you've seen previously. It's of an attractive woman, but with a far more modest frame, strawberry blonde hair, terribly pale skin, and stark yellow eyes. She's wearing a simple black dress, lined with gold, and you don't entirely mind the sight.

You remain silent for a few more moments as she finishes the incantation, feeling the healthy, sane relief spread through your shoulder as she finishes.

She's actually kept her word.

> (Do you have anything you want to say to her?)

>>3947047
Thank you.

>>3947051
yeah that ^

>>3947051
You're welcome, anon. You're welcome.

>>3947047
Was it a good show?
Can we talk now? Just talk.

>>3947056
Seriously though going to leave this open for a bit, will be back in roughly an hour.

>>3947047
Thank her for keeping her word, and compliment her on the form she chose for herself.

>>3947062
Yeah..though only say something along the lines of "I like this one better" or something...not too encouraging if that makes sense

>>3947047
I have nothing to say to her, to be honest, after what she did. It helped us in the end, yes, but it's fucking psychotic what she actually did to get us to this point.

>>3947066
Yeah, not too flirty or anything. Just be earnest about it.

>>3947051
>>3947055
>>3947057
>>3947062
>>3947066
>>3947071
>>3947086
Got it guys, back and writing now. This will be the last update of the day. Got work tomorrow and finals coming up, so we'll go for the usual 1-2 updates a day at least, afternoons and evenings EST.

Thanks so much for the awesome start to this thread. It's an absolute pleasure writing with you all.

Vote is locked!

>>3947176
Looking forward to it. As always, thanks for running.

>>3947176
"You— you kept your word, Remigius."

It isn't a question. You state the fact, plainly, hoping that saying it out loud will somehow make the situation you find yourself in feel less like a Dream.

"Yeah. What the fuck did you expect? It gets lonely down here. Good company's hard to come by. Couldn't send you off in the shape you were in."

The succubus finishes her spell entirely. You take off your sling effortlessly, enjoying the feeling of the mended sinew, the healthy limb and the complete absence of pain.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Seriously. Idonea would kill me."

You don't doubt it for a second, retreating into yourself as the succubus gets even more comfortable on your lap. She lazily drapes an arm over your healed shoulder before digging in an elbow, gently. It's obvious that she's merely testing her work, not trying to provoke a response from you.

There's little muscle that pushes back against her administrations. It's more bone, taut skin and neglected Flesh. You're terribly skinny again, but you're relieved to feel like your body is almost back to normal. It seems as if the demon has removed all traces of hers and Yech's work over you.

It's very hard to want to say anything to the demon. What you mistook for a series of night terrors upon awakening hits you as actual memories from the evening before. You almost unconsciously run a hand along your waist, your chest, your hips, your shoulders, your cheekbones, your wrists, reassuring yourself that the excess and pain is entirely gone. Remigius looks over you still, admiring your scars and meeting your eyes infrequently.

This woman tortured me mercilessly— all in the name of reminding me what that really means. How can I try to talk to her?

What can I possibly say?

There's one thing that's an open subject of discussion between you two, at least.

"This form you've taken—"

She immediately interrupts, putting her other arm around your shoulders and leaning back slightly to grant you a better look. Her hips are wide, her chest and waist tapering up elegantly into narrow and covered shoulders. The legs straddling you are fairly bare, though she's at least had the decency to partially shield herself from your gaze.

She does have restraint. ...for a succubus, at least.

"You like it? I thought you might."

"It's nice. You look nice. Don't— don't get the wrong idea. I just thought— you might need to hear something earnest, for a change—"

"You're fucking hopeless, Daddy."

The succubus skips off of you, twirling her dress before dropping herself gently into the chair opposite of the table, and of you. Her voice still has the manic tilt to it, but she says something that surprises you.

"...okay, maybe not completely hopeless. Thanks."

(Options in next post)

>>3947236
>A) You don't need to be thanked. You were just as at fault for the abuse that went on last night as she was. Showing Remigius a little Mercy was the least you could do. You're just glad that you didn't ruin everything.

>B) Tell her that you were happy to have helped, and ask if there's anything else that she needs before you leave her domain. You have very little time left to complete your task, but you don't want to leave her wanting. Not after what she did for you.

>C) Sincerely tell her "you're welcome," and talk to her for a little while longer. Though the sun is up and your time is precious, you feel like you need to try to get to know this demon a little better after everything you had done together. You both ultimately aided each other.

>D) Write-in.

>>3947237
>>A) You don't need to be thanked. You were just as at fault for the abuse that went on last night as she was. Showing Remigius a little Mercy was the least you could do. You're just glad that you didn't ruin everything.

>>3947237
>A) You don't need to be thanked. You were just as at fault for the abuse that went on last night as she was. Showing Remigius a little Mercy was the least you could do. You're just glad that you didn't ruin everything.
LEARN FROM YOUR MISTAKES, AND STOP BEING UNASSUMING SCUM

>>3947237
>>A) You don't need to be thanked. You were just as at fault for the abuse that went on last night as she was. Showing Remigius a little Mercy was the least you could do. You're just glad that you didn't ruin everything.

>>3947237
>A) You don't need to be thanked. You were just as at fault for the abuse that went on last night as she was. Showing Remigius a little Mercy was the least you could do. You're just glad that you didn't ruin everything.

>>3947237
>A) You don't need to be thanked. You were just as at fault for the abuse that went on last night as she was. Showing Remigius a little Mercy was the least you could do. You're just glad that you didn't ruin everything.

>>3947241
>>3947320
>>3947322
>>3947413
>>3947824
Sneaky late night update. Vote is locked, writing now!

>>3947919
"You don't need to thank me. Please don't."

"What's the matter, Daddy? You going to slink back into your angst singularity the minute your head clears up?"

"What— no, that's— I was at as much fault for everything that we did to each other last night. The least I could do was— Mercy, Remigius, sit down— "

The succubus leans over the table, pressing a finger to your lips.

"Ssshhh. Don't worry about it. You're actually learning something, right?"

The finger parts. She's so soft.

"I'm trying. I'm just—"

You try to sit upright, properly, to make yourself presentable. Fiddling with your holy symbol and fixing your increasingly scruffy hair isn't much, but it makes you feel a little better.

"I'm just glad I didn't ruin everything."

"Look at you, actually doing something with yourself! Isn't this nice. Remi's just a slut, she's never going to amount to anything. Can't trust a succubus as far as they can suck you. She's just a psychopath. If Yech could see this! Do say 'hi' to him for me?"

With an obscene moan, the succubus stretches, looking out to the sunrise pealing over her domain. The bloody rays of the illusion cast a glow over the windows, shrouding you both in crimson as it comes into full view.

"Thanks for stopping by, Daddy. I don't expect you'll ever want to see me again— not that anyone ever does— but this was fun."

A red rose is slid across the table, nestling in between the candles and wood.

"Try not to forget me."

You look down to the object for a moment, the sage of your eyes pouring back over Remigius earnestly.

Your body may be as hale as it's been in weeks, but the demon's administrations over your mind and soul are raw.

"I don't think I could if I tried."

>A) Take the rose, and go back to the abyss.

>B) Leave the item, and go back to your friends without another word. You have a lot to deal with.

>C) There's one more thing you need to do here. (Write-in anything you still wish to say or do while still in the company of Remigius.)

>>3947934
Before i go... im going to see beltoro next, is there anything you can tell me that could make the encounter a bit easier?

>>3947934
>>B) Leave the item, and go back to your friends. You have a lot to deal with.
"I'll say hello to Beltoro for you."

>>3947934
>A) Take the rose, and go back to the abyss.

>>3947941
Supporting.

>>3947940
>>3947941
>>3947949
>>3947972
Locking the vote here! Everything but A looks like it will work, so incorporating as much as I can. Writing now.

>>3947974
The gold in your hands is reassuring, the cold metal a welcome relief from the heat of the succubi's domain. Your fingers work around the holy symbol, staying entirely away from the rose before you. You move to stand, staying to the opposite side of the table and lingering only for another moment.

"Before I go—"

"Of course you still fucking need something—"

"I'm going to see Beltoro next. I'll— I'll be sure to say hello to him for you."

There's a long pause. Remigius starts to fidget as well, playing with the flame of one of the candles on the table.

"Oh. Right."

"Is there anything— anything at all you could tell me about him?"

"Them."

"...anything that might make the encounter with them easier?"

The silence that weighs between the two of you has you on edge from the moment it starts.

As the minutes trickle on, you feel a sweat start to form on the back of your neck.

Remigius finally breaks it.

You realize as soon as she speaks that she's crying again.

"Probably not, Daddy— oh, fuck, I'm going to ruin my dress—"

There's a sniff, as the demon moves to wipe off her face. She looks up to you with a broad grin, eyes lanced with red, her pointed teeth beaming at you.

"You're not afraid, right?"

"Should I be?"

"Terrified, Daddy. But are you?"

"...no."

"Then you've got everything you'll need. You know I can't say it— but that's the—"

Fear does strike you.

"Spirit. Mercy— I— I understand."

You turn to leave, the cold sweat on the back of your neck insisting on staying with you. Looking over your shoulder to the succubus, you see that she's making no motion to move or do anything more than play with the flame of the candles before her. She almost looks bored, despite her abject terror and distress moments before.

"Is it safe to leave the way I came?"

"Not on your life. Take the stairs down, and hang a right at the ticket booth. I'll call 'em off of you."

"...thank you, Remigius."

"It's the least I could do. Seriously. ...you really do keep your promises, Daddy."

Without another nod or look towards the demon, you leave her.

The stairs leading down to the entrance of Remigius' lair is practically lined with demons in a state of collapse or lingering inebriation. Your procession is constantly punctuated by jeering, hollering, obscene gestures and so much derision from every single creature that lays eyes on you that you shut out the abuse after only a few minutes. You try to focus on moving, on the relief of your body being unburdened, of the absence of pain or unwanted pleasure, and of the looming sun.

The jeers and cries imitating you from the night before follow you long after you've left the building.

To your extreme relief, the owl at the ticket booth doesn't acknowledge you as you cut across the flesh. Your steps pick up as you pass by her, remembering your long strides, eagerly putting as much distance between yourself and the succubi's servants as possible.

(1/2)

>>3948020
You estimate it's early morning by the time you reach the exit, though you have no idea what day it is.

In absolute silence, alone and without a prayer, you step through the door.

The red moon hangs overhead, merely a sliver in the sky. It is unbearably dark, but there are many lights dancing along the grain before you.

Idonea's daughters seem to be playing tag in the field. The gentle radiance of their forms punctuates the tall stalks, in contrast to the steady light coming from two sources further beyond.

There seems to be a campfire, made entirely of grain. The shadows of two women are before it. One is utterly inert, likely deep in the thought. The other is sparring with herself, and her familiar shouts can be heard across the field.

They didn't leave. May all the Gods be praised.

There's a sound of heavy panting, as the other light moves towards you.

A skeletal shadow, holding aloft a lantern, cuts through the darkness. The sound draws closer, and within seconds, there's 200lbs of your best friend all over you.

You're knocked to the floor, but happily scratch behind Ray's ears, permitting the mastiff to enjoy himself for a few moments as Yech closes the distance between you.

"Easy, boy! Easy! I'm glad to see you too— come on, Ray, get off of me! It's alright! Who's a good boy? Alright, come on, Ray— sit. Good boy. Stay. Don't give me that look. I'm not going anywhere."

The demon lord offers you a hand to get up as you gingerly get back to your feet. You take it, being picked up effortlessly, and altogether relieved by the ease in which you get back up.

Yech's smile is punctuated with a moderate amount of disgust. He elbows your side.

"You fucking bastard. You look terrible. Again."

"It's nice to see you, too, Yech. Thank you for looking after Ray for me. Did he behave himself—"

The mastiff is looking up to you, expectantly, sitting obediently by your side. You gesture for him to relax, but he refuses to budge. You kneel down, scratching him with mild concern.

Yech looks down to you, shrugging.

"Yeah, yeah, he was fine. Hey. Richard."

The demon lowers his torch, kneeling down next to you as you see to your dog. Yech jerks a gloved finger towards the light across the field, towards your two other companions, who have not made any attempt to move.

"They were pretty fucked up when they got back. Haven't said a word to me in two days—"

"What—?!"

"Yeah."

Panic sets in. Your eyes flit up to the moon overhead, and back down to Yech.

Today is your last day to complete Idonea's task.

He's obviously disgusted, but there's a tease and no judgement towards you as he elbows you again.

"We got time for this, though. How was she?"

Your panic intermingles with crushing dread.

(Options in next post)

>>3948021
>A) Tell Yech that Remigius says "hi," and keep it at that. You do not give Mercy and tell. Redirect the conversation. Get some intel on your other friends. Ask about what it looks like Celegwen and Ofelia have been up to. Ask about Yech, about the girls, about Ray, anything but getting into the torture and Mercy.

>B) You might actually need to deal with everything you've been through. Keep it brief, but confide in Yech about what you experienced with the succubus. You trust him to still respect you, especially after succeeding with your task a second time.

>C) You definitely need to sort your head out before dealing with Beltoro, if Remigius' advice is to be trusted. Be clear about everything that happened. Trust your friend to be there for you. He's a demon. You're sure he's heard worse.

>D) Write-in.

>>3948021
>C) You definitely need to sort your head out before dealing with Beltoro, if Remigius' advice is to be trusted. Be clear about everything that happened. Trust your friend to be there for you. He's a demon. You're sure he's heard worse.

>>3948022
>C) You definitely need to sort your head out before dealing with Beltoro, if Remigius' advice is to be trusted. Be clear about everything that happened. Trust your friend to be there for you. He's a demon. You're sure he's heard worse.

>>3948022
>>C) You definitely need to sort your head out before dealing with Beltoro, if Remigius' advice is to be trusted. Be clear about everything that happened. Trust your friend to be there for you. He's a demon. You're sure he's heard worse.

>>3948026
>>3948052
>>3948068
No idea how I managed to get in several updates before work but I'm not complaining.

Vote is locked! Writing now.

>>3948079
"...you had better sit down."

Yech doesn't initially oblige your request, but you tell him everything. By the time you're done, you both are sitting next to each other in the grain, and he's got a flask in hand. The lack of any interruption, your mutual respect, and the way that Yech is looking at you by the time you're done is beyond reassuring.

You take a few deep breaths once you're finished. The gold in your hands is warm simply from how much you've been fidgeting with it, through your retelling.

Your friend puts a hand on your shoulder, and doesn't offer you anything to drink.

He is very generous.

You look to Yech earnestly, angst and shame intermingling with your comfort.

"She was awful, Yech. Awful— and wonderful and— I— I don't know what you expected."

"You did the right thing, you know. She's a sick fuck, and I absolutely have to kill her for this— the fuck zone, why the fuck wasn't I invited—? But that's besides the point. You did good, Richard. You're fucking insane, but you did good."

"...thank you. I think. I mean, I did, didn't I? Ultimately."

"The bitch is crazy—"

"I know."

"No one can blame you for trying to look after your fucking self. Fuck the consequences! You've been through worse, right?"

"Right."

"No one's going to listen to any fucking demon's word over yours, anyways. You showed her, right?"

"I did."

"Outpaced a fucking succubus, right?"

"Right! Mercy, Yech— if I don't eat anything for the next age I think I'll be content—"

"No one's going to make you do anything. You'll be alright."

"...right."

The thought of having to do something again so soon, of facing another demon again so quickly, has you reeling.

"You're not fucking alright. You need a minute? I can grab Idonea, maybe we can work something out. Get you some space, or some air, or something. I don't fucking know."

Remigius asked me, explitly, to not mention any of this to her Mother. I didn't necessarily agree to it, but would I be jeapordizing my mission to ignore her request? Idonea never gave me the impression that the time I have to work with was even negotiable.

(Options in next post)

>>3948089
>A) Respect Remigius' wish for you to not speak with Idonea regarding your time in her domain. Don't call for the fallen Mother of Mercy.
>1) Take a few minutes, alone, to pray. You've never gone so long in your life without making time for the Gods. You need Them right now. Focused time, alone, to try and make amends for everything you've done.
>2) You honestly just want to talk to Yech awhile longer. Ask him if he'll accompany you to see Beltoro while you're at it. You could use his support.

>B) Take Yech up on his offer. Spend some time with Ray while you wait.
>1) But don't say a word to Idonea regarding Remigius. Don't answer her questions if you must, lie if you have to— you just need more time. There has to be a way.
>2) Be clear with Idonea that you had no idea what you were getting into when you asked to aid her children. Explain that you might need more time to better serve them.
>3) You really just have more questions for her. Maybe she can lend some insight as to how to better serve Beltoro.

>C) You don't need more time. You need to get this over with. Go see to Celegwen and Ofelia.

>D) Write-in.

>>3948090
>>B) Take Yech up on his offer. Spend some time with Ray while you wait.
>2) Be clear with Idonea that you had no idea what you were getting into when you asked to aid her children. Explain that you might need more time to better serve them.
avoid talking about anything specific, just tell her that we can do it in the time she gave us but not as good. If she wants the best we have to offer we might need a bit more time, as much as she is willing to give us, we are mortal, after all, and we have been thru a great deal.

>>3948090
>>B) Take Yech up on his offer. Spend some time with Ray while you wait.
>2) Be clear with Idonea that you had no idea what you were getting into when you asked to aid her children. Explain that you might need more time to better serve them.

>>3948090
>>C) You don't need more time. You need to get this over with. Go see to Celegwen and Ofelia.

We don't have to leave *right away*, but I don't want to leave them waiting for very long, so we can stay and speak for a bit. I just don't want them to be pissed at us ...again

>>3948094
>C) You don't need more time. You need to get this over with. Go see to Celegwen and Ofelia.
Changing my vote.

>>3948090
>C) You don't need more time. You need to get this over with. Go see to Celegwen and Ofelia.
blaaah, booring!

>>3948090
>C) You don't need more time. You need to get this over with. Go see to Celegwen and Ofelia.
Remember; no excuses, no whining.

>>3948094
>>3948097
>>3948098
>>3948110
>>3948114
Absolutely phenomenal, still have time for one more update before work. You guys are the best.

Writing now!

>>3948126
I could take this time to prepare myself.
I could rely on Yech and Ray for support.
I could get information, I could not have to deal with any other women, I could do anything for myself...

You sigh, deeply, looking to the two figures across the field.

They've made absolutely no attempt to approach you since you came back.

"I need to get this over with."

"You really fucking don't, Richard. The whores aren't worth the trouble."

Yech moves to stand at the same time as you. He's either been drinking out of an endless flask, or has several identical ones that he's been rotating while you spoke. You've been too wrapped up in reliving your trauma to tell the difference.

"You weren't there, Yech. I can't stand the thought of them being any more upset with me. ...excuse me."

There's no need to call Ray to your side as you remove yourself from the demon lord's presence. He follows you closely, whining, nudging your legs, trying to reassure you. Your anxiety must be all over you.

No excuses. No whining. This is my fault.

As you approach the makeshift camp, the light of the fire catches on Ofelia's face, the bags under her eyes, the pallor from what has likely been weeks of enduring subterranean travel. Though you're unsure how it rivals your own, the strain is written all over her as she practices throwing a number of daggers into a makeshift demon made out of some of Yech's supplies.

Celegwen is situated across the fire from her, her staff in her hands. There's a faint aura of something resembling starlight around her, that reminds you distinctly of a shield. You haven't seen her use the spell before, and assume she's recalled something new. The elf is otherwise immaculate.

There's no sight of the jacket you left her with, though you catch a few scraps of cloth at the bottom of the campfire's embers.

No one speaks for several moments.

Just as you're about to break the silence, Celegwen drops her spell, strides across the camp, and slaps you squarely across the face.

You can't look at her, biting down on your lip and suppressing the noise you want to make with every fiber of your being. You remain silent, having to permit Ray to bark at the elf for a few moments so you can maintain your composure.

You do eventually shush him.

Celegwen's voice is utterly methodical and devoid of all the anger you suspect is lancing her words.

"I understand that my compulsion may seem illogical, Father. I have been contemplating the matter, and concluded that this was the only acceptable course of action."

She takes a step back. You aren't looking at her, but you can feel her glare.

"You clearly had no qualms accepting more assistance from a demon. I did everything in my power to aid you, to warn you, and now—"

Ofelia is clearly listening silently to the outburst, though she's stopped her weapons practice. The sorceress clutches onto her staff so tightly you hear the wood complain.

(1/2)

>>3948161
"Now I suspect you will want to apologize."

You don't make any excuses, letting her finish.

"If you have any respect left for me, hold your tongue. I struck you, knowing you would enjoy it, because I need to know just how far you have tarnished your connection to your Gods. If you claim to be unable to show affection to another, yet willingly accept the abuse you so badly crave from anyone that will give it to you, then I have clearly found only one way to show you—"

Her voice catches for a moment on emotion. You dare to lift your eyes up, to see that she's been crying.

"To show you that I did not want to leave. But not because of you, Father. Because this is so much more important than just you. I promised to help you, Father, and unlike you, I value the company I keep—"

Ofelia starts to interject, but stops herself.

"Gwen..."

Crossing her arms, the halfling looks up to both of you. It's difficult to read her expression as you are having an unbearably difficult time looking at either of them.

The interruption seems to have taken all of the wind out of Celegwen's sails. She doesn't finish what she wants to say, obviously too upset to continue her train of thought, and diverts the subject to what's actually been on your mind.

"You have a mission, Father, and I am a distraction. We both are. We always have been. I cannot hope for someone so young and naive to recognize when they are being held back—"

"Gwen, that's enough—"

"No, Ofelia. Leaving would have been enough, were we able to. Yet here we are—!"

The elf gestures with her staff to the demons running amok, the looming red moon, the impossible spread of hundreds of isolated doors, the grain and the campsite made entirely by a skeleton.

"Surrounded by insanity, with no other options! Father, tell me, are you still enjoying the abuse? Would you wish for me to be more honest still? Shall we waste the rest of your limited time, or do you have a convenient excuse to leave us again—?"

"Leave him alone, Gwen. Seriously. Richard, she doesn't mean it—"

"Do not pay her any mind, Father, she is merely terrified of dying here, with no one ever finding her body—"

"You don't know the first thing about me, Gwen, or him, and you need to shut it before you say somethin' you're really gonna regret—"

Mercy.

After everything we've been through together, they deserve better.

...but I legitimately do not have time for this.

> (What could you possibly say or do that will make up for weeks of toying with your friend's lives?)
> (An apology may not suffice for the circumstances you have led these women into.
> (Then again, they may need to hear one.)
> (Do you wish to ask them to continue with your journey? Are you too afraid of what they might say, were you to ask them to leave?)
> (Write-in how you interrupt Celegwen's and Ofelia's argument.)
> (Or don't interrupt at all. The choice is yours.)

>>3948164
Let them vent, and after they are done say
"There is one more thing I need to do, the last one before this is over, before we return to the surface. I swear i will see both of you our of these godless ruins, like it or not, after we see the sun again you will be free of me, i couldnt have gotten so far without you, your decision to follow me was a blessing i didnt know what to do with and still don't. i came here to die, gwen, in that sense you were *very* much a distraction and i cant stand to be hit by you too. I dont know what to do, i dont know what is right, i dont know, i simply dont, how could i? No one has ever tolerated my presence so much. I want to be better, i truly do but... Mercy... what am i supposed to do?

>>3948197
supportin'

>>3948197
seconding

>>3948200
cirno you absolute faggot get back here

>>3948164

An actual apology explaining how we messed up, perhaps some actual insight to the shit that's led to us being this mentally tormented, and that we will take any steps necessary to make reparations towards our misdeeds. we fucked up immensely, we did them wrong, and we want more than anything to move forward to try and correct our scarred mindset - if they wish to leave us at the top, we won't stop them. they have every single right to, but they have been invaluable in keeping our composure even if we have not been able to express it. tell them what they mean to us, and just do it in Richard fashion which is fucking letting it POUR OUT.

We did them dirty, and we need to CHANGE FOR THE BETTER.

>>3948204
fuck you man i'm trying not to tripfag

>>3948207
fuck you man it's /qst/ it doesn't matter

supporting

>>3948207
take my seconding you big sexy hunk

>>3948207
I'll tentativley second

I'm afraid she'd just hate almost all of that , especially the pouring out
but we DO need to iterate how important she is to us. Both of them. We are just a dumbass that has no idea how to express it. This is our fault but apologizing doesn't fix that. We have to show we have changed

>>3948212
I'd normally agree, but with how many times we've fucked up, I'd say that it's prudent to show we have an understanding of how we fucked up in case she thinks it's just lip service - and we do have that, and now's the time to show it before things get unsalvageable.

>>3948214
true true, I just don't want her to get pissed because we are "just saying that" or some bs.

File: idonea at work.png (206 KB, 1920x1080)

206 KB PNG

Well I was expecting it to be several hours before this got any momentum, and have to go to work now. FML. Will be back in around 8 hours. Please continue any discussion you guys want, this will keep me alive through my shift for sure. You all are the fucking best.

T-minus 2 hours to update, going to lock the vote now to brainstorm as it's been a few hours with no further votes.

>>3948936
Back home, food acquired, and writing now!

>>3949032
"You don't need to listen to me. I— I don't deserve for either of you— just, please—"

Fists clenched, unable to look at your friends, you dig your gaze into the soil under your feet. It scarcely stills the sting on your cheek or the salt in your eyes.

Both women stop their arguing.

"I can't imagine salvaging this. I don't expect either of you to forgive me, to follow me, to want to do anything more than hate me—"

Your breath hitches. It's everything you can do to keep the tremor in your hands from showing.

"I deserve it. I've done nothing to warrant your loyalty. I've risked both of your lives, time and time again. There's no way I can say that I understand what either of you have gone through— because of me. I— I barely know who either of you are."

Your out pour is giving you absolutely no catharsis, but you can't stop yourself. Their silence is hardly encouraging. You don't dare to look up and see the looks on their faces, imagining it's of resentment, anger, and justified frustration.

You continue.

"Apologizing isn't going to fix anything— but I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. If you want to leave— when we can leave— I won't stop you. You should go. You're right to be afraid, to be angry— to see that I'm a fool and that I have no idea how to properly express anything that I want towards either of you."

You have to close your eyes, the sting of your emotion blurring the ground, your self-hatred and regret falling like so much desperation from your lips.

"You both mean so much to me, and I've never shown it. You deserve better. You both have done more than even saving my life— you've kept me grounded, you've shown me so much Mercy that I am ashamed to try and call myself your friend. I don't deserve you. Either of you. I'm so sorry."

A few long moments pass. Neither woman is saying a word. Ray has been right by your side, and you scarcely feel like you deserve his company, either.

"I've deserved everything that's happened to me. I've deserved to come down here to die—"

Ofelia makes a sound to interrupt, but you continue over her, your self-pity reaching a boiling point.

"I've deserved to have been kept to the church, watched, forced to pray, forced to endure, forced to ruin my body, my mind, my soul— I've deserved to be alone. Everyone has been right, to be afraid of me, to want to stay away. I've pushed everyone away— I've been so afraid, of anyone getting to see how I've let the torment ruin me—"

With absolute conviction, you raise your head, looking to Ofelia and Celegwen, so despondent that it takes you a moment to register their faces.

Their eyes are dry. Celegwen's lips are tight, her knuckles white as she clutches onto her staff, staring at you with very little sympathy. It's comforting that she's at least held her complaints, permitted you to speak without interruption, and isn't attempting to slap you again.

(1/3)

>>3949167
Ofelia looks heart-broken. It's written all over her face that she wants to come and hug you, but she's clearly on edge, exhausted and altogether unable to interject with her usual sass and verve.

A sob catches in your throat, as you hold your ground, clutching onto your own arms in a desperate attempt at comfort and reassurance.

"I want to change, for the better."

Celegwen finally speaks. Her voice cracks, and you realize, despite how stern she looks, that she's still sympathetic. She still wants to help. Her words are far softer than her appearance, and you have to question just how much mental strain the elf is under, too.

"I know."

Ofelia takes her hand, looking up to her friend earnestly, then back to you. She sighs, deeply, her voice ravaged with fatigue.

"I really don't want to die here, Richard. I don't want you to go killin' yourself, either. I— I don't think I want to know everythin' you've been through, after the way you acted back there. I don't want to hear you beatin' yourself up. I just want to go home."

You're hurting yourself, with how tightly you're clenching your fists. You don't care.

"I'll take every— any step necessary to make this right. I—"

Celegwen sighs so deeply that you cut yourself off.

"Please stop."

Ofelia takes a step forward towards you.

You want to draw back, and force yourself to hold your ground. To keep your word. To change, for the better.

She extends a handkerchief, and doesn't place it in your hand.

You take it, begrudgingly, wiping the shame and self-pity off of your face.

Her voice is level, as she looks up to you, and says something that almost gives you hope.

"There'll be time for us to feel sorry for ourselves once we get back to the surface, Richard. Keep yer chin up."

Her arm is trembling. Her lower lip is trembling. She's keeping her voice steady and putting on a strong face but every inch of her is shaking and obviously trying to not betray how upset she is.

Is it with me? With where we've wound up? With what I've said?

Celegwen confirms your suspicions.

"You are absolutely right, Father. You should do everything in your power to set this right— but there is nothing within your power that can change this for the better. We can only keep moving forward."

We?

There's a despondent and entirely nihilistic look in the elf's eyes. It's the same vacancy you saw in Remigius' lair. The soft glow of her skin and her immaculacy seems muted. It's almost as if she's been through a hell of your making, and is trying to not show just how badly it's affected her.

"Do you know what the promise was that I made to you, Father? It has astounded me that you have never once asked."

(Overestimated, options in next post.)

>>3949171
>A) Guess.
>1) She's promised to aid you, for knowledge, for power, for her own means.
>2) She's promised her companionship, her support, her loyalty. To aid you in your mission from your Goddess.

>B) Admit that you have no idea who she is, what she wants, and that you have never dared to assume otherwise.

>C) Remain silent, and let her elaborate on why.

>D) Do something different. Don't treat your friends with assumptions, ignorance, or silence. (Write-in something new. Change for the better.)_

>>3949173
>D) Do something different. Don't treat your friends with assumptions, ignorance, or silence. (Write-in something new. Change for the better.)

"You're right, Celegwen. I've never once asked, and it was wrong of me not to, especially after all of the time that has passed since. I dare not chance an assumption, so...may I please ask what the promise you made was?"

Also OOC, anyone else noticed how easy we're seemingly getting off the hook on this? They're mega scared of us rn, so they're super gonna ditch us as soon as we get out of here unless we employ immediate changes lol.

>>3949188
yeah I second this , it has the parts of B I was gonna pick but more

>>3949188
thirded

>>3949188
>>3949190
>>3949192
Locking the vote here for one more update tonight!

Writing now.

>>3949318
"You're right. I've— I've never once asked. After all the time that's passed since— it's wrong. This is all wrong. ...it was wrong of me not to."

You hang your head, dreading with every fiber of your being the ease in which Celegwen and Ofelia are listening to you. Something is wrong, and you still have no idea why.

Are they simply afraid of me, like everyone else?

Something has to change. I have to change. I can't stand another second of this.

"I won't dare to make any more assumptions. May I— please— can I ask what the promise you made was?"

There's an extremely long silence between you all, punctuated only by Ray's whining as he leans against you, trying to give you someone to hold. You wipe your eyes again, the constant strain pulling hard at your sanity.

Celegwen finally answers you, her voice so level that it's terrifying.

"I promised to help relieve your pain, Father. Your pain, and the pain of so many others. I promised to help you find your Relic, no matter where it might take us. I promised, with a bond that I dare not break, to give everything that I have without question— in the name of aiding a human man, a leader, a priest— on a journey from the very Gods. I do not worship your deities, but I would be a fool to not recognize the power that you wield through them. I would be a fool to not try to aid you. I have been a fool to not recognize how ill-equipped you are for your task, how conflicted you are— to not recognize how much guidance you truly need."

Daring to look up at the elf is a mistake. There's so much pain written across her face that you want to recoil, but you still yourself, repressing the urge, trying with all of your might to not make matters worse.

"Father, I have done less for you than these demons have, despite having far better intent and making far greater sacrifice. I have failed you, as well."

Ofelia starts, placing her other hand over Celegwen's.

"We've been over this, Gwen, you've done everythin' you could—"

"I have been utterly inadequate. Beyond sparing you both the loss of your memory and a few fleeting parlor tricks, I have been nothing but a liability. I have imparted no wisdom, shared no experience, granted neither of you anything that my people have to offer. I came here to learn, to grow, and I have lost nearly everything. Even now, I am taking precious moments away from the task that I have sworn to defend. This is folly."

The elf straightens up, pulling her hand away from Ofelia to clutch at her staff. You can feel her gaze searing into you as she speaks, scarcely taking a breath. Though her voice is level, her words are rushed.

You know her well enough, at least, to tell when she's distraught.

(1/2)

>>3949366
"I would still accompany you, Father, if you would have me— but I fear that I will do nothing but continue to tarnish your mission. I have been diligently working to better defend myself in your absence, as I fear that protecting us all is the least I can do. I would lend you my word, my wisdom, my companionship— to see this through to the end, to uphold my word, and to better guide you: but only if you will not stray so far again from your Goddess. I fear for your ability to wield this Relic, Father. I cannot fathom you being capable of harnessing an item from your Goddess, if your demeanor is any indication of what you've been through."

"Gwen, I just said I don't want to hear it. Don't encourage him—"

"Let him speak. I have had enough of pleasantries and omissions. We have wasted enough time."

>A) Ask Celegwen and Ofelia to follow you, one last time. You won't make any excuses or apologies. You may have shown them no Mercy, but you can show them that you want to change. Show them through your actions.

>B) You have pushed your friends far past any reasonable limit, and can recognize that Celegwen is in no state to venture into a domain of Spirit.
>1) Ask Celegwen if she will look after Ray, and herself. Ask if she can grant you her protection before you enter Beltoro's domain. She can help you, and herself, without jeopardizing anything. Let Ofelia decide for herself who she wishes to stand by.
>2) Don't push either woman towards joining you. Insist that they only come with you if they're prepared to contend with something worse than a drunkard or a maniac. Don't ask for favors, for respect, for anything more than their honesty.

>C) Tell both women that you respect them, the time you've spent together, and your mission enough for them to stay in the abyss. Promise that you'll obtain the Relic, and to live up to your title. Part ways, for now, and do everything you can to get them home safely.

>D) Write-in.

>>3949368
>C) Tell both women that you respect them, the time you've spent together, and your mission enough for them to stay in the abyss. Promise that you'll obtain the Relic, and to live up to your title. Part ways, for now, and do everything you can to get them home safely.

Richard, you'll get them killed if you don't let them go. They want to leave, let them.

>>3949368
>C)

>>3949368
>>C) Tell both women that you respect them, the time you've spent together, and your mission enough for them to stay in the abyss. Promise that you'll obtain the Relic, and to live up to your title. Part ways, for now, and do everything you can to get them home safely.

>>3949368
>>A) Ask Celegwen and Ofelia to follow you, one last time. You won't make any excuses or apologies. You may have shown them no Mercy, but you can show them that you want to change. Show them through your actions.

Even if the others feel that way...I still think the only way to prove we'll change is to show them, not to push them away again.

>>3949368
>>A) Ask Celegwen and Ofelia to follow you, one last time. You won't make any excuses or apologies. You may have shown them no Mercy, but you can show them that you want to change. Show them through your actions.

You know what, fuck it. But we emphasize that we don't WANT to do this to them again. We were idiots who should've turned back to rest or get reinforcements dozens of times over, but we NEED to do this one last task before we go back up to the surface.

Bringing them with us is not optimal, but neither is pushing them away.

>>3949609
yeah, I agree with the need to emphasize

It really sucks that even though we needed to return to the surface long ago, we would have been returning empty handed if we had. I wonder how that would have made Richard look, and the consequences of such action?

>>3949616
I would get into it, but as there's still a possibility of returning to the surface empty-handed, I will abstain from answering.

Got class soon, next update will be around 2-3PM EST. We're currently tied, so I'll be waiting until we have an agreement between A or C to write.

>>3949368
>D) Write-in.

It's very clear they want to leave, but why are they still insistent on following even after everything that's happened?

"You're right. The time for omissions and pleasantries have passed. If I may ask one more question before we set off...why haven't you both left yet?"

I feel leaving them behind to be the worse option, more of the same from us, we're trying to show them we can change and they can't see that if they just go...plus I fear for their safety to a point

Since the vote has been open for 12 hours and we're still tied, despite the awesome feedback, I'm going to close the vote in one hour.

At that time, if the tie is not broken, I will use my best judgement based on your guys discussion and comments to break the vote. Hopefully it won't be necessary but I really want to keep this ball rolling.

>>3949368
>C) Tell both women that you respect them, the time you've spent together, and your mission enough for them to stay in the abyss. Promise that you'll obtain the Relic, and to live up to your title. Part ways, for now, and do everything you can to get them home safely.

It's better this way

>>3949368
>>C) Tell both women that you respect them, the time you've spent together, and your mission enough for them to stay in the abyss. Promise that you'll obtain the Relic, and to live up to your title. Part ways, for now, and do everything you can to get them home safely.
This but with the mention that we will need their help when we return more than ever, considering that it is a demon of spirit, and they know what it can do to a person.

Voting C

>>3949418
>>3949428
>>3949533
>>3949803
>>3949866
We've got a pretty overwhelming consensus here for C.

>>3949598
>>3949609
>>3949615
>>3949616
You guys made some awesome points though and I'm going to incorporate a lot of this

>>3949692
And this still makes sense either way.

Going to somehow work this all together. Vote is locked. Writing now!

>>3949869
"You're right."

I'm trying to show them I can change. They can't see that if they just go.

"The time for omissions and pleasantries has passed."

The only way to prove I'll change is to show them, not to push them away yet again.

"If I may— if I could ask one more question before we set off—"

There's no winning here. No matter what I do, they're going to be hurt. How has this gone on for so long? How has there been so little consequence for my actions? This entire time we've traveled together, we've all been dragging each other further down. Even if I had turned back, if if they had left, would it have been all for nothing?

"...why haven't you both left yet?""

The two women look to each other. There's something unspoken between them, their immediate reluctance to elaborate, the clipped and entirely unsatisfying response you get from them in turn.

Ofelia is quick to reply, "I've already told you. What you're lookin' for will help me, too— and there's no way I can get out of here alone."

Celegwen almost talks over her, immediately interjecting, "because I have believed in you, your mission, and have been seeking knowledge from the moment I have entered these ruins."

Unease sinks into you.

They're going to leave as soon as they get what they want.
I can't change at the drop of a hat. There's nothing I can do here.
I'm going to get them killed.
They've been afraid of me, this entire time, haven't they?

"You both— neither of you have any idea what I have to face. Beltoro is allegedly a demon of Spirit. You know what She can do to a person with honest intentions. You've seen how the Goddess has affected me. I can't ask you to follow me after a demon who's been corrupted in Her image."

You ball up Ofelia's handkerchief in your hand. You've dried your face, but the vessel of your own Spirit is cracked and leaking. It pains you, to have to say it aloud, but you force yourself to keep talking.

"I don't want to keep making the same mistakes, no matter how much I want your help."

Both women are utterly silent. Their lack of protest completely solidifies your resolve.

You turn to leave.

"I'll see to it that you both stay safe. I will return. I won't disappoint you both again."

Though Celegwen remains completely silent, Ofelia starts after you.

"Richard—"

You move to walk away from both of them, but a hand catches your arm. You have to look almost straight down to the halfling, who takes back her handkerchief, and offers you a pained smile.

"Hey. Hotshot. Listen— you know we can't leave that easily, right? Even if I was going to run home with my tail between my legs, I wouldn't want to quit now. Not when we're nearly outta here."

"...I may still need your help when I return, Ofelia."

"Yeah. I know. We'll be here, alright? Try not to fuck up so bad with this one, while you're at it. I don't know if I can take anymore of this."

"I'm sorry."

(1/2)

>>3949910
"You should be. You're not a bad person, Richard."

You immediately want to cry. You can't remember the last time you heard someone say something so nice to you. You stop yourself, tensing, moving to leave.

I don't deserve to hear this.

Ofelia pulls slightly on your sleeve, letting you go. She calls after you.

"I know you're not a demon— but you gotta stop actin' like one, okay? Good luck!"

You shut out the sound of her voice, turning away from both women once again.

It's better this way.

In the grain, less than a minute's walk away from the camp, you crash into Yech. He was obviously hiding nearby and listening to the entire conversation.

Stumbling, you are righted by the skeleton, who promptly grabs you by your collar and drags you even further away from the campsite. In a hushed voice, once you're a safe distance away— possibly even out of Celegwen's earshot— he pulls you in and aggressively ruffles your hair. Ray doesn't growl at him, to your surprise and moderate dismay.

"Well wasn't that a long time coming? Nice work. Fuck 'em! Fuck 'em and let's hit the road."

"Please let go of me, Yech—"

"I'm not letting you deal with this nutcase when you're like this. You're not going anywhere 'til you agree. No fucking way."

>A) Pull away from Yech, for eavesdropping and for being utterly insensitive to how upset you are. Tell him that you're seeing Beltoro alone. Ask him to look after Ray one more time. You need to deal with your own issues before you can help anyone else. You need to learn how to comfort yourself.

>B) Respectfully ask Yech to drop the matter, to not dig into how hurt you've been by who you thought were your friends, and allow him to go with you to complete your final task from Idonea. You disagree with his attitude, but you would much rather have his company than to face Beltoro alone.

>C) Agree with Yech, wholeheartedly, that this is for the best. Accept his company, and take Ray with you as well into the lair of the demon. You want all of the support you can get right now, no matter what form it takes.

>D) Write-in.

>>3949913
>>A) Pull away from Yech, for eavesdropping and for being utterly insensitive to how upset you are. Tell him that you're seeing Beltoro alone. Ask him to look after Ray one more time. You need to deal with your own issues before you can help anyone else. You need to learn how to comfort yourself.
As much as i love yech we cant fucking take him, we need to sort shit out on our own, this is a great opportunity to become better. Even if he isnt coming with us allow him to give us some pointers about how to best approach beltoro so he doesnt feel useless

>>3949913
>>A) Pull away from Yech, for eavesdropping and for being utterly insensitive to how upset you are. Tell him that you're seeing Beltoro alone. Ask him to look after Ray one more time. You need to deal with your own issues before you can help anyone else. You need to learn how to comfort yourself.

as much as I'd like yech to come...well with B , that implies we're upset with the girls , and we aren't , or we shouldn't be. And yeah , we need to do this alone and better ourselves along with it

>>3949924
supportin

>>3949913
>A) Pull away from Yech, for eavesdropping and for being utterly insensitive to how upset you are. Tell him that you're seeing Beltoro alone. Ask him to look after Ray one more time. You need to deal with your own issues before you can help anyone else. You need to learn how to comfort yourself.

It's winning, but might as well put my hat in the lot.

>>3949924
>>3949928
>>3949948
>>3949966
Nice, locking the vote here so I can bust out some more updates today. Thanks for voting even when it's unanimous guys. Even if it doesn't seem like it makes a difference, I try to integrate almost everything and sincerely appreciate anyone showing interest in the quest.

Writing now!

>>3949975
You worm out from Yech's grasp, all too acquainted with having to wrest yourself away of the arms of someone bullying you.

"Aw, come on, Richard, don't be such a square—"

Standing upright, you pull fully away, smoothing out your hair, adjusting your holy symbol and frowning at the demon lord.

"I have to do this alone, Yech. I can't keep relying on everyone else to help me. Please, try to understand."

"I understand perfectly! You're fucked up, Remi got into your head, those bitches are playing you and you don't want to fucking hear anything from me either—"

"Yech, as much as I treasure our friendship— and I do want to listen to you— I have to sort this out on my own."

"You aren't even listening to me now, you fucking asshole!"

"I'm listening. Really. You know Beltoro in some capacity, don't you?"

"I mean— yeah. Don't toy with me, Richard. I'm not some fucking woman or a gossip—"

Your frown deepens, as Yech takes a long pull from his flask. It's apparent that it's one of half a dozen that he's strapped to his vest, and is absolutely cycling through them. Though you have no idea what the contents may be, he doesn't appear drunk. Yech's words are strained, his demeanor entirely on edge as he continues.

"I don't want you seeing them alone."

"I can't let another opportunity like this pass me by, Yech. I can't keep ignoring every chance I have to improve myself. I need to do better. I need to do this. You can still help me— you can tell me what you know, you can look after Ray. You can stay here— stay safe— for me to come back to, as soon as I've finished my mission. As much as I would like for you to accompany me, I have to learn how to—"

You realize you're holding onto yourself again. Your hands are white from tensing so hard, but you force yourself to relax them, and drop your arms.

"I have to learn how to look after myself."

"But you're terrible at it, Richard. And don't go thinking I'm trying to coddle you. I just don't want you to fucking die. You're too— you're too decent to go getting fucked by another one of these bastards. You don't deserve it, no matter what you think—"

"It doesn't matter what I think. I'm incapable of seeing anything clearly. I've been through too much to stop now, Yech. I have to do something right."

"You've already done plenty right."

"Even if that were true, it's not enough."

"Bullshit! Am I not enough? Are you just going to leave me, too, after everything I've tried to do for you?! I'm trying to fucking help you, you ungrateful shit. Don't— don't fucking leave me alone down here again, Richard—"

There's a hand on your shoulder again. The gloved bone is so tense, you almost think Yech is about to punch you with his other hand.

You soften your frown, placing a hand over the tension, and gently removing it. Yech huffs, crossing his arms, and you imagine he'd roll his eyes if he could.

(1/?)

>>3950056
"Fine. Fine! See if I fucking care. Go get fucked, go do your job. If you can't take it, don't say I didn't warn you—"

"You haven't told me much of anything, Yech."

"What's there to say that they can't?! I can't help you if I stay here, Richard. They know how to get in your head. You— I mean, fuck, Richard, you're a fucking mess, and this is the last thing you probably need—"

"This might be exactly what I need, Yech."

You kneel down to Ray, and hug him as tightly as you can. He places his head on your shoulder, whining, obviously still upset from your last absence.

"I love you too, Ray. Be good for Yech while I'm gone. I'm going to find a way to make this all up to you. Be a good boy. Stay."

Standing taller than you ever have, you command your dog to sit, to listen to your friend, to not follow you multiple times before he complies. With a frown, you turn from Yech, and only call out to the demon lord over your shoulder.

"Don't forget to feed him!"

"Fuck you too, Richard!"

"I won't let you down, Yech!"

"FUCK OFF RICHARD!"

"Really, Yech, thank you—!"

"I'LL FUCKING FIND YOU JUST TO KILL YOU MYSELF IF YOU DON'T COME BACK—!"

You wave behind your shoulder, without the sensation of a break, without pain or pleasure.

You have no idea how to feel, as you leave your friends behind, and make your way to the entrance of your final task within Idonea's domain.

With a deep breath, your nerves aflame, clutching onto your holy symbol, you approach Beltoro's door.

It's stark white.

There is no handle, no indication of how it opens, no incantation or sense of another being on the other side.

Without any idea of where you are headed, how you've come this far, or whether or not you are ever truly alone, you step through the door.

(2/?)

File: Beltoro's Lair.jpg (564 KB, 1335x1800)

564 KB JPG

>>3950059
https://youtu.be/KUxj5jsCANk

The shadow and light before you is as silent as the grave. The deafening stillness does not come to you as any surprise, as the expanse of tombstones before you stretches out for miles. Overturned, neglected graves litter over ancient soil, so dry and forgotten that you can't fathom a living soul having ever traversed the endless exapnse. Adorning the skyline is a spectral building, drifting across the edges of your vision, seemingly comprised of wisps and white shadow. A colossal staircase winds from the base of the building to its peaks.

You are reminded of a church.

There is not a single demon in sight, but you suspect there are thousands underfoot. Reflexively, you clutch tighter still onto your holy symbol, and take a step back.

The door is gone.

You turn around, frantically, looking to where you had stepped mere moments before. There is not only no door, but there seems to be no end to the demon's domain. Masses of fog reach out to the farthest corners of your vision. There is no sky, only transparent shrouds, fallen graves, and the sensation of something in the back of your skull.

You stagger to the side, clutching at your head, stone cracking underfoot as a trampled grave presses beneath you. It feels like there's a set of fingers running along the back of your scalp, though you can't feel anything there with your own digits.

The sensation is horrifically familiar.

There's a loud pounding, of heavy footfalls, off in the distance.

You've heard them before.

Still clutching at your head, lifting your gaze to the horizon, a thought cuts across your mind like a knife.

This demon has known me since the very beginning.

The sound of rushing water, of hands crawling along your body as you collapsed before a crumbling and impossible set of stairs hits you hard and fast.

You appear to be alone, but it feels like you're surrounded. Like there are hundreds of eyes on you.

>A) Run. Run for the building on the horizon, towards the light and shadow. You have absolutely no time to waste, and you have a horrific suspicion that every second you spend in this place is going to be more trying than the last. Don't hesitate.

>B) Call out to Beltoro. They may be with you, even now. You may look insane, but you have no one to impress here. See if you can grab their attention before you do anything else. At the worst, you'll only waste a little time.

>C) Pray to Spirit for guidance. Implore the Goddess of the Immaterial to lend you Her sight, to show you where to find this demon, so that you might better help them. This is entirely out of your depth.

>D) Stay calm. Inspect your surroundings, take your hands off your head, do whatever you need to maintain your composure. You are in a hurry, but you can spare a moment to gather yourself before venturing forth.

>E) Write-in.

>>3950062
>E) Write-in.

A little bit of B, and a little bit of D. Call to Beltoro while trying to compose ourselves - something tells me that it might not be good to rush through this.

>>3950062
>>B) Call out to Beltoro. They may be with you, even now. You may look insane, but you have no one to impress here. See if you can grab their attention before you do anything else. At the worst, you'll only waste a little time.
>D) Stay calm. Inspect your surroundings, take your hands off your head, do whatever you need to maintain your composure. You are in a hurry, but you can spare a moment to gather yourself before venturing forth.

>>3950065
>>3950066

Yeah, our mistake with remi was not talking to her, and trying to rush through so a bit of both is definitely good

>>3950081
This counts as me seconding btw lel

>>3950065
>>3950066
>>3950081
>>3950095
You guys are absolutely on the ball here. Let's keep this crazy train running! Locking the vote, writing now.

>>3950110
Don't panic.

Don't make the same mistakes.

Don't rush through this.

Restraint. Compassion. Mercy.

Taking a deep breath, you steady yourself, taking your trembling hands off the back of your head. The cloying sensation of fingers running over your scalp persists, but you focus instead on the landscape before you. Holding your holy symbol loosely, you fidget with the gold, taking a few methodical steps forward and off of the tombstones below your feet. The ground is so marred and dry that it's difficult to find any footing, but you manage to pick your way through, inspecting the markings and trying your best to keep your breath level.

The prodding and pulling under your hair is incessant, as you pass through what is obviously a tribute to the fallen city of lights. Across the stones are names, dates, all unknown to you and most too faded to be read. It matters little. You recognize none of them.

Your breath steadies, your hands calm. These are not like the cemeteries you have passed through on the surface, filled with men who have followed you to their death. This is not the site of your fallen mentor, or of clergy who have passed away. This is an ancient burial site, one that has likely been forgotten for ages.

You lift your head and call out. The usual timidness of your speech is entirely absent, as your resolve to take on this demon's challenge emboldens you: to do better, to be better.

"Beltoro!"

Your voice echoes, impossibly, in the open air. Though you see no one and nothing around you, the resonance of your speech carries over the graves as if you were delivering a sermon within the very Church of Mercy.

You draw back for a moment, entirely unsure of how to proceed, until something answers back.

The sensation on the back of your skull intensifies, as it feels like a nail drags itself behind your scalp and under the skin. You're reminded simultaneously of a needle and a demon, instantly wanting to retch as you recall Tsilorm digging into your mind as well. The movement into your head is accompanied by the intensifying pressure of something, someone, a crowd or a congregation boring into you with their eyes.

The silence of the domain is absolute, but something is conveyed to you, wordlessly. It wraps itself around your thoughts, punctuating the scream that wants to rise to your throat and stifling it instantly.

(1/2)

>>3950143
"Late is the hour of your arrival."

Confusion and terror drenches you. The point of the needle drills into the back of your skull with no pleasure, no blossoming relief. It's a different kind of pain, one that's coming from a rampantly intensifying desire to remove the intruder from your mind.

"Your vessel is weak, and your mind weaker still."

There's something piercing, pushing, clawing, out from the front of your skull and clawing its way up and into your hair. It feels like a spider made of knives, though nothing is there. You hold your ground, fear drenching you, hands to your holy symbol and an unstoppable plea to Mercy for Her protection falling from your lips.

"We know what you seek. We know what you are. We know of your weakness. Your pain. Your failings. You are inadequate. You are confused. Yet you are not afraid."

Each syllable is punctuated by another pull on your scalp. There is no wound, but it feels as if blood is dripping into your eyes, drenching your hair and blinding you entirely.

White begins to cloud your vision.

"We care not for your bravery. Your honesty is meaningless. Your words are empty, filled as they are with ignorance. You preach, knowing not what to believe in. We will not tarry. We will give you courtesy. We will show you the respect that none will show us. We will show you, if you know what you must do."

>A) Remain silent, and listen. You have no idea what you need to do. You are ignorant, you are confused, but you are not afraid.

>B) Communicate your confusion, your ignorance, your desire to change. Ask the demon of Spirit how they've known you. Ask aloud what Beltoro intends to show you.

>C) Dig into your skull. Think. What could you possibly do to amend your preaching, your naivete, your inability to recognize what you need and what is meaningless? How can you listen? How can you learn? What can you know? (Write-in your answer.)

>>3950145
>>B) Communicate your confusion, your ignorance, your desire to change. Ask the demon of Spirit how they've known you. Ask aloud what Beltoro intends to show you.

Communicate, level that speech skill

>>3950145
>>A) Remain silent, and listen. You have no idea what you need to do. You are ignorant, you are confused, but you are not afraid.

>>3950145
>A)
Stay quiet dumbo

>>3950145
>>B) Communicate your confusion, your ignorance, your desire to change. Ask the demon of Spirit how they've known you. Ask aloud what Beltoro intends to show you.

Said it earlier, but assuming will not lend well to this situation. Admit that we don't know, and take what comes with that.

>>3950200
*assuming will not lend well in general. Should check before I post, lol.

>>3950156
>>3950160
>>3950180
>>3950200
>>3950202
A tie.

The vote is locked, writing now.

>>3950250
I need to communicate.

I need to listen.

What do I say?

What do I know?

"We hear you."

The cacophony of impressions claws at the back of your skull. The hand of a man, a woman, a child, a sinner, a demon— the sensation of a thought trails across your doubt, your inner conflict, your desperation to do the right thing.

What do you intend to show me?

"Everything."

The white across your eyes goes opaque. It courses through your veins, flooding you with an impression, an intent, a feeling.

A Spirit.

You are Ofelia Banks, a halfling woman, who has traveled far from her home, far from Spira, your capital of the world.

Your friends call you "Eagle Eyes," but no one here is truly your friend.

As the daughter of an illustrious crime lord, you have spent your life desperately trying to prove yourself. You have fought, you have struggled, you have suffered the abuse and ridicule of everyone who has ever known you all in the name of proving yourself. You have earned your position, at the head of the family. You have earned the respect of others. You took control, you took what was rightfully yours. You protected your sisters, your brothers, your mother, the business and your reputation— but you could not protect your father.

He pushed himself too far. You do not know the details of the negotiation, but he attempted to bargain for something and lost. He was near death five months ago, wasting away, begging you to do everything you could to save him. To prove yourself, one last time.

You have been in the ruins for months. Having traveled halfway across the continent, under the dead of night, you have—

"STOP—!"

The pain in your temples is so excruciating that you rip back into yourself, into your body, into the agony, into the hands in the back of your skull. You're on your knees, bent over a tombstone, clutching onto something in the present for dear life.

"Are you so weak? Are you afraid? Do you not wish to know?"

>A) Yes. This violates any sort of respect you could ever claim to hold for yourself or your friends. This is no form of Mercy. This is an abuse of Spirit. Tell Beltoro you will not listen. You will not learn, not like this. There must be another way.

>B) No. Let the demon in. Let him show you.
>1) But you don't want to know what your friend thinks of you. Not like this. You'll listen, but you need to find these things out for yourself. Let him in, but insist that he abstain from showing you anything you don't already know.
>2) You will listen. You will learn everything. You are not afraid.

>C) Write-in.

>>3950283
>B) No. Let the demon in. Let him show you.
>B2) You will listen. You will learn everything. You are not afraid.

We must face the truth and the knowledge that Beltoro is presenting us. If we decline it, this will not go smoothly I feel.

>>3950283
>B) No. Let the demon in. Let him show you.
>1) You already have an idea of what your friend thinks of you. But this is still a breach of faith. You'll listen, but you need to find these things out for yourself. Let him in, but insist that he abstain from showing you anything you don't already know.

True understanding does not come from invading the most primal part of someone's mind to view their deep-set fears without their consent. Coming to an understanding requires two parties to be on equal ground, and this is a violation of that.

>>3950299
It may be an invasion of privacy, but we will only get a biased truth from her directly if we attempt to fish for info. I feel like this is a now or never thing, because we're not going to get an understanding of anything with how she's been acting (and rightfully so). As soon as we get up top, they'll be gone. It's certainly immoral, but it's an uncolored truth that we may not be able to get again.

>>3950309
That's fine, it's their choice. I've been past the point of trying to keep them with us outside of hell for a while now.

>>3950320
If we're past that point, then we might as well get information that we won't otherwise, because we're never gonna see them again after this.

>>3950322
But why would we need their extremely personal information if we're never going to see them again?

>>3950322
I thought we said we'd see them again, I'd hope we would

>>3950328
To fill in the blanks of what we don't know. We don't know hardly anything about them still, and it comes down to the fact that if we don't see them again...why wouldn't we want to know? There's no harm in it, right? We'll get insight into whatever's going through their head, their circumstances, and we'll be able to have that knowledge even though we don't need it.

>>3950283
>>C) Write-in.

Tell Beltoro that this isn't weakness, and you aren't afraid of what you will learn, Tell him that you don't need to know to be strong in your convictions or your mission.

Extremely unsure of this direction but it's what I'd want to say at least, seems almost like a test but idk

>>3950296
Changing my vote to this. Fuck.

>>3950296
>>3950418
Going to lock the vote here while there's anything resembling a consensus. You guys are amazing. This discussion was great. Writing now.

>>3950422
The pain lancing your nerves and pumping through every beat of your heart pales in comparison to the static, the noise, the intermission of the demon that is inside your head and pausing their display.

Your thoughts are racing a mile a minute, each one more agonizing than the last as Beltoro clearly reaches into them.

This is now or never.
I can't break my vows, I can't betray my friends, I can't come to any real understanding without their consent— but haven't I prayer to Spirit with them before?
This isn't weakness, is it?
Haven't I told myself over and over again that I want to see them again?
Haven't I accepted that I likely never will, when this is all over?
Do I even need this knowledge?
Don't I want to know, even if that isn't the case?
Am I not desperate to learn, to grow, to uphold my mission, to be true to my convictions?

I have to do this.

I need to face the truth.

"You already have."

You are Ofelia "Eagle Eyes" Banks, and you are a careful woman. You have spent your family's fortune on protecting yourself, concealing yourself, ensuring that your travel to the land of Gods and demons would not result in your immediate demise. You told yourself that the expense was worth it, that a magical form of protection and ensuring you found someone to heal your father was worth more than all the gold to your name.

You cannot go back home without an answer.

It was five months of travel, of hiding, of pilfering, of research and of fear before you found one.

The answer did not come in the form of an artifact, in magic or in demons. Your tenuous alliance with the sorceress had proved utterly worthless. Though Celegwen was a masterful combatant, she professed that she could not heal. Her talents were for manipulating the fabric of what could be, not fixing what was.

The mortal coil, the body, the soul— it is all the domain of the Gods. You were familiar with the deity of your people, the singular and often neglected worship of the land. Halflings respected what little was left of the world, but they rarely worshiped it. You thought that the devotion of humans was a myth, a fairy tale. More often than not, you were told that they were all insane, that there was no redemption to be had among them. That their most devout were still cursed, that their land was tainted, that they had no hope and were a dying breed.

You rapidly realized that their reverence was real when you looked upon a man who could call forth lightning and fire from his very soul, even when on the brink of death.

(1/3)

>>3950479
The creatures that had threatened your life fell before him, seemingly without effort. You were afraid. You are still afraid. The days that you watched over him as he fitfully tossed and twitched, wracked with the illness and tremor that his Gods inflicted on him led you to believe that he could not be saved. His unwavering obsession with himself, his reverence and his pain had you question his sanity from the first moment you held him at knife-point. He never once questioned you, confided in you, and bore his soul countless times. He has leaned on you for support, for security, and the first time he left you suspected you would find his dead body not long after.

You often wish you did. He has given you hope, hope for a cure. Hope for an answer. Hope for redemption, for an answer to your pain. Hope not for humanity, for the curse that plagues his people, for his twisted Gods or his insanity— but for your own Father. For your family. For the children you want to have, the quiet life you want to lead, your retirement, your quiet retreat back into something sane.

You do not want to suffer and die, alone in a hole at the bottom of the world. You do not want to be here. You have never wanted to venture so deeply, to test your mettle with Gods and demons. You have hid, you have stolen, you have lied. You are a blasphemer that has cursed every God, demon and human in the forsaken land of Corcaea.

You have never once stopped reminding yourself that to fight is to die.

Yet you've endured. You've trusted in this man, and followed him to the bottom of the world. Your conviction is unwavering. Your devotion to your principles, to yourself, to being decent, to sharing your passion, to looking after those who cannot help themselves has never left you. You've always tried to make the best of a bad situation. You've been there for Celegwen when no one else has. You've distracted and killed countless demons from abusing the unholiest of men. You've lost countless nights of sleep making sure that he's gotten rest. You've tended to his wounds, you've ignored your needs as a woman, you've dismissed your pride, and you've never stopped believing that it will all be worth it.

You need to go home.

You don't know if the priest is even capable of remembering his Gods, who he is, or what he needs to do to ensure you all survive, but you are trapped.

You have not slept in four days, and you are starving to death. You have been accused by the man you've risked your life for of being a demon. You suspect that he doesn't remember most of what you have done for him, but you understand.

He is only human.

You are a halfling woman, with a family to go home to. Even if you die, trapped, a failure and without a friend at the bottom of the world, you know that you've at least tried to do the right thing.

You will see to it that Richard survives, and completes his mission.

You'll make sure that you find your cure.

You've killed over far less.

(2/3)

>>3950483
"You have survived, Father, though you have yet to complete your mission."

You're vomiting. Something white and clear is coming up, as you blindly heave, clinging onto a tombstone. The pain in your skull is so intense that you can't fathom it ever leaving, yet the demon somehow continues to press deeper into your mind.

You can't stop. The out pour is unbearable. It's hot, smelling vaguely of lilies, and so thin that you wonder if it's even coming from your own body.

The opacity obscuring your vision persists. You can't see anything, as you clutch onto the stone, finishing your retching and struggling to even stay on your knees. It's a small blessing that the demon can read your thoughts, as you are utterly incapable of speech.

The hand pulls again, dragging a nail, a spike, a barb across the back of your agony.

"We are not finished."

>A) Beg for the demon to stop. Tell Beltoro that you won't do this. You'll do anything else, but you won't continue with their games. This is wrong. You never needed to know any of this. You never wanted to know any of this. This is no way to show Mercy.

>B) You are beginning to understand just how little you know your friends, yourself, your place in the world, or anything else for that matter. Let the demon continue. You are going to commit to your mission, to what Beltoro needs, even if it kills you. You need to know. You have to understand.

>C) Write-in.

>>3950486
>>B) You are beginning to understand just how little you know your friends, yourself, your place in the world, or anything else for that matter. Let the demon continue. You are going to commit to your mission, to what Beltoro needs, even if it kills you. You need to know. You have to understand.
As with Remi, we gotta take it like a man. As much of a bad idea as that might seem.

>>3950486
>>B) Have a real good time on Beltoro's wild ride.

>>3950486
>B) You are beginning to understand just how little you know your friends, yourself, your place in the world, or anything else for that matter. Let the demon continue. You are going to commit to your mission, to what Beltoro needs, even if it kills you. You need to know. You have to understand.

>>3950486
>B)lame the women

>>3950493
>>3950502
>>3950510
>>3950514
>>3950516
Beltoro's wild ride it is.

Vote is locked.

Writing now.

>>3950526
I have to do this. I've been a fool. I don't know myself, the women I've called friends, my place in this world or anything else for that matter. I need to know. I have to understand. Please, Beltoro. I wish to do for you the same that I have done for Yech, for Remigius.

I wish to show you Mercy.

Even if it kills me.

Please. Show me everything.

"Though it remains to be seen if you can fulfill your mission, I will ensure that you know what you are facing. Who you are facing."

The pain lancing your mind subsides, if only slightly.

Everything goes numb.

Everything

slows

down.

You go by the name of Celegwen.

You went by another name for a very long time.

You don't hate the name, but you hate its inelegance, how awkward it looks and sounds, when written and spoken.

You hate that it was given to you when you were exiled from the Verdant Dominion.

You no longer remember what you were once called.

You no longer remember much of anything.

You remember the pink of rose campion, on the beaches of your home. The sound of the sea, the rough water.

The faces around you were blank, smeared over like an oil painting.

The shores were smeared and speckled with ice.

There was not ice. There was once heat, and warmth.

There was a demon, stronger than any you had ever faced. Cold, relentless, faced down by light and compassion.

You remember a man, willing to risk his life to protect you.

You remember the flowers.

You prefer to remember the smell of old parchment, of countless tomes you've poured over. Hundreds of years of accumulated knowledge.

There is a cloying feeling in the back of your mind, ever present, that your research was for something very important.

You're reminded of it often, when you see Father Anscham.

You prefer that he doesn't ask you about yourself. You've always been very quiet. You have been more talkative, of late, but you would prefer for it to be quiet.

It's reassuring that he's also come to the ruins to die.

It's of little comfort that his Gods are real, but it is reassuring that your research has led you to correct conclusions about his people.

You have never believed in the Gods.

You have believed that they are all insane.

Humans have had animosity against your people for so many of their generations. You have been told all of your life—

There's that nagging feeling again.

You like to remember nagging him. Of secrets shared in the dark. Of someone so young and innocent, so eager to share. A rare smile, a smirk, the confidence in which he speaks of the things he believes in. The resonance of his voice, the light, the color and the hope.

It's far better to remember.

You like to remember the bend in your staff, the worn grooves from hundreds of years of shaping space into something new, something whole.

It's a miracle that he was able to survive your work.

You are not a healer.

(1/4)

>>3950620
You remember facing down a major demon, at the height of your power and knowledge. You were so strong. You were terribly, horrifically strong, able to defend yourself and the halfling for months without issue. Able to conjure, to dissipate, to protect—

What else was there?

There's the sand of the beach, the sound of birds. You have been in the ruins for seven months now. There are no birds here, other than in the lair of a demon that has attempted to ruin Father Anscham's body.

You prefer to remember him using his mind, his soul, to endure knowing even a fragment of you.

Nothing could kill you. You did not fear humankind, demons, or Gods. You did not fear Father Anscham, not when you saw him for the first time, and never since.

You've seen him risk his life for you, time and time again.

You've seen him endure so much suffering, with the utmost conviction, desperate to prove himself and to do the right thing.

You've seen him reeling from the embrace of a Goddess, blessed with divinity, with light, with hope and with purpose.

You remember promising to help him.

You remember giving him something to hold.

He can't hold you.

You've never wanted intimacy. You've never wanted a family.

There's something else you wanted, so badly that you dedicated over 300 years to the study of it.

You were a fool to want someone to hold, after months of darkness, isolation and death.

You are forgetting yourself.

You are an exile. You have no family, no friends. The smeared, ice-stricken faces were easy to give up. There is no one to go home to. There is no one you wish to make a home with.

There is something you still need do.

There is that damn feeling.

There is a bolt of lightning. A dream. Knowledge, sinew, bounty, justice, Mercy—

It doesn't matter that he's unhinged. You've lived for 352 years, and in a flash of ice and paint, of crimson and of sin, you've had your mind and body ravaged beyond repair as well.

You have had no home for a very long time. You have been losing yourself for far longer.

It's taken you 352 years to learn. You've been in the ruins for seven months. You lost everything in a few minutes. You are still losing. You are still failing.

There is a man who you have followed to the end of the world, in the hopes that he will give you something.

Not his hand, not his story, not his Gods and not his word.

There is something you need to remember. Something so important that you have traveled halfway across the continent, braving the borders of humankind. Something that has led you to never let on your intent, your purpose, your reasoning, your wisdom, your loss, your pain, your hope.

Something to heal.

Something to hold.

Something to take home.

Something to remember.

Everything

speeds up.

(2/4)

File: Beltoro.png (752 KB, 511x864)

752 KB PNG

>>3950621
You are Father Richard Anscham, on your hands and knees, fighting against an out pour of vomit and the collision of your perception, the speed at which time seems to pass by. There's a shadow, a movement, of the mist in the sky passing and twisting above you.

You are in your own body, your emaciated, scarred, and altogether abused body.

The movement from the depths of your Spirit to the upper reaches of the door before you is apparent.

You are no longer in the cemetery. You are on a stair.

You don't know how long it's taken, how many seconds or hours or days you've been retching.

The hands along the back of your head, the itch of the ethereal, travels from the inside of your mouth, along every inch of your body, up and inside the door before you.

Before you is a white staircase, leading into a room painted red.

The room is not painted.

It is reflecting the viscera of hundreds of corpses.

There are demons inside, stacked to the ceiling in various states of decay.

Between the smell of death, the rot and the ruin is no fewer than twenty hands. They are affixed to arms, and growing by the second. They eclipse your vision, the passage, your sanity.

There is a motion, a feeling, a Spirit deep inside your skull.

"She did not see—"

You're no longer coughing. You're practically catatonic, your breath so ragged and strained that you can only choke out one word, to finish the demon's sentence and pray that they permit you to live.

"Time—"

"We have run out of it. You have never had any to spare. Will you make enough for us? Will you do for us what you have sworn?"

The sting of knowledge, of the acid in your throat, of the gaping pain in every recess of your mind, of the weeks of trauma and the utter uncertainty of what the demon is asking you burns all the more as you realize you aren't going to even have a moment to deal with everything you've learned.

"You have not failed yourself. You have yet to fail us. What we ask will upset you. What we need is relief, compassion, understanding, respect. Our kin are ignorant of their needs. Our Catalyst has been our knowledge. It is unbearable, Father. You must understand."

The hands all, simultaneously, beckon you forward.

"We will release you without complaint, when we are no longer able to. When you grant us release from our pain. This is all we ask. That which no other can give. We wish you had come sooner, to not prolong our suffering. We have given you everything we have. Everything we could know. We hope you can see. We hope you can know. Late is the hour of your arrival. Late is the hour of our wisdom."

They want to die.

They want me to kill them.

I can scarcely stand.

(Overestimated, options in next post.)

>>3950622
>A) You're having a panic attack, on the verge of death, and honestly just need to lay down for a moment to try and breathe. You are going to actually lose your mind if you have to deal with this demon for another second. Ask for one more minute to try and cope with everything you've learned. Talk to Beltoro, vomit some more, do ANYTHING other than enter this demon's domain. Just for a moment.

>B) You need to end this before you die. Enter their chamber.
>1) Show them Mercy. Pray for the Goddess to relieve the demon of their suffering. The only cure is death.
>2) Show them Spirit. Ask the demon for permission to see what they have seen. Share their knowledge with them, before you kill them.
>3) Refuse to kill them. Offer to listen to them, instead. Ask for Beltoro to share with you what they are burdened with. You can't fathom invoking anyone right now and surviving.

>C) You've never had Time. Pray for more.
>1) Pray to have a few more moments with Beltoro. Grant the demon this one final gift.
>2) Pray to have another hour, to get back to Idonea with your head on straighter. Enough time to talk to Ofelia, Celegwen, and Yech. Enough time to help this demon, to properly satisfy your task. To talk, to listen, to learn. To be better.

>D) Write-in.

>>3950623
>B) You need to end this before you die. Enter their chamber.
>3) Refuse to kill them. Offer to listen to them, instead. Ask for Beltoro to share with you what they are burdened with. You can't fathom invoking anyone right now and surviving.

We don't want to invoke, do we? This is the closest way we can do our job as a priest if we don't. Allow this demon confession, for time is short; who knows how long Idonea has left?

Just a heads up guys, I'm not mentally up for anymore of Beltoro's wild ride tonight and will be leaving this open until morning. Thank you all so much for the stellar discussion, and I will resume tomorrow morning, EST.

>>3950623
this >>3950624
be the priest you gotta be, Richard!

>>3950624
Hell yeah seconding/thirding

>>3950624
>>3950730
>>3950752
Hell yeah guys. Let's do this.

I have no work and only a single case study to do today, so I can actually update quite a bit if we keep the votes coming! Also just a friendly reminder to anyone lurking that even if a vote is majority, it doesn't hurt to still cast one in. Any comments you guys make I always do my best to consider.

Writing now!

>>3950838
https://youtu.be/zg5QMysuSYg?t=26

With a ragged breath, you wipe off your face and stagger upright. Each step is unbearable, but you have to keep moving forward.

You've always had to keep moving forward.

This time, you actually want to, with every fiber of your being.

To complete your work.

To be the man you know you can be.

Your resolve keeps your procession firmer than the hands around your holy symbol. The knuckles, fingers and palms outstretched before you are whiter still, as they creep back into the domain of knowledge and death.

The sensation of your own imminent demise is all too familiar. You step forward into it, embracing it, into the chamber of piled corpses. There are no furnishings to be seen, only an expanse of impossible space that stretches outwards and upwards, back into the ruins.

A body falls from a height so staggering above you that your head reels. A corpse plunges onto the top of the mountain, emitting the first sound you've actually heard in some time.

You do not need Time here.

You need Mercy.

The hands before you are inert, defeated before you even speak. You recognize their self-hatred, their instability, their neuroticism, their lust for death. There is more lust, for pain, for battle, for wisdom, but it is bent. They were broken before you ever met them.

They do not have a face, but you see so much of yourself in them. You desperately wish to help.

"My child. I wish to grant you that which you seek. That which you know. That which I cannot hope to understand unless you impart your knowledge to me. Please, Beltoro."

You reach your hands out to the demon, in a gesture you haven't made in weeks. The symbol of the church of Mercy is so familiar to you.

You are remembering yourself.

"Will you confess?"

"We have given you only one request, and you wish to deny us even this small—"

"Mercy. Yes. There is no telling how much time Idonea has left. I cannot abuse the Gods, Beltoro. I cannot undo my work, my life, and my mission to grant you this request. I will die if I do this for you. You know your strength. You know the madness that's ruined you. Your Catalyst has pushed you, and the way that you have helped me has nearly left me too weak to stand."

You do remain standing, looking to the demon with no fear in your heart. It is agony, to remain on your feet, to contend with the pain, but you persist. You look on with compassion, with the will to serve, to uphold your tenets and to be better.

"I have failed your kin so many times. I have failed my allies, my enemies, and myself— but I will not fail you. Not now. Confess, Beltoro. Confess."

"...you have not failed us, Father."

The hands before you remain inert and utterly incapable of conveying all of the respect that is pouring into the furthest recesses of your mind. It feels like every fracture is whole.

It reminds you of the Gods.

(1/3)

>>3950877
The cacophony of impressions gives way to singular thoughts, singular Spirits, pulling themselves apart, sorting out the emotion and wisdom that their collective is desperate to bestow upon you.

"You are the leader of—"

You immediately interject, pride swelling in you.

"The Church of Mercy."

"Yes. You have never forgotten. We— I confess. I confess to having worshiped. To have known nothing of restraint. It has been ages since I have looked upon anything with eyes. I have extended myself. Reached out. Taken what I have wanted, until nothing was left of me but—"

The hands retract, almost imperceptibly.

"We do not know what we were. We do not know what we are. We know others. We know what it is to suffer. To wait. To stumble blindly in the dark. To have fallen. To have sinned. We will not trivialize or demean you. We will not compare our suffering. No one can ever truly know another. No human or demon can ever know what it is to have felt the life of another. We can only offer glimpses. We can only feel. We cannot see. We cannot know. We can only try."

It's too difficult to remain standing at such length. You kneel, looking intently to the demon, offering them as much of yourself as you can possibly give.

Beltoro continues.

"You are Father Richard Anscham. Though you have been labeled as many things, you scarcely know yourself. You often forget the full extent of everything you have endured. You know that your parents loved you, and that they strove to protect you against your pain. You know that you have always been weak. You know that you have been nothing, not in your entire life, without—"

One of the fingers along the closest hand twitches, slightly. It reminds you of your own tremor.

"Without the Gods."

"This is a falsehood. You could never have endured without your strength. You could not always call—"

"Upon them. No. I could not always invoke them. It has been torturous. The way I use the Gods is unnatural. The clergy of each church does not have pain, or blood, or bile. Their Spirits do not break nor does their Flesh waste away. They do not abuse Them. The Gods see fit to bless their lifelong devotion, their family, their service. They have thrust this blessing upon me, through years of restraint and agony. There is light, in the Church of Mercy, but I have almost entirely known it through the Goddess and mere glimpses of what it truly means to serve. I have been an usurper, a prisoner, guarded, monitored, kept away from the world save for the Mercy of my mentor. I have never been a part of their family. I have never been their Father. I have served and worked tirelessly, but to them it has always been in name alone. I know you cannot speak of it, Beltoro. I understand that you know. Please, continue."

(2/3)

>>3950879
"You have endured. You still wish to return to the world outside. You are no demon, Father. You are brave, you are kind, you are resilient. You are an unwitting diplomat within your very home. You have surrounded yourself with people you do not know, who will be your undoing if you do not stop them. You are quick to trust. You are desperate to learn. You can learn. You can grow."

The hands before you tense.

"You must understand the weight of your responsibility. You cannot trust so easily. You will be faced with endless scrutiny. You will have to know yourself and defend against pain of a different kind. You must know of betrayal, of poison and of slander. You have been kept away from the world, but it is coming for you, Father. You will not be able to hide. Not if you truly wish to live."

A palm stretches out before you.

"We wish for nothing more than to prepare you for what is to come. We wish for you to know. Idonea is not disgraced. She has strove for ages to protect us from ourselves. She has asked you to bestow this kindness upon her children with her dying breaths. She has known nothing but empathy, but compassion, and she was fit to serve. She was fit to lead. She was more than even—"

"Her Catalyst was her empathy. She could not serve. She fell."

"She has exhibited that which you wish to express. She has known in greater ways than you could imagine. Her gift, her curse, will break you if you are too blind to see. You must try. You must feel. You must know. Mind, body and soul. You will need to be strong, Father, if you wish to take after her. If you wish to lead. If you wish to serve."

The palm closes, as the demon draws deep into itself.

"We confess to still not knowing you. We confess to not knowing where you will go, or what you may do. You are a broken man, Father Anscham, and my kin have done everything in their power to test you. I do not wish to. You are at your limit. What you do with this knowledge will define you."

The door behind you grabs your attention, but you don't dare to even look away from the demon, offering yourself, your compassion, your Mercy.

Every hand points to the door beyond, commanding your attention, begging you to go.

"Leave us. Leave us to rot. Leave us to suffer. We thank you, for your compassion, and for your strength. We cannot ask you again to fall for our own selfish means. We will no doubt never see you again. Leave us, and go to her. Go to your mission. Go to your choice. Know who you have seen. Know who you can trust. Know the truth."

The door that has materialized beyond leads back to the abyss. It has closed off the cemetery, the stair, and shows a field of grain.

The moon is black.

You have run out of time, and there are several figures gathered beyond your line of sight. They are all illuminated. You can see.

(Just slightly over, 3/4)

>>3950881
You see Idonea, surrounded by her daughters, by Yech. By her family.

Beltoro makes no indication to join you.

"We have confessed. We will thank you for this final gift, but we will not endure. We will suffer. Now go. Leave us."

>A) Respect Beltoro's final request, and leave their domain.
>1) You have nothing further to say. You know there's nothing that will console them. You know this demon is feared even by those who call them kin. Show them that you know, that you understand, and go.
>2) Impart one final thing to them, before you go. (Write-in anything you wish to say).

>B) Swear to obtain the Relic, and to try and use it to heal the demon's pain. You won't kill the undeserving. You will show Mercy. You will find a way to thank this demon for everything they've done for you. This won't be the last time you see them.

>C) Write-in.

>>3950883
>>A) Respect Beltoro's final request, and leave their domain.
>1) You have nothing further to say. You know there's nothing that will console them. You know this demon is feared even by those who call them kin. Show them that you know, that you understand, and go.

>>3950883
Mainly
>B) Swear to obtain the Relic, and to try and use it to heal the demon's pain. You won't kill the undeserving. You will show Mercy. You will find a way to thank this demon for everything they've done for you. This won't be the last time you see them.

Thank them for their understanding, their restraint, and their confession. Without actually saying the name of the God, commend them for their strength of spirit.

Hopefully this won't be another broken promise.

>>3950883
>>B) Swear to obtain the Relic, and to try and use it to heal the demon's pain. You won't kill the undeserving. You will show Mercy. You will find a way to thank this demon for everything they've done for you. This won't be the last time you see them.

as long as this and the main A option, of fulfilling the request to leave his domain, aren't mutually exclusive

don't want to piss him off now

>>3950883
>>A) Respect Beltoro's final request, and leave their domain.

>>3950883
>B) Swear to obtain the Relic, and to try and use it to heal the demon's pain. You won't kill the undeserving. You will show Mercy. You will find a way to thank this demon for everything they've done for you. This won't be the last time you see them.

>>3950889
>>3950931
Two for A

>>3950890
>>3950908
>>3950932
3 for B

Good thing these aren't mutually exclusive. :^) You guys are awesome, vote is locked. Writing now!

>>3951049
You turn to leave, the motion ravaging your body with exhaustion and torment. The claw at the back of your mind persists, pulling, dragging, threatening with the promise of death if you misstep.

The demon is insane, but they have aided you in so many ways you scarcely know how to thank them.

"Beltoro."

You look over your healed shoulder, wracked as it is with tremor. The hands of the demon are tense, bristling, waiting for you to leave them to their suffering.

"Beltoro, thank you. Thank you for your understanding, your restraint, and your confession. You deserve to be commended. Your strength and your knowledge are far from a curse. You have been a blessing. I don't want to make any more promises that can be so easily broken— but I want to aid you, with an answer to your pain. With Mercy."

You move to leave, turning away, back towards the abyss.

"I hope to see you again. To thank you."

The demon remains silent, slipping out, away from your mind, away from your Spirit. The release of his pull is so gradual that it's difficult to tell where the hand once was, where your mind has been, who you have seen and what you know. Everything seems to fall apart, as your vessel is so cracked that only the Gods can hold you together.

Fractured, alone, full of hope and conviction, brimming with knowledge and on the very brink of death, you step through the door.

https://youtu.be/MOX4nd8zHIg

Idonea is dying.

The fallen mother of the church of Mercy is lying in the grain, surrounded by her daughters. Yech is kneeling next to her, a gloved hand on Ray. As you stagger out of Beltoro's domain, the door behind you seals shut in an instant.

You know they are afraid of being seen, of being known. You have not made a promise, but you intend to return.

For now, you try to focus, to not continue vomiting, to stagger forward and collapse to your knees next to the demon lord. Your friend. Your ally. The one person in the ruins that you know you could trust. Who's helped you at every turn.

Yech catches you as you stumble, righting you to your feet. Ray rushes beside you, leaning against you, whining and nuzzling you to the best of his ability.

There is no sign of Ofelia or Celegwen.

You can't quite care, as you struggle to speak, to do something with the limited time you have left.

Yech wraps an arm around your shoulder, helping you over towards Idonea's body.

"Come on, you lunatic. I fucking knew you could do it. Come on. A little further. You've been through worse. Let's go."

You are so wracked with exhaustion that you easily collapse to your knees beside the archdemon. Yech gives you a shoulder to lean on, as the fallen mother looks to you.

Her face, her corpse, is shrouded in gold. Her light is fading fast. Her words are calm, her demeanor patient, her compassion absolute. Her words are deliberate, radiant and so soft that you have to lean in to hear her.

"I'm sorry."

(Options in next post)

>>3951078
>A) Show your appreciation for the archdemon's trials and tests. Tell her you know she's been trying to help you all along. Save your complaints, your angst and your self-pity. Thank her. She doesn't have much time.

>B) Express your frustration, your inability to do more. Tell her she doesn't need to apologize, that you have failed countless times and that you only wish you could have been better. There are hundreds of demons in these ruins. Death doesn't have to be the answer, and you need her to know that you understand.

>C) Ask her your final questions. Allow her to impart her wisdom one last time. You still have so much to learn. (Write-in anything you wish to say.)

>D) Write-in.

>>3951078
"You could've warned us how unruly some of your kids were. Like this bonebag right here. Or your daughter with her... 'fuck zone.' But... I suppose I should thank you, in the end."

>>3951080
>A) Show your appreciation for the archdemon's trials and tests. Tell her you know she's been trying to help you all along. Save your complaints, your angst and your self-pity. Thank her. She doesn't have much time.
>>3951093
also this.

>>3951080
>A) Show your appreciation for the archdemon's trials and tests. Tell her you know she's been trying to help you all along. Save your complaints, your angst and your self-pity. Thank her. She doesn't have much time.

>>3951080
>A) Show your appreciation for the archdemon's trials and tests. Tell her you know she's been trying to help you all along. Save your complaints, your angst and your self-pity. Thank her. She doesn't have much time.

Also tell her she doesn't need to apologize; don't want to have to select B to let her know that.
It would be great to omit the whiny complaints about her children, but I understand that two are in support of it. It seems needlessly backhanded, is all.

If possible, we should ask if she is truly content, and if there's anything she'd like us to do after her passing.

>>3951115
I thought of it more like joking and not backhanded or accusatory, something to relive the sadness of the situation, just want to make that clear

>>3951093
>>3951094
>>3951097
>>3951115
>>3951124
Locking the vote here, wanted to leave this open for a bit to give everyone a chance to say their peace. Writing now.

>>3951174
"There's no need to apologize, Idonea."

Though you're so exhausted you can scarcely see, you catch the edges of the gold lift into a slight smile.

You return it, the strain of your journey swelling in the corners of your eyes. Your voice is cracked with emotion, but you try to push through it. To say something, anything, to express how much you've appreciated everything the archdemon has done for you.

"I could have asked, couldn't I? About your children. About what you intended to teach me."

The demon lord around your shoulders, the children of light, and the memory of how much you've been tortured embraces you.

"You could have warned us. But— I never thought to ask. I couldn't have known, couldn't have understood. I don't think I would have known what to do with this demon here—"

You're leaning hard against Yech, struggling to stay conscious, to cling onto these last few moments.

"I wouldn't have known what to do with your daughter. Your children— but I have to thank you, Idonea. I want to thank you. I know."

Everyone is so quiet. There is no wind, no light, save for the fading radiance of the archdemon lying before you.

Her voice lifts, as she softly speaks.

"You already have. Thank you."

"Are you content, Idonea?"

"You have seen growth, and felt, and known— have you not?"

"I have."

A long moment passes between all of you. The exhaustion enveloping your mind is unbearable, but you push through it, imploring your teacher, your mentor, your guide.

"Is there anything else you wish for me to do?"

There is a faint glow. Freya moves forward, to hold her mother, to help the archdemon reach into her chest.

Idonea takes out a locket, a pair of hands, pressed together in prayer. Its light is dim, and you can look upon it with mortal eyes. The gold is immaculate, never having been worn. Though the object is delicate, small and scarcely visible against the archdemon's decay, it means everything to you.

The fallen mother of Mercy extends her hands to you. The decayed flesh parts from the gold, crumbling off of her frame as she wastes away before your eyes. The Relic of your Goddess, the answer to your pain, and the pain of so many others is before you.

"Take it. Use it. Grow. Feel. Know. Show the world everything that we have worked for. Heal their pain, Father. Heal yourself. Show them—"

"Mercy."

> You are Father Richard Anscham, leader of the Church of Mercy.

> Take the Relic.

> Say a prayer to the Goddess.

> Write in anything you wish to share.

> With which to grow, to feel, to know.

> Complete your mission.