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>>4339365
It took hours to descend into ruins beneath Calunoth. After navigating impossible architecture, escaping heathens in hiding, and running out of an endless detour, the new muscle beneath your holy vestments is aching. It was a gift, from the God of Flesh, for demonstrating your endless devotion these last many months.

It's taken an additional day of travel to reach your destination, even with the guidance of the most cunning navigator alive. Harvey Jay Algrith is also the bravest man you've ever met. Traversing the incomprehensible domain of the demon of Time has been like second nature to him. He's been in hiding for months, on your behalf, and fears neither capture nor execution. Though the red-head's beard and cloak practically crunch with every broad motion he takes, you can't help but hold enormous respect for the leader of your congregation. The forsaken, blasphemous loyalist looks to the rising city ahead.

The ruins are impossible. As the lair of a demon of Time, there is no consistency in its age or position. Staircases rise and fall simultaneously. The paths you traverse wind in, and onto themselves. Archways appear from thin air, and evaporate into chambers that may have never existed at all. The structures ahead are littered with water, somehow making the scene even more disorienting. Rivers without direction flow vertically, pouring into buildings, and flooding rooms that warp with every shift of your eyes. It feels like every time you blink, something has vanished, and you're struggling to not close your eyes for relief from it all.

Here, at the bottom of Calunoth's ruins, Harvey points to a waterfall rising straight into the air. He shrugs, as if it wasn't disorienting to an extreme. "Like I said, d-don't panic. It's an illusion, at worst. Starlight and Stard-dust haven't moved in weeks. Th-they should b-be just a b-bit furth-ther."

The mission that's taken you beneath the depths of the capital is on behalf of King Magnus. Every nobleman and woman in the country is a member of his family, by blood. Lady Edith "Starlight" Douglas was your primary concern, as it seems that the King favors his daughter. You've never truly met her, but from the stories you've heard, she's cunning enough to have escaped His wrath. Having thought her dead, the King wants nothing more than to see the survivor alive and well.

The other twin in your circus, Sir Allan "Stardust" Douglas, has been called an aide, at best. He's prone to dying the gold out from his hair, is a wanted man, and fearlessly has taken his romantic inclinations to the ends of the Aerth. It's difficult to not respect his tenacity. Though the nobleman refused to participate in a single battle your congregation fought, he's sworn to emerge from the ruins the very moment he's certain that he can truly make a difference. He resents the theocracy, bitterly distrusts the King, and may be an opponent to the very organization that defines your life.

(2/3)

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>>4339369
You look again, to the horizon. It's all stone, in shades of lilac. Trying to concentrate on the way any nearby walls, staircases, or archways that suddenly materialize has your head spinning more than before. Searching beyond, for an exit, is somehow worse.

Your stomach shifts, and you look down, to the halfling beside you. Ofelia "Eagle-Eye" Banks is one of your dearest friends, and insisted on coming with you. A horrific accident burnt the very eyes from her skull. Thanks to you restoring her sight with divinity, the assassin is physically incapable of looking away from her surroundings. The poor woman's skin is even more sickly than usual, and not because she's dependent on poison to live. Ofelia has kept the hood of her enchanted cloak up for many hours, and pulls it aside to heavily breathe, "you said this was a shortcut?"

Harvey sniffs, "we could have ran, b-but you seemed worse for th-the wear. Th-their place is m-much nicer th-than you'd th-think. We'll g-get some rest. Try keeping your eyes on th-the g-ground, Ofelia."

The blonde glances down, and puts a hand to her mouth, taking yours with the other. Muttering, "still a walk in the park, right," a slight smile escapes from the edges of her hand.

Things have been easier than you would have expected. No one minds that you broke down completely, after hearing everything Harvey's done on your behalf. The men and women in your company fully accept that you're a little off-kilter. You've been through a lot, but there's progress!

No longer do you disgrace your Gods, King, and country on a daily basis. You've been diligently worshiping your patrons, looking after your health, and heeding the counsel you're given. Your kindness is no weakness. It's commonly known that you have no use for pride, or regret, which is exactly why you are pursuing the twins in your congregation. It's for more than to disband the blasphemers under you from terrorizing the city, or to follow the tasks King Magnus has outlined for you.

There's only a few members of your congregation still out there. They're the only obstacle remaining, before you can truly return to the Church of Mercy. Homesickness has followed you even to the bottom of the ruins, and you know that carrying out your mission will grant everyone in your company the closure they sorely need.

(Options in next post.)

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>>4339372
>A] But, honestly, you don't know what to think about the twins. Reserve your judgment (and any serious decisions about their welfare) until after you meet Starlight and Stardust.

>B] There has to be a way to reunite this family, without any more blood being spilled. You want to set things right between the King and his children, even if it might not be your place to do so.

>C] This is actually your business. You are the Father of Compassion, and want to offer shelter at the Church of Mercy to both hidden members of your congregation.
>1] To hide, away from the King. You'll figure out the details later.
>2] To plainly defy His will. You won't stand for anyone coming between them, even if it's not conventional. They aren't hurting anyone.

>D] Write-in.

>>4339376
>>A] But, honestly, you don't know what to think about the twins. Reserve your judgment (and any serious decisions about their welfare) until after you meet Starlight and Stardust.
>>B] There has to be a way to reunite this family, without any more blood being spilled. You want to set things right between the King and his children, even if it might not be your place to do so.

>>4339535
+1

>>4339535
>>4339543
(Sweet deal, locking the unanimous vote here. Writing now!)

>>4339566
Sir Allan was absolutely in the right, to refuse the call to battle.

There has to be a way to reunite the royal family. Hundreds of lives have been lost, due to your congregation's actions alone. You want to set things right, for him, and his sister. Still, it may not be your place to do so.

Keeping your thoughts on the matter entirely to yourself, you resolve to withhold your judgement until you actually meet the twins. The landscape has finally smoothed out. Walking straight into the heart of the buildings before you, the world shifts hard, and goes completely black. For a moment, you blink the spots out of your eyes, and resist every urge to grasp for a wall or any other hold.

"Just a sec, hotshot," Ofelia murmurs.

A grating noise snaps your attention to the right. It's accompanied by the trickle of water.

You think back, for a moment, to a corridor at the bottom of the world. To a tunnel, in which a God of Storm visited you for the first time. Water, in your lungs, and lightning upon your fingertips.

Ofelia's hold on your hand tightens, and beams up to you with a pained smile. It's sufficient to keep you grounded. She takes you a few steps further, in utter darkness, as you both try to ignore the walls literally closing in.

You both catch up to Algrith. The darkness completely fades, and you seem to be back outdoors. It's impossible, and you know better than to question Magic's mechanism by now.

There is a body of water, just up ahead. A series of plain, natural, wooden steps descend from your exit. The buildings behind you are utterly shrouded in night, and staring into the abyss at your back has your stomach turn twice over.

The view ahead is far more pleasant. A lake, covered in waterlilies, is surrounded on all sides by a dense forest. Fireflies flit about, dancing over the otherwise still surface of the water. You're clearly still underground, despite the illusion of a sunset off in the distance. Harvey is twitching at the sight of a pale building, just opposite the water, and gestures to it. "D-don't hold your breath, or swim," he repeats, "and you sh-should b-be fine."

"Mhm," Ofelia nods, sarcastically jerking a thumb to her left. "Right. The boat's just for show, then?"

There's a boat. It might have not been there before, but there it is. Humble, shallow, probably capable of holding two men. Ofelia might weigh 30lbs soaking wet, and you figure she'd be fine to ride along with you both.

"Yeah," Harvey frowns. "It is. Come on." The fighter glances to you, your jet-black satchel that has endless carrying space, and asks, "...you d-don't have anyth-thing like paper on you, d-do you?"

You are a scholar, a researcher, and have no fewer than two journals, two calendars, a full map of the country, a few drafts of Calunoth's eastern district, and multiple stacks of parchment within your bag. They absolutely cannot get wet. "Yes," you mutter. "Give me just a moment."

(Options in next post.)

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>>4339613
>As with all rolls in Catalyst Quest, write-ins can help enormously with situational modifiers. Strategic, creative, or otherwise clever write-ins may circumvent rolls entirely.

>A] Leave all of your research material on the shore. Ask Ofelia if she can part with her enchanted cloak to disguise it, and pray to all the Gods that nothing happens. (A ROLL MAY BE REQUIRED.)

>B] These are easily your most valuable possessions. Having grown up beside two rivers, you can handle a boat like no one else. Try your luck. (A ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED, with a positive modifier due to your background.)

>C] You're positive it's not necessary, but you'd rather hurt your body than risk any further damage to your research material.
>1] Invoke Mercy, for Her protection.
>2] Invoke Dream, and envision a means of traversing this lake without becoming submerged.

>D] Swim, against Harvey's advice, and try to keep your things above the water. (A ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED, with a positive modifier due to your recent invocation to Flesh.)

>E] Write-in. (A roll may be required.)

>>4339614
>B] These are easily your most valuable possessions. Having grown up beside two rivers, you can handle a boat like no one else. Try your luck. (A ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED, with a positive modifier due to your background.)

Test the boat's carrying capacity--without the documents--with everyone. If necessary, have some people swim. The important part is that the documents are inside it.

>>4339624
To clarify, I mean put the documents in after testing the carrying capacity without holding them.

>>4339614
>B] These are easily your most valuable possessions. Having grown up beside two rivers, you can handle a boat like no one else. Try your luck. (A ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED, with a positive modifier due to your background.)

>>4339614
>>B] These are easily your most valuable possessions. Having grown up beside two rivers, you can handle a boat like no one else. Try your luck. (A ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED, with a positive modifier due to your background.)

>>4339624
>>4339626
(Gotcha, good shit. Totally get what you're saying, thanks for the clarification.)
>>4339628
>>4339629

>HANDLE THAT BOAT
>Roll 1d100. Best of the first 3 rolls will be used.

>+5 FISHERMAN OF THE MORINBURN RIVER
>+5 GREW UP BESIDE THE EVENTIDE RIVER
>+5 YOU SERIOUSLY KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING

Rolled 92 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>4339635

Rolled 95 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>4339635

Rolled 33 (1d100)

>>4339635
this boat will be begging for more by the time we're done with it

>>4339638
>>4339641
>>4339643
(Wow what a fucking start lol. That'll do lads. Writing now!)

(Thanks for your patience guys. Unexpectedly taken out for food due to the holiday, and will be back very shortly to write. Likely within the next half hour.)

>>4339677
(Back and ready for action. Writing now!)

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>>4339690
Unslinging your satchel, you look to Harvey, and declare, "this boat will be begging for another performance, by the time we're done with it."

Ofelia laughs, while the ringleader snorts, "is th-that so?"

You scowl, expertly hiding your amusement, "I will swim, if necessary."

"Want m-me to g-go first, then?"

The urge to hug him again is rising. Ofelia somehow tops the suggestion. The rogue swirls her cape off of her shoulders, loosely folding the enchanted fabric, and hands it off to you carefully. "Don't think so." She heads for the boat, practically skipping. "I'm way lighter." Her voice is almost sing-song, through her weariness, obviously taking heart in a static environment again. "I'll test it first!"

Muttering a prayer to Spirit— "for having such remarkable company"— you stride right ahead of the halfling. Tapping her lightly on the shoulder, "Ofelia," you ignore her groan, while setting aside your shield, mace, and sword.

An inspection is in order. "Just a moment. Full end, less rocker—" you glance to Ofelia, and politely explain, "it should be fine on the still water." To Harvey, "it may look slow," you roll up the sleeves of your robes, and grin, "but speed should not be an issue."

Digging in your heels to the moist sand upon the shore, you plant your hands on the sturdiest planks you can find, and nod for Harvey to get alongside you. "A hand, if you could."

Running over, he gets right up at the bow, and merely guides the boat along the shore. You push off, with a healthy burn through your legs and arms in just a few steps. It's devastatingly heavy, but Harvey is nearly dragged into the water, for how much momentum you got in just a few steps. The veteran expertly keeps his footing, and takes a hold on the boat before it drifts more than a few more feet out.

As you get ankle, thigh, and knee-deep in the water without fear, a chill runs up the entirety of your body from the frigid lake. You grab your shield, knowing full well that almost nothing can get past its defenses, and toss it firmly into the boat. There's still no shift in the bottom boards, and it might as well be water-tight for how little dip there is in the water.

"Ofelia," you nod, as she's already walking over. She grins, and readily accepts your gesture to lift her up. The seat doesn't so much as creak as she sits down, though there's at least a shift in the water. You all conduct several more tests, confirms the ship's complete soundness, and finally take a seat closest to the bow. Keeping your parchment safely secured, on top of your shield, you take up an old oar. A splinter gets in your hand. It's magnificent.

Ofelia insists on sitting beside you, and elbows you with a grin. "No offense, Harvey."

"None taken." He nods to you, as you both begin rowing. "We d-didn't need to b-both-ther, Fath-ther."

"I insist."

(Barely over, 1/2)

>>4339747
The lake is slowly, but surely, turning upside down. The water is completely still beneath you. The boat is still affixed to it. The forest is tilting, and a few fireflies flit off into the sky. The sunset is gradually shifting to the side of the horizon, headed for a position beneath you all. Ofelia takes in a sharp breath, and clutches hard onto your arm, despite you trying to row.

"D-don't panic," Harvey calmly repeats. "Seriously. It'll speed up."

It occurs to you that nothing is keeping you in place, and you are probably about to fall into the sky.

>A] Calmly ask Harvey what he means, and grasp onto the boat like your life depends on it.

>B] Don't panic, and keep rowing. This is fine.

>C] Stop here, get out, and swim. You're not messing around with any sorcery. (A ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED, with a large positive modifier from previous insanely high success.)

>D] Write-in.

>>4339748
>B] Don't panic, and keep rowing. This is fine.

>>4339748
>B] Don't panic, and keep rowing. This is fine.
Everything is fine.png

>>4339753
>>4339755
(Locking the vote here. Writing now!)

>>4339769
https://youtu.be/A9dhDkIZ5C4

With Ofelia firmly affixed to your arm, you keep rowing. "This is fine," you breathe, absolutely not having a panic attack.

The still lake— moving gently beneath the paddle in hand— is still there. The water beneath the boat is like glue, surely keeping the vehicle in place.

The statement is a mantra, of sorts, as you feel the world giving out from beneath you. "This is fine."

The woman beside you takes a deep breath, and forces herself to not move. You suppress a noise, from how tightly she's holding onto you. There's probably no blood moving through your arm, and "this is fine."

Harvey continues rowing right ahead, keeping your pace, as the sky turns beneath all of your feet.

"This is fine," you assert, through gritted teeth, and no air whatsoever in your lungs.

Everything stops, for one,
impossible,
permanent
second.

The entirety of the boat, the sky, the forest, and several fireflies snap hard to the back of the lake.

For a split second, you feel as if five years have fallen off of your life. The collision— from being warped out of the sky, back upon a normal direction, into the boat, right on the seat, as you row onto dry land— has your stomach turn even harder. Nothing makes sense, for a few seconds, and you're so disoriented you nearly lean over the boat to vomit.

"This is fine," you gasp.

The world seems to catch up. Several fireflies zip past the air ahead of you, flying faster than what should be possible, and collide with the pale building at the end of the lake. The crackle of their bodies splatting onto a hard surface rings in your ears for several seconds after their impact.

Harvey casually gets up, out of the boat, and offers you a shaking hand. "See? Noth-thing to worry ab-bout."

Ofelia unsticks herself from the death-grip she kept on your arm, taking Harvey's hand before you can respond, to stagger out of the boat. "A warnin' would have been great," she inhales, trying with all of her might to get up on her feet.

A slightly unhinged grin is fired at the both of you. "B-better to learn b-by d-doing. Not th-that you need to take m-my advice, b-but we could have walked."

With a gentle pull, the blonde beside you is taken away from your side. Practically rolling out from the side of the boat, you get back onto dry land, and give the boat a little pat on the side. "Good show."

Harvey can't help but chuckle, and knocks on the door to the building. Your vision stops blurring for long enough to see a stunning set of extremely familiar windows, beside a singular door. You have an impeccable memory, and the urge to vomit is becoming impossible to ignore.

"We've been here before," you state, as if this is perfectly fine.

"B-before," Harvey replies.

(1/2)

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>>4339797
The door opens, back into the same fucking building you were in just before you met up with Algrith. It's just four staircases, two hallways, and the window at the end of the hall. The window is is no longer broken. There is no demon of Time present, at the moment, but your heart is racing faster than it rightfully should, for the barren and well-lit home.

"Mercy," you murmur, putting a hand to your bare chest.

"Th-they'll b-be here in a few minutes," you're informed, over the sound of Ofelia throwing up on the side of the shore. "Th-thought you'd want a m-minute. Come on in."

You wait just a moment, staying by Ofelia, before re-entering the lair of a demon of Time.

You probably never left it.

Starlight and Stardust might be crazier than any of us.

>A] Try to make yourself presentable, before seeing royalty.

>B] Take a few deep breaths, and focus on composing yourself mentally.

>C] Politely ask Harvey what in the actual fuck is going on.

>D] Write-in.

>>4339800
>>B] Take a few deep breaths, and focus on composing yourself mentally.
>C] Politely ask Harvey what in the actual fuck is going on.

>>4339800
>C] Politely ask Harvey what in the actual fuck is going on.

>>4339801
>>4339804
(We can definitely do both of these. Last update before I get some sleep, will do a full session tomorrow [starting Sunday afternoon, EST]. Vote is locked! Writing now.)

>>4339800
>C] Politely ask Harvey what in the actual fuck is going on.

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>>4339827
(I gotchu bro)

>>4339819
Taking a few deep breaths, getting Ofelia's hair out of her face as she finishes getting sick, you do everything in your power to compose yourself mentally. Smoothly walking back inside, leading Ofelia by the hand, you calmly ask Harvey, "what— what exactly is going on?"

The rogue beside you sighs, and collapses onto the floor, using her own satchel as a makeshift pillow. Ofelia waves, "don't care. Takin' a nap. Wake me up when this shit is sorted out. Please."

"Of course," you murmur. Dropping your voice to a whisper, you point to the window at the end of the hall, and continue, "we were here just yesterday. I nearly fell, at the top of the stair, as— as a demon of Time pursued Ofelia, and I. That glass should be scattered across the floor. This wall—" you look to the door, which is gone, and try to not vomit again. "This wall is— is definitely the correct— the same one—"

Harvey scratches his beard, for a moment. "Yeah, the demon. D-don't know its n-name, but th-that's a th-thing, right?"

"Yes." You are the Father of the church of restraint, and can handle your emotions. This wouldn't be the first time either of you befriended or allied with a monster. "You know the demon."

Both of the man's scarred hands come up, like you're about to attack him. The lacerations on his palms, from climbing into the lair of a demon of teeth, are still plain to see. He's smiling, of course, and has no indication of actually being bothered by the question. "D-don't g-get th-the wrong id-dea," is his token excuse. "It's a small d-deal. J-just to keep th-them safe."

"Please elaborate." Fidgeting always helps. You favor the ring on your left hand. It's fairly warm, like usual, and extremely soothing.

"It's a d-demon of d-delay, so I ag-greed to pass some Time d-down here for th-them. It's as g-good a hid-ding spot as any. Starlight and Stard-dust wouldn't b-be hurt— have not b-been hurt— and I had a place to g-get away from anyone on my ass. Worst th-thing it's d-done is m-make me lose track of a few d-days."

Correcting him as gently as you can, you repeat, "months."

The frown on Harvey's face is deep enough to rival your own. "Not a b-big d-deal. Th-they've b-been safe, and I haven't b-been caught."

Significantly leveler breaths follow, as you take a step back, and allow yourself to fidget more intensely. "What Time is it," you murmur.

"Th-that's its th-thing," Harvey apologetically nods, towards the unnatural light filtering into the room. "Can't really tell d-down here."

(1/2)

>>4339850
You take several good minutes to compose yourself. Breathing helps. The room, walls, floor, stairs, doors, and intact structure refusing to budge under any scrutiny helps. Ofelia's mild snoring (which you've never actually heard before, and are extremely relieved to see her sleeping for once), is extremely soothing. There's no need to panic. If this demon purely wants to waste your Time, it may not be a serious threat. Of course, it's obscenely powerful. To control such a large domain, it may be a major demon. At the top of its hierarchy. Possibly even an archdemon.

Footsteps from down the hall interrupt your theorizing. Harvey firmly nudges Ofelia, with the side of his foot, and grins, "d-don't fuck th-this up for Fath-ther Anscham. G-get up."

A little groaning, and she's back on her feet. Just in time for you to see two unbelievably disheveled twins come from around the corner.

The golden roots of Stardust's hair catches on what little light is in the room, as he peeks around the corner. The muted yellow in his eyes picks up. Even if he's paler than death, there's still defined cheekbones, barely any bags under his eyes, and a smile plastered across his devastatingly handsome face. You wonder— with some detachment— if there's elvish in the royal line.

You dismiss the though, as relatively short nobleman comes fully into view. The muscle and height you'd expect has wasted away to a slender shadow, beneath a tattered cloak and old finery. He doesn't care in the slightest for appearances, it seems, and leads Starlight by the hand behind him. It's all while beaming at you, with teeth as white as the Church of Spirit. "Come on, Edith— Father Anscham! It can't be. You look fantastic!"

An outstretched hand— the symbol of your church, no less— closes the gap in the hall, as Sir Allan strides right ahead. It's hard to not smile in return.

Lady Edith is practically dragged behind him, with an unfailingly similar demeanor. Her jawline is softer, and the gold in her absurdly long, flawless hair is plain to see, but she's otherwise almost identical in appearance. Another grin is spread right across her face. Even her unpainted lips are tinted, with a shockingly fair appearance given how long they've been in the ruins for. Her cloak almost completely covers her frame, but it's obvious that she's looked after herself, and you're tempted to keep your eyes only at face-level.

Before Allan can totally reach you, Lady Edith steps aside slightly. Clasping her hands, she gently states, "Father Anscham. I cannot believe it. I would not have recognized you, were it not for Harvey's company." With a much milder smile towards Algrith, she nods, "thank you so much."

The year is 606, in the country of Corcaea, and you are a gentleman. Both nobles are positively ecstatic to see you, but at least give you a second to breathe. There's a lot unsaid here, and the usual manners to consider.

(Options in next post.)

>>4339853
>A] Shake Stardust's hand like your life depends on it, kiss Lady Edith's, and give the nobles a fairly casual introduction.

>B] You're extremely well-mannered, and seriously want to make a good first impression. Introduce yourself and Ofelia formally, starting towards Lady Edith.

>C] Etiquette be damned. You are beside yourself, with how happy you are to see these two alive. Give them both a hug, and try to express a modicum of your sincere joy to be in their company again.

>D] Write-in anything you want to say or do right off the bat. (Father Anscham is a little stuffy, but as the Father of Compassion, it isn't a stretch for you to spill your guts the second you see your congregation members.)

>>4339855
>C] Etiquette be damned. You are beside yourself, with how happy you are to see these two alive. Give them both a hug, and try to express a modicum of your sincere joy to be in their company again.

>>4339853
>C] Etiquette be damned. You are beside yourself, with how happy you are to see these two alive. Give them both a hug, and try to express a modicum of your sincere joy to be in their company again.

>>4339855
>>C] Etiquette be damned. You are beside yourself, with how happy you are to see these two alive. Give them both a hug, and try to express a modicum of your sincere joy to be in their company again.

>>4339864
>>4339868
>>4340010
(Good afternoon everyone. Should be able to run a full session today, will see how the voting windows go depending. Great unanimous vote! Locking here. Writing now.)

>>4340299
https://youtu.be/kJWvmSJ3k9Q

Etiquette be damned. You take Allan by the hand, and pull him into a hug with just one arm. He can't help but laugh, putting on a pseudo haughty voice, "Father Anscham, what is the meaning of this—"

Grinning, you gesture for Lady Edith to join you both. Pointing to herself, as if getting hugged is even a question, you give her a cheeky grin that says this is absolutely not optional. Crossing the last gap over to her, you effortlessly sweeping the noblewoman into your other arm.

Both of your congregation members aren't starving to death, as their shoulders aren't as emaciated as their silhouettes appear. Sure, they're disheveled, and probably aren't bathing as often as they could, but you're still relieved beyond measure. "It is so good to see you both. To see that you both are still— still alive—"

A tighter squeeze is necessary. They're both giggling, trying their best to not lose their composure. Lady Edith returns the hug, and Stardust quickly follows her lead. It's as if they're afraid of letting you go. No one minds that you can barely choke out, "Mercy— you both look wonderful, as well. All— all things considered."

Edith nods, amused beyond words.

It's a hard to speak, with stars in your eyes. All three of you are legitimately too shaken to let go of one another, and so you keep hugging while you talk. It's comforting to an extreme, despite how scratchy Stardust's cloak is, or at the sand that's sticking to Starlight's hair.

"You took to the ruins," you murmur, "before the surface. It's— this is a travesty. I couldn't stand the thought of it. This— this is all— you both deserve so much more—"

Stardust pats you on the back. "We have faired well, thanks to Harvey's assistance. We do appreciate the concern, Father, but there's no need to worry yourself."

With a sniff, you pull back, to properly look both nobles over. There's a lot of pain in both of their smiles, but it couldn't be more clear just how sincerely they're happy to see you, too. You don't regret anything— not your absence from their side for the last eight months, nor any action you've taken since then— but a shooting pain lances through your chest at the sight of them.

Starlight clings a little to you, even as you pull back at arms-length. You go back to hugging her, and let the fair woman rest a head against your chest. Significantly taller than both of the twins, you don't mind looking up to murmur, "the Gods are Merciful."

Harvey and Ofelia politely stand a little to the side, arms crossed, and fire each other a quick grin. They're both far too respectful, and prone to being quiet, to even try and interrupt your reunion.

You have so many questions. The possible presence of a demon of Time just on the other side of the wall is a legitimate concern, but you've faced it before, and hope your company will be able to tell if it's coming.

(Options in next post.)

>>4340357
>A] Ask Stardust and Starlight about their time spent in the ruins. Maybe segue into asking why they're risking so much to hide.
>1] You honestly are gaining a serious interest in Corcaea's politics. It relates to your work deeply, and you're sick of being in the dark.
>2] It's not that you have an interest in politics— but their welfare is a serious concern of yours, and this is worth asking right off the bat.

>B] Immediately express your distress over their current location, but only ask if there's somewhere safer you can speak. Everyone has been through a lot, but you don't want to impose anything on these two that may cause them further distress.

>C] Gods, you're relieved to see the twins. Just ask about how they're doing. Try to be normal. It's been nearly a year, and they've risked life and limb for you.

>D] Emphasize how stressed you've been over their welfare. Make your intentions clear from the get-go, and ask them if they would be willing to talk with you about the situation with King Magnus.

>E] Write-in.

>>4340357
>C] Gods, you're relieved to see the twins. Just ask about how they're doing. Try to be normal. It's been nearly a year, and they've risked life and limb for you.

>>4340359
>>C] Gods, you're relieved to see the twins. Just ask about how they're doing. Try to be normal. It's been nearly a year, and they've risked life and limb for you.

>>4340406
>>4340454
(Great! Vote is locked. Writing now.)

File: Piety.png (83 KB, 930x416)

83 KB PNG

>>4340458
Taking a step back, you make every effort to stop fidgeting, and to put on a normal demeanor. Your posture might be impossibly stiff, and there's permanently an unhinged tilt to your gaze, but no one minds. Not for how sincerely you murmur, "it's such a relief to see you both. How are you? How have things been?"

"Well," they both say in unison.

There's a blink, to each other, then mutual grins back to you. "Well enough," Stardust stresses.
"Our health has certainly been fairer than Echo's," Starlight grins.

You can't help but interject, "I couldn't help but see to his health. He should— should be alright, in due Time."

"He still hasn't been captured," Stardust asks in disbelief, right to Harvey.

Your ringleader cheekily shrugs, "of course. He's in g-good hands."

A collective grin is working its way around the hall. Stardust takes a knee, to nod to Ofelia, "I believe I haven't had the pleasure, Miss...?"

"Banks," she flushes, "Ofelia Banks. Friends call me Eagle-Eye, but you guys call me whatever you want."

Harvey is quick to note, "she g-got th-the g-guards outside of Osted-dholm. All of th-them."

Starlight takes a step over, to curtsy slightly to your friend, as Stardust stands fully upright. They're both floored, and immediately fire off an absurd amount of thanks and formality. The next twenty minutes or so are spent catching up Starlight and Stardust on what's transpired since Harvey last saw them. They were entirely unaware of your confrontation with Brother Murdac, or the justified death of the priest of Storm. At news of you reconvening with Mick and Randy, they're positively delighted that no one was outright killed. Most importantly, the battle you fought alongside Sister Corbon and Sister Tirel has Stardust torn between admiration, and shock.

"That's Piety, I take it," he gestures, to the sword at your back. You nod, badly wanting to keep the weapon sheathed during such a pleasant meeting.

"It could not have possibly taken on any lightning," Starlight frowns, looking to the unscathed scabbard as if it's cursed.

"The Gods are Merciful," you firmly reiterate. "It took more than metal to save the cathedral ward."

News of your public, dual invocations is unbelievable. The use of your Relic with Sister Corbon more so. At the news of your title being restored, officially, has both of the twins in need of sitting down. Holding hands, they can't help but look up to you, as Harvey finishes recounting the last news he's heard of your exploits.

"We have been cut off from everything," Starlight murmurs. "You said it has been eight months, Father?"

"Yes," you apologetically frown. "Though there is still— still ample Time at our disposal."

"It has been easy enough to let the sands slip through our fingers," Starlight muses, in a distant way. "Though I can scarcely remember how."

(Barely over, 1/2)

>>4340541
Repressing your concern is tolerable. You frown, and try to breathe, as the the twins get back to their feet. They look between you, Harvey, and Ofelia. Stardust frowns, "it is so good to see you all. Father, if I may...?"

"Of course," you wave. Even nobility answers to the Father of the Church of Mercy. The only man you truly answer to, in the entire country—

"The King." Starlight clinically interjects, as if He isn't her actual father, "did he say what He would do with any of us, if we came out of hiding?"

>A] He didn't, you never asked, and probably hadn't realized how weird it was at the time. Not wanting to make any assumptions, honestly answer that the King was vague to an extreme, beyond His insistence that NO member of your congregation was to return to the castle.

>B] Produce the note that King Magnus left for you, with the list of urgent issues to attend to within Calunoth. Let the twins interpret it however they see fit.

>C] Write-in.

>>4340544
>>B] Produce the note that King Magnus left for you, with the list of urgent issues to attend to within Calunoth. Let the twins interpret it however they see fit.

>>4340544
>>B] Produce the note that King Magnus left for you, with the list of urgent issues to attend to within Calunoth. Let the twins interpret it however they see fit.

>>4340544
>B] Produce the note that King Magnus left for you, with the list of urgent issues to attend to within Calunoth. Let the twins interpret it however they see fit.

>>4340556
>>4340564
>>4340577
(Sweet. Locking the vote. Writing now!)

File: Calendar 606.png (1.4 MB, 1000x1294)

1.4 MB PNG

>>4340602
https://youtu.be/_oq9UAV028U

Sifting through the endless carrying capacity of your satchel, it takes only a moment to extract the last letter King Magnus drafted for you. Glancing down at the sheet, your grin fades to just a slight smile.

The 14th of the Tending Moon was a VERY productive day. A few lines are already scratched out.

"While occupying Our most holy city, the following are in need of your immediate attention:

"̶-̶ ̶T̶h̶e̶ ̶e̶a̶s̶t̶e̶r̶n̶ ̶d̶i̶s̶t̶r̶i̶c̶t̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶F̶l̶e̶s̶h̶.̶ ̶F̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶h̶u̶n̶d̶r̶e̶d̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶e̶i̶g̶h̶t̶y̶ ̶n̶i̶n̶e̶ ̶c̶i̶t̶i̶z̶e̶n̶s̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶c̶o̶n̶t̶r̶a̶c̶t̶e̶d̶ ̶s̶e̶v̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶c̶o̶m̶p̶l̶i̶c̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶s̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶i̶r̶ ̶l̶u̶n̶g̶s̶,̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶k̶e̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶B̶r̶o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶ ̶M̶u̶r̶d̶a̶c̶'̶s̶ ̶e̶f̶f̶o̶r̶t̶s̶.̶ ̶T̶h̶e̶ ̶d̶e̶a̶t̶h̶s̶ ̶n̶u̶m̶b̶e̶r̶ ̶w̶e̶l̶l̶ ̶o̶v̶e̶r̶ ̶t̶h̶r̶e̶e̶ ̶h̶u̶n̶d̶r̶e̶d̶,̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶r̶i̶s̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶b̶y̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶d̶a̶y̶.̶"̶

You personally saved over 60 citizens, and guaranteed the survival of everyone else in the district. Sure, it bloated your body for the afternoon, but the price was well worth it. A perfect invocation to Mercy, and to Agriculture, has your heart singing just thinking back to it.

"- Lady Edith and her aide, Sir Douglas, were last seen in Our company six years past. Her safety is of the utmost importance to Us, though We trust that she has been safe under your care. As previously stated, We cannot bear the loss of another one of Our children. Please ensure her safe return to Us."

It's confusing, to an extreme. You're getting at least three different messages here, for the King's intent, but you're going to sort this out.

-̶ ̶T̶h̶e̶ ̶n̶o̶r̶t̶h̶-̶e̶a̶s̶t̶e̶r̶n̶ ̶d̶i̶s̶t̶r̶i̶c̶t̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶F̶l̶e̶s̶h̶.̶ ̶U̶p̶o̶n̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶c̶o̶n̶g̶r̶e̶g̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶'̶s̶ ̶f̶l̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ ̶f̶r̶o̶m̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶s̶e̶w̶e̶r̶s̶,̶ ̶n̶o̶ ̶f̶e̶w̶e̶r̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶n̶ ̶f̶i̶f̶t̶e̶e̶n̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶g̶u̶a̶r̶d̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶s̶t̶r̶u̶c̶k̶ ̶d̶o̶w̶n̶,̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶k̶i̶l̶l̶e̶d̶.̶ ̶T̶h̶e̶i̶r̶ ̶g̶r̶i̶e̶v̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶f̶a̶m̶i̶l̶i̶e̶s̶ ̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶o̶u̶t̶ ̶s̶h̶e̶l̶t̶e̶r̶.̶ ̶K̶i̶n̶d̶l̶y̶ ̶d̶e̶l̶e̶g̶a̶t̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶m̶a̶t̶t̶e̶r̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶c̶o̶n̶g̶r̶e̶g̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶'̶s̶ ̶a̶c̶t̶i̶o̶n̶s̶ ̶a̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶s̶e̶e̶ ̶f̶i̶t̶.̶

Delegating Father Sullivan to the matter was easily the wisest possible decision. He not only consoled everyone involved, but you facilitated a meeting between the responsible party (Ofelia) and the priest without any further issue.

(1/2)

>>4340689
- The restraint of Mathers Ormond, Eckard Sollers, Clarence Connelly, Carlisle Ballard, and James Sower. Punishment befitting of their treason has been stayed only by your hand. Putting an end to their slaughter of Our people demands the utmost urgency.

There's no doubt in your mind that the Freak Show has killed, extensively, on your behalf. The details are still fuzzy, but you'll address it. They're devastatingly loyal, and won't leave the city so easily.

- Insurance that those who sought refuge under Norward Bauldry's company will not bring further turmoil to Our city.

Mick left your company yesterday morning, assuring you that he would see to his Flea Circus. It's probably worth checking up on him— and the hundreds of heathens in his care— as soon as possible.

- The whereabouts of Harvey J. Algrith.

This is probably something to worry about.

You glance to the Ringleader, brow furrowed. He frowns slightly back, picking up instantly on your concern. There's a silent moment of understanding, that he's to get nowhere near the castle in the near future, as you hand off the letter to Starlight.

She takes it as quickly as possible, pouring over the note alongside Stardust. They both sigh. "He is using you, Father Anscham," Stardust denounces. "He's too twisted to say it outright. Getting you to track us down—"

"Someone who we trust," Starlight mutters, looking as if she might cry. The letter is firmly handed back to you, as Stardust clearly struggles to not crumple the note to pieces. "He's running you ragged, and doesn't want a single question asked. How could you possibly think, let alone challenge Him, when He's demanding you look after half of the city? This—" he's shaking, he's so furious, "this is an outrage. You should be back in Eadric. Not looking after our home, and destroying yourself for— for the common man— all on His behalf—"

Lady Edith delicately puts a hand to Sir Allan's shoulder, and looks to you with red in her eyes. "He'll have Allan killed. I'm sure of it. We simply can't go back, Father. I would rather die than to lose him. He can't possibly understand. He never has, and I—"

"We won't take that risk," Stardust asserts.

Harvey sniffs, "he b-busted his ass just to g-get d-down here, you know. Fath-ther Anscham isn't trying to g-get anyone hurt. You b-both know b-better."

With a smirk, Ofelia glances up to the redhead. Appreciation is written all across her face. You're deeply impressed by how tactful the (typically crass) killer is being, but she obviously understands the importance of this meeting enough to keep her thoughts to herself.

"Father Anscham," Starlight frowns, taking your hands, and clasping them beneath her own. They're cold, and shaking horribly, along with every other inch of her. "We must not be careless. Too many lives have been lost."

(Barely over, 2/3)

>>4340691
"Too much blood has been spilled," you immediately agree. "Which is precisely why I would like nothing more than— than to set things right."

Stardust scowls. "How do you propose we would do that?"

>A] No one will shoot you, as a messenger. Offer to deliver some correspondence from the twins back to the King. Granted, getting down here was an absolute nightmare, but you're willing to expend the Time and effort to keep the twins out of harm's way.

>B] You sincerely believe that King Magnus lives up to His title as "the Merciful." Disagree with Stardust's and Starlight's judgement, make a case for the King's compassion, and see if you can sway their hearts. This must be a huge misunderstanding. (Write-ins may help!)

>C] You never want to see these ruins again. Promise to protect Lady Edith and Sir Allan with everything you have.
>1] To take them back to the surface. You'll talk to King Magnus, and figure out His end of the situation. Paying Walter a visit in the castle, for news of his breakthrough, is probably a good idea anyways.
>2] To get them in safer hiding, back on the surface. Mick, Randy, Mad Dog AND Electrum all have safe houses. Do whatever it takes to keep them from harm.

>D] Write-in.

>>4340692
>A] No one will shoot you, as a messenger. Offer to deliver some correspondence from the twins back to the King. Granted, getting down here was an absolute nightmare, but you're willing to expend the Time and effort to keep the twins out of harm's way.

>>4340692
>C] You never want to see these ruins again. Promise to protect Lady Edith and Sir Allan with everything you have.
>2] To get them in safer hiding, back on the surface. Mick, Randy, Mad Dog AND Electrum all have safe houses. Do whatever it takes to keep them from harm.

>>4340692
>>A] No one will shoot you, as a messenger. Offer to deliver some correspondence from the twins back to the King. Granted, getting down here was an absolute nightmare, but you're willing to expend the Time and effort to keep the twins out of harm's way.

>>4340692
>>C] You never want to see these ruins again. Promise to protect Lady Edith and Sir Allan with everything you have.
>2] To get them in safer hiding, back on the surface. Mick, Randy, Mad Dog AND Electrum all have safe houses. Do whatever it takes to keep them from harm.

I propose we send them into the care of Father willhelm, the church of dream is very far away and well protected by one of our most stalwart allies. A man who also has the power to make people forget, that is without a doubt the safest place they can be, away from the capital and the king.

>>4340710
Sorry add C2 to that

>>4340699
>>4340702
>>4340710
>>4340712
>>4340713
(You know what? I think we can do the write-in, C2, and A. Eating some lunch ATM, as soon as I'm done I'll write. Vote is locked!)

>>4340817
(Writing now!)

File: Father Atticus Wilhelm.png (1.79 MB, 1994x2013)

1.79 MB PNG

>>4340861
https://youtu.be/QL9_rPPyCMQ

Keeping your hands firmly clasped upon Starlight's clammy embrace, the sheer amount of earnestness furrowing your brow has your face hurting. You're the Father of Compassion, and won't stand for a single soul under your care to come into harm's way. "I swear to both of you— upon ALL of the Gods— that I will not let any harm befall you. Are either of you familiar with Somerilde, and the Church of Dream?"

They're both well-groomed, naturally are familiar with their country's geography, and nod simultaneously. "Of course."

"Father Wilhelm's home is remote. He is—" you struggle to express how deeply you care for his friendship, "he is a stalwart ally, and a good man. I know that he would protect you both as well, without hesitation. The alliance between the churches of Dream and Mercy could not be sounder— and— and what better way to leave the King's attention, than to seek refuge with a man who can make others forget?"

"That's just a rumor," Stardust immediately frowns.

It's unusual, for you to raise an eyebrow, but you do. "I would never lie to you. His ability is without compare. His home is as far away from the capital as we could hope for, and— and away from the King. It is— without a doubt— the safest place you could be. Permit me to act as a messenger, for you both. Please. At least consider it."

Both of the twins shift. There's literally nothing they could say in protest, but you continue. "No amount of Time is worth more than your safety. I— I would be more than happy to deliver correspondence for you, if you wish. Not only to Father Wilhelm, though you don't need to. It would be preferable to keep any messages to him as discreet as possible."

You and Father Wilhelm, conveniently, set up a small code and a number of security measures for this very reason, many months ago. He'll remember.

"We would," Starlight wilts, beside herself, as she takes your hands a little more tightly. "I would like to consider it." Glancing to Stardust— not for permission, but for his honest thoughts— she's met with a horrible frown.

Sir Allan looks like he could cry. "Father, I don't think we could thank you enough."

"Thank me when you are safe, and sound," you insist. "We can wait on the message, to the King, or to Father Wilhelm." You twitch. "I will not wait on my own letters."

Ofelia almost giggles, and stops herself, horrified that she's finding humor in it. "Sorry, Richard."

"It's fine," you mutter.

It's fine. Five months of delay with my mail is fine— but never again.

With a LOT more urgency in his voice, Harvey looks to the wall adjacent to you all. "We n-need to m-move. Th-the lett-ters will actually wait. Right, Fath-ther?"

"Yes," you murmur. "Do either of you have a preference, for who's safe house to take?"

(1/2)

>>4340923
"They're all madhouses," Stardust reluctantly smiles. He's sweating, as Harvey shifts, telegraphing with every fiber of his being that you all are going to need to run if you linger. "We can think about it while we get out of here. Fair?"

"Fair," you immediately reply. "Harvey." Nodding to the ridiculous lair you're in, to the enchanted doors, you try to patiently ask, "if you could."

"N-no prob-blem," he nods. "So. Pick your poison." A nod, to the bottom left door. "Way you and Ofelia m-met up with m-me. B-blasphemy, at b-best. Waste of Ttime." A gesture to the bottom-right door. "Th-the long way." He points to the upper left door. "Pain in th-the ass, but it's th-the fastest." A quick glance over his shoulder, eyes wide, and he rapidly points to the upper right door. "Scen-nic route. No arg-guing. Let's g-go."

>A ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED FOR ALL OF THE FOLLOWING.
>Write-ins may add situational modifiers.
>Majority vote will decide.

>A] Sprint to the upper left door, and heave the stone exit open as quickly as you can.

>B] Take the bottom-right door, and trust in everyone's ability to handle a lengthy pursuit.

>C] Take the upper right door, and pray that there's enough in your environment to handle an incoming demon of time.

>>4340930
>>A] Sprint to the upper left door, and heave the stone exit open as quickly as you can.

We should keep in mind this demon wants to waste our time, anything *long* would be playing right into its hand, we need to any% speedrun this shit.

>>4340930
(In retrospect I probably omitted way too much here, given that this area was described in a two-part post back in thread 15. Please feel free to ask any questions if you guys are confused or need more detail.)

>>4340951
+1

>>4340951
>>4340977
(Alright guys, we'll go ahead with the unanimous vote!)

>ANY % SPEEDRUN THAT DOOR
>Roll 1d100. Best of 3 will be used.

>+10 FAVOR OF FLESH
>+5 HARVEY DOESN'T SKIP LEG DAY

Rolled 80 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>4341031
Let's gooo

Rolled 22 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>4341031

Rolled 1 (1d001)

>>4341031

Rolled 72 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>4341031
benis

>>4341042
>>4341225
>>4341368
(Alright guys, that'll do it. Writing now!)

File: through the stone door.png (806 KB, 1920x1080)

806 KB PNG

>>4341369
https://youtu.be/h8hRaLDu-ao

Sprinting up the stair, before anyone else can even react, you hang a sharp left, and skid to a stop right before a solid stone door. There's no grooves or handles on its ancient surface. It looks devastatingly heavy, and is easily five inches thick.

Harvey slides up alongside you, not even a second later. The walls begin to quake. You take hold of your mace— enchanted, and unbreakable— and hand it off to the man at your side. "For leverage," you insist, planting your feet, and assuming the best form you can. The ground is decaying underfoot. The walls are decaying.

Things are speeding up. There's no question that the building was the one you came to before.

The glass window behind you shatters, blasting lethal shards down the entire staircase. Ofelia, at the base, plainly tackles Stardust out of harm's way.

They'll be fine. Digging your fingers into the deepest groove you can find, at the base of the door, you pray, "grant strength to this vessel. Flesh of my flesh."

Deep breath.

Pins and needles shoot through every last inch of your body, as you heave, and put every muscle within you to its absolute limit. Harvey doesn't need to wedge anything under the door, but slams himself, his hands, and shoulder beneath the door the second he's able. It's impossible to breathe. All 200lbs of your pet mastiff are child's play, compared to the object in hand. Entirely unable to speak, Harvey shouts on your behalf to everyone else, "RUN!"

Sweat, and a fire in your lungs, burns hot for several agonizing, beautiful seconds. Ofelia, Stardust, and Starlight sprint at full speed into the corridor beyond. You can barely see, for the sheer amount of effort you're exerting, and can't help but grin. It's phenomenal, though you don't dare shift your position until everyone is past the archway.

With a strained nod to Harvey, you both slip into the corridor beyond at the same time, and let the door drop back into its initial position. The collapse shatters the rock beneath, with a deafening crack. There's an urge to put your hands to your ears, but you can barely feel your arms.

Praying to all the Gods that it will be sufficient to delay the demon— even for a moment longer— you try to stop hyperventilating, and look to the chambers beyond.

The shortest path out of Calunoth's ruins are somehow more convoluted than anything else you've seen before. The landing outside the door is no more than five feet long, and descends outwards. Staircases lead off, into the horizon. It's abundantly clear that they can be traversed, and are no mere illusion, though their angle would make it impossible without some form of climbing equipment.

(Juuust over, 1/2)

File: Invocation Guide.png (577 KB, 1295x1401)

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>>4341434
Your vision swims, looking to see the twins helping each other do just that. They're climb down a series of sideways steps, like they know exactly what they're doing. Ofelia is still on the landing, back to the wall, eyes wide. "The rope," she mutters to you, and points down. "We'll need it."

There's an abyss. The drop clearly goes straight to the bottom of the ruins— with no end in sight. Darkness looms, from hundreds of feet below. The stone at your back is weathering away, as if sand is wearing down its surface. The flat obstruction to the demon is becoming concave, one invisible grain at a Time.

You gasp, struggling to breathe, "there's no Time."

>(A roll may be required for all of the following.)

>A] There's Flesh. Invoke Him, to traverse this landscape without fear of exhaustion or injury.
>1] Offer to pick up Ofelia, and carry her. She's easily the slowest among you all, and the thought of her being left behind— or falling, even— is unbearable.
>2] Ask Harvey to go ahead with Ofelia, while you tail the twins from the rear of your group. Distract the demon, if necessary.

>B] There IS Time. Stay behind, and stall the demon. You'll play its game, if only for long enough to grant your friends Time to escape.

>C] There's Mercy. Hold your ground, and invoke the Goddess of protection. You're going to show it the tenets of your church— restraint, in particular— in a more tangible form.

>D] Write-in.

>>4341438
>C] There's Mercy. Hold your ground, and invoke the Goddess of protection. You're going to show it the tenets of your church— restraint, in particular— in a more tangible form.
"Stop wasting Our time"

>>4341438
>>C] There's Mercy. Hold your ground, and invoke the Goddess of protection. You're going to show it the tenets of your church— restraint, in particular— in a more tangible form.

>>4341728
>>4341741
(Locking the vote here! Writing now.)

>>4341772
https://youtu.be/DbZYnEWx_XQ

"Go," you breathe, "now. I'm holding it off. Harvey, please take Ofelia to safety. I will catch up."

The last of the color in Ofelia's face leaves. "Richard. I can't. I'm not leaving you—"

"Go." The walls are shaking. The walls are melting from decay, and it's only a matter of seconds before you're certain a demon will be upon your company. "Now."

Without any protest, Harvey sweeps Ofelia into his arms. She positively screams, "let GO of me! I'll kill you if anything happens to him—!" Algrith is setting off, firing you an apologetic glance over his shoulder, as the blonde in his arms practically sobs, "RICHARD! YOU'D BETTER NOT GET HURT! DON'T LEAVE ME AGAIN, HOTSHOT—!"

"I will find you! The Gods are Merciful, Ofelia! Please take care!"

Gritting your teeth, holding your ground, you put both palms to the door before you. "All of you." Resting your arms for only a moment is not your primary concern. Something is coming. Something deep, and dark, and terrible. You can feel it, in the very depths of your soul. The stone underhand is trembling, from the sheer force that's behind it.

A few grains of sand blow beneath the stone under your palms. The very stone before you is wearing away, to nothing.

There is one Goddess that you hold more dearly than any other. One of protection, and restraint. You take a step back, teetering on the edge of a fall to the bottom of the world without fear. Clasping your hands together, bowing your head, you look to the promise ring upon your hand. It's solid gold, and evidence of your union. There's been no need for words between you both, for a very long Time.

But you want Her to hear. You want Her to know how badly you need Her.

"Goddess of Austerity. Let Your will be known. Come unto to me, for my need is dire. Our children—" She's already on you, though not in a physical form, "—who's very souls are in peril—" hotter than the sun, working over your very skin, "Mercy—!" and in you, before you can even formally finish the invocation.

You don't stagger backwards, despite the sheer drop that's directly underfoot. A radius of faint, golden light is beneath your steps. It is more than a pedestal to walk upon, in darkness, and terror. You're reminded of a shield for a split second, before being pulled forward by an unseen force.

The Goddess doesn't need to be by your side, when She can work through you in so many more ways. An embrace wraps in, up, and around even last crack upon your skin. It's not merely that you're littered with scars. Your lover has you lean into the invocation, and into Her, as your eyes flush with solid metal.

(1/2)

>>4341836
With the sun in your eyes, you dare a glance behind. The forms of your friends are making off, into the horizon, just as you whip your head back around to a nightmare. The last defense between you, and your pursuer, has eroded into nothingness. In the abandoned home that Starlight and Stardust fearlessly occupied, the walls have been worn to dust. There is a swirling vacancy, of space, just like the endless domain you escaped from once before.

Walking calmly up the last set of the crumbling stairs is the form of a man. Upon his cane is a singular hourglass, though there is no sand within. Upon the demon's brow is a streak of starlight. About his body is a constellation of stars, dripping with sand. It pools beneath his feet, clad as they are in polished glass. The armor, cloak, and regalia adorning the figure is imposing to an extreme. Every dully reflective inch of his regal attire reflects stars in a sky that cannot possibly be there. A huge chunk of glass is upon his brow, obscuring all but the deepest, darkest, vacant pits for eyes you've ever seen. He must be nine feet tall, and all in unsettling hues of amethyst.

You grit your teeth, reach out with two hands, and practically growl, "stop wasting Our time."

From the tips of your fingers, and the symbol of your church, pools strands of liquid gold. They're forming bands of solid light. You are the Father of the Church of Mercy, and are bent with all your will upon one, singular tenet: restraint.

From the demon comes a voice, simultaneously spry, ancient, wise, and youthful beyond all measure. You feel sick from its first enunciation, and resist the urge to take a step back with everything you have as it quickly interjects, "wait. You must understand."

There is one Goddess that you fear more than any other. The thought of disgracing Time for a single further second has your skin crawling, all through the invocation. Your lover is on you, keeping you warm through the cold sweat that's formed on every inch of you.

Mercy understands the Goddess of Time, in ways you cannot comprehend. Her will is unchangeable. You understand demons more than likely any other man alive.

Mercy has sworn to defend you, and impart Her gifts even onto the like of monsters, if you will it. You respect Her, and would never subject the Goddess of Compassion to anything less than your devotion, and love.

But by all the Gods, do you fear Time. It occurs to you that you've hesitated, despite yourself. It might be demonic influence. It might be just how exhausted you are. It may just be that a war has been raging through your soul, all of your life, and you have rarely had the chance to acknowledge it.

(Options in next post.)

File: Demon of Time.png (280 KB, 564x833)

280 KB PNG

>>4341838
>A] You understand completely. Go after this monstrosity with every ounce of restraint that you have. Mercy would end the world as you know it, before seeing any harm befall you, or your children. Nothing it has to say could be more important than the safety of everyone in your care.
>1] Pin it down. It's difficult to manipulate anything, if you can't move.
>2] Get its staff away from its body, if nothing else. This is obviously a sorcerer of extreme power.
>3] Focus on containing the sand. The demon is likely manipulating its domain, rather than itself.

>B] This isn't your first encounter with a demon who could speak. This creature is likely absurdly intelligent, and powerful beyond all measure. You'd pin it as a major demon, just upon a first impression.
>1] Don't fuck around. Demand that it speak quickly, and plainly. Bind it to the ground the moment it shows any sign of hesitating.
>2] Listen. Hold your ground, and implore Mercy for Her protection. You are desperate to understand the weakness within humanity. You need this opportunity. You need to TRULY understand what could compel a monster like this to give you a moment to listen.

>C] Write-in.

(This'll be the last update of our usual weekend sessions! Going to resume sometime tomorrow afternoon, EST. Mondays-Thursdays we always update at least once a day, usually more than that. Votes will always remain open unless otherwise specified! Have a great night everyone.)

>>4341839
>B] This isn't your first encounter with a demon who could speak. This creature is likely absurdly intelligent, and powerful beyond all measure. You'd pin it as a major demon, just upon a first impression.
>1] Don't fuck around. Demand that it speak quickly, and plainly. Bind it to the ground the moment it shows any sign of hesitating.

>>4341839
>C] Write-in.
Ask for his name, even though we fear Time, this is only a demon of her. We have met with more fearsome ones like Beltoro and to him we also showed Compassion and our Tenets of Mercy.

>>4341839
>>C] Write-in.

Restrain everything except it's ability to speak, if it truly wants us to understand it wouldn't mind, otherwise *we know* it's just trying to stall us.

>>4341850
>>4341899
>>4341964
(Good afternoon everyone! Awesome write-ins. Locking the vote here and going to try to incorporate as much as I can. May take a few to get the update out but will ASAP.)

>>4342381
Hesitation is defeat. Tensing your hands, tensing the restraints you have made, tensing the very bonds of gold and light from within the cracks of your soul— you extend your blessing.

A hundred strands of heat and radiance are upon the demon, before it can even react. You turn your outstretched palms downward, tensing, twisting, and reshaping the bonds into a more tangible form.

The demon is slammed to the floor, with the shackles made of your devotion. Colliding with the stone, it shatters the first few inches of ground in its wake. Your ears are ringing, from the sheer force of it. Dust kicks up into the air, along with countless grains of sand, as the floor trembles. It's still decaying, unstable, and as devastated as the demon's voice. It tries to raise an arm. "Wait."

A wave of your arm is sufficient, to disarm the demon, and scatter its staff off, into the dust of its own making. The demon's gaze trails after it, for only a moment, before snapping its eyes back to you. "You cannot comprehend what you are doing."

Every last gesture is another wave of Mercy's blessing. It's heat, and comfort, relief and euphoria, all wrapped up into the finest recesses of your soul. There's a strong desire to smile, to gasp, and you channel every last ounce of your repression right into your hold. To persist with the invocation, for as long as necessary.

You clasp your hands together. The gesture takes only a moment. With it, you fully illuminate a pair of shackles upon the demon's wrists. There is another, upon its ankles. Tightening your fingers, knuckles white, there are binds around its neck. There is no slack in the mere inch of chain that holds it. The bond reaches deeper than the abyss. Every last glowing band of divinity is as strong as your will.

A scowl is more appropriate, as the lair around you crumbles. "You will speak quickly, and plainly. Tell Us your name."

Peeling back the edges of its lips, a pair of pointed, lilac-tinted teeth are flashed at you. "Arkthros", it replies, without any hesitation.

The shark-like smile stretches a little further across his face. The demon of delay stops talking, immediately.

You jerk the demon's head face-down, closing the last inch of slack between its neck and the ground. The crunch of the glass upon its brow cracking from the sheer force of the impact makes your teeth hurt, so you grit them harder. "If you truly wish for Us to understand your intent—"

The monster cranes its head around, to look at you, with legitimate fear in its eyes. "I do."

He can't help himself. He has to wait. He'll stall until we die.

I might need to help him, if we're going to speak.

(Options in next post.)

>>4342410
>WRITE-INS MAY HELP ENORMOUSLY WITH ILLUMINATING FURTHER INFORMATION.
>Demons cannot speak of the Gods directly. Questions involving Time or any other deity will likely only be answered in a very roundabout way.
>Your environment is literally dissolving. Fewer prompts and/or brevity may help in escaping these ruins in one piece.

>A] "What, precisely, must I understand?"

>B] "Why is your lair turning to dust?"

>C] "Are you the archdemon of these ruins?"

>D] "Why are there no other demons here?"

>E] "Just yesterday, you pursued me, and my companion. Why?"

>F] "How may I exit your domain freely?"

>G] Write-in.

>>4342412
>>A] "What, precisely, must I understand?"

>>4342412
>C] "Are you the archdemon of these ruins?"

>>4342434
+1

>>4342434
>>4342438
>>4342445
(Great. Locking the vote, writing now.)

>>4342610
https://youtu.be/5UVSTG0_6X0
Exhaustion ceases to run through your limbs, as the Goddess of healing mends every last inch of you. Struggling to not take a sharp breath in, for how intense your partner's hold is, you lower your tone, its divinity, Mercy's ire for this creature, and take a step forward. "what, precisely, must I understand?"

Tension contorts what little of the demon's face is visible. Every word is stressed, as though it's the most important thing that could ever be said. "They. May. NOT. Leave."

You have eight solid years of experience, with restraints, and torture in the dark. Stomach shifting at the sight of the demon's clear distress, you rapidly ask, "is there more, Arkthros?"

"Yes," he mutters, shifting again. Hands still clasped, you quickly part your fingers. The bonds upon his wrists, ankles, and neck immediately pull, twisting the monster's limbs just enough to halt any further motion.

Urgency and the cold sweat on you intensifies tenfold. There is practically nothing left of the house behind him. A gaping void of space and sand is swirling, gathering, and wearing down at the exit to his domain. "Tell Us," you firmly plead.

The rest of his speech is rapid fire. "Their leader, with flame upon his brow, and fire within: he swore to me, and upheld his word. The King, in His grace: He swore to me, and upheld His word. He alone had aided me, these many onethousandeighthundredandninetyeightyears."

Your vision swims, and your breath hitches, just slightly. It's as if a hand, and an arm, has wrapped up and around you, trying to keep you steady, and reassuring you that you are not alone with the most ancient creature you've ever heard of.

"No others may flee," Arkthros hisses. "The thousands I have imprisoned: they have NOT bled. I cannot risk their retreat, invoker. I will bring them no harm, if my will is honored. It is a simple request. One that you must understand."

You try to not reel, and breathe, "are you the archdemon of these ruins?"

Those teeth. More are visible, as the demon's grin grows. "Neither the last—"

There is a howl, on the periphery of your vision. You dig in your heels, and reach out, with both hands. There's something horribly wrong. With a heave, Arkthros flexes his right arm in, and snaps your bonds free from the floor. "Nor the first—"

You're already creating a new restraint, tethering the monster's limb. A gust of sand pushes and rolls his staff back from the empty space behind, right into his grasp.

"—nor the many who have come before—!"

The ruins behind you are disappearing, into nothingness. You likely have precious seconds left, to stand on any ground at all.

Arkthros is not wearing a cloak. He unfolds a pair of wings, comprised entirely of melted glass. They can articulate, as the liquid shifts into more grains of solid particles. It has no definitive form. The wings are a liquid, and a solid, and they rip the restraint off of his left hand.

(1/2)

>>4342758
"These are my ruins, and mine alone. There is no one left, to service themselves to my position. Yes, invoker. To answer your question: yes. I am an archdemon."

You move to replace the bond, heart racing faster than your company's retreat, as the demon tears the bonds off of his neck. Smoke is rising from the his hands, as what little skin and sinew is upon his form burns into the metal of your creation. He declares through excruciating pain, "you have intruded upon my home. You have infringed upon the King's prison, and the RESTRAINT of several hundred lost souls. You will not release this burden from me." He's referring to the twins. "You will not take this gift from us."

You can't help but gasp, from a surge of ecstasy overriding the intense pain lancing your chest. "Mercy—"

Brother Morris knew the location of your entire congregation. A demon of moths was controlled by the church of Mercy...

"They are mine. Do not oppose me, priest. These ruins remain empty by my design, alone."

The King is fully aware of the location of His children.

"This must be a falsehood."

"Do not insult me."

King Magnus may be allied with a demon of Time. There may be hundreds of traitors to the throne underneath His very city. Beyond any doubt, Starlight and Stardust are in extreme danger.

Arkthros lets loose a laugh. Not a scream, though his hands are blistering under the heat of his bonds. He laughs, and rips through the restraints upon him as if it were made purely of light. He looks exactly as he did before, when he first walked up the stairs.

You blink, and confirm that he is now several feet back, calmly walking up the stairs. They've rematerialized, and there are no burns upon his body. With a straight face, he implores you:

"Wait."

>A ROLL MAY BE REQUIRED FOR ALL OF THE FOLLOWING.

>A] Invoke Flesh, while keeping the invocation to Mercy, and run for your life. Pray that you can heal through anything this monster dishes out.

>B] Keep the invocation to Mercy, and attempt to call upon Dream.
>1] To restrain the demon, and put it to rest.
>2] To escape via Dream's vision, while protecting yourself as much as possible.

>C] Run straight at the demon, and force your Relic into its hands. Bend its insanity towards compassion, and good-will towards men.

>D] The Church of Mercy didn't raise a coward. Hold your ground. You're talking this demon down.
>1] You genuinely feel sorry for it. Show the monster some compassion, and try to understand why it's threatening only two people. Stop trying to keep it restrained.
>2] Make your best case for your own alliance with King Magnus, and that the twins are under your care. There must be another solution to this.

>E] Write-in.

>>4342767
>>C] Run straight at the demon, and force your Relic into its hands. Bend its insanity towards compassion, and good-will towards men.

>D] The Church of Mercy didn't raise a coward. Hold your ground. You're talking this demon down.
>2] Make your best case for your own alliance with King Magnus, and that the twins are under your care. There must be another solution to this.

"Time waits for no one, her will is unchangeable. And its *Father*, Arkthros."

>>4342792
+1

>>4342792
+1

Rolled 466 (1d1000)

>>4342792
>>4342854
>>4342857
(Fully noting that write-in, and D2. As for C...)

>BEND VIOLENCE TO COMPASSION
>CONTACT IS NECESSARY FOR THIS MISSION
>+20 MERCIFUL SPEED DEMON

>Roll 1d100. The total sum of three rolls, from three separate posters, will be used.
>The roll made in this post represents Arkthros' position. Only matching his roll ensures contact.
>The closer your total roll is to his, the more successful your attempt will be.

>If at any point you realize that your roll makes it impossible to match his position, you may CLEARLY SPECIFY that you wish to have Richard WAIT that many minutes.
>Sacrificing your roll, and your Time in this fashion, means another roll can be made.
>This may be done up to three times, but only once per ID.

>If the roll immediately makes it impossible to match Arkthros, only the first three rolls will be used.

(Please ask me if this is unclear in any way, or if anyone has any questions.)

>>4342916
(For extra clarity, 360 is the highest possible sum, so the first three rolls will be used for the next post.)

Rolled 56 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>4342916

Rolled 12 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>4342916
Dammit

Rolled 26, 40 = 66 (2d100)

>>4342916

Rolled 92 (1d100)

>>4342951
Woops, please disregard. Would delete if I could.

>>4342916

>>4342928
>>4342933
>>4342954
(No worries man. That makes 76+32+112=220. 246 shy of Arkthros' 466. Taking all write-ins and the other prompt into consideration! Currently working, but will update as soon as possible.)

(Thanks for your patience dudes. Writing now!)

https://youtu.be/5M-CfgAG2n4

No weapon could be more powerful than your symbol. Ripping at the chain around your neck, you unfasten your Relic in a single motion, and sprint at full speed straight towards the archdemon. Mercy is in your heart, in your soul, and every ounce of intent you have: to bend this demon's insanity towards compassion.

"Time waits for no one!"

In the second it takes you to blink, before another breath parts from your lips, and the very moment after your first footstep falls towards the demon— he's moved back, at least another 200 feet. Sand swirls in an endless vacuum at his back, devoid of heat, light, or hope. All of the ruins are growing darker, and more vacant by the second. Your head swims, as the monster moves back further, laughing softly to itself. "I am no one."

The Church of Mercy did not raise a coward. The stars themselves resonate through your speech, in a blend of Goddesses, conviction, and a declaration that CANNOT be refuted: "HER WILL IS UNCHANGEABLE—!"

A torrent of sand— without wind, or air— blasts straight at you. "Is that what they have taught you, priest?"

You manifest a shield of solid light, with a sweep of your arm. There is no handle to hold. There's a tether from the scars upon your palms, outstretched, and twitching under the sheer force of the gust directed at you. Shifting into the flurry at the last second, you practically scream, "it is not priest—!"

The blow is so intense, you see the sun itself in your eyes. There's no hope of keeping your sprint, as pain explodes through your hands and arms. Skidding at least twenty feet through the sand thanks to your momentum, straight towards the abyss behind you, there is still hope in your heart.

The shield gets dropped, so quickly that no one could possibly react to the sheer insanity of it. Letting yourself get battered, as the hurricane of sand threatens to give your hold on the ruins, you raise a hand.

"It is Father, Arkthros."

A band of the sun, in a house without light, is pulled from a sky that cannot be seen. With all the force you can muster, you shape the colossal beam into a band of solid gold.

It's commanded to fall straight upon the demon's wings. The collision is deafening.

Arkthros has vanished.

Blinking, spinning around, you compulsively creating another shield. In the other, your knuckles are white, clutched around your Relic.

You stagger backwards. The demon is inches away, in the same spot on the ground that was occupied several moments ago. He leans in, his teeth right before your face, to lecherously drawl, "their leader."

"Yes."

The restraint you created ripples, before melting straight into the floor. You do not need restraint. Not when have your voice, can lean in, and take the demon by the hand. "In service of the King."

(1/2)

>>4343306
He's gone in a flash. In a second, Arkthros returns to the horizon.

You call out, "just as you are!"

"Pray tell, Father: what makes you think that you are serving my King?"

Sand pelts towards you, in all directions. You have to swing up both hands. In one is a tower shield. The other slakes completely over with solid gold, shielding your Relic, and most of your arm. "The children of the Church of Mercy are under Our care—! There is no need for any of this!"

There's a sharp, grating sound, of glass in motion. The particles battering at the edges of your shield catch on anything exposed upon your body. It's like sandpaper. "You do not wish to bring harm to them," you breathe, inhaling the dust, and flushing at the sheer intensity of it grating against your skin and throat.

The struggle to keep yourself together worsens by the second. Mercy works over the injury, works over your skin, works over the pain—

"Yes."

There isn't a second to react. Arkthros closes the gap faster than you can scream, wings pointed straight at your body. They're huge shards of glass.

Jumping straight back, repressing the urge to scream only for fear of inhaling more dust, you teeter for a moment on the edge of the abyss. "Work with me—!"

The platform, leading out to the exit of the ruins, has completely worn away. A fall into blackness is imminent— and the sensation of an arm wraps around your tapered waist. You're held, for a moment, and kept from plummeting to your death.

"Mercy," you gasp, taking a step forward.

Looking up to the monster, as it steps just out of arm's reach, your ragged breath is a decree. "King Magnus has commanded that they be returned to the surface."

That smile. It leers, as the sorcerer before you makes a swift gesture with his staff, and flies straight back. A torrent of sand rises from all directions. You take another step forward, to break back into a sprint. Shield up, you demand, "you must understand—!"

The sprint never comes. The assault flies straight at you, nearly pushing you again into the fall. Another pummel comes hard from the left, pitter-pattering against the gold surrounding your relic. The metal defense spreads further up your arm, in an attempt to guard you, just as your shield at the right is slammed so intensely the you fear your arm may break.

There's another tug on your robes, and it is not divine. It comes from a flurry of sand, rising up, from the bottom of the world.

"I understand completely," Arkthros grins.

(One paragraph over, 2/3.)

>>4343325
The flurry solidifies into a singular blade of glass.

It slices the back of your ankles clean open.

The sound of every tendon splitting, and of your blood splattering onto stone, hangs in the air for an eternity. Shock doesn't allow the pain to register for a singular moment. The Relic in your hand will not permit the pain to register, for as long as you hold it. It is one, priceless moment. One in which you still have not collapsed forward, or indecently screamed. One moment, with which comes one decision.

>The following prompts are mutually exclusive. Write-ins may require a roll. Vocal opposition to any votes will be taken into full consideration. Discussion is strongly encouraged.

>A] Invoke Flesh, while maintaining your invocation to Mercy. Your first dual invocation to Flesh and Mercy may have instilled severe masochism in you— but that may actually be a benefit, against this monster.
>1] Stick to the plan, and attempt to get your Relic into the hands of an archdemon. (A ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED, with a massive positive modifier, and the same rules as the last roll, with additional options.)
>2] Run for your life. (A ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED, with a massive positive modifier, and a new parameter for success.)

>B] Invoke Agriculture. Turn this demon's sand against it. Weaponize each and every rock, stone, and pebble. You will reap its own harvest, and heal through the worst of the assault. You can take it.
>1] Righteously restrain it. If you have to hurt this demon to have a conversation, so be it.(A ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED, WITH A VARIETY OF NEW OPTIONS.)
>2] It has to die. Don't hold back. (A ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED, WITH AN OBSCENE POSITIVE MODIFIER. There will absolutely be social and political consequences.)

>C] Invoke Time.

>D] Write-in.

>>4343331
>>A] Invoke Flesh, while maintaining your invocation to Mercy. Your first dual invocation to Flesh and Mercy may have instilled severe masochism in you— but that may actually be a benefit, against this monster.
>>1] Stick to the plan, and attempt to get your Relic into the hands of an archdemon. (A ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED, with a massive positive modifier, and the same rules as the last roll, with additional options.)

>>4343331
(Very late to the party here but just to clarify, B1 also would grant a positive modifier.)

>>4343331
>B] Invoke Agriculture. Turn this demon's sand against it. Weaponize each and every rock, stone, and pebble. You will reap its own harvest, and heal through the worst of the assault. You can take it.
>1] Righteously restrain it. If you have to hurt this demon to have a conversation, so be it.(A ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED, WITH A VARIETY OF NEW OPTIONS.)

If we want to get anything out of this guy we need to *force* him into action, that means fully controlling the fight. Invoking Flesh right now wouldn't do much because we already have Mercy healing and attacking him with his own sand works both as a defensive and offensive measure.

>>4343331
>C] Invoke Time.
That moment of injury, happened another time

>>4343331
>B] Invoke Agriculture. Turn this demon's sand against it. Weaponize each and every rock, stone, and pebble. You will reap its own harvest, and heal through the worst of the assault. You can take it.
>1] Righteously restrain it. If you have to hurt this demon to have a conversation, so be it.(A ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED, WITH A VARIETY OF NEW OPTIONS.)

Rolled 85 (1d1000)

>>4343353
>>4343789
>>4343766
>>4343822
(Alright my dudes. These prompts were mutually exclusive. Seriously appreciate you, but we're going to go with the majority, for B1!)

>RESTRAINT
>+20 THE GODS ARE MERCIFUL
>+20 FLESH OF MY FLESH
>+5 OFFENSE AND DEFENSE
>-45 EXQUISITE AGONY

>Roll 1d100. The first three rolls will be used. All 3 rolls will be counted.
>The dice roll in this post represents Arkthros' position.
>As you have elected to use an area-of-effect attack/defense, exceeding his roll will represent degrees of success. Falling below his roll may still have some effect.

>+45 MASOCHISM TANGO
For the low, low cost of public indecency— and some of your threadbare sanity— you can choose to convert the -45 to a +45 positive modifier.
(This modifier is available if EVEN ONE voter chooses to take it. Only vocal opposition will prevent it from being removed, once chosen.
It's worth stressing that this is not going to be pretty, if selected.)

>SWEAR THAT YOU'RE MINE
(The negative/positive modifier will decrease substantially, eventually to 0, for as long as you maintain your invocation to Mercy.
ELECTING TO CONTINUE TO INJURE YOURSELF WILL MAINTAIN THE POSITIVE MODIFIER AT +45, even through Mercy's healing.)

>>4343871
(For absolute clarity please bear in mind that the SUM TOTAL of all three rolls will be used.)

Rolled 16 (1d100)

>>4343871

There is no public so I don't mind being indecent.

Rolled 70 (1d100)

>>4343871

Rolled 64 (1d100)

>>4343871

>>4343880
>>4343881
>>4343882
thank mercy we didn't need to resort to old habits

>>4343880
>Activate the device

>RESTRAINT
>+20 THE GODS ARE MERCIFUL
>+20 FLESH OF MY FLESH
>+5 OFFENSE AND DEFENSE
>̶-̶4̶5̶ ̶E̶X̶Q̶U̶I̶S̶I̶T̶E̶ ̶A̶G̶O̶N̶Y̶
>+45 MASOCHISM TANGO

>>4343881
>>4343882
(That's 106 + 160 + 154 = 420 bois

420 vs 85. Let's do this thing. Vote is locked. Writing now!)

>>4343880
>>4343885
(Hold up. Before I start writing I want to be ABSOLUTELY clear that you opted in for the positive +45 modifier.)

>>4343887
I did, curbstomp incoming

>>4343891
(Thank you for clarifying, especially so quickly. It's incredibly late here, so last update for the night!)

>>4343885
(Definitely abstaining from any additional self-harm, but just wanted to make sure that the three rollers were all aboard. Since none of them opposed prior to rolling, going to stick with the hefty modifier. Writing now!)

>>4343894
Ok, although I don’t see why since we were against an 85

>>4343899
whatever we get over the DC is extra success levels, everything counts

>>4343886
https://youtu.be/WfOUo97vBQw

You let go of your Relic, drop your defenses, and it hits you. Sharp, and as hot as the blood trickling into your shoes. There's no scream. There's been worse pain. Just when you thought your pulse couldn't go any higher, your breath reaches a speed it rightfully shouldn't. You stay on your feet. There's still function, and motion. It's excruciating, so close your eyes, and moan.

Arkthros is stunned into hesitation. The sand around you calms, if only for a moment.

"M-Mercy—" heat rises through every last muscle upon you. You clasp your hands together, your skin singing from the slightest friction. "Goddess of— ahhn— of— of bounty—!"

This isn't merely something exquisite. You lean into it. "My need is dire."

A voice, in the back of your head, acknowledges that this is utter insanity. You still have motion in your legs. Yes, the demon tried to rob you of the ability to run, but there are other ways to go about interrogation. It's made no attempt to kill you. There's no question that the archdemon is slowly backing away, without calling upon its own ability.

That Arkthros has managed to choke out, "oh. How repulsive."

There's no need to kill him.

This is something to be embraced, as your lover works through you, and sets to mending your newest scars just as quickly as they came. Under your breath, feverishly, you seize the singular moment of legitimate respite. It's a few syllables. You try closing your eyes, to close out the relief working through your lower body.

A haze of poor justification worms itself into the softening edges of your mind.

There's no public here.

"Ah— aahn—! AAaahhhhh—" you can barely breathe, let alone speak, and swallow hard. One word. Just a few syllables. "Aah, Aagriculture—!"

The Goddess does not hesitate further. The sheer force with which She's upon you sends you staggering back. In less than a second, the unmistakable sensation of Her presence works under your skin.

Ecstasy weaves itself into a swing of your arm, as you don't waste another second, and motion to the rock beneath your feet. There is something so deeply satisfying, building in the recesses of your soul, that each motion is a battle to keep yourself from collapsing to the ground, or running a hand all along

"Father." Arkthros gets a hold of himself. Barely. What he's witnessing should be impossible, aside from the way you're handling it. "Two...?"

A scythe. A scythe comes to your hand. The weapon is blunted. You can barely see, as sage breaks through the gold plating your vision. Trails of hyacinths form from the ground underfoot, with each step you take. The flowers usually represent forgiveness.

Apology.

(1/2)

>>4343960
Fear and revulsion drenches the demon. "At once."

He puts up a hand, rapidly constructing a wall before him. "Wait."

The blade is made of stone from the ruins of Ostedholm. You'd recognize the moss embedded in it anywhere. Its handle is wood, from the orchards of your home. The vines extend from the base of the blade, all around its handle, blooming with yours and Mother Bethaea's flower.

"Father. There's no need." His barrier is the home you were in before. The demon has elected to put the wall directly between the two of you. "Take a moment. Think."

Not likely. "Nn— aaahn— "

Arkthros may have momentarily forgotten his own ability.

The tendrils of your weapon sinks straight into your skin. It's not painful, as you flood with the blessing of both Goddesses. The pain comes from the effects of a demon, and it's lessening by the second.

The scythe sings through the air, as you sweep it with both hands, and cut a path straight through the air. Every rock, stone, and pebble under the sorcerer's control changes direction mid-air, and slices through the barrier.

"Arkthros," you gasp, unable to stop yourself from grinning, as you take a few steps forward. A path neatly forms underfoot, blossoming. Pollen drifts into the air, as you quicken your steps, and revel in the joy of your agony.

Concern is wrought across an ancient face. You're certain he has no idea what you're going to do, and isn't about to take any chances. The staff and its hourglass slams to the ground at Arkthros' feet, which has only barely reformed. With it, thousands of grains of sand— scarcely felt, through the sheer intensity of what's working through you— try and direct themselves straight your way.

In a flash, he's gone from sight, and out of the home.

Bringing your scythe up before you in a single motion, you don't even bother to bite on your lip to silence an out pour of noise. The sand clumps together in mid-air, shifting to soil, and blossoming into thousands of chartreuse flower petals. They're chrysanthemums. You know it's Agriculture's favorite flower, and want to show your appreciation.

"Blessed be Her harvest."

Your breath could not be heavier. You'll probably be heavier after the invocation, and it really doesn't matter. With a turn of your wrist, you hook onto a crop of your own creation. Each and every yellow-green petal becomes static. They are under Agriculture's domain. You reach out with your other hand. They are not petals. They're gilded weights, under Mercy's control. You turn your palm down.

Every single weight drops upon your target, and melts into a liquid nightmare the second it lands. "Restraint, aah-Aarkthros," you gasp, turning around, to see the vacant domain covered in your mutual destruction. The archdemon is buried, smoking, and desperately trying to not scream.

He bares his teeth, and spits, "hypocrite!"

(Options in next post.)

>>4343963
>A ROLL MAY BE REQUIRED FOR ALL OF THE FOLLOWING.

>A] You feel a little dirty. At least take hold of your Relic, to try and manage the pain. You'll wait only a moment, and are not letting your guard down for a second.

>B] Double down on keeping this demon at bay. Don't do a thing about your injury, and keep both hands out where he can see them. This might be a trap.

>C] Arkthros' purpose is to delay you.
>1] This is worth your Time. You have questions that need answering. (Write-in why you were so determined to restrain this demon, rather than run.)
>2] Try to ensure he is down, as securely as possible, and flee for your life.

>D] There's absolutely a saner way to go about this. (Write-in.)

>>4343963
>>C] Arkthros' purpose is to delay you.
>>1] This is worth your Time. You have questions that need answering. (Write-in why you were so determined to restrain this demon, rather than run.)

Why are you keeping people down here, why would the king want this. What do you get from this deal with the king. Why shouldn't I kill you.

>>4343971
+1

>>4343971
+1

>>4343971
+1

>>4343971
>>4343972
>>4344138
>>4344664
(Good afternoon everyone! Locking the unanimous vote here. Writing now!)

>>4344707
https://youtu.be/RdYEBkHoC4Q

Closing the gap between the two of you might as well take an eternity. Every stride is another gift. Though Mercy has nearly mended your severed tendons, there's lingering ecstasy reaching up, into, and throughout every last sense. Agriculture provides more than the relief from pain. There's something greater than a caress. The Goddess of plenty, and Her embrace, presses from within.

Your steps are wet, underfoot, but you don't recoil at the squish of your leather soles. Not from walking upon your own blood, and not from the obscene gratification that comes from each necessary motion.

You gradually shift the demon's domain into a veritable garden, keeping a trembling hand outstretched. It rises with every hitch in your breath, with the heat upon Arkthros, and the light that radiates from his form. Tensing further, as you keep the molten weight pressed upon his' writhing form, you do not struggle to keep him under your grasp.

You've probably been standing aside from Arkthros for several minutes, just to level your breath. The struggle is to regain enough stability to speak at all, and it's not getting any easier. In the throes of two Goddesses, insanity tilts off of your mortal eyes, through which you all look down upon your captive.

Through the haze of pollen, blinding radiance, and an unabating wave of pleasure, you relish the form at your feet. The archdemon must be capable of breaking free. His power is immense. Yet, through the scalding burns upon his skin— there is fear soaking into the sunken pits of his eyes.

He's planning something, and you aren't waiting to find out what.

After all, why should you even acknowledge his accusations, when you have so many of your own?

"Why are you holding anyone within your domain?"

Despite being pinned to the floor, Arkthros cranes his scalded neck up to sneer right at you. "Why should I give any answers to a profligate, who will unhinge themselves before I can begin to encourage it? Do you linger for the pleasure of my company, Father? Or perhaps, your station has tasked you so greatly, that the very idea of a fitting punishment—"

This really isn't anything you haven't heard before. With a sigh, you turn a fraction of the heat from within your own body— out— into the mounds of liquid gold. No further smoke rises from the archdemon. He's charring, and in too much pain to speak.

Letting every bit of madness leech into your voice that you would normally repress, you lean your head back, and murmur, "nnnh. Why— why shouldn't I kill you."

The archdemon literally spits at you, missing his mark by a wide margin. It's despite every indication that he would rather scream. The fear you recognized earlier is back on him in full force. The clipped response is obviously in regards to Mercy, and you get his meaning well enough. "You cannot. Will not."

(1/2)

>>4344822
>>4344825
>>4344822
He's more frightened of what I wish to do while he's still alive.

Tilting your head back, you take a knee, just beside the archdemon. "We are Merciful, Arkthros." He laughs. "There is still no need for any of this. No harm needed to befall you. All I wish is to protect those within Our care. Now, speak— and speak plainly. What purpose do you serve, as the warden of these ruins?"

A violent jerk of his head, to try and wrest free from what is no doubt crushing weight upon his chest, precludes Arkthros' proud declaration. "That of the King, who truly upholds that which you profess to lead—"

Your gaze softens, if only slightly. The backs of your ankles are completely healed, and your mind is clearing more rapidly by the second. It's still not saying much, but you can at least ask without moaning, "this— this is a pact between King Magnus, "the Merciful," and yourself? The two of you, alone?"

"Yes. Those who came before," he likely means the half-dozen Kings who must have reigned in his lifespan, "were fools. They terrorized my domain, and the thousands of my kin that have occupied it. No mere prisoners. My demons. Those within my care. They had fought bitterly, to the very end. I am not the first archdemon of Calunoth. I do not intend to be the last—"

"Answer the question, Arkthros."

He's actually incapable of brevity. "You don't care in the slightest, about my history. You may be capable of subsisting on lasciviousness, and sin alone, Father—"

You lean in, just enough to give him a warning glare. "Do you intend to find out the full extent of my proclivities?"

He draws back into himself, just slightly. The edges of his wings twitch from within their confinement. "No. I am compelled, Father. I stress that which you may understand. My charge here, on behalf of the King, permits me to seek that which I hold dear."

"Delay."

Your insistence upon straight answers may be a worse torture than burning Arkthros alive. The demon writhes so violently, you take a broad step back, fully upright, and have to bend everything you have into keeping him at bay. "Why would the King want this—"

"He has enemies," Arkthros spits, twisting hard against the hold, "and is just as delusional as you are."

Does King Magnus think imprisoning anyone within these ruins is Mercy...?

"What do you get, from this deal with the King?"

"Do you see any other demons beneath the city?!" A freakishly familiar statement falls from the ancient creature's lips. It's one that you've heard from another decrepit monstrosity, though it was many months ago that you met Malimos. "They will not suffer us to live, Father. I cannot give you any reason to keep me alive that you would truly take heart in. You are blind."

(Options in next post.)

>>4344830
(Formatting error, please refresh/F5 if the old post is still displaying.

>A ROLL MAY BE REQUIRED, FOR ALL OF THE FOLLOWING.

>A] Arkthros is just as trapped down here as anyone else. Take pity on him.
>1] Offer to extend your Relic's ability. Explain what it can do, and see if the archdemon would be willing to try and temper his own insanity.
>2] Swear that you don't want to bring him further harm, and take a step back. You'll go only on the defensive, if necessary.

>B] You have probably dug this whole WAY too deeply already. There may not be any pride in it, but keep Arkthros down for as long as possible, while you try to get away.

>C] You have a fraction of an idea of what this archdemon is capable of, but want to push your luck. Continue trying to interrogate him.
>1] Why Starlight and Stardust?
>2] Ask it plainly: If you continue to try and ensure the twins escape, will Arkthros legitimately try and kill you? Have you been in ANY real danger?
>3] What can you do, to ensure the retreat of everyone in your care?

>D] Write-in.

>>4344836
>C] You have a fraction of an idea of what this archdemon is capable of, but want to push your luck. Continue trying to interrogate him.
>1] Why Starlight and Stardust?
Quiet night today

>>4345064
(It's all good, moving some stuff around at home. I'll get at least one more update out this evening. Appreciate you man! Hope you're doing well too.)

>>4344836
>>A] Arkthros is just as trapped down here as anyone else. Take pity on him.
>>1] Offer to extend your Relic's ability. Explain what it can do, and see if the archdemon would be willing to try and temper his own insanity.

>>4345074
Support.

>>4345064
>>4345074
>>4345079
(Alright guys! We can do both of these. Locking the vote, writing now.)

File: Father Anscham's Relic.png (315 KB, 750x852)

315 KB PNG

>>4345140
https://youtu.be/vsZtCLMsevM

"You may be right," you murmur.

Arkthros jerks with his entire body, harder than before, in a desperate attempt to escape. It's not your invocation that halts his movement. He stops the violent motion, the very instant you stress, "I do not understand, but— but I would like to."

The pits of blackness upon the archdemon's face bore into you, silently seething. He wants to talk. He wants to share.

"Why? Starlight and Stardust—" you pause, and elaborate, "the King's children. Why?"

"The King's mind is weak. He could not bring himself to kill either of them." You notice that there is dried blood, packed thick with sand, encrusted along the gums of Arkthros' teeth as he smiles broader than ever before at you. "It would have been terribly easy. They have lingered. They have waited for you."

He knows much more than he's letting on. All trace of ecstasy drops from your frame, as you scowl, "I returned for them."

A long moment passes between the two of you. It's alright. This is worth your Time.

"I still cannot understand why so much has been sacrificed, all on behalf of retaining two humans within your domain."

"King Magnus is afraid, Father Anscham. You should be, too."

He knows who you are, beyond any doubt. One of the archdemon's wings has been solidifying, all this time. It skewers straight through the soft metal keeping him in place, piercing into the air with an ear-splitting shatter. The thrashing underneath your hold redoubles. You take a step back, hand to your Relic. The fire upon it eclipses the sun itself. "I know you are afraid."

"You know nothing—!"

"I want to help. The Goddess of Mercy has gifted me with more than Her love. Allow me to extend my ability, Arkthros."

"There is nothing you could do for me. Nothing you could willingly give. You will run, and condemn us all, just as every one of your predecessors before you—!"

Another one of the demon's wings pierces straight through your hold. Rapidly, you melt it back down, to try and encase and solidify its prison with the same motion. The air itself between you waves, from the very heat of your devotion. Your voice remains firm. "This may yet be a gift, from a King who has come before any of us. I know with absolute certainty that it is mine, through which I may cure more than my pain. It is a blessing, to relieve the pain of so many others."

A bark of a laugh is your reply. The archdemon takes in a sharp breath, like he's been wounded. He has been wounded, by your hand, and the cracks upon his burnt lips scowl, "what makes you think that this would hold any sway over me?"

(1/2)

File: Hyacinths.jpg (69 KB, 509x308)

69 KB JPG

>>4345275
This domain is worn beyond all reaches of Time, and likely only persists through Arkthros' will. You have been blind. Enthralled with divinity, but you look to something tangible. Hundreds of hyacinths wave around you both, in a nonexistent wind. The garden pushes out, into the furthest reaches of a nonexistent domain. There has been no sand for some time. The soil underfoot is purely of your own making. You look to a single, flawless locket in hand. One that you earned through earning the trust of an archdemon.

Fearlessly taking a step closer, you put yourself right into the reach of a lethally serrated blade of glass. "I have granted my tenets to others before. Healing: to a priestess who could not take the hands of Mercy. Restraint: to a demon of knowledge, who had lost its meaning."

Stunned into stillness, he spits, "that is impossible."

"Light," you stress. "Comfort. Healing. Restraint." You're both cringing, but you stress, "hope. We both know of our weakness. That which lurks within the hearts of humankind. I possess an item that may not bend the Catalyst, Arkthros— but it may bend our insanity. My Relic can turn our violence towards compassion."

"You're a poor fucking show of it," he grins, back to ripping himself further from your bonds.

"It may do more than permit men to wield the might of all the Gods," you erratically breathe, fighting with everything you have to keep yourself steady. Exerting further influence over every breach in Mercy's defenses is taking more out of you than you anticipated. You've only been with Mercy and Agriculture once like this before, and had ample aid in knowing your limits. A plea, your obsession, and a unique brand of insanity falls from your own bloodied lips. "This is folly, Arkthros. Plese. Help me understand."

With horror, it occurs to you that the compression and heat you've exerted over the demon's body is responsible for the extreme toughness it's exhibiting now. The glass upon its wings, in the dozens of tendrils extending outwards, are nowhere near as mobile. They've hardened, into dozens of long and toughened knives. In unison, they slice up, and free Arkthros entirely from captivity.

The archdemon is so injured, he rises back to his feet through flight alone. Hanging back no more than five feet, the blackened and crusted skin upon his burnt limbs move to twist his neck. The crack releases a small cloud of dust.

The grains of sand twist into petals, the moment you lay eyes upon them. "Permit us to help one another," you gasp. Unable to maintain the form of his hold, you release the tension in your hands, and permit the golden prison to liquefy. The sheer might of your invocation has destroyed the sorcerer's staff, and only a charred outline of it remains upon the little stone left between you.

(One paragraph over! 2/3)

>>4345280
The cracked glass upon Arkthros' brow leers at you. You realize he's only moved the minimal distance it would take to comfortably look down. Disgust, curiosity, and desperation further discolors the archdemon's sneer. "Why should I trust you?"

>A] It wouldn't be the first time you've made a pact with a demon. Offer to do something for Arkthros, as a show of good-will, before exerting any other influence over him.
>1] Make a suggestion you're comfortable with. (Write-in.)
>2] Let him make a proposition.

>B] He shouldn't. Honesty is a tenet of Mercy, too. ...wait a minute.
>1] Offer to give your honesty to Arkthros. Maybe this is exactly what he needs, to speak and act with candor. (With a 100% success rate, this notoriously strips you of this tenet of Mercy, and may be an enormous ordeal to reclaim. This option will only be used if majority vote decides.)
>2] Propose that you stay awhile, and help Arkthros to talk about his history candidly, to start. He'll get to waste your Time, you'll get information, and you'll both be observing the King's and Goddess' will.

>C] Write-in.

>>4345284
>C] Write-in.
"I have catalysted 32 times, yet remained human. If you work with me now, We can help you regain a part of your sanity, your self, your old time."

>>4345284
>>B] He shouldn't. Honesty is a tenet of Mercy, too. ...wait a minute.
>>1] Offer to give your honesty to Arkthros. Maybe this is exactly what he needs, to speak and act with candor. (With a 100% success rate, this notoriously strips you of this tenet of Mercy, and may be an enormous ordeal to reclaim. This option will only be used if majority vote decides.)

Everyone gets a tenet. We got back our other tenets before, allying with the most powerful and ancient demon we have ever met is worth the effort, just imagine the research potential of being on speaking terms with someone that is 2 millennia old. Besides, it is the right thing to do.

>>4345284
>B] He shouldn't. Honesty is a tenet of Mercy, too. ...wait a minute.
>2] Propose that you stay awhile, and help Arkthros to talk about his history candidly, to start. He'll get to waste your Time, you'll get information, and you'll both be observing the King's and Goddess' will.
and this >>4345492 as well
btw how does losing a tenet works ?

>>4345597
In the case of Honesty it would mean we would for a period of time have a hard time to speak directly what we want to say, hesitate and delay or outright lie.

>>4345624
>>4345597

To add to this, we would be essentially giving him a part of us that we "cultivated", it doesn't mean it's gone forever, just that we are gonna need to work on growing it again. When we gave Beltoro our restraint we ended up learning hundreds of years of history and found out that the Catalyst is actually the absence of hope. Who knows what we could learn from an archdemon that is that much more ancient than Beltoro, I think this is a trade worth making.

>>4345624
>>4345644
>>4345520
(Love the discussion dudes. Friendly reminder for you guys that you had successfully given the tenet of healing to Sister Corbon, as well. Though the process with the priestess of Mercy was instantaneous, and had absolutely no effect on your capacity to heal, you have almost compulsively attempted to exert that particular tenet of Mercy at every opportunity since then.

Conversely, the initial gift to Beltoro completely destroyed the form of Archdemon Idonea's Relic, was extremely taxing, nearly killed you, and eight months after having granted the tenet to Beltoro... employing restraint has been a fixation. One that's been difficult to employ even to this day. See: this entire encounter.

It could be that either your Relic, the individual you exert this ability over, or your own tenets are variables that could make the process have different outcomes!

I elected to make B1 only an option in case of majority vote, due to the severity of even offering as much. I'll absolutely stress that you guys want to make things right, here, but going to stick with

>>4345492
>>4345597
The write-in, and B2, for this post. Doesn't mean you're locked out of that offer forever, but we'll abstain for now. Vote is locked! Writing now.)

>>4345850
https://youtu.be/jJ-9lW8j3E8

Staring straight at an archdemon's absence of eyes, the burns upon his skin, the cracks upon his face, and every attempt he has made at avoiding injury, you insist, "you shouldn't."

Several long moments pass, as the void around you both impossibly expands. The garden you've created feels as if it's being tugged upon, at the edges of reality. Every blossom on the edges of the abyss are continually wearing down. You try to focus on keeping stable, on staying grounded. After everything you've been through, you've at least learned something from it.

The invocation to Mercy has gold dripping from your hands, dripping from your soul. The yellow-gold upon your gaze must be as intense as the mounting pressure of Agriculture working through you.

Focusing on anything more than their gift is rapidly becoming impossible. The thought of leaving either of them at all is impossible. In fact, "permit me to keep you company. To stay for awhile. To hear of your history. To help you speak. To pass the Time."

It's not manipulation. He's looking to you with doubt, in those pits for eyes. You are earnest to a fault, and don't draw away from the stare for a second. It's always been easier for you to keep eye contact with demon, anyways. "You are brimming with potential. The very prospect— of being able to speak with an archdemon— let alone one who is nearly two thousand millennia old—"

You take a breath, excited at the prospect beyond all measure. The hyacinths all around you have an incredibly potent scent. The floral notes and borderline sickly-sweetness is powerful. Nearly as intoxicating as the sheer volume of information standing before you. Someone to help. Someone to heal. You can be honest. "I have endured the Catalyst, Arkthros."

He actually leans in, to stare at you even more intensely. The points of his teeth are visible, as the demon's mouth hangs open for just a moment. Catching himself, drawing back, the archdemon lands back upon the soil to ask, "you are unlike any demon I have ever encountered. They would never permit one to lead."

He's referring to the church of Mercy. You repress every urge to nervously laugh. Clarifications are necessary, given the reputation of your home. "I have remained human."

A snap, out of sheer disbelief, "what was the Catalyst?"

"Faith."

The crack in Arkthros' composure is almost another crack in his face. "What?"

Insanity drips off of your legacy. "Thirty. Two. Times."

The archdemon takes a step towards you. His strides are so long, the singular motion is enough to bring him right next to you. The behemoth towers even over your respectable height. Looking down, around you, inspecting you like some kind of insect, Arkthros barks, "that is impossible."

(1/2)

>>4345920
"If you work with me— tolerate me— I would still like to help you. You don't have to trust me. Regaining your sanity, your self, your Time—"

Arkthros is clearly too fascinated to not ask, "How are you still alive?"

You smile. "The Gods are Merciful."

The archdemon is stunned into silence. He's scrutinizing you, squinting, as if he could discern your soul's properties from sight alone.

As a show of good will, you stay in arm's reach of the demon, and take a seat. A modicum of what your body must be going through registers, and you have to take a sharp breath in.

It's dangerous beyond measure to persist with a dual invocation for this long. Not merely for the sake of your sanity, the molten gold that's coursing from your hands, the inability to stop exerting any influence over Arkthros' domain, or the pressure in your soul.

It's terribly difficult to feel anything, to want for anything, or to focus on anything. Through the intensity of it, the urge to shift, and to let out your belt, is still intense. Your waist is still tapered, the muscle upon you plain to see, but the remains of your tattered shirt are threatening to tear along the seam. There's bulk over you, and disguising the definition that Flesh has gifted you with. Your certain that the conventional effect will continue, if you keep pushing yourself with the Goddess of Bounty.

Despite being burnt beyond all measure, Arkthros finds a way to take a step back. He's almost too stunned to speak, and manages to seethe, "I have my duty. My charge. They have escaped, thanks to you."

The pressure feels phenomenal, from the depths of your soul, to the skin upon your muscle. You're tempted to lean back, and to simply enjoy Agriculture's presence. The degree of satiety eclipses your present company—

The archdemon, having sat next to you, is worth your undivided attention. "Do not disappoint me, Father."

He's clearly waiting for you to speak, to lead, to make the first move. Trying to not gasp, to moan, to assume some semblance of sanity, you take another deep breath. The demon is close enough to you that the scent of dust and blood intermingles with the pollen on the air.

Sister Cardew would likely be sneezing, were she here. The priestess of Spirit would likely be worried, if she were here.

>A] Release the invocation to Agriculture, but persist with Mercy, for your protection.

>B] Release both invocations, knowing that the environment you've created is the only thing keeping you stable in a domain removed from Time itself.

>C] Keep up both invocations, despite the potential effects on your vessel.

>D] Write-in.

>>4345925
>>A] Release the invocation to Agriculture, but persist with Mercy, for your protection.

>>4345925
>A] Release the invocation to Agriculture, but persist with Mercy, for your protection.

>>4345925
>>A] Release the invocation to Agriculture, but persist with Mercy, for your protection.

>>4345933
>>4345935
>>4345962
(Currently away from my desk so we'll be without formatting, hope that isn't a huge issue for anyone. Would rather update now with plaintext than 8+ hours from now with some bold and italics. Vote is locked! Writing now.)

>>4346104
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lrBGoMFneU0

The threads of your sanity are worth tying back together. There's been so much support, and counsel, from more than just your friends. You think of half a year, spent in the care of a dear friend. You think of a woman that has sacrificed everything she has, to protect your health, and look after your mind.

Releasing the invocation to Agriculture, praying for protection from yourself, you could not be more relieved to have sat down. As the Goddess parts from your vessel, reality comes crashing back down. Suffocating fullness is on you, pressing against the pollen practically coating your robes. Moving to brush a single petal from your hair is momentarily unthinkable.

Working back through the void, through the absence of one divinity, is another. You stay with Mercy, and Her hold, and try to stop reeling. You try to think of Her nestled in your arms. The softness of Her voice. The scent of lemon, and honey, on your lover's dandelion curls. It's not that you need to escape from reality. You simply can't stop thinking about Her. She's everything, and all that's in your soul, for what might as well be another age.

Fortunately, you're in the company of a demon that thrives on delay. Arkthros is positively riveted by your silence, as the green upon your gaze fades, and the garden at the edges of your natural platform decays. The soil under you is real. Hyper-attunement to every last inch of grit under your nails has you dig in your hands, to try and get just a little more grounded. The volume of gold pooling from your hands floods the indentations in the dirt. The radiance isn't muted, by the coating of rock and soil. You can't help but marvel at how beautiful it is.

Several minutes pass by, before the archdemon observes, "you are willing to do anything for your research."

Gritting your teeth is mandatory, to not gasp, "not necessarily."

"You would rather speak with me, than to look after your children?"

The reply is utterly removed from your usual, soft-spoken tone. There's no need for timidness, when you and the Mother of your church can speak of your love, and loyalty. "They are capable of taking care of themselves."

"That they are," Arkthros leers, his teeth coming dangerously close to your face. "But what of you, Father?"

You try to get a little more comfortable, and lean a bit further into Mercy's embrace. The Goddess is more than happy to insist, through your lips, in a blend of your tone and Her resonance, "he has nothing to fear."

There's no need for you to ask Mercy for Her protection. Your partner is fully aware of your need. You make a mental note, once again, to one day discern what Mercy's favorite flower is. Warmth washes over you, as you softly smile, "Our concern lies with you, Arkthros."

(Options in next post.)

>>4346188
>The following options are not mutually exclusive. You have demonstrated the capacity to maintain an invocation with Mercy for upwards of two solid days at a time. All options selected, write-ins, and comments may be used.
>Any vocal opposition will be taken into full consideration, as always.
>Bear in mind that you are still ultimately human. Persisting in the domain of a demon of Time for an extended period may not be wise.
>If many prompts are selected, they may be broken down into more than one update, for the sake of pacing.

>A] "I wish to know about your demons. Who were they? Why did you care for them? Why did they fight?"

>B] "Tell me of your personal history, as a man. I'm interested in what led to your Catalyst, if you can remember it."

>C] "How did you become an archdemon?"

>D] "I would like to know more of your relationship with King Magnus."

>E] "How did Harvey Jay Algrith earn your trust, and come to an agreement with you?"

>F] "What do you know of Starlight and Stardust? Why should the King and I fear them?"

>G] Write-in.

>>4346196
>>A] "I wish to know about your demons. Who were they? Why did you care for them? Why did they fight?"
>>B] "Tell me of your personal history, as a man. I'm interested in what led to your Catalyst, if you can remember it."

What do you know of Ostedholm, the city of darkness?
What do you know of the Catalyst?

>>4346221
+1

>>4346196
>A] "I wish to know about your demons. Who were they? Why did you care for them? Why did they fight ?"
>B] "Tell me of your personal history, as a man. I'm interested in what led to your Catalyst, if you can remember it."
>C] "How did you become an archdemon?"

>>4346221
+1

>>4346221
+1

>>4346221
>>4346317
>>4346353
>>4346721
>>4346725
(Hell yeah dudes, can definitely do all of this. Vote is locked! Writing now.)

>>4346898
Thanks to the Goddess of Agriculture, you cannot hunger for anything of the material world. You look out, through the haze of light and gold upon your pupils. Out, to the endless expanse of swirling dust in the distance. The hyacinths have almost all decayed, and the soil you rest upon is growing thinner by the second. You look up, to a demon nearly two millennia old. He's equally fascinated, but is seriously injured, and makes no further move to attack.

You're starved for answers. No longer are you content to exert the power granted to you. Yes, you're enamored, with the Goddess of compassion. But Mercy is more than your partner. She's always tempered you. You were raised in the church of sincerity, and a softer, warmer tone sinks into your words. "I wish to know about your demons. Who were they?"

"I'll show you," Arkthros grins, waving a hand to the lair behind him.

"Wait—!"

https://youtu.be/-OMLnGtIzug

Getting to your feet as rapidly as you can is entirely insufficient. The entire world shifts, and you nearly fall over before you stand upright. Grains of sand blast from only one direction, enough so that you can immediately splay your hands, and stretch a shield of solid light before your entire body. On one knee, knitting your eyes shut, you ask, "why are you doing this—"

"Because I can," the demon laughs, as the hurricane comes abruptly to a stop. You manage to not fall over, but for how full you are, the urge to vomit is immense.

As your eyes adjust from the bitter gale of sand, they go wide, and your nausea redoubles. The ruins around you have been restored to their former hue, shape, and color. The abandoned home you fled from with Ofelia, just yesterday, surrounds you. Its hardwood floors, plastered with animal furs and blood. The exotic and excessive furniture, instruments, suits of armor, and heraldry from the floor to the ceiling. The spiral stair, and its many banisters. Visible decor, on all sides of the building, for the great expanse of lethally exposed space at its center. All five stories, that stretch up, to a monumental chandelier at its very peak. The walls are lined with doors, that you know lead out to the lair of a demon of Time. The entire mansion is occupied, and your pulse picks up faster than before.

There are demons celebrating, on each and every level. Confetti flies from a number of banisters, in strips of purple paper. Drink is flowing freely, from monsters that clearly share a common bond. Blood is flowing freely, from nightmares that cannot restrain their impulses. The pulse in your chest tells you that the screams, the scent of decay, the growing light from flame upon candles, and the calls for celebration are real.

(1/2)

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>>4347044
Arkthros is standing beside you, looks down, and gives you a melancholy smile. "We were celebrating the day I had turned. My family, Father Anscham. They were my family. We were all that was left of our world. We were all that was left of each other. No one could have kept them all safe. No one would have suffered them all to live. It didn't matter if they were fighters, lovers, priests, or sinners. Men, women, children—"

An imp, no more than ten feet away, rips off the head of another. They're both no more than half your size, vaguely humanoid safe for the swords that replace their legs. Balanced precariously, the twist of a spine snapping clean off of its neck resonates in your ears. Blood sprays hot, straight onto the killer's face. Some of the mist flecks onto your robes, looking and feeling as real as anything you've ever know.

The demon laughs, frantically getting its hands and lips into the corpse's windpipe. You resist the urge to gag, being fully acquainted with eating coagulated blood. There are so many questions, that cannot come out as gently as you'd usually manage. "Why did you care for them?"

Arkthros rips a nearby banister off of its staircase, possibly venting his anger. No one is occupying the space, but seconds later, an entire chair flies directly where he was standing. While a scantily-clad succubus slinks past you both, carrying a collection of drinks, your host sweeps two of the wine glasses into his hand.

He knocks back both, though the liquid turns to sand before it reaches his charred tongue. With a grimace, Arkthros liquefies the glass, and retools it into a new hourglass. The objects are fused together, heat emanating off of his hands. The end product is a colossal staff, which is pointed straight at the top floor of the building. "They cared for me," he mutters. "Sacrificed themselves for me."

The colossal, double-doors on the fifth floor fly open. Hinges break, wood splinters, and the doors collapse to the floor. Before dust can rise, a hideous cry breaks out among every single demon in the building. They're up in arms. Halberds, pikes, spears, javelins— you reflexively duck, trying to not panic, for how many times you've had these projectiles thrown at you. Hands above your head, casting another tower shield about you, a thought crosses your mind.

They favor ranged weapons for their own protection.

Five men at the top flight collapse to the floor, having been shot and killed in the blink of an eye. Javelins stick out both ends of their skulls. A survivor staggers, with an colossal arrow in his chest. The guilty party is a demonic archer, upon the opposite rail. Its upper body is monstrous, equipped to handle a ten-foot-long bow within its muscular hands.

(Underestimated, 2/3)

>>4347047
The weapon penetrated straight through the armor upon your ancestor's chest. A priest of Mercy, in his robes of gold, staggers ahead with a single hand outstretched. He's trying to save the lives of the common men behind him. Utter chaos ensues, as he attempts to invoke the very Goddess who is working through you now.

Something odd happens. Nothing happens.

Horror drenches the invoker, as the Goddess does not answer. Three more arrows streak into his torso, and he drops dead to the floor. Ten more common men barrel ahead behind him, and a battle of ridiculous proportions ignites.

You are almost speechless, and find the will to glance to the archdemon. His attention is completely taken off of you, looking up, to the fight. He's not smiling.

"Why did they fight," you murmur, keeping your eyes on their father.

Arkthros can't look at you. You're certain he's trying to disguise his grief, and righteous anger. "To delay the inevitable."

>A] (Continue with the line of questioning that was previously voted for. Try to save additional questions for later.)

>B] Extend your condolences to Arkthros, before moving on to his life as a mortal, and any questions about his Catalyst. You know how it feels to lose someone dear to you.

>C] What the FUCK was with that failed invocation?
>1] Plainly ask Arkthros if he knows anything about Mercy's absence, at any point in time.
>2] Pointedly ask about this one incident.
>3] Keep your thoughts to yourself. You'll bring this up to Mercy later.

>D] Write-in. (Write-ins may take a backseat if they add substantially more to the line of questioning, so we can pursue the prompts already selected.)

>>4347052
>>A] (Continue with the line of questioning that was previously voted for. Try to save additional questions for later.)
>>B] Extend your condolences to Arkthros, before moving on to his life as a mortal, and any questions about his Catalyst. You know how it feels to lose someone dear to you.
Condolences first, ask questions after.

>>4347052
>>A] (Continue with the line of questioning that was previously voted for. Try to save additional questions for later.)
>>B] Extend your condolences to Arkthros, before moving on to his life as a mortal, and any questions about his Catalyst. You know how it feels to lose someone dear to you.

>>4347054
>>4347241
(Cool guys, calling the vote here to update before bed. Vote is locked! Writing now.)

>>4347251
https://youtu.be/nJaK2b_Ku1k

"Your loved ones have lived on through you, Arkthros."

The archdemon snaps his gaze straight at you, as if he's never seen you before.

You keep your gaze up, to the battle. It's senseless. Bodies are literally raining from the upper levels, from man and demon alike. A small army of servants to a King were clearly sent to these ruins, to indiscriminately slaughter anything— or anyone— that they found. Mortal's armor and prayer grants them little in the way of respite. They're cut down like animals, fighting bitterly over a cause that you intimately understand. To tolerate these creatures is to die.

You cannot suffer demons to live.

Every demon you lay eyes upon is clearly frightened for their life. Many of them flee into crevasses within the walls, through countless doors, and behind their master. They're all seeking shelter, and survival. Arkthros can't look away. He'd linger here for another millennia, if you let him.

One of your best friends is a demon. Your most beloved mentor was one, too. It's not just that the Goddess of Compassion is still working through you. Brow furrowed, you honestly murmur, "I'm sorry for your loss."

The towering figure beside you rips his gaze from your form, and dismisses the past entirely, with a violent gesture of his staff. "Don't be."

With his sneer, and a wordless incantation, the entire scene crumbles to dust.

You can't help but stare, as the walls come down around you both. The forms of every man and monster pick up in an unseen wind. The sand is carried off, into an endless horizon. The return to Arkthros' lair took no Time at all. You stare into the void. It would be impossible to discern a path out of his domain, in its current state. For a moment, you marvel at how you're even standing. A small space of light, solid and as real as your devotion, is underfoot. The gold pooling from your scars, along your wrists and hands, speckles the small platform underfoot.

Glancing up, you notice that there are no eyelids upon Arkthros' face. The grieving father is also staring into a void, boring his gaze into the memory of the scene.

The charred edges of his skin are reverting to an earlier state. It's not that he's healing. The demon's skin is reverting to exactly as he looked, before your fight. He can only look back.

He can only go back, to what was before. It's not that he's delaying anything—

"Can you tell me of your personal history, Arkthros? As a mortal?"

A bark of a laugh greets you in reply. "What makes you think I could begin to remember?"

There's no doubt in your mind that this demon remembers every second of his life with the same clarity as the glass upon his face. Through the calm and comfort that Mercy's presence should bring, you twitch in reply, "I am interested in what led to your Catalyst. If— if you can remember it."

(1/2)

>>4347318
"Very well."

The world grows cold. The sky grows dark.

Back indoors, your gaze falls immediately to an elderly man. He's clad in strange garb. The cut of his jacket is as angular as a flight of pale stairs. Cloth around his neck, fastened like a bow.

The peculiar decor upon his frame is nearly as bizarre as his surroundings. He is standing in a home, unlike any you've ever seen. The walls are stark white, plastered with obscenely high-quality paper. Not a speck of fiber is visible upon its smooth, unblemished surface. The floor is wooden, though it is also as smooth and reflective as the rest of Arkthros' domain. Light filters from petal-like fixtures upon the ceiling. There is glass upon the walls, blocking angular art from the ravages of Time. There is glass upon wooden cabinets, sheltering trinkets and valuables within. There is glass upon the edges of odd furniture, in hues of lilac.

There is a man. He's elderly, and alone. In one hand he holds a cane, clearly carved by hand from a beloved old tree. In the other he has a glass container, at the center of the room. It is full of ash. It's a custom you've only heard of from the Church of Flesh, and Storm. The former pays respect to the fire they kindle in their vessel. The latter worships the very flame that can consume them all, at a moment's notice.

An elderly man is kneeling, in an empty home, and cries to himself. There's no public here. There are images in glass, upon the transparent tables, and wooden cabinets. They show a family, and friends, beside a younger man.

The archdemon at your side is trying his best not to cry. His lips are tight, as he spits, "I never had enough."

Your heart threatens to snap in half. "Time was taken from you, wasn't it, Arkthros?"

He can't look at you. He looks to the images of grown children, and a man holding desperately onto the remains of someone you may never know.

Nearly two thousand years ago, an elderly man drops to his knees. He is beside himself. He is the absence of faith. The absence of hope. He draws in on himself, and a singular emotion, so intense that nothing is left of him.

The world goes black.

"You don't need to see this."

"I understand. It's never been delay, has it?"

"No."

"You're a demon of grief, aren't you?"

"King Magnus has given me all the—" There's a violent choke, as Arkthros has completely forgotten himself, and gasps for air against the very attempt at uttering Her name.

You're the Father of Compassion. "Time," you provide.

"...yes. All that I could ask for. My children, Father—" his voice cracks, harder than the split you caused across his face, "it is as you said. They live on through me." That horrible, hideous anger is back on the archdemon in full force. "They will not be forgotten. Not if I must persist as the last forsaken abomination, in this miserable maze, until the end of all things."

(Options in next post.)

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>>4347325
>(The following are merely to tactfully shift the subject. The previously selected prompts will still be addressed.)

>A] Segue into your question about Ostedholm. Ask Arkthros if he ever met Beltoro, Malimos, or Idonea. At least make the archdemon aware that there are others out there, who wish to endure for nearly as long as he has.

>B] Now is as good a time as any to ask about the Catalyst.

>C] Specifically ask about how Arkthros became an archdemon. It is no small feat, and Arkthros clearly grieved just as intensely over his demons as he did his living children.

>D] You're stunned, but not speechless.
>1] Try to express a little more of your sympathy.
>2] Write-in.

>>4347327
>>A] Segue into your question about Ostedholm. Ask Arkthros if he ever met Beltoro, Malimos, or Idonea. At least make the archdemon aware that there are others out there, who wish to endure for nearly as long as he has.

>>4347327
>A] Segue into your question about Ostedholm. Ask Arkthros if he ever met Beltoro, Malimos, or Idonea. At least make the archdemon aware that there are others out there, who wish to endure for nearly as long as he has.

>>4347328
>>4347339
(Great shit guys, votes came in fast enough to squeeze in one more update before bed! Vote is locked. Writing now!)

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>>4347376
https://youtu.be/wRYNfaJ3v14

"There are others out there, Arkthros. I cannot speak for their past, or their future— but you may know of them. Have you ever heard of Ostedholm, the city of darkness?"

Through the utter absence of light all about you, there is concern coating the archdemon. "You must mean the city of light."

Something violent, ugly, temperamental, and more devastating than a bolt of lightning falls from your lips. "No."

Horrified, you put a hand to your lips. A little copper is on your tongue, and the impression of a Storm at the back of your mind. "I'm sorry."

Resignation defines this monster. Hopelessness sinks into his voice. "What have you done."

"I made an expedition into the ruins, Arkthros. It is a very long story. One which ended in Storm quelling Ostedholm's light, for good. It is the city of darkness. I meant to ask— Malimos, the Master of Webs, has become an informant. I do not know when, throughout the ages he's endured. He preys on those who enter his domain unaware— to— to care for his children."

Nausea is sinking into you. There has never been an opportunity to talk this out. Never so candidly, and never to someone who could actually understand a fraction of your experiences. You went to the ruins to die, and attacked each and every potential threat you faced for weeks, without asking a single question. "He had been a killer of men, even in life. I felt his Catalyst, Arkthros, and survived the experience. He was far too powerful to take Vengeance upon. We— we parted ways on— on neutral terms. He had wished to aid me, in the end."

"I have corresponded with this 'Malimos,' twice before."

There's no hope for your composure. "Excuse me?"

"Once, when Archdemon Idonea resigned herself to the bottom of the abyss. She had lost hope beyond hope, and sought to lock herself away from the world. To lock her children away from the world."

There were thousands of doors in Idonea's lair. You want to vomit, thinking of Yech extending a symbol of apology to every single one of them. There's a horrific tremor on you, at the mere thought of how vast her army was. A Goddess is in you, protecting your mind, protecting your soul, protecting you from yourself. Your shaking stops. Vacantly, you ask, "what of Beltoro."

"I was not finished, Father Anscham."

You blink, and resume the battle with the sour taste rising in the back of your throat. There's no hyacinths. A phantom of lilies is on your tongue, in your mind, and you stammer, "please— please continue."

"The second communication arrived upon the death of Malimos' archdemon. He cautioned me, that the change in power would likely come to my doorstep. The message arrived just last week."

You can't breathe. "I beg your pardon?"

(1/2)

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>>4347441
"I imagine that getting one of his children this far took multiple attempts. It carried a message. There was to be a new archdemon. One greater than any the world had ever seen before. A lord, who wishes to amend an old tyrant's neglect. A fearless, generous leader, backed by the strongest political alliance in history." Arkthros sneers, "Archdemon Yech possess more than an alliance with you, Father Anscham. Does he not? You were given Idonea's Relic. Were you not?"

The blood in your veins runs cold. "Malimos sent word to every archdemon in Corcaea."

"They may feel intimidated by your union," the reprobate grins. "I had no such concern, yet King Magnus was happy to hear the news. I have no need for falsehoods, Father. Neither does the King."

Vomiting feels inescapable. A demon of Spirit feels insignificant, compared to what's waiting for you on the surface. "He knows. He's known."

"He has strong allies," Arkthros leers. "Just like you."

"Father Sullivan." The leader of the Church of Spirit has been at your throat, in your head, and only recently at your heel. He's easily the most influential man in the country. He's easily the most capable of acquiring information, that could have been used to unseat you from the Church of Mercy.

"His children saw your descent into the ruins. They are cunning, and attempted to get as close to me as you are, now. They will seek to protect you. They will seek to destroy their own family, if it means granting you any semblance of a life in the world above. They live only for each other. This is nothing to them, and you have let them loose. I could have stopped them, for another age. I could have protected you, Father, from the truth. It's what you stand for, isn't it?"

He wants to respect your tenets.

This monster, in its own twisted way, has been trying to respect your church. The Goddess working through you.

You can't breathe. Mercy is desperately trying to keep you together. To remind you of all the good that you've done. The lives you've saved. The HUNDREDS of souls you've spared from this monster's fate. That there are seven other churches, tasked with the defense of the country. You have strong allies. MORTAL allies. They are all waiting for you on the surface. Brother Trebbeck has risked his life for you countless times. Sister Cardew lost her family, and has stayed by her side. Ofelia moved past your insanity, BECAUSE of the demons you faced together. She was desperate to not leave your side. She knew how much this all hurts you.

The only mortal friend you have left, that knows exactly how insane you can act around demons, screamed and clawed to not leave you alone down here.

"You can run. I will not blame you."

(Options in next post.)

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>>4347455
>A] Press the question about how Arkthros became an archdemon.

>B] Demand that he tell you about the Catalyst. NOW.

>C] You need to run. There's no telling how much Time you've wasted. (ANOTHER PROMPT MAY FOLLOW. A ROLL WILL DEFINITELY BE REQUIRED.)

>D] This demon is utterly insane, but he's given you more information in a short conversation than you've had in almost your entire life. Force yourself to stay put, and to implore him for more details about this matter.
>1] If things go well enough, you'll come back to this conversation and your questions another Time. This could be your second-most precious ally.
>2] Forget the rest of your discussion. You're getting out of here the second you get the information you need, and hope to never return again. It's not willful ignorance, naivete, or avoidance. You will bring this matter up with your King, the twins, and deal with the affairs of MEN. You have a life to make for yourself, friends who love you, and a loyal congregation. This is too dangerous of an association to keep.

>E] Write-in.

>>4347456
>E] Write-in.
Does he know how Yech has been doing? I miss him

>>4347455
>>B] Demand that he tell you about the Catalyst. NOW.

>>4347456
>D] This demon is utterly insane, but he's given you more information in a short conversation than you've had in almost your entire life. Force yourself to stay put, and to implore him for more details about this matter.
>2] Forget the rest of your discussion. You're getting out of here the second you get the information you need, and hope to never return again. It's not willful ignorance, naivete, or avoidance. You will bring this matter up with your King, the twins, and deal with the affairs of MEN. You have a life to make for yourself, friends who love you, and a loyal congregation. This is too dangerous of an association to keep.

>>4347456
>>D] This demon is utterly insane, but he's given you more information in a short conversation than you've had in almost your entire life. Force yourself to stay put, and to implore him for more details about this matter.
>>1] If things go well enough, you'll come back to this conversation and your questions another Time. This could be your second-most precious ally.

>>4347456
>B] Demand that he tell you about the Catalyst. NOW.

>>4347472
>>4347473
>>4347506
>>4347682
>>4347715
(D1 and D1 are mutually exclusive. Going to lock the vote here with the tie breaker and still include the write in. So sweet dude. I'll incorporate all of this! Writing now.)

>>4347721
(D1 and D2*)

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>>4347721
https://youtu.be/2CE3yZKO_QA

Emotion has you rooted to the spot. You're rarely this conflicted.

The one and only thing you can't do is run. Not now. Yech has been absent from your life for months. Without word, without any chance of knowing anything that he's been doing. His successes. His story.

You want to cry. "I miss him." You try to look to Arkthros, but there is a death shroud upon reality itself. A void is all that greets your wide eyes, as you quietly ask, "do you know how Yech has been?"

Understanding sinks into the archdemon. "This is more than a political union for you."

"He means the world to me. Please. If you have heard anything."

"I have told you everything that I have heard, Father. The message was brief, and likely took a tremendous amount of effort, multiple lives, and many months to reach me. The correspondence is uncommon, to an extreme."

Malimos is a gossip. You know he would have said as much as he could, if he could. There's a break in your voice, and something swimming in your eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Take solace in the lack of news, Father. He is certainly still alive, and likely faring well. If a demon as influential as Malimos swore himself to Archdemon Yech— without question— he is in capable hands."

Malimos has no hands. Malimos is a gigantic spider, made of stone, with bones and moss between the statue that comprises his teeth. Yech is out of your reach, has been out of your life, and you have sacrificed EVERYTHING to get to where you are today. The split in your soul is immense.

With a sniff, you dry your eyes, and look with Mercy through the void. There's still the vacant lair, the absence of hope, and a swirl of ash upon the sky. There must be a mile of stone above you. The weight is not suffocating. Not from the invocation that's shaped your body into another unrecognizable form for the fourth time in less than three days. Not from the pressure of an archdemon, standing just a few feet away. Blades drawn. Unable to trust you.

It's alright. There is one thing you trust in. One thing that is worth risking yourself, your Time, and the potential safety of everyone dear to you on the surface. No matter how badly you need to set things right, and to go home. To live your own life. To get away from the insanity, to care for yourself. To love your home, your family, and to never forget everything that they have done for you.

You focus on the one thing that has always mattered. An all-consuming obsession. A violent tremor runs through your hands. Try as She might to soothe your distress, Mercy cannot quell the Storm raging in you.

Emotion is not weakness.

"Tell me about the Catalyst, Arkthros." No matter what part of you wants to ally with this demon, you need to be clear. "Now."

"No."

You snap. "Do NOT toy with me."

(1/3)

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>>4347780
"Are you going to kill me, if I don't speak?" He's grinning. He seriously still wants to kill you. The archdemon may never forgive you, for letting the twins go. Drawing into yourself, tempering the fixation, forcing a moment of silence, you stand, and you wait. You have done worse things, to get answers.

He'll wait until the end of Time. Misery is a trifle, compared to the way you choke out, "I would like to stop repeating past mistakes. Please. I need to know."

"You have felt it."

"Yes."

"What did you feel?"

"Agony. There was nothing— there is no experience I can compare it to. It is easily a fate worse than death, Arkthros, and I have not even experienced the full extent of it. Beltoro spared me from enduring his, to save my mind. Vengeance would not permit me to witness Malimos', even when I had terribly misused His gifts. And you—"

"I would not subject you to it, either. No."

So you may be insane. "Why?"

"It is the end of humanity."

Hope is your lover. "It doesn't have to be."

"This is precisely why you are immune to it, Father."

It's been awhile since you breathed, and you aren't about to now.

"You are aware that the Catalyst does not favor any one emotion. Yes?" You slowly nod. He sees it. "My experience with the Catalyst— it made me into something MORE than who I was before."

"What?"

"I had lost hope. I had lost everything. I had lost my children, many times over. There was an illness, Father, that took them from me, over— and over again. My wife was faithful, but nothing could stop her life from slipping from between my hands. Like so many grains of sand." He's smiling. "I had lost her. I had lost everything. No pain could have eclipsed what I had already experienced."

Arkthros destroys the void around you both, and as the darkness lifts, he crosses the space between you. Standing a mere foot away from your trembling form, and all of the gold that's pooled beneath your feet, there is a ripple, in the molten gilt. Towering over you, the archdemon decrees, "I left behind all weakness. The weakness that resides in the hearts of mankind."

He tenses a fist, far too close to your face for comfort. "I seized that which has made me strong. My grief has carried me through more ages than you can fathom, Father."

There's a strong urge to take a step back, but you hold your ground. "No one could deny your capability, Arkthros."

"Yes. No one could deny my tenacity. Not for the wars that were waged, from the very doorstep of my home, to the furthest reaches of the sky. It has grown dark, and the sun has risen again, in a sight beyond my imaginings. And through it all— through every last second that has passed me by— what do you think it is, that has enabled me to endure?"

"Tell me."

(2/3)

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>>4347784
"RESOLVE, Father Anscham! I draw my strength from the very MEMORY of my despair. It has given me a body that can do more than weather the sands. It is mine, mine to shape, mine to control. Mine to rule. I have ruled, and conquered, killed, and consumed, without worry or fear of its effects on something so weak as my humanity."

The urge to step back becomes a reflex, as the archdemon moves towards you, so quickly and intensely that you cannot hope to escape in Time. He puts a hand to your shoulder. It's completely restored to the image he had assumed before. Blackened, decayed fingers linger with the scent of ash are a mere inch from your neck. Arkthros squeezes you, slightly, and leans in right before your face. The pulse in your throat, and the Goddess in your soul, practically ignite for how quickly they move.

There is an explosion of light, as the demon that has dared to touch Mercy's only vessel is blasted over fifty feet away. The explosion was silent, but your ears ring. You imagine there is a choir, a bell, or a whisper promising once again that She will not stand to see you in any further pain. There's a pull, in the deepest recesses of your soul, telling you to move on. Leave this psychopath behind, and live a good life. One without willful suffering, greed, manipulation, or a lust for control.

The archdemon has been completely knocked to the ground. He laughs, in a miserable way, and tries to get back to his feet instantly.

The entire right side of Arkthros' face has been completely severed. On hands and knees, he slowly raises his head, and grins at you. A few teeth loosely hang from the side of his face, but he speaks without faltering. "We look to ourselves, Father. The disconnect in my soul was a pain beyond death. There is nothing you can do to us. Nothing. If I am not mistaken, you and King Magnus are the only two individuals alive who possess the wit to see it. You are both flirting with a force you will one day comprehend. There is no hope for this world, Father. That is what makes us who we are. That is the Catalyst."

(Options in next post.)

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>>4347787
>These options are mutually exclusive.

>A] Thank Arkthros for his wisdom, his experience, his memories, and his grief. Part from his company, now, and seek to never turn this demon against you. You are already allied with his master. Protect your sanity, protect your home, and return to the world above without risking undoing everything you have worked your entire life for. There has been sacrifice beyond sacrifice. You want to change. You've felt more than anyone could hope to endure. You've grown, in every conceivable way. You KNOW now what you are up against— and you are going home.
>1] You'll take this matter up with King Magnus, once you return to the surface in one piece.
>2] You'll keep the details of this encounter to yourself, until you're certain that the twins are safe.
>3] Write-in anything additional you may want to say, use as justification, or precautionary measures you may want to take before you leave.

>B] Obsession fuels you. Allying with the archdemon of Ostedholm is not enough, to sate your appetite for company. You are not content to have the King of the country on your side. Despite having unseated your two greatest enemies from the Church of Mercy, exposing the corruption in the Church of Storm, getting Father Sullivan to trust your leadership, and earning the trust of Father Friedrich AND Father Wilhelm, you need more. You are a glutton, and will cast aside all thoughts of self-preservation to offer yourself to this monster.
>1] Write-ins with justification for why you wish to suicidally continue to pursue a partnership with Arkthros will be taken at QM discretion, and only with majority vote, due to the sheer number of factors making this an utterly irrational decision.

>>4347790
>>A] Thank Arkthros for his wisdom, his experience, his memories, and his grief. Part from his company, now, and seek to never turn this demon against you. You are already allied with his master. Protect your sanity, protect your home, and return to the world above without risking undoing everything you have worked your entire life for. There has been sacrifice beyond sacrifice. You want to change. You've felt more than anyone could hope to endure. You've grown, in every conceivable way. You KNOW now what you are up against— and you are going home.
>>1] You'll take this matter up with King Magnus, once you return to the surface in one piece.

>>4347797
support

>>4347790
>>A] Thank Arkthros for his wisdom, his experience, his memories, and his grief. Part from his company, now, and seek to never turn this demon against you. You are already allied with his master. Protect your sanity, protect your home, and return to the world above without risking undoing everything you have worked your entire life for. There has been sacrifice beyond sacrifice. You want to change. You've felt more than anyone could hope to endure. You've grown, in every conceivable way. You KNOW now what you are up against— and you are going home.
>>1] You'll take this matter up with King Magnus, once you return to the surface in one piece.

You can't save everyone, especially not someone as far gone as Arkthros. He says he is stronger than ever before, but he still lurks like a rat under the city, obeying his betters. If this is the peak of demon kind, I have plenty of *hope* for humanity.

>>4347797
>>4347825
>>4347851
(Unanimous vote is locked here! Writing now.)

>>4347897
https://youtu.be/wReDBG0FjQg

A unique thought occurs to you. It's liberating, and tragic, and will probably save your soul.

You can't save everyone. Especially not someone as far gone as Arkthros.

"Thank you. Thank you for this gift, Arkthros. Your wisdom— your experience— the memories you possess. Your grief. Thank you for sharing with Us. For teaching me."

Arkthros says he is stronger than ever before, yet he lurks under the city. Obeying his betters. Filthy, decrepit, and unhinged as he is— on all fours upon the ground— you're reminded more of a rat than a ruler. If this is the peak of demonkind…

"You have granted me with more hope for humanity, than ever before."

"Go, you miserable thing." The way you've dehumanized each other is mutual. "Go. Leave me."

Hoping to never turn this demon against you, you turn, and look to the void all around you. There is ample evidence of your invocation to Agriculture upon your broader frame, though none of the hyacinths remain. Gales of sand blast in all directions, sticking to the blood and gold in your hair. Your throat should be ragged. Your eyes should be red. They are warm, slaked with sunshine, and you remain unphased by the worst of this domain. Softly, you ask, "where…?"

A ragged and grotesque sigh leaves Arkthros. He gestures to a pin-prick of space, far off in the distance. It slams towards you. Staggering backwards, you are nearly hit by the appearance of a pale violet door.

Immediately, without fear, you move to open its glass handle. "Your hope will take you from this place, Father Anscham. From our despair." Melancholy, and gratitude, quietly lingers in the air behind you. "Thank you for understanding, regardless."

The tug on your heartstrings isn't enough to keep you. There is a King on the surface to speak with. This may just be the last nightmare standing between you, and the surface.

In the hands of Mercy, in a space removed from Time itself, you step through the shifting door.

In the exit beyond is a catastrophic descent. One, final waste of your Time. You aren't sure if Arkthros is trying to run your soul ragged, or if he sincerely doesn't want you to leave. The space is familiar. Sand sticks to the ceiling. It's littered with the corpses of countless human soldiers. They are nothing but bones, clad in myriad pieces of armor. Their regalia is ravaged with age. Their identities are lost. This is both the bottom, and the top of the ruins of Calunoth.

(1/2)

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>>4348093
The corpses precariously stick to the ceiling above. You saw these corpses, just as you entered the horrifying architecture with Ofelia for the first Time. Moving instinctively, to back up, the door behind you has completely vanished. There is a flat wall, without grooves or holds. Pillars line the angular ledge on which you precariously stand. Beneath your feet are alternating beams, ledges, and no stairs to speak of. It's a clear drop into darkness. A square-like pit is the most definition you can make out, in the most vacant space within these Gods-forsaken ruins.

The bottoms of your soles are caked with dirt, coagulated blood, and sticky yellow-gold. The very idea of trying to keep yourself steady, after everything you've been through, it almost unthinkable. There's still your partner, who's embrace is running up, between your shoulder blades, around to the front of your chest. Mercy lingers over your heart. You know she wouldn't let you fall, but your pulse skyrockets. The plunge must be a thousand feet.

Arkthros' last words to you linger in your mind, long after the scent of dust has evaporated from the enormous expanse of open air at your feet. He's out of sight, but far from your thoughts.

You're certain that your Time with the archdemon was Time WELL spent.

>A] You are leaving this place with armor for Algrith, even if it kills you. (Selecting this prompt will add a dice roll to any other prompt. This is purely optional. Once the vote is called, the parameters for the attempt will be explained in full.)

>B] Burn your candle at both ends. Invoke Flesh, while staying with Mercy. You really don't know if the God of the Material is going to take kindly to asking him for something you may be capable of doing on your own.

>C] Exhaustion is going to claim you, if you aren't careful. Invoke Dream, while you have the will to do so.
>1] While staying with Mercy. You can't stand the thought of parting from Her at a Time like this. You're not certain of what may happen, to call upon both deities at once, but you trust Them.
>2] Release the invocation to Mercy, no matter how much it pains you. You know your limits. Dual-invoking three times in just a few days nearly killed you, the last Time you made the attempt. You'll create an escape, as fast as possible, and try to get somewhere to safely collapse.

>D] You're extremely clever, and are certain you know how to handle this demon's domain without running yourself into the ground. (Write-in.)

>>4348095
>A] You are leaving this place with armor for Algrith, even if it kills you. (Selecting this prompt will add a dice roll to any other prompt. This is purely optional. Once the vote is called, the parameters for the attempt will be explained in full.)

>>4348095
>>A] You are leaving this place with armor for Algrith, even if it kills you. (Selecting this prompt will add a dice roll to any other prompt. This is purely optional. Once the vote is called, the parameters for the attempt will be explained in full.)

>D] You're extremely clever, and are certain you know how to handle this demon's domain without running yourself into the ground. (Write-in.)

We tried making blue paint slides now it is time for golden ziplines, use Piety to slide down to wherever we need to be.

>>4348111
(To be clear, in order to scavenge on the ceiling above this extreme plunge, you need to do something else. A is in ADDITION to any other prompt. Purely trying to do so with your bare hands and mundane supplies is an option, but if you guys would like to try that, please specify.

Sorry if that wasn't clear!)

>>4348095
Skip A, if we're still on cordial terms with the King after this as the Father of Merfy we should be able to get armour relatively easily instead of this.

>>4348116
I would like for us to make a fishing pole out of gold and haul a corpse down to loot his armor. Is there gonna be another roll or prompt?

>>4348120
Considering this is a gift for Algrith I am sure he is gonna appreciate it a lot more if Richard got it by himself rather than thru the king which he doesn't like very much. It is also quite poetic if you think about it, having ruin armor protecting him.

>>4348132
(Mercy *may* not take kindly to you using Her ability to loot corpses for a heathen. Even if aforementioned heathen is one of your most loyal adherents, because there are *many* other ways to acquire armor with your degree of wealth/connections/power, it's basically textbook abuse. It is *possible* to make a golden fishing pole and line, then use it to snatch something from the ceiling. Bear in mind that getting something that isn't too decayed to still be of use + something that will likely fit Algrith is a shot in the dark. It also may hurt your relationship with Mercy. The prompts provided to do so with Flesh and Dream compliment your history with them, and tendency to use their abilities much more flippantly.

Depending on what course of action you all choose to take, a roll MAY be required.
If you all elect to try and get some armor here, a roll WILL be required.
The means of acquiring the armor MAY come with optional modifiers, but not another prompt.

Bear in mind you also have a shitload of supplies that Sister Cardew insisted you take with you. I can provide the list if anyone wants it.

Sorry again if this was terribly confusing. Thanks for asking, and feel free to ask me if you guys have any further questions.)

>>4348147
I would very much like to know if we can grab the armor without abusing Mercy, a list of the supplies would be very useful.

>>4348154
(Literally anything other than using Mercy's invocation to loot would be fine. The prompts listed are several examples. The Goddess would not shy away from protecting you from a fall, or injury. It's just seriously pushing it to have Her materialize equipment.

Speaking of which:)

-Three weeks worth of water, across several water skins in various sizes. (You've drank none, and Ofelia has been drinking liquor the last two days. She took only one of the skins with her.)
-A complete restock of all of your herbs, and bandages.
-One hundred feet of rope for you. (Ofelia left with the other 100ft.)
-Gloves, scarves, cloaks, masks, and every change of clothes that Harriet purchased for everyone that may be in your company. (This amount to 8 large shirts and trousers for you alone, plus an additional twenty miscellaneous garments.)
-Blankets, and a (lovely) nightcap.
-Ink, pens, charcoal, chalk, parchment and vellum in bulk.
-As many candles and as much oil as you could safely part with on the surface. It's about twenty tallow candles, and three days worth of oil for the lanterns.
-One lantern (Ofelia has the other.)
-10 torches.
-Your new journal.
-Your old journal.
-You were told a week's worth of food, but your suspicion was correct. You haven't touched it, and it could have lasted you and Ofelia for at least a month.
-Piety, your mace, your shield, and the unbelievably light (endless) bag that the majority of the supplies are situated in.

>>4348169
Try to make a lasso with the rope that we have and haul down one of the corpses with the best armor.

(Thanks for bearing with the supreme messiness of this guys, and for all the stellar ideas. Mobile posting is jank at the best of times, let's clean this up.

>>4348111
>Roll for armor
>>4348114
>Roll for armor, materialize an escape via invocation to Mercy
>>4348120
>No matter what, seeing the King ASAP
>>4348195
>Lasso the best looking suit down

(We'll proceed with a roll, and incorporate as much as possible!)

>THE GODS ARE MERCIFUL
>FULL PLATE OR BUST

>Roll 1d100. Best of 3 will be used.
>+5 EYES ONLY ON THE PRIZE

>Specify up to two (2) of the following additional qualities to look for:
>Exotic metal (a secret table will be rolled for what it does)
>Extreme durability
>Ridiculously cool design (feel free to write-in preferences.)

>The lower and upper range within each bracket represents further degrees of wear/quality. E.g. a 49 will locate a higher quality piece of armor than a 41.

>0-10: Rusted, not serviceable, ill-fitting.
>11-20: Rusted, almost servicable, likely ill-fitting.
>21-30: Rusted, servicable, likely ill-fitting.
>31-40: Worn, servicable, likely ill-fitting.
>41-50: Slightly worn, servicable, standard fit.
>51-60: Slightly worn, servicable, standard fit. (ONE ADDITIONAL QUALITY WILL BE APPLIED.)
>61-70: Good condition, servicable, standard fit. (ONE ADDITIONAL QUALITY WILL BE APPLIED.)
>71-80: Good condition, hardy, standard fit. (ONE ADDITIONAL QUALITY WILL BE APPLIED.)
>81-90: Good condition, hardy, will likely fit well. (TWO ADDITIONAL QUALITIES WILL BE APPLIED.)
>91-99: Great condition, hardy, will definitely fit well. (TWO ADDITIONAL QUALITIES WILL BE APPLIED.)
>100+: Masterwork armor. (If a critical success is rolled, the voter who gets the roll will be asked to specify any one unique quality upon the armor that they wish, IN ADDITION to all other qualities they selected being applied.)

Rolled 52 (1d100)

>>4348286
COME TO DADDY