ITS HERE AAAA

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>>4495380
>>4495381
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TBMf3mcIGkw

The Church of Mercy is nearly empty. Your former clergy turned out to be a group of treacherous, blasphemous curs. Excommunicating every last deserter means certain death for most of them. Sending out a public decree for mutual exile to every last man, woman, and child in the country who so much as associates with them is equally extreme. Your threats— and the welcome for them to return to the fold— is to be expected. These deserters have abandoned that which you love most, and spit upon the sanctity of your home.

Eadric is one of the least populated refuges in the entire country. Its extreme fortifications grant shelter to only those who are willing to take up arms to defend it, or vouch for the protection of others. The city of shields lives up to its name— and your enemies appear to have pitted it against you already. Information is difficult to come by at the best of times, and you can't even find word as to where your old clergy ran off to.

Far beyond your high walls, away from the protected farmlands, and away from the overgrown wilds are schemes most foul. The countryside might as well still be literally ablaze. Cults are claiming that they have Gods among them, and not in the way that you actually do. Demons assault your farms. Imps terrorize your children. Heretics and heathens would decry the good name of your church. Thieves and charlatans plague your roads and cities, and this is all honestly the last thing on your mind.

There's the matter of your reputation everywhere. Not even a campaign for four solid months by your sharpest allies in the country could undo the worst of the damage. Father Sullivan (leader of the Church of Spirit) has worked tirelessly to unseat you from the Church of Mercy. He did mean well. You forgave him. You both made amends. He lives in constant fear for his life— and not even because your friends all want to kill him.

There are spies, assassins, and madmen pitted against you both. Your public image is utterly ruined, but it's fine. Really. You're doing so much better! There's routine, and support on all sides. Thirty-two men and women (to say nothing of your dog, "Ray", or your warhorse, "Impetus",) risked their lives to accompany you from the capital. The journey from Calunoth to Eadric was as rewarding as it was long. You made many friends, and got a welcome break. Some schedules were made to help with your physical and mental well-being. There's accountability, and a group effort to prevent you from harming yourself too easily. Self-improvement is at the top of your agenda. A day has been set aside once a week, for you to spend time with your partner properly. The Goddess of Mercy is more than your lover. The light of your life deserves your full attention.

The curse that plagued you and Agriculture for the last four years was even lifted.

(2/4)

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>>4495384
There's the matter of transcendence, with Mercy and Agriculture. The impact of connecting so intensely with both Goddesses is constant. You hardly understand it, even weeks later. There's a newfound immunity to all toxin. There's sensitivity to the trees through all your gardens. There's the pollen climbing up through the wind, leading up towards beams of sunlight. It's peeking through the garden boughs all around, yet the sun is just barely rising into the morning sky.

"Richard." A petite, straight-lipped priestess of Spirit has been talking. Sister Harriet Cardew wears more white fabric than any season calls for. It's warm for the time of year, but she's unphased by your slow walk through the gardens. An odd pair of glass lenses exaggerates the way she narrows her eyes, having to glance up for the disparity between your extreme height, and her lack thereof. She's young, but the mother-to-be carries a voice aged by a lifetime of knowledge. "You're listening."

Fidgeting constantly with the ornate, enchanted robes all upon your larger frame only reminds you of the bizarre reality of your body being used as a vessel for all the Gods. The obsession eclipses any worry, as just about every motion feels better than the last. It's overwhelming. "I'm trying."

When you're not talking about Gods or demons, you're usually soft-spoken. A little unhinged. Hyper-attunement to the scent of overgrown grass, morning dew, and a few blossoms drifting past is not helping. You gesture to a spectacular outcropping of yellow irises. They're all passion, wisdom, hope, trust—

"This is not helping," you breathe. The soil is still damp throughout most of the garden. It's from watering it with the Goddess of Agriculture yesterday afternoon. You're still full. The urge to work with it more is almost inescapable. To make something grow.

Sister Cardew unhelpfully reminds you for the fifth time this morning: "The exposure may help. Let me see those."

The stack of parchment you've been tasked with carrying is called for. It's been a lot easier to carry just about anything in the last few weeks, and you hand off the scrolls without issue. It looks ridiculous in Harriet's slender hands, but she makes no complaints. They're expertly inspected on the exterior as you both continue walking, yet she doesn't bother opening a single one. A few formalities are rattled off, while your aide also tries fishing for a handkerchief. "Walter and I prepared your briefing for the morning. I have a tentative schedule for the day. We've prioritized managing with— or without— our lack of hands here in the church. Accommodations were made for our mutual research, as you wished." She sniffs at the gardens. "I promised you, didn't I?"

"You did," you nod, and hand off a hideously tacky gold-threaded kerchief. It's the only one you have, and was a gift from Father Edmund. There's even your initials tastelessly sewn into one corner with more gilt.

(3/4)

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>>4495385
You both stare at it, and try not to laugh. Through a stiff expression, Harriet takes the item and waves a scroll at you with difficulty. "It took me the better part of the last three weeks, thanks to his meddling."

Walter "Professor Echo" Middleton is the other member of your research team (for discerning the mechanism and cure for the Catalyst). The nobleman is the father of Sister Cardew's child, nothing short of genius, and definitely would have tried giving her a hard time at every step of the way. "I'm certain that he only had the best intentions."

"Yes. Well. Everything should be seen to, but we'll run through it together."

"That shouldn't be—" It could be read in less than a day. "—I could easily look over all of this myself—"

All trace of her smile vanishes. "Not if you want to get anything done." A scroll is unrolled, and handed off to you briefly. It's a comprehensive inventory of the valuables within the Church of Mercy, made in handwriting even neater than Harriet's. The page must be three feet long. Before you can inspect it further, Sister Cardew quietly asks, "can I ask you something first?"

You promptly roll up the item. "Of course."

"I would never dare waste your time. There's no use putting it off any longer." She sniffs. The girl has never gotten along with flowers. "It is not our circumstances that define us, Richard."

This is a lot of prefacing. Your fidgeting intensifies. "Go on."

Conviction is written all over her face. "I believe that it is how we face them."

The fidgeting helps. The ring on your left hand from Mercy is warm to the touch, and makes for a fine distraction from looking straight at Sister Cardew.

"Tell me how you managed it before," she demands.

You glance at her. The gaze staring up at you is deathly serious. "Pardon me?"

"I know you want to dodge the subject. Better for me to ask than someone else. Your vows, Richard. I know you're a pious man, with our best interests at heart. I want to accommodate your lifestyle as well as I can. We all are going to do everything in our power to support you. You've always been honest with me. So tell me. How did you manage it? I don't want to make any assumptions."

At the time you made your vows, you assumed your love towards Mercy could not be reciprocated. Chastity in particular was a symbolic oath. The devotion you share towards the Goddess of Light was made in such a darker period of your life, you assumed there was little to no alternative. Running the Church of Mercy came to you unexpectedly, too. As a result, not every decision you've made has been the most sound, or in the best interest of the people. But you have your preferences, and are unarguably the most spoiled man in the nation.

(Options in next post)

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>>4495387
>Self-imposed seclusion is the reason for your prolonged isolation. It came with increased AUTHORITY AND POWER.
>(This option will grant unique abilities while within the Church of Mercy or the church of any other deity. The high cost of living purely within the Church of Mercy is dependency on your clergy, a severe reduction in personal time, and ALL affairs conducted outside your home must be solely for dire matters regarding your service. Your public image will also greatly improve.)
>A] "My devotion to Mercy was immaculate. Each and every time I left the church was in service to Her. You know that Our love, and Our mutual devotion means everything to me."

>Non-conventional interpretations of your vows gleaned the RESPECT AND GOODWILL from your fellow man.
>(You can expect supreme hospitality, less hostility, and better ability to run your city without issue. You'll need to hold your own, and the social requirements asked of you will be higher. Barring actions that would create additional turmoil, you'll possibly have more time than you would with option A, and fewer social issues than you would with option C.)
>B] "The people have always been my first priority. You know I'm taking better care of myself now, Sister Cardew— but I will never stop caring about our home. Our family. I am to be their guardian. Their defender. I've missed Eadric so much. This is my city. I would do anything for it."

>KNOWLEDGE AND FREEDOM comes at a high cost.
>(You're known as a terror abroad. There's legend of how ruthless you've been in your pursuit of information regarding the Catalyst. While these are mostly unfounded, it's true that you've neglected much at home in the name of progress. Having MUCH more free time at your disposal, the ability to move freely, and gleaning more information on demons means your reputation has taken a very dire hit.)
>C] "I won't insult your intelligence. You know how much my research has meant to me."

>D] You seriously don't want to talk about it. You COMPLETELY trust Sister Cardew with your schedule, routine, and how to conduct your business moving forward. Don't give her or Walter anything to work off of, and assume that they will be able to create something better than the disaster that's been your career thus far.

>E] Write-in. (Due to the nature of this prompt, WRITE-INs will be subject to QM approval. Discussion, questions, and additional ideas are very welcome as always.)

>KNOWLEDGE AND FREEDOM comes at a high cost.
>(You're known as a terror abroad. There's legend of how ruthless you've been in your pursuit of information regarding the Catalyst. While these are mostly unfounded, it's true that you've neglected much at home in the name of progress. Having MUCH more free time at your disposal, the ability to move freely, and gleaning more information on demons means your reputation has taken a very dire hit.)
>C] "I won't insult your intelligence. You know how much my research has meant to me."

sounds like the most interesting challenge to overcome

>>4495391
>>Non-conventional interpretations of your vows gleaned the RESPECT AND GOODWILL from your fellow man.
>>(You can expect supreme hospitality, less hostility, and better ability to run your city without issue. You'll need to hold your own, and the social requirements asked of you will be higher. Barring actions that would create additional turmoil, you'll possibly have more time than you would with option A, and fewer social issues than you would with option C.)
>>B] "The people have always been my first priority. You know I'm taking better care of myself now, Sister Cardew— but I will never stop caring about our home. Our family. I am to be their guardian. Their defender. I've missed Eadric so much. This is my city. I would do anything for it."

No point in finding the cure for the catalyst if we can't manage our own home, the King told us to handle things domestically and our reputation is already quite terrible. The reason we care about the Catalyst so much is to save our children anyway.

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>>4495391
(I was so excited, I forgot the info post.)

Update schedule? Monday - Thursday (1-2+ posts a day), Friday - Sunday (Sessions at the speed votes permit).
Mechanics? Typically 1d100, bo3, percentage of success without an explicit DC, but things can change situationally. I'll always have complete transparency with what is required!
What if someone's doing something I don't like? SPEAK UP! Vocal opposition to votes are taken into FULL consideration! (So are well-defended and justified votes.)
Voting windows? Due to the complex and involved nature of our protag's current situation, I'll be having slightly longer voting windows this thread to better facilitate discussion. We'll take it as it goes.
Want to catch up quickly? our timelines [posted in the OP] have a concise summary of events.
Reference material? Your journal contains a detailed list of your known info on the Gods, your own character sheet, allies, old enemies, and TONS of character art. The new/updated journal is kept current!

(Good morning everyone and WELCOME! Catalyst Quest's characters and events have a lot going on. For anyone old or new, please feel free to ask me any questions at any time. I'm available here in the thread, on our Discord, and in the /qtg/. Please bear in mind that due to the extent of history for our protag and a LOT of established behavior, I'll be using discretion for write-ins as always. That said, your participation, creativity, and just giving this all the time of day is appreciated more than I can say. It's great to be back! Let's get this show on the road!)

>>4495391
>A] "My devotion to Mercy was immaculate. Each and every time I left the church was in service to Her. You know that Our love, and Our mutual devotion means everything to me."

>>4495396
Suppport

>>4495391
motherfucking C) time hoes know whats up its time to do the One and Only, row row C) post to powah, do the impossible, C) the invincible.

>>4495391
>>B] "The people have always been my first priority. You know I'm taking better care of myself now, Sister Cardew— but I will never stop caring about our home. Our family. I am to be their guardian. Their defender. I've missed Eadric so much. This is my city. I would do anything for it."

>>4495432
>mercypilled

>>4495393
>>4495453
>challenge and POWAH

>>4495396
>>4495450
>>4495462
>being responsible af

(Alright guys, LOCKING the vote here. As a rule of thumb, if a vote comes through a few seconds after I post I'll generally incorporate it because of the post timer. Otherwise, this calls it. I do incorporate almost everything, so even if you haven't voted majority I'll usually at least do something! WRITING NOW!)

>>4495469
>>4495391

>Self-imposed seclusion is the reason for your prolonged isolation. It came with increased AUTHORITY AND POWER.
>(This option will grant unique abilities while within the Church of Mercy or the church of any other deity. The high cost of living purely within the Church of Mercy is dependency on your clergy, a severe reduction in personal time, and ALL affairs conducted outside your home must be solely for dire matters regarding your service. Your public image will also greatly improve.)
>A] "My devotion to Mercy was immaculate. Each and every time I left the church was in service to Her. You know that Our love, and Our mutual devotion means everything to me."

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>>4495469
>>4495472
"My devotion to Mercy was immaculate," you insist. "Each and every time I left the church was in service to Her. You know that Our love, and Our mutual devotion means everything to me. I won't insult your intelligence."

There's no interruption. The priestess of knowledge has her eyes a little wider than usual, as if it could assist in structuring some further framework for success.

It's all the encouragement you need. "The challenges we both face are far more interesting than— than—" A deep breath is necessary. "You know how much my research has meant to me. To overcome our weaknesses. To—"

The hideous kerchief is extended back to you. "I understand completely."

Awkwardly holding the item is unacceptable, as you'll only fidget with it. It's pocketed while you mutter, "—to do the impossible. The reason I care so much about the— about the Catalyst is to look after my children." Your eyes lift. An unnatural light swims in them. They're disarming, almost painfully bright, plated in gold, and swimming with greens of life and death.

Your friend doesn't draw back. Both of you stop walking as you assert, "to save them."

A few chartreuse flower petals drift past. It's the end of the Last Sowing, and almost the warmest time of year. The heat of the early day can't eclipse the fire in you. "What point would there be to curing the Catalyst if— if I can't even manage my own home? The King Himself begged me to attend to our domestic affairs. I—"

You glance over your shoulder, back towards the castle. The Church of Mercy is stunning. It's set to reflect and refract the morning light in particular. Its high walls are not entirely made of rock and wood. Small flecks of gold are deep within the crevasses of the stone. The gilt is no mere support. From its foundations— built from countless Fathers before you— to the soaring peaks that scrape the sky, you want to take in its refuge. Its comfort. The sound of the choir in the morning, just outside your bedroom door. All the little places of worship, the thousands of candles to attend to, your books, and altars that you can truly worship at. You want to stay. To be at home.

Clenching your fists only keeps a tighter grip on the ring gifted to you by your Goddess. Keeping your eyes to the peak of the chapel, your tower keep, the absurd defenses added for assaults from demons and men alike, you declare, "it would be for nothing if I had no one to share it with."

Pride is beaming back up to you. No interruptions.

You continue, "the people have always been my first priority. You know I'm taking better care of myself now, Sister Cardew— but I will never stop caring about our home. Our family. I am to be their guardian. Their defender." Your tone softens. The tension running through your hands gives way to exhaustion. "I've missed Eadric so much."

(1/3)

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>>4495527
A little sunrise glints off of Sister Cardew's glasses, as she follows your look to the church. "I can't blame you in the slightest."

"This is my city," you murmur. "I would do anything for it."

"There is a lot to be done," you're cautioned.

"My reputation— my reputation is already quite terrible." Fidgeting wins out, as you glance back to the floor. The bulk slightly obscuring the floor is not your best look. "I can't imagine doing any more harm to it."

One of the scrolls is offered to you. "The concessions I made for your worship are fully accounted for, Richard. If you'd like—" You open the item, to see a number of propositions for delegating duties. It's extremely detailed. "We could take care of things outside of the church for you."

Mortification reflects off of Sister Cardew's lenses, as you quickly glance back up. "I couldn't."

"You could." Her frown isn't too severe. "If you'd like. Father Friedrich and I told you two years in the Church of Flesh would have been more appropriate. You had four months. I don't think anyone could blame you."

Self-consciousness isn't what has you fidgeting now. "Running towards my problems is far more prudent, Sister Cardew."

"Is that what you call them?"

Swallowing the desire to gasp at the heathen, you balk, "excuse me?"

"Mercy. Agriculture."

"Mind yourself."

She does, and you both continue walking. A broad gesture is made towards the new vineyards. They're already flourishing. You left a wine glass in the soil, try not to twitch at it, and sheepishly look away as Sister Cardew insists, "this is a problem."

"A blessing," you retort.

"One worth all the time in the world. One day a week is not sufficient for a mortal woman, Richa—"

"Sister Cardew."

You both stop walking again. Your prudishness and frown is inverted by the smuggest priestess alive. She beams up to you. "It's a miracle. But I'm worried about you. We all are."

"My city needs me, Sister Cardew."

"It does. So do Walter and I, and the country as a whole. But—" The damn scrolls are waved at you, as a whole. "—I will not permit you to run yourself into the ground again." She starts emphasizing every other word with another shake from the parchment. "You are not alone. Not anymore. Tell me what you need. We'll see to the rest. You do have Time, Father Anscham, and accommodations for all the rest. Do you understand me?"

A hand gently goes to her incessant waving, to keep her steady. "Yes. Thank you."

This is possibly the most emotion you've seen from Harriet. The emphasis stops, while she simply looks up, and spits, "I'll kill you myself if you try running off again."

(2/3)

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>>4495530
There's a deep, intense urge to boast about how much you've accomplished. That your absence from the clergy and world above is what brought you here today. That you're invincible, or that the road to redemption has resulted from pursuing one course of action above all others. That your single-mindedness and zeal has led you to heights others could only dream of. You wilt a little instead, and insist, "I am staying put." You clasp her hands in yours. She's freezing, despite the heat outside and all of her passion. Still, it looks like she actually appreciates the contact as you swear, "Eadric will not go without its Father for one more day."

"Then—" The hands you're holding tighten just slightly against yours. "Let's make the most of this day, and all the rest." She smirks dangerously. "How does the Father of Mercy intend to run his city?"

(Options in next post.)

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>>4495538
(Please bear in mind this does NOT exclude these things from ever being approached. Consolidating and addressing many of these matters from one prompt might not be covered just in this thread as well.)

>A] Soul.
>You do genuinely want to focus on your mental, physical, and emotional well-being. Digging into the hundreds of years of memories you possess from demonic association alone could take quite some time. Keeping stressors to a minimum, delegating business affairs to your congregation, and improving your health is top priority. (This WILL increase reliable narration in the future, dramatically improve your well-being, and lead to a happier, healthier protagonist.)

>B] Love.
>Interpersonal relationships with the Gods does deserve your full attention. Mercy has expressed feelings of neglect and isolation even before you both had three weeks apart. Agriculture has directly expressed Her desire to be closer to you. Showing all of the Gods proper devotion will also benefit your overall health, and provide opportunities for more downtime. (This can all be done from home and the city. The sharp increase in social time may drift you a little further away from mortal affairs, but will dramatically increase your connection to the pantheon.)

>C] Family.
>Eadric does need you. 32 men and women followed you from the capital. Your congregation has followed you from the depths of the earth. An invitation was extended to bring in new citizens. Outbreaks are inevitable. Information is needed on your missing clergy. It all can't be done in a day, but you'll make the time. (Needless to say, focusing on everyone but yourself will take its toll. This will not address your personal affairs beyond basic maintenance, and a more intense schedule will likely wear you down.)

>D] Hope.
>The Catalyst. Demons. Research. Your Relic. The dungeons beneath the Church of Mercy. The cell you spent eight years of your life in. Your homicide record. Vengeance. Inevitable outbreaks in the city. Archdemons know of your alliance with Yech the Disgusted, the King has a similar relationship, and you have so many questions you could die. Looking into Agriculture's motives to save the world itself is top priority. You need answers. (We will put the dark back in dark fantasy. Everything you all know and love about our angsty priest will get a chance to be expanded on.)

>E] Home.
>Investigating affairs abroad can be done from home, though it will be challenging. Adrian and Theobald are your earliest tormentors, but their actions to sabotage your work have yet to be stopped. Cults litter the countryside, terrors may arrive on your doorstep, and prevention is often the best cure. There's also the other church leaders in Corcaea who will want to be kept abreast of affairs, and given the distance between you all, it will not be easy. (This will present extreme challenges for managing Eadric yourself, and everything non-essential will be delegated.)

>F] Write-in.

>>4495541
>C] Family.
>Eadric does need you. 32 men and women followed you from the capital. Your congregation has followed you from the depths of the earth. An invitation was extended to bring in new citizens. Outbreaks are inevitable. Information is needed on your missing clergy. It all can't be done in a day, but you'll make the time. (Needless to say, focusing on everyone but yourself will take its toll. This will not address your personal affairs beyond basic maintenance, and a more intense schedule will likely wear you down.)

>>4495541
>D] Hope.
>The Catalyst. Demons. Research. Your Relic. The dungeons beneath the Church of Mercy. The cell you spent eight years of your life in. Your homicide record. Vengeance. Inevitable outbreaks in the city. Archdemons know of your alliance with Yech the Disgusted, the King has a similar relationship, and you have so many questions you could die. Looking into Agriculture's motives to save the world itself is top priority. You need answers. (We will put the dark back in dark fantasy. Everything you all know and love about our angsty priest will get a chance to be expanded on.)

>>4495541
>>B] Love.
>>Interpersonal relationships with the Gods does deserve your full attention. Mercy has expressed feelings of neglect and isolation even before you both had three weeks apart. Agriculture has directly expressed Her desire to be closer to you. Showing all of the Gods proper devotion will also benefit your overall health, and provide opportunities for more downtime. (This can all be done from home and the city. The sharp increase in social time may drift you a little further away from mortal affairs, but will dramatically increase your connection to the pantheon.)

>>4495541
>>D] Hope.
>>The Catalyst. Demons. Research. Your Relic. The dungeons beneath the Church of Mercy. The cell you spent eight years of your life in. Your homicide record. Vengeance. Inevitable outbreaks in the city. Archdemons know of your alliance with Yech the Disgusted, the King has a similar relationship, and you have so many questions you could die. Looking into Agriculture's motives to save the world itself is top priority. You need answers. (We will put the dark back in dark fantasy. Everything you all know and love about our angsty priest will get a chance to be expanded on.)

These are all very heavy topics that have tormented Richard for a long while, trying to solve them might hurt in the short term but close up some deep wounds for the future.

With that being said if our health takes an observable dip pivot to >Love

>>4495542
>>4495544
>>4495547
>>4495549
(Going to lean towards the D vote, particularly with the write-in. Noting the desire to pivot towards B as a majority as well. Will do my best to take everything here into account! VOTE IS LOCKED. Writing!)

>>4495541
>>D] Hope.
>>The Catalyst. Demons. Research. Your Relic. The dungeons beneath the Church of Mercy. The cell you spent eight years of your life in. Your homicide record. Vengeance. Inevitable outbreaks in the city. Archdemons know of your alliance with Yech the Disgusted, the King has a similar relationship, and you have so many questions you could die. Looking into Agriculture's motives to save the world itself is top priority. You need answers. (We will put the dark back in dark fantasy. Everything you all know and love about our angsty priest will get a chance to be expanded on.)

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>>4495559
>>4495595

You close your eyes, and take a deep breath. The world goes dark— but light, morning dew, and grape vines are on the air. You are not in a cell. Not underground. Not yet.

Opening your gaze wider than it should be, and looking to the woman who's helped save you from yourself, you murmur, "hope. I will give them hope, Sister Cardew."

The hold on your hands stays firm, with a smirk. "I was hoping you would say that."

Nervous laughter spills over your lips. "That's not funny."

Her smirk widens. "It's hilarious."

"It— I know it will hurt. In the short term—"

"You've been through worse." A grimace flashes at you, in good humor. "Isn't that right?"

With another sharp breath in, knitting your brow, you grimace in turn. It feels right. "Yes."

"We'll handle the more mundane affairs."

It's particularly hard to breathe. "I have neglected these matters for far too long."

"It will be alright."

A headache is coming on. "I know I have your support. Mercy's support."

The hold on your hands eases just slightly. You're led over to a nearby bench. "She will still want to see you. I'm sure of it."

Collapsing onto the stone, you stay sitting nearly upright, while awkwardly running your hands through your hair. "Every archdemon in Corcaea knows of my alliance with Yech. The King is no stranger to these affairs, either. My Relic. My research. Our research into the Catalyst. And Agriculture—"

Sitting gently beside you, Harriet places a hand to your upper arm. Despite how much softer you are from the last few months of insanity, there's still a substantial amount of muscle beneath (from more insanity). A strong desire to draw back gets shoved down. Fussing with your hair is replaced by simply clutching tightly at the robes over your knees. You whisper, "my cell. All of the demons that must be kept beneath the church, even— even now." The air is sickly sweet. The pressure on your chest is pressure of restraints for eight years. Of planks of wood, and nails, and iron.

You pause.

A few birds chirp off in the distance.

It's incredibly hot.

"Richard."

The sun is a little higher in the sky. The tightness of your chest won't stop. Something is weighing on you heavier than anything the Gods could put on you. Gulping doesn't help the sensation of something being clasped around your throat. Not for torture, not for relief, and not for how hard it is to choke out, "I want to heal."

"You will." Several shawls are roughly moved aside, as Harriet scoots closely enough to pull you into a hug. "You are not going to go it alone."

You immediately return the motion in full, and practically eclipse the small priestess in your arms.

Her muffled voice is masking a smile. "Sister Superior Tirel— my, that is a mouthful, isn't it—"

(1/2)

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>>4495604
Having buried your face slightly against her, you're greeted by the scent of lavender and clean hair. It helps. "She prefers Electrum," is your own, muted reply.

"Yes. Well. Electrum and I have made arrangements for the wares of Eadric. Neither siege nor poison will bring harm to your city. It is as she said. The disaster in Calunoth was an embarrassment."

"It— we did clean up the situation rapidly." It's terribly hard to not think of being hit by bolts of lightning, seeing your friends on the brink of death, children dying from poison in their lungs—

"You did. And it won't happen again. Not on our watch. Your clergy is attending to the city guard, and ensuring we have sufficient security here at the church. Walter and I are supervising their work. You know James wouldn't let anyone under your roof who we couldn't trust. For Mercy's sake, Richard, will you look at me."

You do. The brunette went through the trouble of taking all of her shawls down, so you can get a clear look at her face. The bags under her eyes, her plain features, the wear and tear on the pallor of her skin. It's another contradiction. "I told you our work in the capital was a vacation. Did I not?"

"You did." She's not budging. The physical reassurance is much more than a material comfort. There's a reminder of some careworn stone right against the ground, overseen by a Goddess who wants you to thrive. One who's seen to it that you've come under almost no harm. "We still— We accomplished so much—"

"And you will continue to do so. Your work with Agriculture should be celebrated. This will be another step forward. Am I not mistaken?"

"We will deal with the present, and— and I— I will pray for our future." You quietly add, "our faith is our guide, Sister. I will not hesitate to focus on my love, and— and my light, if need be."

A very patient smile replies. The you are talking in circles, Richard, but please speak freely if it will help smile.

(Options in next post.)

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>>4495605
>The following are mutually exclusive.
>MAJORITY VOTE WILL DECIDE.
>This does not exclude other courses of action from taking place in the future, but will determine your immediate action.

>A] By all the Gods do you need more answers regarding the Catalyst. Call for a meeting with Walter. Make it formal. You and your research team are going over those books your partners wrote during the road trip from Calunoth.

>B] Outbreaks in Eadric are inevitable. So are invasions from abroad. It's not paranoia! Really! Go meet up with your guard. Demons and defense are your top priority.

>C] Personal research is incredibly important to you, and your books are collecting dust. Gather the material you were given by the King, and go dig into your personal archive too.

>D] The Relic of Mercy is an enigma. Take Sister Cardew up on her old offer. It doesn't seem so crazy now to experiment with it, and review what you know regarding the item.
>1] By yourself.
>2] With Sister Cardew and Walter.
>3] Invoke Mercy privately, with the intent to ask Her about it.
>4] Gather your research team and invoke Mercy. It's high time you introduced them all to one another.

>E] You have a lot of support, and don't want to risk waiting. The dungeons beneath the Church of Mercy need your full attention. (Write-in anyone you want to approach about it, or CLEARLY SPECIFY if you want to go it alone. Please feel free to ask questions.)

>F] Even though you spent most of the day with Her yesterday, you still have so many questions for Agriculture you can't stand it. Invoke Her.
>1] To speak privately.
>2] To speak with Harriet.

>G] Write-in.

>>4495611
>>E] You have a lot of support, and don't want to risk waiting. The dungeons beneath the Church of Mercy need your full attention. (Write-in anyone you want to approach about it, or CLEARLY SPECIFY if you want to go it alone. Please feel free to ask questions.)

Bring the catalyst research team and Ray.

>D] The Relic of Mercy is an enigma. Take Sister Cardew up on her old offer. It doesn't seem so crazy now to experiment with it, and review what you know regarding the item.
>4] Gather your research team and invoke Mercy. It's high time you introduced them all to one another.

>>4495611
>C] Personal research is incredibly important to you, and your books are collecting dust. Gather the material you were given by the King, and go dig into your personal archive too.

>>4495611
>D] The Relic of Mercy is an enigma. Take Sister Cardew up on her old offer. It doesn't seem so crazy now to experiment with it, and review what you know regarding the item.
>4] Gather your research team and invoke Mercy. It's high time you introduced them all to one another.

>>4495616
>>4495625
(Seriously appreciate you guys. Going to work in a bit of this for sure.)

>>4495618
>>4495634
(Going mostly with the majority here for D4 though! VOTE IS LOCKED, writing now!)

>>4495666
Thanks satan

>>4495708
(Anytime boss. Nearly done writing!)

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>>4495666
There's little need to say more, beyond the call for a research meeting. Having everyone present to investigate your Relic is long overdue. The two of you head back inside, away from the suffocating heat, away from the blossoms, and away from the amber trees.

There's stone, and light, and everything you love within the halls of your home. From the newly polished floors, cleaned trains of gilded fabric, and countless pews is your choir. Gates of gold reflect the light of day, while every last nook and hall of worship is draped further in shadow. Painted glass casts speckles of further color and life onto the high walls, ornamentation, and depictions of love.

You take in a deep breath— and nearly fall over. Ray bounds over, and tries tackling you to the floor. The mastiff is incredibly well groomed now that he's off the road, and it would have been a waste for him to get covered in dirt so early in the day. It's saved you from further turmoil, still! Holding your ground comes far more easily than ever. Taking the brunt of his assault, you shift all of your dog's leap into your arms, and drop to one knee.

He's impressed. Ruffling his fur, you can't help but croon, "who's a good boy? Putting on your best face for Her, is that it? Trying to impress Mercy already?"

The sound of your voice echoes throughout the building. It's absurd. Sister Cardew quietly smirks, "I'll go fetch Walter, then."

It takes only a minute. Plenty of Time to play around with Ray, get your bearings, and find a nice place for the meeting. There's a hall just off to the western wing, where Her light will shine brightest. You might be a hopeless romantic, but feel better already.

"Good morning," you mildly call out, as Professor Echo comes along beside your priestess.

The young nobleman's awkwardly long legs make quick work of crossing the expansive hall. He's still wearing the absurd daffodil-colored cloak that was pilfered from your room in the King's castle. He's as razor-sharp as the length of his nose, and breadth of his jaw. The heathen isn't wearing a hat in your church, seems to have no weapons on his person, and has kept up with your suggestions to look after his health. It's a far cry from the greasy shut-in you met last month. Walter's hair is even tied back, which he slicks further.

"Wouldn't have missed this for the world. Everyone's been sent off to mind their own business. You look like you haven't slept in a week, Father. You'd think there would be better mattresses in a place like this. We can't do anything about the light on the walls, I'm sure." His nasally reply carries down the hall, until you're standing just a few feet apart. An accusing glance is shot to Harriet. "Why haven't we done this sooner?"

(1/2)

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>>4495765
"This is long overdue," you try. Sister Cardew is practically breathless. It might be from how quickly she obtained your congregation member. Her commitment to relying less on physical materials has persisted, as she has no parchment to speak of. "No notes?"

A puff of her flat chest is made with complete confidence. "Not necessary. I believe—" Walter groans. "—don't give me that."

"You're unbelievable," the gentleman grins. Ray is the only one not trying to snicker.

A few moments pass by, and all eyes are on you. It's a little warmer in the room. Breathing helps, while looking to the morning light. The air is a little dusty, thanks to your clergy being absent for weeks at minimum. There's a faint smell of beeswax candles down the hall. Their faint glow intermingles with the beams cast from the stained panes above.

It nearly takes your breath away. Taking a step back, you cast a warning glance to Ray. He looks to you innocently, as you command, "make sure they stay on their best behavior."

The point of Walter's nose catches on the air. "You can't possibly expect me to—"

The edge of Sister Cardew's elbow digs into the gentleman's side. He winces, while she mutters, "sshhh." A smile is cast up to you. "I'm sure he'll be fine. Go ahead, Richard. I've made sure we're all given ample Time."

One more cursory look around the church confirms it is, in fact, nearly empty. The long halls have no movement. All of your congregation is up and about, though the castle is so massive, you could go hours without running into anyone. It's enough reassurance to bow your head, and simply place a hand over your heart.

A small locket has been worn for months, and often gone neglected. It cost you your sanity, and everything else you had to obtain Mercy's Relic. The item is so unassuming, it's easy to forget how much it's granted you. Keeping hold on the rapid beat beneath your robes, you keep hold on the light of your life. The love of your soul.

The woman who's been there for you in darkness and sin, and never let you go. In your arms, and your heart, and your soul, is the love of your life. There's no need for words between you and the Goddess of Mercy, but She likes to hear you speak anyways.

"I've missed you."

https://youtu.be/wLQCrTgPBLk

Spots dance in your eyes for several moments. The morning itself can't rival the heat in your embrace. The slender arms resting against you have you pulled in just as closely, while a pair of sun-kissed lips part. A face lined with gold is otherwise immaculate. Mercy is radiant, from the smile beaming up to you, the bob of Her daffodil hair, and the sway of every modest skirt upon Her. She's dressed simply, as a healer in Her own home. Every last curve upon the Mother of your church presses up against you— and shamelessly pecks you on the cheek.

(One paragraph over 2/3)

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>>4495768
A few hearts dance in the air, in your eyes, and the weight in your chest gives way for a few butterflies. There's no Time to reply, or register more than a voice sweeter than honey. She's compassion itself, to deny you the chance to say more than reply to three simple words: "Good morning, Richard."

>A] Business. You invoked Her for business! Focus! You're the leading researcher of the Catalyst, and can handle yourself. Keeping some distance will be a little draining, but you don't want to spend all day talking, either. She's the Goddess of healing. Healing yourself should be more than enough to assist with the invocation. (You are also possibly the most modest man alive.)

>B] Introduce Her to your friends. Let them meet. Peck Her back on the cheek, and keep things light. Mercy is an incredibly gentle deity, and you don't want to stress Her.

>C] Be a little shameless, and kiss your partner properly. Make sure She's alright before getting into anything serious. You know full well that keeping closer proximity to the Goddess will reduce the toll the invocation takes on you.

>D] Write-in.

>>4495774
>>B] Introduce Her to your friends. Let them meet. Peck Her back on the cheek, and keep things light. Mercy is an incredibly gentle deity, and you don't want to stress Her

>>4495774
>B] Introduce Her to your friends. Let them meet. Peck Her back on the cheek, and keep things light. Mercy is an incredibly gentle deity, and you don't want to stress Her.

>>4495774
>B] Introduce Her to your friends. Let them meet. Peck Her back on the cheek, and keep things light. Mercy is an incredibly gentle deity, and you don't want to stress Her.

>>4495774
>C] Be a little shameless, and kiss your partner properly. Make sure She's alright before getting into anything serious. You know full well that keeping closer proximity to the Goddess will reduce the toll the invocation takes on you.

>>4495779
>>4495789
>>4495797
>>4495804
(Thanks for your patience guys, had to run to the store and get some food. Ready to go! Vote is LOCKED, writing now!)

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>>4495863
https://youtu.be/ReLJZDF4boI?t=53

A peck on the cheek is necessary. "Good morning." You follow it with three more, "good morning, good morning, good morning."

Light laughter is elicited with each word. Lifting Mercy slightly, swirling Her into a dip, and kissing Her properly has more than the heat of a solar flare on you. She melts into your arms (though not literally). The gold all along Her hands is significantly darker and more metallic the further you look from Her face. It may be that the more mortal appearance is more taxing on Her— or that She's attempting to not tax you. It matters little.

Her lips are as soft as you remember. Warmer than you remember. They're smoother than silk, and linger exactly long enough. Your partner looks to you, all smiles, and with more light in your eyes than anyone should be able to look at. It's certainly reflecting off of the gold in your own gaze. Your noses find just the right place to barely grace the other, along with teeth, awkwardly lingering, delighted just to see one other. Another peck lands on your lips. In a whisper, She says, "I missed you, too."

The tone is warm, and gentle, but far more grounded than anything you're used to. The echo of the Goddess' declaration echoes throughout the hall. The empty hall. A little melancholy worms its way onto both of your gazes. "Are you alright," you murmur.

"No," She replies, making your heart miss several beats, "but I will be."

Remembering yourself comes easily. Still in the slight dip, Mercy looks to your friends, and gives them both a slight smile. Sweeping the angel in your arms back upright, she's kept in a delicate hold. There's no pretense of shame, or anything less than a completely open display of affection, as Mercy finds your hand with Her own, and intertwines your fingers together.

Walter is slack-jawed. Sister Cardew has her head bowed, her eyes down-cast, and both of them are completely speechless. You're the foundation of the Church of Love. It's hardly indecent, even if Mercy's ankles are slightly showing. You want to keep things light more than you want to cuddle, and that's really saying something.

It's with as much tenderness as you're capable of, that you gesture to Ray, to Harriet, and to Walter. "If I may...?"

A cheeky whisper replies, "you may always speak freely." More loudly, and putting on an air, the Goddess of Grace declares, "lift your eyes, your hands, and your hearts. The Father of the Church of Mercy wishes to speak."

(1/3)

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>>4495998
Walter is trying to formulate a reply. Sister Cardew looks to you as if she's seeing you for the first time. Shoving down any nauseating ideas of the priestess not believing in your partner's existence, you genuinely declare, "the Goddess of Mercy has blessed us with Her presence. Her will is to be respected. For as long as I reside in our church, She wishes to share in my company. In guiding our children, and in protecting our home." Long golden eyelashes bat at you. Your heart skips another beat. "Mercy, I can think of no company more devoted to our cause. You know Walter and Sister Cardew."

"I do," She murmurs, casting another cheeky glance to your friends. Walter keeps his mouth closed just a moment longer.

There's no need to introduce Ray, as he's met Mercy before anyone else. "They have unfailingly aided my research, and supported me in some of my darkest hours. We all wish to speak with you."

The heathen in your midst can't help himself. "How."

"Pardon me," you glare.

Walter gestures several times towards Mercy. Towards Her gorgeous smile, Her tasteful attire, the light hold She's keeping on your hand, and the gentle radiance cast from Her being. The Goddess puts a hand to Her heart. "It would be a pleasure to meet your friends."

The wideness of Harriet's gaze is not abating, as she distantly says, "a pleasure. Mercy. Sister Harriet Cardew. Church of Spirit, and— of— of Mercy." A slight shake of her head starts, before lowering every veil and shawl upon her scruffy brown hair. It's practically standing on end. "I have so many questions."

"We all do," Walter stammers. It's as if he's glued to the ground, not daring to take a step forward. It strikes you that he might be afraid of the deity, for how pale he is compared to Her light. Another broad gesture is made. "I don't need to introduce myself."

Mortification eclipses your world, until Mercy giggles. It's the sweetest sound you've ever heard. "No, Walter."

He doesn't blink. "You know."

"We have met once before," She grins.

"Ostedholm." He's floored.

"You got out safely," She beams.

"I did."

Tilting Her head towards Harriet, Mercy's smile falters just slightly. "It does not take a Goddess of Wisdom to remember an honest face."

Echo shakes his head. Running a hand through his hair disturbs most of his ponytail. "More questions. You're the Goddess of truth. Why not Spirit?"

The answer is distant, but immediate. "It may be wise to lie, and to know a falsehood when one sees it. It takes Spirit." Another melancholy smile shines up at you. "The truth does not require wit. It may cause strife— but I am not the Goddess of peace. It may bring hostility, but I am not the Goddess of war. Honesty is an act of Mercy. It is kindness towards oneself."

"You are the Goddess of love," you sweetly add, "and integrity. To withhold your meaning is to withhold your gifts from another."

Walter finally blinks. Both of your friends clearly don't know what to say.

(2/3)

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>>4495999
Mercy takes you by the hand, leads you over to a pew, and casually sits down. She looks to your friends, and pats the bench beside her. Ray accepts the invitation immediately, saunters over, and all 200lbs of him climbs up right beside your lover.

Everyone is mortified, if only for a moment. A glance is cast towards you, which you acknowledge with a nod. The Goddess awkwardly pats your dog, and offers a broad smile to you all. "It is alright. Truly. I know you called upon me for good reason."

Sister Cardew walks over to the bench like an animated corpse, and sinks down onto the seat. "Good boy, Ray." He looks extremely pleased with himself. "Yes. The Relic."

"Richard's Relic," she's immediately corrected. Mercy gives you a slight squeeze on your hand.

You return the gesture, and quietly reply, "thank you."

"Richard's Relic," Sister Cardew echoes distantly.

"Why didn't you just give it to him," Walter asks firmly, staying standing about ten feet away.

Mercy gives you that you went through a living nightmare on my behalf, I love you more than I can say, this is terribly insulting, but I will tolerate your blasphemous friends stare. You wince. She calmly and softly replies, "the Father needed me, and his work is what led us all to be gathered here today."

Professor Echo blinks several times. "Point." He sits down, and looks like he's had a brush with death as well. "I had a list of questions, but—"

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Sister Cardew interjects, relaxing a fair bit. "Mercy."

"Likewise," She grins. Another pat is gingerly made on Ray's back. He seems to love it. The Goddess gives you a curious glance. "He likes me."

"Of course he does," you assert. "He has excellent taste."

>A] Everyone is too baffled for normal conversation. It's fine! Normal conversation is overrated. Mingle for a few more minutes. Your friends probably need many, to get adjusted to this.

>B] You honestly feel like you don't have Time for light conversation. Yes, it may be an unhealthy fixation, but everyone understands. Try to keep things on track. Broach some business. Everyone here is cerebral enough to take to study better than anything else.

>C] It's REALLY not the time to dig into your relationship with Mercy, but these ARE your counselors and advisors.
>1] See if you can tactfully broach what's bothering Her. You know She literally has the weight of the world on Her shoulders.
>2] Simply remind Her you'll make the Time for one another in a few days to go over all of this alone. She'll understand.

>D] Write-in.

>>4496008
>C] It's REALLY not the time to dig into your relationship with Mercy, but these ARE your counselors and advisors.
>1] See if you can tactfully broach what's bothering Her. You know She literally has the weight of the world on Her shoulders.

>>4496008

B

Nerd talk is probably going to put the nerds at ease a bit and break the ice properly.

>>4496008
>>C] It's REALLY not the time to dig into your relationship with Mercy, but these ARE your counselors and advisors.
>>1] See if you can tactfully broach what's bothering Her. You know She literally has the weight of the world on Her shoulders.

>>4496188
>>4496435
>>4496438
(Going to do my best, pretty late here! Going to be the last update of the night, thank you guys so much for the AMAZING start to the thread. Vote is locked! Writing now.)

>>4496008
>C] It's REALLY not the time to dig into your relationship with Mercy, but these ARE your counselors and advisors.
>1] See if you can tactfully broach what's bothering Her. You know She literally has the weight of the world on Her shoulders.

>>4496460
>>4496471
"Mercy," you quietly start.

She's discovered Ray likes being scratched behind his ears. Their enjoyment seems equally matched. "Yes," She asks innocently.

The more cerebral of your friends are still baffled at the blonde's behavior. "I am not giving Sister Cardew, nor Walter— these are my most trusted advisors. My counselors. They easily possess the sharpest minds in the country, and their minds have guided me from the very depths of the world to—" Your gaze travels to the high halls of your home, and the Goddess at your side. "—to where I am today. I cannot stress enough how invaluable their company has been."

Wrapping an arm around Her shoulders, you are met with a wilting smile. Mercy immediately rests Her lemon-yellow curls against your chest, and the crook of your shoulder. In a low voice, you murmur, "You can speak freely, too. Please tell me what's wrong. The gifts You've given me would mean— would mean all the more, if I could share them happily with you—"

Walter might be gagging. You don't cast the heathen a second glance, though Sister Cardew must have thrown him a glare severe enough to stop the motion.

The very symbol of your church is extended. Mercy gently reaches up, and out, though Her golden fingers are not empty. A promise ring is upon Her own left hand. Its metallic sheen is nearly blinding. It catches on the gilt around your neck, as She cups the small locket in only one palm. Every pretense of joy falls from Her delicate shoulders, that you hold a little tighter. They easily have the weight of the world on them (and you're not exactly making a mental dig at your relationship with Agriculture).

It's not compassion, necessarily, that has Mercy's voice drop to a whisper. She sounds precisely how you used to feel. Angst worms its way into what should be the lightest speech on the planet. "You have been through so much." Mercy casts the knit in Her brow towards Harriet, and to Walter. "You all have."

Straightening further upright, Echo dares to ask, "and?"

The hold upon your Relic is complete, as Mercy eclipses the item completely within Her hands. If you weren't sitting, you'd have staggered. Relief passes over the Goddess' face. It's abundantly clear that a wave of tension washes away from the edges of Her eyes, the gentle curve of Her shoulders, and the knit in Her brow. She looks lovingly up to you, and murmurs, "do you remember what I told you, Richard?"

"I do," you reply.

A voice softer, and hauntingly more familiar than any sermon you've ever given fills the hall. It's not quite of your lover, or the woman wrapped in your arms. It's an embrace of the soul, of a memory, and a message that carried you through the dark.

"The world is full of cruelty."

(1/3)

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>>4496512
https://youtu.be/rSEGXmZVdtM

The three mortals in your company look more terrified than you've ever seen them, as the words of an immortal hang. They echo. Though the light of day, and the light of your partner persists, you're reminded of being slaked in blood, devoid of the Gods. Seeking death.

Professor Echo stares at Mercy, as if he has seen Her many times before. "You feel it all, don't you?"

She doesn't need to breathe, but Her chest heaves slightly. The hold upon your Relic is so tight, you'd worry She's hurting Herself. You shift the arm wrapped around one of Mercy's shoulders, to clasp Her hand within the palm of your own. To comfort Her.

Thoughts of your mission flit across your mind like a bad dream. The Catalyst. The cure. She isn't speaking of it. The Gods will it. Your voice, warm, tender

You want to stop Her.

You want to stay like this forever.

You know you can't.

Please.

"Grant them peace, through Our symbol. You cannot do this alone. You must seek Our Relic, Father. Seek Our symbol. Deep, deeper still within the lands lies an answer to your pain. We entrust you with this mission— this most Holy mission— to obtain not the cure to the Catalyst, but the cure to your pain. The cure to the pain of so many others. Seek Our Relic. Do this, and go forth with Our blessing."

You feel Her hands, out-stretched and lying under your own. They begin to part. You want to stop Her. You want to stay like this forever.

You know you can't. "You are never truly alone, Father."

I don't want to go back. I don't want to leave You.

You want to stay like this forever.

You know you can't.

You want to ask how, but you don't dare to speak. She continu

>>4496513
There's a harsh slap across your face, as Walter pulls you with everything he has backwards, and off of the pew. You both collapse to the floor.

Sister Cardew is standing beside you and a Goddess, with a face whiter than the robes upon her frame. Though Ray seems to recognize no danger from your partner's agonized and horrified face, he immediately growls at Harriet. Walter groans from the floor. The two of you simply lay there for a moment.

The room is cold. Your eyes aren't adjusted to the darkness, and you lay on your back, facing the ceiling. Heart racing. The cold. The emptiness on either side of you.

You wrap your arms around yourself, desperate for the embrace again. Mercy. You play Mercy's words over and over again in your mind.

"Don't," Harriet warns, to everyone present. "Don't." An accusing glare is fired to Mercy.

The priestess is furious, but only for only a second. Mercy has Her own arms wrapped around Herself, trying desperately to continue the embrace. The Goddess still looks horrified beyond all measure, and won't take Her eyes off of you. "Our love for you is infinite. It is unbearable, to endure as the Father suffers. You remember. You remember everything."

The man standing beside you doesn't make any sudden movements. Ray has already stopped growling. The sting on your cheek never registered. The Relic is still in the palm of your hand— and looks completely untouched. It absolutely is what's keeping you from feeling any pain.

Mercy can't help but cry. Some horrible blend of love and depression is intermingling with the distance She's keeping. "I feel what you all feel. From your hope, to your pain. It is a Catalyst of a different kind. I cannot tell you what you can feel. I know you are afraid."

"It doesn't sever your connection to the Gods." Walter mutters, continuing to offer you a hand to get up. "It's an extension."

"Don't," Harriet repeats. "Don't. Stop. All of you. Just for a moment." An apologetic glance is given to you. To the gold in your eyes, the gilt in your hair, the light of a disarming smile, and the Goddess sitting in the pews across from you. "You'll be alright." A glare is fired to Mercy, and a demand. "He will be alright."

The distress written all across Mercy's face intensifies. "That is his choice to make."

"Our lives are our own to lead, is that it," Echo laughs bitterly.

There's a crack in the voice of compassion, and your partner's composure. Mercy sobs, "yes, Walter. They are."

(Options in next post.)

>>4496519
>A] Get up, and take Mercy back into your arms.
>1] "What must I do?"
>2] "I am not alright, but we will be." (Feel free to write-in any concerns you have with how Mercy has behaved. Your QM will provide reasonable, tactful address of concerns otherwise.)
>3] Write-in.

>B] Stay on the floor, and take off the Relic.
>1] Start asking questions. (Write-in. A ROLL MAY BE REQUIRED.)
>2] Stay quiet. Try not to slip back into any old memories, or to touch the item again until you know what's going on. It will hurt your concentration, and Mercy, but you'll deal with whatever pain comes.

>C] Keep your distance from Mercy, but keep the Relic on.
>1] This makes a lot of sense. (Write-in.)
>2] This makes virtually no sense. (Write-in anything you may wish to ask.)
>3] You legitimately just want to keep your composure, and are too distraught to risk adding more fuel to the fire. Stay quiet.

>D] Write-in.

>>4496521
>C] Keep your distance from Mercy, but keep the Relic on.
>2] This makes virtually no sense. (Write-in anything you may wish to ask.

If our lives are our owns to live, then why does the catalyst keep triggering at obsessive emotions? And can merC)y see why kids love cinnamon toast crunch?

>>4496521
>>C] Keep your distance from Mercy, but keep the Relic on.
>2] This makes virtually no sense. (Write-in anything you may wish to ask.)

WhaT?

>>4496521
>>C] Keep your distance from Mercy, but keep the Relic on.
>>1] This makes a lot of sense. (Write-in.)

Give Echo a frown of fatherly disapproval and a few firm pokes to the side with a finger. Your alittle put out that he slapped you and threw you to the ground, but assume he had a reason to part you from Mercy to continue their questions to the goddess of protection.

He's still going to get loomed over by you.

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>>4496528
>>4496641
>>4496746
(Good afternoon guys! Got a couple things to take care of today but I'll update as soon as I get back. Voting window will remain open until then.)

>>4496950
>>4496528
>>4496641
>>4496746
(Got it. Vote is locked. We're live!! WRITING NOW!)

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>>4496989
https://youtu.be/ofojpmUilpo

Nothing is parting you from your Relic. The edges of the locket dig into the palm of your hand, while the complete relief from your pain persists. There's a sickness creeping into the edges of your soul. It is exhaustion of a different kind, and not just from being put out by your friends behavior. With a grimace, you ask the Goddess sobbing in the pew before you, "...what? You— you say our lives are our own to lead—"

With a groan, you get back on hands and knees, and stagger upright. The gold in your eyes is cast down to Mercy's heaving shoulders, as she clings onto Her own arms for self-comfort. With plenty of distance between you both, you murmur, "do you honestly see what I am seeing, Mercy? Can you give me a reason why obsessive emotion would affect the Catalyst?"

Every other word is caught up in Her ragged breath. It's distorting the levity and song of Her voice, but She's trying to force a smile. Dandelions aren't as bittersweet. "There is so much more to it than that."

Turning to Walter, you poke him several times in his side. The first one he bats away with a simple, "hey," but you press him more firmly. He starts to get the extent of your distress by the fourth.

"I will assume you had a reason to part me from Her work, Walter," you poke.

Retracting your hand to cross your arms, the nobleman mimics the motion, and takes a step back. The shadow you cast over him from the stained glass at your back doesn't obscure his grimace. "You're bleeding gold." A gesture is made towards your face. "Scared me shitless."

"Language," you caution. Wiping the edge of your eyes with the back of your hand leaves a wet impression. There's a thin film of liquid gold left in its wake.

Sister Cardew quietly speaks up at your back, "I was the one who tried slapping you out of it, Richard. Walter didn't want anyone to get hurt."

The heathen fires a suspicious glare towards Mercy, to which you happily oblige. The looming continues. "Go on," you encourage. "Ask away."

"Answer his question," Walter immediately demands.

"I cannot hurt him," Mercy sobs.

The entire castle might as well have died. The silence that follows consumes everything but a small whine from Ray, who settles on getting off the pew, and coming to your side.

Sister Cardew is the first to respond, "you are hurting him by withholding this information."

"I do not know," Mercy sobs, stressing the word as hard as She can, "how else to convey my meaning to him. To any of you. You cannot understand."

Both scholars in your midst bristle. Walter snips, "try me."
"We cannot comprehend an absence of information," Harriet fires off.

"You are a woman of faith," Mercy begins to try.

"You're deflecting," the two academics say in unison.

(1/3)

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>>4497153
There is a searing pain in your chest. It's deeper than the skin, and hotter than a physical brand. A hand compulsively goes to your heart. Your lover draws a little further in on Herself. A cacophony of voices spills from Her lips, in multiple voices that are not Her own.

"I want to die." "He's sick. You should say goodbye to him, while you still can." "It hurts." "Please come home." "I love you." "Bear my child." "I'll kill her." "Stop." "Please." "I hate them." "You're a liar." "I just want to understand." "Imbecile. "Traitor." "I can't imagine life without you." "Get out of my house." "You're not my daughter." "He's a demon."

Eyes swimming in hues of amber and pain flash to Sister Cardew. "I want to know." "Why won't you tell me anything?" "Let me out." "Let me stay." "I never needed them." "Where is my salvation?" "What will we name her?" "Will we be safe?" "Will I ever amount to anything?"

Harriet takes a step forward, hair practically standing on end. She's livid, but whips her head towards Walter. The man is laughing quietly. "Go ahead, then."

Mercy keeps a hand to Her own heart. "Let me live." "Tell me the truth." "Give me answers." "I'll find a way." "You're in my way." "It was justified." "Imbeciles." "You're only hurting yourself." "None of this would have been necessary if they would just listen."

She's crying too hard to speak further. The Goddess draws Her knees up to Her chest, and wraps Herself up practically into a ball. Ray whines up to you for permission to console Her, but you keep a few feet apart. There's a tear in your own chest, and at the very center of your being.

"You're still holding back," Walter observes.

"Yes," is the healer's muffled reply. "I love you all."

"Even if I won't love you in turn," he quietly remarks.

Agony is in every tear streaked across Her face. "Especially if you will not love me."

You're having a hard time even standing. Everything hurts.

"Mercy." Sister Cardew has her typical, muted expression. She must be getting comfortable. "If you are listening to us all, then why—" Another sudden, sharp sob from the Goddess nearly stops the priestesses' questioning, but she continues. "—why won't you stop it?"

Every inch of your partner is screaming that She wants to be closer to you, but Her eyes fall on Walter. "The restraint you felt. What was it like?"

"I barely remember it," he immediately retorts. There's a pause. "Ah."

(2/3)

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>>4497163
Clutching at Her heart, Mercy cries, "a life of another's making is no life at all. To force Our ability onto another is the greatest sin one could comprehend." You swallow hard. A knowing look is cast towards you. "To err is only human. That is why I will not deprive my children of their lives. Their choices. Their chances, risks, and all of the failings that will result. They will hate, and achieve, and die." She grits Her teeth, and wipes Her own face with the side of Her sleeve. "I will never control them. Not if there is any other alternative. Your heartache means as much to me as your love. No matter how much it hurts."

Another terrible, pained look crosses over Mercy's face. She keeps Her eyes resting on you. "I wanted to show you what it was like. So you could better understand how it feels, and to know the extent of my love for you. I would never wish to hurt you." Something so horrific is brewing behind Her eyes, that you can't comprehend it. "You are hurting yourself. Please hold me. I can't stand it."

"This doesn't answer anything," Walter scowls, "apart from you inability to communicate—"

Hysterical sobs return to wracking Mercy's frame. Sister Cardew cautions, "Walter."

>A] Give Mercy a hug, drop the questioning, and release the invocation. You'll speak with Her more privately another time. You'd like to go over this with your friends, without driving your partner mad.

>B] Go hold Mercy, but make some pointed questions.
>1] Plainly ask Her if it's too difficult to think. You'll save your experimentation and questioning for the researchers with you, if She genuinely can't express Her feelings at this time.
>2] There's really just a few specifics you had in mind. (Write-in.)

>C] Ask Her to show you what She means.
>1] Caution Walter you'll beat him to death if he interrupts again.
>2] Caution Walter and Harriet that you'll give them a fate worse than death if they interrupt again.

>D] Write-in.

>>4497166
>>C] Ask Her to show you what She means.
>2] Caution Walter and Harriet that you'll give them a fate worse than death if they interrupt again.


WE GOING IN DEEP BOIS.

>>4497173
+1

>>4497173
>>4497241
(GOIN IN DEEP BOIS let's goooo. Vote is locked! Writing now.)

>>4497166
>C] Ask Her to show you what She means.
>D] Write-in.
Caution Walter and Harriet not to interrupt again, least they want to take part in experiencing all of humanities suffering.

Can we suffer in Mercy's place as we did for Agriculture? Are our shoulders broad enough to hold the weight of Mankind's pain?

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>>4497303
A thread of excitement snakes its way through all your exhaustion, because of the pain. "Mercy."

The agony plastered across Her features practically heightens the Goddess' beauty. It's disturbing, and wonderful, and She looks to you with hope in Her heart. She knows how you feel.

There's no need for words between the two of you, but you like Her to hear you speak regardless. "You feel what I do. I know you must. So show me. Help me understand." You take a step forward. Walter and Harriet both move to complain, to which you hold up a single, empty hand. There's no need to look to either of them. Keeping your eyes locked with the sun, you speak over their protests. "A word of caution."

The threads of insanity all throughout your gaze bores into the two skeptics. "Interrupt me again, and I promise you, you will experience the extent of all of humanity's pain."

Without giving them any Time to respond, you cross the last of the distance between you and your lover. You both reach out, and clasp a single hand. Mercy's hold is soft, and tender, but She's burning like a flame. "I would never want to hurt you," She swears. "You know I will."

Pulling Her back into a full embrace, and ignoring the church around you, you whisper in return, "let me take your pain. I would bear it all for you, if I could. I love you, Mercy. To suffer is to serve."

https://youtu.be/MKp30C3MwVk

The town square is silent as the grave. Hundreds of peasants await your first sermon, standing obediently and waiting for you to speak. Your knuckles are white from clutching your holy symbol of Mercy so tightly. The story of the Catalyst has been told to you so many times, but it feels like a distant memory.

Screams rip across the town square. A young man is in his home, possessed by hunger. He's eaten his own child last week, and knows the clergy that's come to the village today will discover his sin. Prayer will not undo the years of exhaustion, or suffering without relief. He cannot accept the aid of his fellow man, and would never look to the Gods for answers.

Agriculture has never rewarded his agony, and will never bring back his baby. His wife. His humanity.

Your fellow priests, hands clutched in prayer, attempt to extract the unwilling from their homes as the rest of the town patiently awaits them. To intervene with their work could mean the death of the entire village. There isn't a man, woman, or child before you that doesn't understand the might of the Church.

The screaming gets much louder, as the sound of metal on flesh pierces the silence of the crowd. A demon is killed without question. To prolong the suffering of mankind is unacceptable.

A man sobs quietly, far in the back, and countless peasants around him rush to shush his outburst. The people are afraid of their own kind. Isolation, repression, and sin dominate the land. There are few beacons of hope.

(1/3)

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>>4497462
"I know you are afraid," you say quietly. The crowd falls completely silent again. You keep your eyes downcast, on your holy symbol. It's a pair of outstretched hands.

Mercy's hands are intertwined with your own, as you both hold onto one another, and onto your Relic. "I am not consumed by a curse, Richard. This is not your burden to bear. I am your compassion. I am your grief. I can only hope to share myself. My love. My hope. What it is to know Mercy."

Hysterically, hands shaking, you try to move Ofelia aside. Your body is so ragged, it's hard to get your limbs to cooperate. It almost feels like the greater demon's weight is still pressing down on your skull. She sees how hard you're struggling, but keeps putting up a resistance anyways. It's infuriating. "You're hurt, Richard. That thing was— I don't know what it was doing, but you should stay still."

Restraints for eight years promises you'll never stay still again. Repeated attempts to push past the halfling finally make her give way. "Just— let me see Ray—!"

You can't properly stand, stagger, and collapse beside your dog. "Ray," you sob, kneeling down beside him.

There's a deep wound in his side, and the mastiff's breathing is ragged in his sleep. You knit your hands together, wounded as they are. Broken fingers are nothing you haven't felt before, but the motion is agony. Cold pain has every nerve in your body on end. Ofelia knows. She actually cares. The halfling is staring at you, and opens her mouth to say something. Face turned away from the stranger to your home and country, your voice hoarse and torn from crying so hard, you snap, "Don't LOOK at ME—!"

You dig your wrist into the restraint on your damaged arm, pulling to better reach the succubus. The anticipation that courses through your abused limb only makes the movement sweeter. You swing with absolute conviction, slamming your bloodied fist straight into the demon's face. Victory immediately blossoms in a bruise across her immaculate cheek. You're so utterly delighted by your success that you can scarcely see past the blooming pain in your shoulder, the residual throbbing in your chest, the wounds on your hands, or the gold glinting back at you. The succubus reels, holding a hand to her face as she nurses the damage.

It's obvious that her pain tolerance is utterly eclipsed by yours, and she has to take a moment to spit out the blood you've produced. Her breath is heavy, her chest heaving, obviously taking little gratification in your works or your absolute satisfaction. Her eyes finally dart up to you, the sockets of starlight bearing so much hatred and frustration that you begin to question what you're even doing.

"You can't turn into a demon because you're already something far worse, Daddy. You're so eager to ignore everyone, to just keep moving, to never once stop and question what you're doing—"

To lie is to sin.

(2/3)

>>4497465
Faster than you can blink, your mentor kneels down, and punches the wall directly next to your head. The noise is so intense, your ear rings for a few long seconds. Father Friedrich leans in, inches from your face to bark, "no fucking shit."

Your pulse is up to a mile a minute. Voice cracking— wanting to hate how thrilled you are to be so near to more violence— you mutter, "don't give me a choice."

Idonea's Catalyst was her love.

It's the only thing that matters in the world. The taste of rot, and the hand of decay.
They rot.
They suffer.

You take the Relic of Mercy into your outstretched hands. Idonea passes away. Her form crumbles, the gold and compassion fading as her light dies out. She was more than your master.

"There are so few of us left, Richard." Sneering, puffing away at the ember and ash, a King sighs, "they could not be more wrong. To fight is to die."

He screams into it, before you can warn him about the stitching. James parts his face from silks and frustration, looking to the blood on the fabric, and starts crying, hard. He barks, "don't you dare touch me again." He's still laughing. It's horrible. "I can't help it. This is all there is to it. To me. One second I'm on the top of the world, and the next I might as well be back underground. I don't know anyone who gets angrier— and over the littlest fucking shit— all I do is hurt other people, and push them away. You're probably the first person who's ever tried to even listen. But you should know! You should know I'm a piece of shit. I'm a nightmare. No one stays for long. It just gets worse, all the time." Crying too hard to speak clearly, he barely whispers, "you don't deserve it. No one does."

-----

Mercy is holding onto you as tightly as She can. A few particles of dust can be seen drifting through the beams of morning sunlight, in hues of stained glass. "This is my burden to bear. This is who I am. This is what I am. How can I justify myself? How can I disregard the suffering of all of humanity? I cannot ignore your plight, Richard, but I cannot stop it. It will continue. You live. You die. I feel it all, and cannot change a thing. I can impart my love, and light, but to what end?" Your shoulder is damp with tears, as the blonde presses Herself against you. "If I could bury myself alive. I have been selfish, and denied Our children a guiding hand for far too long. I am needed at home. And I need you."

(Options in next post.)

>>4497469
>A] While this illuminates a LOT of questions you could be asking, you did primarily want to know what was bothering Her. It's sadistic to keep pressing your partner. Try to alleviate Her suffering. This invocation is going to cause you a lot of pain, regardless.
>1] Ask Her plainly if there's anything She can do to share this burden with you— through your Relic, or otherwise.
>2] Remind Mercy of all of the good She has done, and that you will continue to do together.
>3] Helping an immortal will not happen through a single conversation, and you can hold off of further study for the moment. Back up, away from the entire issue, and ask Her if She'd like to simply spend the day together in the church.

>B] This illuminates way too many questions you could be asking.
>1] Plainly ask Mercy about Her offensive capabilities against demons.
>2] Ask how Tsilorm was capable of disconnecting you from the Gods.
>3] You need to know more about the life of Idonea, and those of her children that you already met.
>4] Specifically, why there was no intervention when Remigius tortured you, or any other experiences you had that nearly resulted in your death.
>5] For that matter, why Mercy never spoke to you at the Church of Flesh.
>6] WHAT ABOUT THE KING

>C] Write-in.

>>4497471
>A] While this illuminates a LOT of questions you could be asking, you did primarily want to know what was bothering Her. It's sadistic to keep pressing your partner. Try to alleviate Her suffering. This invocation is going to cause you a lot of pain, regardless.
>1] Ask Her plainly if there's anything She can do to share this burden with you— through your Relic, or otherwise.

>>4497471
A1 and A2

>>4497471
>>4497524
>>4497538

Supporting both, but also maybe ask a few of those questions on the docket in a softball manner. Maybe B2 and B3?

>>4497524
>>4497538
>>4497566
(Great guys, I think we can make all this work. Vote is locked! Writing now.)

>>4497590
https://youtu.be/2AyY0z_u5Tc

The rest of the world matters plenty, but you keep your eyes fixed on Hers. They're swimming with tears, and shining just as brightly as ever. "There is nothing I would like to do more. Come here," you murmur, and pull Her in to bury Her face against you.

Devastation shakes at every slight motion from the Goddess, who instantly accepts the invitation. A muffled, "I love you so much," mixes with a number of noises Mercy makes in every attempt to stop crying. It's obviously not happening.

You run a hand along the light fabric upon Her back, and whisper against the curls covering Her ears, "you never have to do this alone. Not a soul could ever deny all of the good that you've done. Most of us live for our passions, Mercy. What we care for. Joy, pain, and every other part of you—" Her arms squeeze you so tightly you can hardly breathe, but you persevere. "—you have blessed us all with what we love. Thank you for being you." Lifting Mercy's chin slightly, you keep Her just as close as She's holding you. "You saved me," you remind Her. "Even when I thought I was lost."

"You never were," She insists, squeezing you even more tightly still. Her sniffles are subsiding.

"Mercy," you wheeze, fighting with everything you have not to smile. "I can't comfort you if I suffocate."

The hold relaxes, though only enough to grant you some air. "I am not sorry, and will not let you go."

"You never have. Even Tsilorm— you remember the demon who attempted to take me away from you all—" You're given an angry nod in reply. "—not even he could keep us apart. Could he?"

"No," Mercy pouts, pulling back properly.

You take Her right back into the hug. She's happy to return it, and you can feel the smile pressing against your robes as you murmur, "you never have to pretend, and— and I know you would never lie to me. But I— it is difficult at the best of times to understand it all. Particularly what I've been through. What we both have endured. What happened?"

She sighs, "he made you lose sight of what you loved."

Some of your worst memories flicker by, like the dirt and blood you choked on with broken ribs and punctured lungs. "He tried."

"Nothing can take your faith from you, Richard." The hold on you tightens again. "Nothing."

"Like Idonea, and her children?"

"No," Mercy frowns. "Not like them. You are no demon."

You frown back. "Would you tell me about them? What they were like in life?"

Pulling back enough to let the light of day between you, it's clear that the morning sun is high. Beams reflect against the glass above, compensating for the few candles in the halls all around. Long shadows trace around the feet of your friends at either side. They've been quiet, and you don't care to register anyone's expression, save for that Ray is being particularly well-behaved.

(1/2)

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>>4497654
Several more moments pass by in silence. It's unbearable. The two of you still have your Relic held tightly between your hands. It clinks against both of your rings, as you shift your fingers, and place the object with Mercy's hold to your heart. "You do not need to bear the weight of the world alone. I want to share this burden with you, in any way that I can."

The light in Her eyes is dry, and getting warmer by the second. She knows you mean it. Mercy looks to everyone present, and not for permission. The Goddess of Love wants everyone around you to clearly see when She pulls you flush against Her, and kisses you deeply.

Sister Cardew and Walter start at the sudden motion, realize She's not trying to harm you, and immediately stop.

You only keep your eyes open for a moment, before sinking closer against Mercy. Returning Her enthusiasm is another blessing. The two of you likely linger for longer than necessary. There is no strange change in your body. No colossal burden. No chores, tasks, missions, or even a quest. Only a need for oxygen has the audacity to interrupt.

Pulling away breathlessly, you gasp, "is that a yes?"

"Yes," you're told through a melancholy smile. "This is all I want, Richard. You are all that I need. Stay with me. Grant me with the will to carry on. I would never wish to jeopardize your mission—"

Sister Cardew can't help herself, shakes her head, and interjects, "we're working on your communication."

"Excuse me," you snap.
"I beg your pardon," Mercy blinks.

Walter scratches at the bridge of his nose for a moment. "Answer the question. No more games."

"Walter," you start, and are kept held tightly rather than enabled to slap the back of his head.

"No," Mercy murmurs, "no games. I am not playing at anything, Walter."

Sister Cardew practically jumps up, as if she's suddenly remembered something. "I've just remembered something," she confirms, before turning to run off. "Keep an eye on them," she calls over one shoulder, turning to run. "I'll be right back!"

She's waved off by the heretic in your midst. "Hurry." Echo passes a look over you, makes a face, and then barks, "I mean it. Answer him. I don't care what hang-ups you have about old flames, or demons. You think we haven't heard enough shit to—"

You take a deep, level, incredibly patient breath. "A little respect—"

"Yes. Well," Mercy frowns. It's adorable, even though She's obviously still distressed. "Mind your language, Walter."

"No," he frowns back. For good measure, he continues, "I'll say whatever I please, particularly if you aren't keen on talking. For all the trouble that Father Anscham has gone through. Do you think you're helping him? Honestly?"

Mercy raises Her eyebrows at the heathen. "Are you satisfied?"

"No," he retorts. "Answer him already. You're making his life even more difficult, for fuck's sake."

(Options in next post.)

>>4497655
>A] Tell Walter plainly to treat Mercy with the same respect he would show you, at minimum, regardless of his beliefs. Stress the same to Harriet, if necessary.

>B] You can be plenty intimidating when necessary. A non-verbal approach might be more prudent. Give Mercy a little time to summon the verve to delve into a delicate subject, given Her more delicate sensibilities.

>C] The Goddess of defense can hold Her own. You all are going to be living together, and would rather work out any conflict now, than later. Leave it to the two of them to work this out of their system. You'd be lying if you said you weren't hideously curious if She even can argue.

>D] It's completely reasonable to ask everyone to stay civil, and to stick up for yourself. Be a little more assertive.

>E] Write-in.

>C

>>4497659
>E] Write-in.
Walter, please realize you're antagonizing a god. Do you want to upset her enough to turn you into gold?

>>4497659
>C] The Goddess of defense can hold Her own. You all are going to be living together, and would rather work out any conflict now, than later. Leave it to the two of them to work this out of their system. You'd be lying if you said you weren't hideously curious if She even can argue.

>>4497762
>>4497806
>>4497812
(Great dudes, vote is locked. Staying up for a bit, writing now!)

>>4497847
This is the Goddess of defense, and absolutely can hold Her own. With an utterly straight face (and a moderate amount of fear,) you say, "Walter. Please realize you are antagonizing a Goddess. Do you want to upset Her enough to turn you into gold?"

"You've got to be shitting me," Walter replies.

A dangerously charming smiling is fired towards you. Mercy wiggles Her fingers menacingly towards your friend, and puts on a ridiculously sinister voice. "You will know when he is joking."

"Mercy," the heathen rolls his eyes.

Dropping Her hands, Mercy asks, "yes?"

"I meant—" Exasperated, Walter groans. "Never mind. The question, Mercy."

"Do you promise to behave yourself," She asks.

"This is not a debate," Professor Echo scowls.

"It absolutely is not," your partner smiles.

You attempt to hide your mortification behind a weak smile. Walter looks to you for a reply. You smile a little harder. Your face is hurting. Everything hurts, for that matter, despite the Relic in hand. Walter makes another gesture towards your face. "This is what I'm talking about."

"What is," Mercy asks, looking up to you quizzically. She uses the side of one thumb to brush a few more flecks of gold off from beside your lips. The slight motion feels spectacular, and there's immediate relief. She might as well have kissed you again, were it not for the accusing glare fired off to Walter. "He is fine. I will make sure of it."

He continues to scowl. "Why are you so reluctant to answer the damn question?"

Grief is written all across Her, in an instant. "Because he already misses them. Because I miss them."

The blasphemous fiend, the possibly suicidal nobleman, the so-called gentleman continues to argue, "avoidance is no way to deal with grief."

An entirely understanding stare bores into Walter. "You are frustrated."

"Obviously," he scowls.

"You want to know what it is like."

You can't help but notice She's fluctuating hard between scowling, and attempting a neutral expression. It looks painful. "I can't," Walter admits. "Even if you could force me to, I wouldn't know the extent of it. Just being around so many of us is hurting you, isn't it?"

"It does not have to," Mercy continues to frown. "All I ask for is compassion, Walter."

The gentleman grumbles. "All I ask for is the truth. This is foolish. Unbelievable." More loudly, looking to the ceiling, he spits, "fine."

"Richard," Mercy quietly says.

"Yes," you murmur in return.

"Your friends really are looking out for you, you know."

"They have everyone's best interests at heart, Mercy."

"Not all of us are immortal, or can invoke Time," Walter drawls.

Mercy finds a spot on the pew to get everyone seated. Ray finds a way to almost get himself on top of Walter. It's stupid. Your dog is a genius, Mercy loves it, and insists on everyone waiting until Sister Cardew returns to say another word.

(1/2)

>>4497914
The priestess comes running back, red-faced, with a number of pieces of parchment. You're all assured it can wait, as every mortal present settles in, and looks to a Goddess. She's staring wistfully off into the distance, towards the opposite end of the church. The altar. Your stage. Her home.

In a clear voice, though so soft you almost can't hear it, Mercy begins, "Idonea wanted to be a good Mother, more than anything. In life, her diligence came with little reward. Her faith did not ultimately lie in me. She excelled as a caretaker, and a war general. Not as a lover. Not as my partner. Never as a priestess."

A pained, and entirely sincere smile comes back down to earth, and to you. "She never loved me, Richard. But she loved her children, more than anyone. More than anything. She stopped at nothing to betray the crown. To protect them. The lowest of her followers— her most devoted children— made her work possible. She sheltered them with everything she had." Her smile falls. "Even long after the bitter end."

Mercy's gaze falls directly onto Walter. "I could show you all how it felt, but it would be cruel. She wouldn't have wanted anyone to know. Which is exactly why I will tell you everything."

The scholar grins as if he's found out he'll be a father all over again, and finally keeps quiet. Shifting to take your hand once more, Mercy softly states, "the year was 1400."

Everyone present shifts, but remains completely silent. Birds can be heard chirping outside the church's highest windows.

"A new order was to reign. The theocracy was to be dismantled, and Spirit was to reign supreme. A mad King thought he could save all of humanity, through a collective understanding. Not all of his subjects were pleased. Those who feared for their livelihoods took it upon themselves to retaliate. Lords, in their castles. Some took the news harder than others." Closing Her eyes, Mercy squeezes your hand. "I know how much Yech means to you. I imagine it has been very lonely for him."

Sighing, you try to not get too upset. "He cherishes my friendship as much as I do his. I'm certain of it."

"He was not loved in life, Richard. His wives—" Mercy laughs a little at the look you give Her. "He didn't tell you?"

"He mentioned one," you reply.

"He killed several before the last," Mercy frowns, "and she was wiser than the rest. He still got her in the end, of course."

You dryly echo, "of course."

"But along went the rest of the nobility. He killed them all, Richard. Down to the very last. The countrysides were razed by a demon of Agriculture— who was bent on giving a new leader their just reward." Putting a hand to Her temple, Mercy sighs, "there were others. But your friends. I— I know you want to hear about Remigius."

(Options in next post.)

>>4497928
>A] You'll save your questions for when She's done speaking, and trust that Mercy will continue. Of course you want to hear about Remigius.

>B] Ask for a VERY brief note on anything you actually should know about Remigius, and nothing more.

>C] You're a glutton for just about everything, but Remigius is one individual you actually had enough from.
>1] Politely ask Mercy if there's anything more She can tell you about Yech.
>2] You really just want to know what She knows about Idonea.
>3] This all is making you horrifically uncomfortable already. It might be that you've been through a LOT, or just a distaste for anything even vaguely resembling gossip, but this doesn't feel right.

>D] Interrupt the retelling. You can't help yourself. (Write-in.)

>>4497930
>>A] You'll save your questions for when She's done speaking, and trust that Mercy will continue. Of course you want to hear about Remigius.

The truth and nothing but the truth.

>>4497930
>>A] You'll save your questions for when She's done speaking, and trust that Mercy will continue. Of course you want to hear about Remigius.

>>4497963
>>4498034
(Aaaaayyyyy unanimous vote. Alright! Locking here, writing now!)

>>4497930
>C] You're a glutton for just about everything, but Remigius is one individual you actually had enough from.
>1] Politely ask Mercy if there's anything more She can tell you about Yech.

>>4497963
>>4498034
>>4498055
>>4498035
Further questions can wait. Eye contact can wait. Everything else in the world can wait. "Of course," you mutter. "The truth, and— and nothing but the truth."

Sister Cardew shifts a little more. She's entirely familiar with your experiences with the succubus. Walter is not, nor is Ray, and possibly neither is Mercy. The Goddess gives you, and the way you're teasing the ring around your left hand a weary smile.

https://youtu.be/FbmnDBDHWKc

"She was a Queen."

"Excuse me," you breathe.

Sister Cardew shifts a lot more. Her glasses are fussed with. It's like she thinks she can get more answers simply by looking at your partner. "The churches of Spirit and Flesh have historically been at odds, but—"

"Her sabotage was what led to the fall of Ostedholm," Mercy explains, reflecting every bit of your expression back at you. "Her understanding of the country's might. Its military. Its men. She took her partner's trust, his intimacy, and all of his love— and turned it inwards. The betrayal was absolute. She is a demon of Flesh, through and through. She always has been. It is no miracle that it took her so long to turn. She was a curse, Richard. A calculating, cold, curse."

"Mercy," you continue to breathe, as a nonstop reminder that you are not being choked, nor are you suffocating, nor are you shackled to the floor, or being beaten in a cage. "How did she— Idonea, I mean—"

"She believed that the ends justified the means." Your lover looks like She could cry all over again. "Idonea knew that if she wished to destroy her opponents, and to save the lives of her family, she could stop at nothing." Mercy's brow furrows deeper, looking to you with so much pain your heart could break. "She never looked back."

"I understand." You really can't breathe. You need something to ground you. Anything. "How does— how does Yech— is there anything else you could tell me about him—"

Nodding slightly— trying to keep Her composure— Mercy immediately continues, "they banded together, under a covert banner. Idonea did not take her efforts to the forefront. Not initially. She was a Mother of the church, and did not fall until the very end. Her proximity to the King was entirely too important. Yech granted her the resources she needed to build an army, as he slipped further, and further from his humanity. I believe his study of Magic began at a terribly young age. He was hideously powerful. Is hideously powerful." In a low voice, holding your hand all the tighter, Mercy murmurs, "you showed him what it is to know Mercy."

Taking Her hands between both of your own comes without question. "How could I not—?"

Concern is soaking into the Goddess, and you're positive it's purely for your ally. "The depravities of his court were legendary. I have no inkling of how far he's strayed from Our light. How much damage he has wrought."

"His cave," you insist, "had a few spiderwebs."

(1/2)

>>4498080
Everyone in the pew looks to you as if you're insane.

Walter eventually laughs. You give him an appreciative smile. To Mercy (far more seriously,) you insist, "he knows of Mercy. I hold him as near and dear an ally as anyone else who would risk everything they hold dear in your name. Your name."

"Our name," Mercy smiles in return.

There's a long, lingering, uncomfortable pause. It stretches out, farther and longer than any train you could run down the church's aisle.

The Goddess beside you cuts the dust in the air with the edge of Her remarks. "King Samuel's clergy were psychotically devoted to his cause. There was a failed attempt. The premise was not to unite only mortal hearts and minds."

A sickly-sweet scent is all up in the back of your throat. Swallowing is out of the question. There's a strong urge to gag.

Lilies are often used by the Church of Spirit to mask the scent of the deceased.

"They wished to bring back those who had fallen. The living, and the dead. He was utterly insane, Richard. No one blamed Remigius for betraying Him. No one was surprised when His clergy began to die off, one by one."

"All—" The hands were of men, women, and children. "All twenty—"

"His family. Yes." Mercy looks nearly as upset as you feel. "They all volunteered, you know. To better understand." An almost-dirty look is fired to Sister Cardew, and to Walter in turn. "To know."

"Why," Sister Cardew finally gasps. It's obvious she hasn't been breathing properly. "How could they have possibly—"

"Deeper," you interject.

"What—"

"The skies darkened. Perpetual flame seemed to define the long halls. Your achievements became so much rubble and soot. It was only fitting, for your people to seek out light. Illumination was treasured by your King, and He took the request with open arms. With the help of a Mother of Mercy, radiance defined your greatest city. Her hands were always open. You wished to do the same. You reached out to all of the people you buried. Your friends within the church, at home, and by your side were all within your grasp. You refused to hide any longer. They knew you, as you knew them. Keeping hold on one another kept you sane. You couldn't let go. You were devastated, as the years dragged on. You dragged so many of them into the ground. With them, you buried your wisdom. The desire to serve slipped through your calloused fingers."

You've been talking for several moments, and only now in your own voice. A shaking hand goes to your lips, and it's a little more difficult to tell who's speaking. "You buried your family."

Mercy takes your violently shaking hand back in Her own, and corrects, "they buried themselves."

Sister Cardew takes in a sharp breath. "Your work with Father Sullivan."

"It was fleeting," you murmur. Something is horribly wrong. "Something is wrong."

Walter gives you a look like you're stating the obvious again, but you have to clarify.

(Options in next post.)

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>>4498081
>A] The dates are wrong. Nothing is adding up.

>I] No one wanted to leave the ruins.

>H] How much did Yech lie to you about?

>B] Beltoro never wanted to hurt anyone.

>F] There has never been a Queen in Corcaea.

>E] Sister Cardew ALWAYS smelled like lilies when you first met her.

>D] Father Sullivan wanted to continue your work in Calunoth.

>G] Why are you physically manifesting gold? This hasn't happened in months.

>C] Write-in.

>>4498086
>C] Write-in.
Hope is the most dangerous thing to grant to the hopeless. That's why they dug so deep, why they kept going on despite them turning.

>>4498086
>>A] The dates are wrong. Nothing is adding up.
1400 of what calendar? We're in 606 now right in the current system?

>>4498086
>A] The dates are wrong. Nothing is adding up.
>F] There has never been a Queen in Corcaea.

>>4498086
>>4498112
^this

Though is seems all of these questions have merit.

(Good morning all! Should say afternoon. Taking care of an errand at the moment but I'll be able to run a session as soon as I'm back. Voting window is open until then.)

>>4498112
>>4498141
>>4498148
>>4498289
>>4498384
(Ah to hell with it, going to try writing sooner. Vote is locked! Writing now!)

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

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Your fixation with Time is the thing of legend. "Mercy, you said the year was 1400—" Everyone in the room is staring. This can't wait for anything. "Of— of what system? Of what country? Of what race? We are in the year 606. These dates are wrong. Nothing is adding up."

"What do you mean," Mercy says, staring you down.

Seconds are precious to you. Minutes are a treasure without compare. Entire years are seared into the fabric of your mind, and you rattle off without hesitation, "Idonea had lost her mind after over one thousand, five hundred, and six years of giving everything she had. Beltoro had spent well over seven hundred years simply thinking. The fall of Ostedholm came about during the reign of King Samuel— yet their texts named four Kings. Four. King Magnus has reigned in Corcaea for nearly one hundred years. I'm not certain of the figure, but Agriculture has confirmed that King Vaughn— his predecessor— had led before him. There's no way this makes any sense. Archdemon Arkthros has lived one thousand, eight hundred, and ninety eight years, and heard of them all, including— including King Thaddeus. The Timely."

"Time would be able to help you more with this," Mercy frowns. "I know Idonea turned several hundred years prior to descending beneath the land of Corcaea."

Walter twitches. "What?"

"The land was razed by a demon of Agriculture, as it often is," Mercy patiently explains.

"Often," you, Walter, and Harriet all echo in moderate horror.

"The ages are marked by the fall of humanity. You do not count the years in darkness, and in sin. You count the light, and Time spent in rebuilding."

Horror beyond horror worms its way through your tone. "Hope is the most dangerous thing to grant to the hopeless."

"Yes," Mercy immediately replies.

"You think Father Sullivan was wrong," Sister Cardew says. It's not a question.

It's hard to breathe. "That's why they dug so deep. That's why they— that is why they kept going on, despite them turning. Mercy—"

She's adamant about not letting go of your hands. The urge to fuss with your hair, to pick at the hem of your clothes, and every other nervous motion is stilled. Her warmth is incredibly reassuring, when every last word is not. "Many of the ruins that cover the land are not reclaimed. Much of our home is lost. Humanity is on the verge of annihilation. You are my hope, Richard. Beyond, before, and above all others."

"You know I feel the same—" You nervously laugh, eyeing the gold stuck under your fingernails. "—this has not happened in months."

"The invocation is taxing you horribly," Mercy apologetically explains. "I will support you for as long as I am able. Spending so much of our efforts on Time, and demons, and sin—"

Rapidly, you try to explain, "Beltoro never wanted to hurt anyone."

"They thought so," Mercy replies. "The reality was anything but."

(1/3)

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>>4498513
"The calendar," Walter vacantly mutters. "Do the systems vary, too?"

Your sunflower simply gives an apologetic smile. With a sigh, collapsing slightly against Mercy, you rest your temple against Her's. The pain that's being staved off is working into utter exhaustion. "Father Sullivan wished to continue our work in Calunoth," you recall. "He left the capital without a word of good-bye. We worked so hard to set things right. To mend our affairs. He swore to me— he swore to me that he would not rest until things were set right—"

In a whisper, Mercy reminds you, "he has his own children to look after— while remaining trapped in a nightmare of his own making. I do not know his Spirit. I know of his pain, and that it easily eclipses that which would break most mortal men." Resting Her own temple further against yours, Mercy murmurs, "the trials your allies face cannot be understated. I know how dearly you wish to help them all. You will. But not by ignoring Our plight at home."

Not everyone has a Goddess so eager to be by their side. Gently squeezing Mercy's hand in turn, you can't help but stress, "there has never been a Queen in Corcaea."

A flash of red-hot anger almost makes you draw back. Mercy does draw back, and spits, "Remigius was no Queen of the living. While Idonea turned from me, our family, and our home, her ally lorded over the ashes."

Sin was more than revelry, debauchery, or a stage within the Abyss, at the bottom of the world. "She led an army."

"She leads the army," Mercy reminds you. There is no terror in Her eyes. There's an ancient hatred, and more appreciation for your sacrifices than She can verbally express. You're taken back into a tight hug. "Kept at bay by your hands."

"How much did Yech lie to me about," you manage to choke out. Spots are in your eyes. Ray whines helpfully, but keeps his distance. He doesn't seem decided on what to make of Mercy's dramatically more human appearance, and settles on nudging Her with his nose.

"I am certain," Mercy gently replies, scratching at his ears, "that if you treasure his company as dearly as you say, that he must have respected Our tenets in some capacity. A demon of generosity would surely wish to give you the truth, too."

There's some scritching of quills on parchment. Sister Cardew seemed unable to help but to take a few notes. In a pained way, she asks, "Mercy?"

The Goddess lifts Her head Harriet's way, despite being significantly taller than the priestess. The effect leads to your lover looking down at your counselor. "You are worried for him."

"Your help is invaluable," Sister Cardew tries, "but he is only human. Is there anything that can be done to alleviate the impact of...?" The quill in her hand gestures vaguely to Mercy's form.

(2/3)

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>>4498516
An apologetic look is directed towards everyone present. "Not when the rest of your friends are even less agreeable." Given the smile cast up at you, She might be joking. The anguish just under the surface of Her features say it's anything but.

"You can't just heal him," Walter dead-pans. He crosses his arms. Archdemons are less irate.

With a few sparks in Her eyes, Mercy informs you, "I cannot. Not from this. But we can always make the most of your efforts."

"This doesn't answer any of my questions about the Relic," you weakly smile.

"You are the Father of Compassion," you're quietly reminded, by the lover at your side. "Idonea was the Mother of Protection. Her Relic was not used to unite the hearts of others, or to turn violence to good-will. She upheld the city of lights, Richard. She built Ostedholm, as you know it."

"For defense," Walter echoes. "Not only to keep the rest of the world out."

Mercy bitterly concurs, "to keep them all in. Her power was hideously twisted. A mockery of my works. My love. My meaning." You're held all the tighter. "Giving yourself was everything you needed to reshape her meaning, Richard. You should know better than anyone how much misery resulted from her efforts. It was folly."

>A] You know you'll speak to Mercy again soon, but there's your health to think of. Have some faith that your friends will make sure you're alright, and release the invocation.

>B] It could hurt to prolong the invocation, but you are a gentleman, a lover, and haven't seen Mercy in three weeks.
>1] Ask your friends for a little privacy, here in the church. You really want a few more quiet moments alone.
>2] The room you've kept in the castle for most of your life is a far cry of something befitting a Goddess. Take Her to a more appropriate location. You'd like some quality time together, even if you're already worn out.
>3] The room you've kept in the castle is humble, but you're attached to it, and like the idea of collapsing somewhere familiar, with someone you love.

>C] There's so many questions this raises, and you want to at least try to get a few more answers. (Write-in.)

>>4498518

Before I vote can this be translated into stupid? Some clarification is much needed.

>>4498585
(Absolutely. Writing now.)

File: Time.png (2.2 MB, 794x1028)

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>>4498585
>>4498629
"Some clarification is needed," you mutter, wresting a hand free if only to put it to your temples.

This is the Goddess of emotion. Not logic. Not clarity. She's not down-to earth in the slightest, and it's fine. This is fine.

Mercy, Sister Cardew, Walter, and Ray give you an incredibly patient look, as you try to sort everything out. "The earliest dated period I am aware of is the year 1898, when Arkthros had turned from his Catalyst. He was an old man at the Time, and had multiple generations of children. There must have been a civilization prior to that date, even. But," you look to Mercy for confirmation, "you are telling me that our dates are not measured chronologically. Not necessarily."

"No," She immediately replies.

Before any loftier notions can be thrown your way, you continue, "our ages are measured from the fall and rise of demonic empires." A nod of confirmation, and a slight bob of Mercy's curls is all you need to go on. "The year is 606. It has been 606 years since a similar event occurred, then. A fall of humanity. Demonic control over the land."

"Yes."

"So it stands to reason that King Thaddeus "the Timely" interfered with the way His kingdom measured Time. The dates Arkthros provided may not reflect how many years humanity has persisted in Corcaea for. Not as I know of our years, and not as I know of Time. Is that correct?"

"Yes," Mercy nods. She looks confused, and apologetic. "I am so sorry, Richard. I never have had a fair enough mind for these matters."

You give her a hug. "You know with certainty that King Samuel reigned during Idonea's life."

She returns it, delighted. "Of course."

"He was serviced by a clergy of Spirit, comprised of at least twenty members. All twenty of them voluntarily sacrificed their lives, and became the demon I know as Beltoro." Sister Cardew is looking over her notes, but otherwise no one interrupts. "They did so," you have a splitting headache, "because they— along with King Samuel— wished to save humanity. Their misguided, insane idea was to somehow connect humanity through a collective understanding. It worked to an extent for Beltoro, and enabled the dead to survive along with the living. Yet— yet the act of it—" Mercy shakes Her head. "the reality of it drove them utterly mad."

(1/3)

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>>4498701
Your partner looks a little ill, but simply nods again. Both hands go to your forehead. The pain is blistering. "Idonea, along with the King's court, found out about their plan. Idonea feared for the safety of the kingdom, while Yech feared for his own livelihood. While Idonea kept her plans covert, stayed close to King Samuel, and learned how to undo His efforts, Yech set the country on fire. Literally. He poisoned his own men, murdered his wives, and set about destroying all order. He aimed to sabotage the King's efforts, even if it destroyed his own life and soul in the process. They— he and Idonea were natural allies, and Remigius was— was a catalyst of a different sort."

The heat of the church is stifling. You're wearing altogether too much fabric for the season, or aren't breathing as well as you could be. "She— Remigius was his mistress?"

A sad smile casts up at you, from a particularly delicate woman. "Remigius did not rate a name in life, Richard, but was called many things. Mistress was one of them. Yes."

"A whore," Walter says bluntly.

The mop of your hair practically stands on end, as you whip a glare towards him. "Walter."

Mercy almost laughs, but gives him a stern frown, instead. "That was a much more common moniker, yes. Though not forever. Her proximity to the King ultimately granted her power, resources, and the ability to work her way into all of his affairs. She commanded respect from the people. Her followers were absurdly devout."

"This—" sighing hard, you try to focus. "So she was not his wife."

"No."

"She was not a queen in life."

"Not in name, no."

"She effectively ruled Corcaea, and Idonea discovered Remigius' potential to destroy Corcaea's theocracy? But that— that was King Samuel's plan from the start."

"King Samuel only wished to dismantle the theocracy, so that His monarchy could reign supreme. Idonea disagreed with his methods. It mattered not." Mercy softly reminds you, "she fell."

The pain behind your eyes is splitting. "So— so Idonea was insane, too. But her intention was to save her children. She allied with Remigius, and with help from several others— other demons, I presume—"

"Yes," Mercy frowns. "You met many of them. We saved many more."

Trying to not get too distracted by the use of saving demons to describe killing them, you mutter, "Idonea succeeded in destroying the country. She used her Relic to protect her followers, built Ostedholm, and began delving below the earth. Beltoro took care of the deceased, and established the archives of Ostedholm. They attempted to salvage their lives, but several hundred years passed, and a new age came about. Our current age. Darkness took over the halls of their home. Something happened, around the Time that King Vaughn came to power."

Sister Cardew sniffs. The dust might be getting to her. She's stopped writing. "We are still missing a tremendous amount of information. Try not to get distracted."

(2/3)

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>>4498703
It's difficult to not twitch at the memory of how many history books you and Celegwen destroyed. "The bulk of what was recorded within Ostedholm's libraries was legend. I believe they do not know what transpired, either. The children of Idonea languished— and she kept them all there. The pretense was protection, but in reality—"

"They rotted," Walter says plainly. "Most of the demons within her domain were completely consumed by their passions. She did give them hope, but it had been twisted beyond any use. Nothing could be learned from staying there."

"Not nothing," Sister Cardew interjects. A pointed look is given towards you.

Your vision is swimming. "King Samuel's reign was eclipsed, and the reign of King Vaughn led to another blight against humanity. King Vaughn attempted to take down the Gods, rather than to save humanity outright. He made an alliance of his own with— with some demons. I am not— I am not entirely certain of the details. But the land was cursed. Those who remained on the surface suffered, his reign ultimately came to an end— and in the last century, King Magnus came into power." You feel exhausted. "This truly raises more questions than it answers. Mercy, you said that Idonea's relic enabled her to create the city of lights?"

"Yes," She nods. It's not that your vision is swimming. You're definitely, physically wavering, and are gently taken to be held against Her chest. It's devastatingly soft. "You are a man of light, and compassion, but you also serve so many others, Richard."

Walter gives the Goddess an entirely unamused look, that you barely catch from the edge of your sight. "You research has been ongoing," the scholar says to you without any real question.

"For years," you mumble. Mercy smells vaguely like lemon, and honey, and sunlight, and a complete absence of rain. Sleeping sounds spectacular. Not wracking your brain over hundreds of years of demonic history sounds spectacular.

"You only just now have been able to speak at length to any deity, is that right," Echo asks.

"Yes," you and Mercy say in unison.

"Thank you," the gentleman sincerely says, to both of you.

There's no surprise in Mercy's tone, as She genuinely replies, "you are very welcome."

(Options in next post.)

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>>4498705
>A] Maintain the invocation. (A roll will be required.)
>1] You seriously still need to ask Mercy something, or want to do more than promise to see Her again. (Write-in.)
>2] Sister Cardew was going to mention something. She'll be irritated that you're willing to risk your health for it, but stress that you'd rather touch on everything right now that you can.

>B] Try and thank Mercy for the information, and release the invocation.
>1] Force yourself to continue your research for the afternoon. You have a LOT to go over with your research team. (A roll will be required.)
>2] Sleep on it. Trust that Walter and Harriet have actually delegated just about everything else, so you can focus on matters like this in the coming days.

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

>>4498707
>B] Try and thank Mercy for the information, and release the invocation.
>2] Sleep on it. Trust that Walter and Harriet have actually delegated just about everything else, so you can focus on matters like this in the coming days.

>>4498707
>B] Try and thank Mercy for the information, and release the invocation.
>1] Force yourself to continue your research for the afternoon. You have a LOT to go over with your research team. (A roll will be required.)

>>4498707
>B] Try and thank Mercy for the information, and release the invocation.
>1] Force yourself to continue your research for the afternoon. You have a LOT to go over with your research team. (A roll will be required.)

>>4499140
>>4499143
>>4499061
(Hell yes guys. Going to note the dedicated attempt to be responsible, and will go ahead with the first roll of the thread for B1!)

>Force yourself to continue your research for the afternoon.
>Roll 1d100. Best of 3 will be used.

>+10 OBSESSIVE (Your obsession with the Catalyst, its research, and dedicated attempts to look into these matters would keep anyone awake.
>+10 INSATIABLE (Eight thousand words of info dumping will not satisfy you. Another full afternoon of investigation sounds even better,)
>+10 FAITH OF A GODDESS (Mercy should be terribly proud that you want to look after Her safety and comfort.)
>-5 SLEEP DEPRIVATION (Your eyebags have eyebags.)
>-15 SOULACHE (The exhaustion on you runs deeper than the skin.)

Rolled 3 (1d100)

>>4499170

We got this, right?

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>>4499177

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>>4499177
>>4499182
(This does not bode well)

Rolled 55 (1d100)

>>4499170

Rolled 78 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>4499170

>>4499177
>>4499340
>>4499341
(Wew. Alright! Good morning all. The 88 is our bo3. Have time for a session this morning if all goes well. Writing now!)

>>4499545
The warmth of your lover's embrace.
A soft, and completely safe hold.
For the briefest of moments, your vision blacks out.
It's another gift.

"Richard," Mercy sweetly whispers.

With a groan, you shift upright and mumble, "I have this."

Extreme care is taken to pull away from Mercy. She's not concerned. A small kiss reaches up, and plants itself on your cheek. "I should go."

Pulling Her right back into your arms, you give Her enough of a squeeze to elicit a giggle. It puts some life and light right back into your eyes. She's stunning, even through the melancholy wavering all through both of your frames. "Thank you so much. For everything that you do. I— there is still— you know how much I still want to say—"

The sunlight-speckled lips just beside your cheek find their way to ending your sentence. She doesn't kiss you. Just beside your ear, you're gently reminded, "I am always with you. Here, at home— and wherever your work will lead. We will speak again soon. I promise."

It's agony to put even another inch of space between you. Your gazes linger on the other, with the last of the morning sun peeking between your silhouettes. "I love you," you murmur.

She wants you to always see Her at Her best. A bright smile flashes for just a moment. It's a beam of passion, the bed you wish you could be laying in, a hundred answers you never would have had otherwise, and brimming with the pain of all of humanity. You've never seen or heard something more genuine in all your life. "I love you too."

You release the invocation. There's a little less light, and a lot less heat. There's the ground that nearly gives way, or almost slams you in the face. Walter immediately lets out a shout, and moves to keep you from collapsing to the floor. Ray's right beside him, dutifully keeping an eye on you, but you clutch hard onto the pew at your side. The splitting pain behind your eyes flowers and bursts with every last ray of colored glass dancing along the floor. The tweeting of birds in the neglected rafters is another lance of agony.

Moving is a twisted relief. It's been weeks since the last dramatic change in your body composition, and having some additional weight is a welcome support. You're grounded! The church is still nearly empty. The wood, stone, and gold all about you is not on fire. There are no enemies, no demons, and you've dealt with infinitely worse tremor. Sure, there's probably a little extra shadow beneath your eyes, but it's hard to care. Sister Cardew is looking to you earnestly, not daring to try and keep you up.

A few moments pass by, before your breath levels. There's a smirk across Harriet's face, as she mildly observes, "She can't stand us."

Catching the last lingering remnants of flowers and honey from the absence of your lover in a deep breath, you murmur, "we have a lot of work to do."

(1/3)

>>4499580
The moment you get your composure, Ray practically slides across the pew to place himself directly next to you. If you weren't mistaken, he's smirking. Ruffling his fur, and permitting your boy to get significantly more comfortable, you try to remind everyone present, "She has never been one for conversation. She is a lover. The Mother of our church. We need to speak at further length, but I—"

Still keeping his distance, Walter agrees, "you need to talk. So do we." The scholar fusses with his ponytail, taking the entire knot out to shake out his (still relatively greasy) hair. "I hate it, but..."

The stack of parchment Sister Cardew has been handling nearly all day is obviously what she ran to obtain. The priestess is as stoic as ever, but you know her well enough by now to recognize her excitement. "Schedules, Richard."

A little more life leaves you. "I trust you all have delegated just— just about everything. I would like to focus—"

"We all ultimately answer to you. Still." Harriet says, "no matter our differences, Mercy's authority here is supreme. I would never presume to interfere with either of your affairs."

Walter has a yellow ribbon in hand, and sets about tying his hair back. "Don't get me wrong, Father. I meant every bit of disrespect. Someone needs to look out for your best interests."

You frown. "I meant every word. Your loyalty— both of your devotion to our cause— has been without compare. There is good reason I introduced you both to Her before any other."

Sniffing, and putting his nose up a bit, Echo couldn't look less satisfied with himself. "Thank you. It doesn't change the fact that She can scarcely speak. If I had any inkling of what She is dealing with, I would say it's no wonder She's struggled to—"

There's no need for you to say anything. The glare you fire is intense enough to still the skeptic's sentence entirely. Walter doesn't draw back, but fires you a concerned glance instead. "We'll see to our business. But you both still need to talk." Grumbling, he concedes, "we'll give you some space, if it makes Her more comfortable. I won't like it, but I know you can handle yourself."

The headache behind your eyes is almost blinding. You fish for the flask in your robes, to make some tea, or anything to help with the wonderful distraction. Ray looks up to you with moderate concern the moment you stop scratching at him. "What is all this about a schedule, then," you grimace.

Stacks of scrolls and parchment are neatly situated beside Sister Cardew. "You have a city to run. Each and every citizen in Eadric defers to your judgement, Richard. Our research is paramount to the very survival of humanity— but more mundane concerns will not vanish. I would like to run a few things by you. Ensure that you are comfortable with the accommodations that have been made. I would never go over your authority, or presume to know how to run your home better than you would."

(2/3)

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>>4499582
"She's been killing herself over it," Walter frowns at you. "I trust her judgement, and you should too. This is your house, though. Your home. Not even Fergant is going to give you shit about it, if there's something you need done."

"And there is much that needs to be done," Sister Cardew grins.

She's grinning. You might start sweating. "You mentioned a briefing, as well."

Straightening upright, Walter launches right into it. "The return of the Father of the Church of Mercy has not gone without notice, in the holy city of Eadric. Our arrival was uneventful, but waves have been made throughout the surrounding districts. Rumors of your activity during the last—" A glance is made to Sister Cardew, for clarification.

"Approximately nine months of your absence," she starts.

"Ten months," you scowl. "Ostedholm is not in our backyard."

"Ten months of absence," Walter concludes, whistling. "It has created further disturbance for your potential authority. Your prior delegation of affairs to the former clergy of the Church of Mercy prevented any chaos from unfolding, and— there's really no other way to put it, Father. They did fine without you."

You blink. "Good. Why is this a problem...?"

"They're gone," Echo scowls. "There's two dozen of us, counting the guard and a few stragglers from Calunoth. Less than half have any experience with the Church whatsoever. You need help. Badly."

The first of MANY documents is waved at you, by Sister Cardew. "A request to the capital, for additional hands. Your address to the nation for residents will provide shelter and support for the people, Richard. But your own livelihood is a top priority. Things will only get more difficult."

Cursory glances aren't acceptable. Taking the scroll from Harriet, setting aside Yech's flask for just a moment, you see a potential requisition for one hundred clergymen and women. "This is excessive," you immediately frown. "The capital has been in shambles."

"No one has been capable of invoking Mercy," Sister Cardew flatly states. "Our meeting with Her this morning is so important, it is almost inconceivable. Everything else simply has to wait. Her work is desperately needed."

"If She won't enable the clergy to work through Her," Walter reminds you, "you both are going to be shouldering the affairs of an eighth of the theocracy. It's impossible."

>A] Get yourself something stiff to drink, and immediately approve the request for forces. Move on.

>B] Excuse yourself to your room, and invoke Mercy privately. You both honestly have a lot to talk about. Mundane affairs will still be here after you both speak privately.

>C] Remind Walter and Harriet that you swore to King Magnus that you WOULD shoulder this work yourself. There's an alternative neither of them are thinking of. (Write-in.)

>>4499583
>A] Get yourself something stiff to drink, and immediately approve the request for forces. Move on.

Make sure to note that we made that promise before we knew the entire city packed up and left, things change.

>>4499583
>A] Get yourself something stiff to drink, and immediately approve the request for forces. Move on.

>>4499583
>B] Excuse yourself to your room, and invoke Mercy privately. You both honestly have a lot to talk about. Mundane affairs will still be here after you both speak privately.

>>4499597
>>4499690
>>4499711
(Beautiful guys. Even though B isn't the majority we'll find a way to make this all work. Sticking to the majority for A now! VOTE IS LOCKED, writing now.)

>>4499583
>>B] Excuse yourself to your room, and invoke Mercy privately. You both honestly have a lot to talk about. Mundane affairs will still be here after you both speak privately.

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>>4499713
>>4499717
Swiping your flask back off the pew, you firmly state, "something stiff to drink."

The enchanted item instantly floods with hops, and such a strong scent of alcohol you have to pause. If you weren't mistaken, the batch is bad— but it continues to ferment at a demonic speed. There's an air of citrus, and herbs, to which you frown, and kick back a mouthful without further hesitation.

It's delicious, and easily some of the most potent beer you've ever had. The morning sun is a little brighter, and you have to take in a sharp breath. The utter absence of pain from imbibing something from the item has a smile across your face. Walter gives you an amused look. You hand him the flask with a raised eyebrow, and immediately stress, "the promises I made to the King came well before I knew my clergy up and left. The traitors. Things—" The taste of beer is on every word, and so is a mild buzz at the back of your skull. "—Mercy that is strong—"

Some coughing of agreement comes from your friend, who grins at you. Your flask is handed back without question, as he wipes at the edge of his mouth. "Yeah."

You work at the brew, regardless. It helps. The headache is already easing. Regardless of how much you had to eat yesterday, the absence of pain from imbibing anything is also an enormous relief. Nothing is going to keep you down today. "Go ahead and send the requisition for forces, Sister Cardew. As many as you deem necessary. Let's move on. I— the moment we all are finished here, I will speak with Mercy. Privately."

"Good." Harriet is still grinning. The items at hand are rapidly ran through, as she sorts them in some neat fashion.

The report continues, as Walter continues to cough. "The matter of your clergy is cause for extreme concern. Harriet and I are staying in the tower keep, for our safety. Harvey might be content to go mulling around town with Irefist and the rest of your guard, but they have their work cut out for them. No one is talking about shit, Father." Another glance passes over you. "They don't trust us as far as they can throw us."

You try to ignore it. "Your point?"

"Eadric owes you their lives, their welfare, and trust you to guard them. We'll keep you informed as to any issues that crop up, of course. I already have plenty of ears to the ground. Harriet has been flexing every last connection she has from Murgate—"

The priestess wrinkles her nose. "Sullivan was able to do far less damage to your reputation here, given that most of your people know better. It doesn't change the threat to our collective safety. So much as associating with you is still a threat to most of our lives, Richard." There's no trace of apology. She's simply being honest. "So there are concessions to be made for the allocation of your resources. I don't mean only the guard. You don't need it."

(1/3)

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>>4499751
"You all do," you grimace. The flask is endless, which you cap, and stash in breast-pocket within your robes. It's hard not to remember yourself, as you gesture to more papers, more seals, more agendas. "Let's see it, then."

A number of patrol routes, names of guards you have never seen before, and myriad security concerns are passed your way. Your stomach drops. "They changed everything. Not a single one— not a single one of these men were under my old employ. The roads are untouched, of course, but the— but the change of guard. There is no way we could quickly replace everyone involved."

"They have made their own men an asset," Walter grumbles. "Adrian and Theobald, is it?"

"Yes," you spit.

"They have eyes everywhere in the city. A few outside. They have to. You won't be able to breathe outside of the castle without someone hearing about it. It raises questions, Father." There's a manic light in Walter's eye. He loves questions. "So. How close do you want me to stick my nose up their asses?"

Harriet can't help but snort. "You're disgusting."

"You love it," he grins. The shark-like expression is pointed at you. "Well?"

There are no documents presented. Sister Cardew looks particularly sinister. "No records. Harvey and I have had a number of discussions regarding the castle's security, and he's agreed to take any measures necessary for its defense. Electrum has assured me no expense needs to be spared. We can readily acquire forces to manage your affairs throughout the city in the days to come— and you do not need to trouble yourself with affairs as minute as patrols, reconstruction projects, grain storage, the care of your horses, servant's quarters, the exchange of goods from surrounding cities—"

"Look." Walter's grin fades. "You can. Obviously." A thumb is jerked towards Harriet. Ray follows the motion with his nose. "But we'd much rather put your mind, and time, to better use. You shouldn't trust me, or any of the other lunatics you dragged up out of the ruins—"

"Walter," you frown, wanting to interject.

"I don't want to hear it," he sneers. "Most of us haven't had a moment's rest in years. Half of us are too crazy to keep ourselves together, let alone be reliable. Lean on her," he nods again to Harriet, "and I know you brought a few other ass-kissers from the capital—"

Your glare is harsh enough to stop his insults. "Thank you for the counsel, Walter."

Clearing her throat, Harriet adds, "if I may." You nod towards her. "I am not qualified in the least to advise a Father of the Church. At all. But," her eyes narrow, "I believe that is precisely why we will excel. Particularly where your predecessors have failed."

You raise an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

(2/3)

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>>4499753
Her smile has not faded. It's unsettling. She never smiles like this. "Some change is sorely needed." Looking around as if she's about to be struck down by lightning, Harriet leans in a little further. A few scrolls of parchment shift. "Forget tradition, Richard."

A mock gasp escapes Walter. "Heretic!"

"Quiet, you," she snips.

>Please choose ONE option from A, B, AND C.

>A] It's pretty early in the day, and the enchanted flask of an archdemon of Agriculture is not exactly a standard unit of measurement.
>1] Don't take any chances with your limits, and abstain from drinking anything else for the afternoon.
>2] You almost immediately feel better, and would like to keep it that way. Work at the ale while you have the meeting.
>3] Just switch out the alcohol for something more decent. You're supposed to be taking better care of yourself, and this is as fine an opportunity as any.

>B] You've been given a blanket request to deal with the spies of your enemies.
>1] You just want to gather information, for now. Ask your friends to be careful, and to only use the minimal amount of interaction with your guard. You want a report by the end of the week on their findings.
>2] A proactive approach is desperately needed for your friend's safety, and for your privacy. Leave it to Walter and Harriet. You would rather not know the details.
>3] Not only do you want to deal with this issue, but you would rather use a heavier hand. You're the Father of Restraint, and even the most medieval of examples is entirely justified in your position.
>4] There's something much more unorthodox you would like to do about the problem. (Write-in.)

>C] You've never been one to order people around. Not really.
>1] There are legitimately concerns of cosmic proportions on your shoulders, the metaphysics of your world, and many other issues in your hands that no one else can quite deal with as well as you. Micro-managing is not your forte, and you know you'll be given ample, experienced advice when help arrives from the capital. Trust your existing clergy with affairs in the meantime.
>2] You seriously don't trust your counsel with even mundane affairs, and need a full report on the concerns of Eadric. It's okay if it prolongs the meeting, and seriously cuts into your research. If nothing else, you'll make the time today, and try to automate as much as possible in the coming days.

>>4499756
>>A] It's pretty early in the day, and the enchanted flask of an archdemon of Agriculture is not exactly a standard unit of measurement.
>3] Just switch out the alcohol for something more decent. You're supposed to be taking better care of yourself, and this is as fine an opportunity as any.

>B] You've been given a blanket request to deal with the spies of your enemies.
>4] There's something much more unorthodox you would like to do about the problem. (Write-in.)

Feed them false information, utterly confuse them. They can be *our* assets too, if we are smart about it.

>C] You've never been one to order people around. Not really.
>2] You seriously don't trust your counsel with even mundane affairs, and need a full report on the concerns of Eadric. It's okay if it prolongs the meeting, and seriously cuts into your research. If nothing else, you'll make the time today, and try to automate as much as possible in the coming days.

This shouldn't be a permanent thing. I say we micromanage a bit at the start to set a good baseline for the others to work off of, we can slowly delegate more and more as time passes.

>>4499756
>C
>2

>>4499817
You have to choose an option from each letter big man.

>>4499825
but i can only C) post once per update..

>>4499817
A2
B3

>>4499765
>>4499817
>>4499873
(Appreciate you guys so much. Got A2, A3, B3, B4 with a write-in, and C2. Vote is locked! I'm away from my desk so the update may take an extra minute, but I'll be writing!)

>>4499966
(Ugh. Due to the quality of content I want to provide for the update, going to abstain from phoneposting and wait until I'm back at my desk. Thanks so much for your patience guys! It's currently 5:28PM EST and I intent to be home no later than 8:30.)

(Home at long last, writing now! Thanks again for your patience guys.)

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>>4500434
"I haven't forgotten a thing." Walter, Harriet, and Ray give you a curious look. Waving your flask at everyone present, you grin, "the Father of the Church of Mercy is also a priest of Agriculture. A heavier hand is needed with our enemies." To Sister Cardew, you seethe, "so feed them false information." To Walter, you declare, "utterly confuse them." Leaning back, looking to your house of gold, you muse, "my enemies are assets, too. And if they do not care to play into your hands—"

You clench a fist. There's a little madness in your eyes, and it's more than alright. "I am the Father of restraint. It is no sin to take even moderation in moderation. So let them test the bonds of my city. Permit them test your intelligence." The smile across your face broadens. Sister Cardew and Walter are mirroring it. "Let them test my mettle. They will know what it means for their fear to be justified."

Sarcasm discolors Walter's smile. "You feel right at home, don't you."

The pew against your back is just firm enough to provide the right kind of support. Looking to the gift of an archdemon, catching a little bit of the morning light against its cap and base, you mutter, "absolutely. A decent ale. One that's better for my health."

Yech's flask immediately complies. The scent of alcohol lessens dramatically. While continuing to grin, you state, "your counsel is sorely appreciated. This should not be a permanent state of affairs— but I need to know what condition has Eadric been reduced to in my absence. No less than two weeks have passed since anyone has seen to the gardens. Setting a good precedent now will better enable you all to work without my guide. Particularly— particularly as Time passes us by."

Walter straightens upright, as you pull at a fine ale. It's hearty, as fine a substitute as any for an actual meal, and isn't threatening to dull your senses. The bitter, woody blend nearly reminds you of something medicinal. It's with a sharp gaze that you meet your fellow scholar's eyes.

Echo notes, "you don't trust us to handle your affairs."

"No," you honestly reply. "But I will."

https://youtu.be/SCPrywzCQIM

"Start from the fields, Sister Cardew."

The smile falls, replaced entirely with a business-like line upon her lips. "Storm ravaged Morinburn at the beginning of the year."

"The perimeter of my city is fortified," you reply, "and we have ample drainage in the event of floods or high tide. The fields are only a fraction of our stores. Was it the fishing that was affected, or trade with the capital?"

(1/4. Get comfy.)

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>>4500591
"Supply across the board," Harriet frowns. "The weather was so poor, nothing could be gathered. Not with any efficiency. The fields suffered. Fishing cages were taken by the current. Barriers and defenses on the border were compromised. The stores within the Church of Mercy have run low, and allegedly, the Church of Storm and Agriculture did not answer a single call for aid."

The grimace you assume eclipses the priestess'. "They would have been hit hard by any invading forces. Nefret released every demon within Ostedholm, and some— and some of them must have escaped. The ruins are not in our backyard, but in Mercy's absence? A single stray could have caused massive devastation. Have the borders had any casualties—?"

Walter grimaces. "When we arrived—" He's referring to the entirety of your congregation, and their own attempts at refuge upon leaving the ruins of Ostedholm. "—there was no room for board. We were all separated, and given lodging in the church where they could scarcely fit us. The amount of injury, and loss of life was severe."

It doesn't escape you that Harvey mentioned none of this in his retelling of affairs. Sighing, noting to look into the man's memory at bare minimum, you observe, "the church was grossly understaffed."

A particularly sadistic smile crosses Echo's face. "Mick and Randy exacerbated the problem."

Swigging at the flask in hand is necessary. The buzz in your skull is from more than the alcohol. "Your own assassins. The banditry in the exterior roads had to have been extreme, given how vulnerable the borders became." Ray nuzzles a little at your arm. You oblige, wrapping a free arm around him while asking, "what is— what is our situation presently? With security?"

Taking a deep breath, Harriet explains, "forces are desperately needed at the border. They are needed in the capital. They have been needed in Murgate for nearly a year. They are needed in the city, in your company—"

"And we all are dying by the day," Walter scowls.

"They are needed in Baranfen," you finish. Ray whines. "There is chaos and war to the west, and— and our wilderness is overrun. I will speak with Mercy, and we will bolster our forces. What of the city's interior?"

"Fortunately," Harriet mentions, "your work has paid off in spades. Establishing self-sufficiency in Eadric literally bore fruit."

The tutelage you received from Mother Bethaea was without compare. "The orchards."

"Harvest should bring adequate yields," Harriet replies. "It will be slow going. But there will be supply."

"Our infirmary gardens," you demand. "Residential, and those here surrounding the church."

"We're still gathering information," Walter answers. "The clergy that occupied the church in your absence was dependent on more conventional healing methods. Much of the church's stores are damaged, or depleted entirely. There is rampant sickness in a few quarters, given that your people have been cut off from Mercy—"

(2/4)

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>>4500594
"Thank you, Walter," you interject. "I am certain that the gardens here have been neglected, but Agriculture— Agriculture and I have attended to the worst of the damage. At the very least, the recreational areas were unspoiled. King Magnus was true to His word." Walter scoffs. Around a mouthful of beer you mention, "honesty is one of our foremost tenets. He swore nothing had been damaged in my personal possession."

Harriet doesn't hesitate to resume the report. "The production of most goods within the city has come to a standstill. The population has been catastrophically low." A little strain is around all of your eyes. "The famine is over. The Church of Agriculture should have been here. Someone, or something, kept them from their duty. To monitor and requisition goods. To ensure the longevity, and wellness of the people. They should have been working in tandem with you and your clergy, Richard."

Your work in Calunoth paid dividends. "Chesty and Serpent should have arrived in Wearmoor. I know they will write. We have eyes on the ground. We will get to the bottom of this."

Sniffing, Walter mentions, "Serpent has his own agenda."

There's legitimately more pressing concerns. "Clarence will ensure he stays the course," you frown.

"There's more," Harriet sighs. You wave a hand at her. "While your work with the Church of Agriculture in years past has provided Eadric with a measure of self-sufficiency, the people are still, ultimately, at the heel of the theocracy. They have been pushed to their limit. Their livelihoods have been at stake. Subsistence has been the status quo. The population boom has resulted in more children than men, and more mouths to feed than fighters to keep the city safe. It is a delicate situation, Richard. Very delicate."

Putting a hand to his chin, Echo notes, "most people blame you, you know."

Taking a deep breath, you mutter, "I know. Mother Bethaea's death."

"Your absence," Walter says bluntly. Ray sneezes at him.

"Good boy." It is unavoidably dusty, even in the main choir. "The church was empty long before my return," you observe.

"Maintenance of the castle. Structures in the city. Most of the surrounding countryside's defenses have fallen into disrepair," Sister Cardew scowls. "The neglect was obviously intentional. They aimed to overwhelm you."

There's really one, central concern on your mind. "The gardens throughout the city? Morinburn will flow throughout Eadric, regardless of the weather. It always has. Every last household should have their needs met, so long— so long as they still had the will to fend for themselves."

"They have," Harriet frowns. "But the animosity between the people and the Church of Mercy is at its peak." She puts a hand to her glasses, adjusting them slightly away from the afternoon sun. "Your craftsmen have been heavily taxed as well."

Walter laughs, "we brought some of Calunoth's finest. They'll get a break. Claymore sure as shit won't."

(3/4)

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>>4500596
"We can manage, adjust and extend Harvest's yields," you frown. "Storm willing."

Harriet almost groans. "The foul weather and sickness has led to a decrease in productivity across the board. Wares are low for the coming months of Worship. Collection of resources for the castle may be insufficient for the number of hands we require. If it becomes necessary to cull the guard—"

"It will be," Walter interjects.

"—culling the guard," she immediately agrees, "will further exacerbate the issue of resources, and defense." It looks like the priestess is more frustrated than tired. There's a fire in the wave of her hand, as she waggles another scroll of parchment at you.

You drop the tone of your voice, and take the item from her. It's one of the first maps you drafted. Unfurling the item, you look upon a crude depiction of the first floors beneath the Church of Mercy. "Our restraint."

"Your cells. No one has been watching them, Richard." Harriet murmurs. "I know there are a few measures to uphold security, but if they get out—"

You promptly roll up the item. "We will have significantly more— infinitely more pressing concerns than smithing."

Echo laughs nervously. "Don't let Claymore hear you say that."

Gazing just past his shoulder to the altar beyond, you mumble into your flask, "there are plenty of ways to inspire the people. This is nothing We can't handle." You keep the map in hand, and ask, "you had schedules?"

"Not for you," Harriet grins. "For your clergy. Organization. Allocation of men, and adjustments to the patrols. Requisitions from surrounding countryside." She grins maliciously. "The hands of Mercy."

"We are to give," you scowl.

"Not when you have nothing left," Walter snaps. "An outbreak is inevitable. Social unrest is certain. The people are pissed, Father."

"They should be." You cap Yech's flask, and put it away. "The state of affairs is an outrage."

"There's more," Sister Cardew bemoans.

You patiently inquire, "yes?"

"James did some legwork. There's still smears being spread within Eadric against you. It's not from the Church of Spirit, either. Simply dissenters."

"Is there anything else," you murmur.

"We can expect difficulty acquiring word outside." Harriet actually looks upset. "An outbreak occurred during the last Rising Moon, and took several dozen lives. After the fire you attended to, Wearmoor's forces may be stretched even thinner."

"That isn't funny," you mutter.

"I'm not joking," she dead-pans. "It could take weeks to receive any assistance. Word from any other church lead could take longer."

"Acting quickly, and decisively, should save all of us ample trouble," Echo reassures her. To you, he quietly mentions, "taking Mercy's ability away from the city once a week has not gone over well, either. Festivals, feasts, or some other means of distracting the populace would help enormously in keeping panic to a minimum."

(Juuuust over 4/5)

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>>4500599
"You have more help than ever before," Sister Cardew reminds you. "There is no one within the castle to actively sabotage your efforts. I've made every possible accommodation. Just let me know what you need. We don't have to solve every problem in a day."

"But we will," Walter smirks.

Putting a hand to your brow, you mutter, "this is nothing we cannot handle."

>Any of the following prompts can be selected.
>Every vote cast will be implemented, if possible.
>Write-ins and discussion are strongly encouraged. Every single prompt is eligible for write-ins.
>Any vocal opposition to any vote will be taken into full consideration.
>Any subject not personally addressed will be delegated by your current counsel (or has been already).

(Options in next post.)

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>>4500602
>A] The borders of Eadric are in disarray.
>1] Write to Father Barthalomew for an assessment of the weather. You need to prepare for the coming months.
>2] Have Irefist investigate the fishing and flooding.
>3] Personally investigate the situation. (Specify today, tomorrow, some other time, or ask Harriet to make a schedule for you.)

>B] Your relationship with the Church of Agriculture could be better.
>1] You'll have to contact them. They MUST answer to you. (Write-in if you want Harriet to draft a letter, or if you want to dictate one.)
>2] You need a regular, unbiased report on their activity. Write to Chesty and Serpent immediately.
>3] Receiving Agriculture's aid would be an incredible boon. (Specify when you want to invoke Her, or ask Harriet to make a schedule for you.)

>C] There's a sickness in your city.
>1] Sister Corbon has your ability to heal. Assign her to mend the situation, by any means necessary.
>2] Hit the streets. You won't stand idly by. (Specify when, or ask Harriet to make a schedule for you.)
>3] The people need to come to you. You'll discuss the matter with Mercy.

>D] Wares are low.
>1] You'll consult Electrum regarding the management of your resources.
>2] Wait for word from the capital, and don't requisition any supplies from the people until then.
>3] You will make the time for a separate meeting regarding the finances of the city. (Specify when, or ask Harriet to make a schedule for you. Feel free to specify who you want to attend.)

>E] Your reputation is in shambles. You have an inkling of how bad things are, but this requires your personal attention... (specify when, or ask Harriet to make a schedule for you.)

>F] Your people are irate, and for good reason. It's too much to cover in one day, but you will see to affairs... (specify when, or ask Harriet to make a schedule for you.)

>G] You've guaranteed that Mercy will be denied to the rest of the world at least one day a week. Bring the meeting to a close, as soon as you finish sorting out your immediate concerns. Go invoke Her now.
>1] This can't wait another day, and you'll come back to your research regarding your Relic.
>2] There's so much to do, you honestly are alright with not promising to return to your research today. You don't want any Time pressure while seeing to Mercy's needs.

>H] The demons beneath the Church of Mercy are no laughing matter.
>1] Save for Mercy, virtually everything else will come after you look into the matter.
>2] At minimum, you want to reconvene today to address the research material you've been putting off. You'll look into the matter immediately after.
>3] There's too many other concerns on your mind. It has to wait until... (specify when, or ask Harriet to make a schedule for you.)

>I] Write-in anything else you want to delegate, micro-manage, or ask for more information on.

>>4500603
>C] There's a sickness in your city.
>1] Sister Corbon has your ability to heal. Assign her to mend the situation, by any means necessary.
Get down with the sickness

>A
>1
preparation is key

>B
>2
Throw people at problems

>D
>3
This, we have to secure means to feed our people or there wont be anyone to help

>E is nonessential, it changes with our actions

>F, dont we have community leaders to rally our people?

>G
>2
Take it Ezpz

>H
>3
If we can postpone demon dealings for now we should do so, even though demons are heckin epicerino honkers :^)))))

>I
a cup of coffee and contact the peasantries elders, have to organize shit from bottom up when it comes to production and stability.

>>4500603
What the actual fuck.
>A 1
>B 1 Harriet
>C 1
>D 1
>EF Harriet
>G 2
>H 1
>I Drink alot of fucking alcohol because this shit is stressful

wtf was this billion choices vote

>>4500603
>>4500701
Support

>>4500603
>A] The borders of Eadric are in disarray.
>1] Write to Father Barthalomew for an assessment of the weather. You need to prepare for the coming months.
>2] Have Irefist investigate the fishing and flooding.

1 for future projections 2 for getting an accurate report of what is happening at home.

>B] Your relationship with the Church of Agriculture could be better.
>2] You need a regular, unbiased report on their activity. Write to Chesty and Serpent immediately.
>3] Receiving Agriculture's aid would be an incredible boon. (Specify when you want to invoke Her, or ask Harriet to make a schedule for you.)

2 is the reason we sent them there in the first place, 3 makes sense and will help with getting closer to Agriculture herself.

>C] There's a sickness in your city.
>1] Sister Corbon has your ability to heal. Assign her to mend the situation, by any means necessary.

Can't have people dying

>D] Wares are low.
>1] You'll consult Electrum regarding the management of your resources.

>E] Your reputation is in shambles. You have an inkling of how bad things are, but this requires your personal attention... (specify when, or ask Harriet to make a schedule for you.)
>F] Your people are irate, and for good reason. It's too much to cover in one day, but you will see to affairs... (specify when, or ask Harriet to make a schedule for you.)

Whenever there is time we should at least to try to hear the people out.

>G] You've guaranteed that Mercy will be denied to the rest of the world at least one day a week. Bring the meeting to a close, as soon as you finish sorting out your immediate concerns. Go invoke Her now.
>2] There's so much to do, you honestly are alright with not promising to return to your research today. You don't want any Time pressure while seeing to Mercy's needs.

She seems easily overwhelmed so this is probably the most efficient way to go about it.

>H] The demons beneath the Church of Mercy are no laughing matter.
>1] Save for Mercy, virtually everything else will come after you look into the matter.

If the sin bois go for a night on the town everything else we do is pointless. This is paramount.

just invoke time and do all this shit yourself :^)

>>4500701
supporting this
>>4500603

>>4500701
>>4500841
>>4500911
>>4500989
>>4500994
>>4501012
(Deeply appreciate all of you guys. What the fuck indeed. Locking the vote here! As previously stated, virtually everything not directly opposed will be incorporated! Writing now!)

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>>4501082
The urge to swear is intense. It's easy to remember why you left. Why the company of monsters was preferable to the affairs of thousands of mortals crying out in pain. There's a reminder on your person of relaxation, and relief, and a better time. Keeping a hand to your brow, and Yech's flask in the other, you mutter to yourself, "something to help with the stress. Alcohol. The brew from Beorward's sick ward. Anything."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D6KRIMASing

Steam rises from the small item, as you continue to fantasize about invoking Time to solve every last issue yourself. An aroma of caramel, in a smoky blend of brandy and a jet-black liquid hits you like the morning sun. There's a little more energy in you as you work at the drink. As a masochist, the insanely bitter and scalding hot mix is exactly what you need. It's laced with something unbelievably fine, a liquor that compliments its energizing partner completely. The flask is endless, you probably drink significantly more than anyone should, wonder for a moment if you're even capable of having a limit, and eventually come up for air.

There's a flush on your face, and you feel astronomically better. Much more than you rightfully should. Sister Cardew, Walter, and Ray give you a concerned look. The latter demands a head pat. You oblige, while continuing to nurse the exquisite relief in hand. Feeling full shouldn't be so sweet, but you embrace it. There's work to do.

"There is a sickness in my city," you begin, "and I will not turn a blind eye to my people's pain." You take another swig (it's better than the last), and order directly to Sister Cardew, "I gave Spangle my healing. As the hands of my church, she will extend herself towards every last citizen. I grant Sister Corbon permission to attend to the sick and dying of Eadric— by any means necessary."

The priestess before you has yet to take any further notes. There are many schedules present, and a respectful nod. She's still eyeing you with some worry, but simply says, "as you wish. What else?"

"Father Bartholomew and I have yet to maintain proper correspondence," you note. "We must prepare for our future. Preparation for the coming Worship is key. I will request an assessment directly—directly from the Father of the Church of Storm. His experience is without compare, his counsel is needed—" The drink is helping enormously with the stresd of the situation. You pull at it (and the flush on you is a little more intense), before stating in a quiet tone, "it is high Time I addressed my *letters*, Sister Cardew."

Walter shifts. "Someone's been tampering with your correspondence?"

"Another time," Harriet interjects. She's trying her best not to sneeze, and obtains a stack of blank parchment. "Go on, Richard."

(1/3)

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>>4501196
"Irefist," you insist, "has the keenest eyes in our company. His experience with our—" The pause you typically take in your speech is a blessing! It's a moment to quaff a little more liquid energy. By all the Gods, is overindulging another relief. Your voice picks up. There's ample help. Everything is fine. "—with our rivers and its contents is without compare. He will present an accurate report on our fishing and Morinburn's flooding, with all the haste he possesses."

"You should probably slow down," Echo frowns.

Speed is your oldest lover. "I will do no such thing," you instantly reply, drink some more to drive the point home, and continue, "Chesty and Serpent are to be contacted immediately, for a regular report on the Church of Agriculture's affairs. I intended to receive correspondence from them— from them regardless." The liquor is seriously helping. The buzz at the back of your mind slows just enough for you to sink further into the pew. Whatever the midnight and caramel-colored blend is between the brandy has your eyes bright, and you happily declare, "getting closer to Agriculture Herself will help matters tremendously. I will make the Time to invoke Her, to further assist with our affairs." Before anyone can say a word, you instruct Sister Cardew, "I trust you with correspondence to Her church. We still require their aid."

Harriet blinks, stops her scribbling, and actually puts down a few new notes. She crosses out multiple things on only one schedule. "Very well."

Sipping at your flask, you murmur, "our Sister Superior will organize a meeting for our city's finances. Leave the attendance to Electrum's discretion. Please work it into my schedule."

Walter actually takes a seat beside Harriet, as she makes a few notes. The priestess whispers to her partner, "would you please pass this along to her," while handing off a small note to the scholar.

The slip of parchment is delicately placed in a pocket beneath Walter's cloak. A pointed look is directed at you. "I'm trying to look out for you. Not that I'd give a shit under most circumstances. You probably looked a lot worse when we first met. But you're here, and this nonsense about restraint is hypocritical." He passes a glance over you. "To say the least."

The pew feels fantastic. The air is warm, your face is warm, the flask is still piping hot. The robes Father Wilhelm gifted you are flattering to an extreme. Even given the volume of drink in you, you're more than comfortable. Relaxed, even. This is your element. It doesn't matter so much that you're round, or contributing to a poor image. You look fine. Mercy seemed to think it's fine. Agriculture couldn't be happier. As the Father of defense, you adjust your robes slightly, make a mental note to actually speak with Agriculture regarding Her effects on you, and reply, "my reputation," you explain, "is nonessential."

(2/3)

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>>4501201
"You're drunk," Walter frowns, "going to get fatter, and it's not even noon. For fuck's sake."

"I—" The heat and relief is difficult to place. The stretch at the bulk of your stomach isn't painful. The pressure and weight of a colossal number of stressors is pleasant, even. It's not normal. You've been a stick all your life. No matter how much more comfortable you are, the departure is extreme. "You have a point. Sister Cardew."

She's scrutinizing you, and has been taking notes. Her eyes narrow further. "Yes?"

"Make the Time. Whenever you can. My reputation is dependent on my— on my actions." If nothing else, in a low voice you stress, "I do wish to hear the people."

Walter sniffs. "Mhm."

"I do," you insist, drinking a little more nervously, "particularly for counsel. Our church may be empty, but the elders of Eadric are ever-present. I need to speak with them," you look to Sister Cardew, "whenever possible." Support is always nice. There is almost too much to deal with. The urge to swear is rising. "As soon as possible."

"That would be wise," she concurs. "It may take some Time to make a proper gathering. But it will be done."

Ray is providing a friendly alternative to nervously messing with your hands or any another object. Petting him is another welcome relief. He drops his head on your lap, and nudges himself against your stomach briefly. Either he's irritated, or just curious. The brief motion has your nerves on end. The creeping sensation of your body not quite being your own intensifies, right along with more pleasure. "No matter my interest, or how pressing the issue of the demons within the church may be," you murmur, "they have to wait. Our research has to wait. Mercy— She is so easily overwhelmed." Thinking of your lover while drinking raises many more questions. Compassion is clinging to you. "I will give Her my undivided attention, and we will return to—" You give your research team a cursory glance. They're both worried. "—return to our own investigation later."

Walter pinches the bridge of his nose, and sighs. "You know I'll be working, regardless."

You take in a few deep breaths. "This is my home. My city. This is nothing we cannot handle. I understand your frustration, but the cells and dungeons are paramount. All of our efforts will amount to nothing if there is an escape."

Every scrap of parchment, the scrolls, and Harriet's new notes are gathered together. "I'll disseminate everything. Is there anyone you need me to get in the meantime?"

"The cell blocks and gates to the entrance are significant," you recall, with much more verve in your voice, "but the levels below are nothing short of a nightmare. They're tight, with— with bottleneck after bottleneck. A larger group would be unwise, and— and anyone who wishes to accompany me should be aware of the risks."

(Options in next post.)

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>>4501205
>All of the following options are valid.
>All votes cast will be counted, unless they are vocally opposed.

>A] Make a blanket invitation to your friends and clergy. You won't know who will want to join you until a later point in time, after seeing Mercy.

>B] Your most physical allies.
>1] Harvey Jay Algrith, AKA The Red Lion, and the Ringleader of your blasphemous circus.
>2] Irefist. Delay his investigation of the Morinburn.
>3] Brother Thomas Durville. The respectful young priest is a beast with his halberd and shield.
>4] You have four priests of Flesh in your church. Taking them away from the guard and security of the city is risky, but so is where you're going. (Specify how many you wish to take.)

>C] Your most experienced friends. Demons are no stranger to them. (Because of her work with the sick, Spangle is not an option.)
>1] Claymore. Pull him away from his work at the forge. He's far and away the most competent demon slayer you've ever met.
>2] Klepto. The man is unpredictable, but a creative mind is always appreciated.
>3] Sister Agnes Willoughby. You've heard she's a veteran of battle, and may be capable of invoking Mercy if your meeting goes well.
>4] Ray. Your boy has been through a lot. You trust him with your life, and want his company no matter the risk.

>D] Your more cerebral friends. (Sister Cardew has a LOT of work to do, and is therefore not an option.)
>1] Walter "Professor Echo" Middleton. He's a pacifist. You're natural allies with demons and sin.
>2] Brother Peter Fergant. The elder priest has seen a lot. You want him to prove his worth. Now is as good an opportunity as any.

>E] This is your church, your prisons, and your demons. Attempting to save the souls of your fallen brothers and sisters will not go over well with many of your mortal allies. Beyond the taboo, you want to handle this yourself. You're going it alone. (This option is only eligible if the majority votes. Vocal opposition will always be taken into consideration.)

>F] There's someone else you want by your side. (Write-in.)

>G] You're still stressed about your own behavior, your friends, and/or the many problems at hand. (Write-in any last comments or actions to close the meeting with, or just to express to Walter or Harrriet.)

>>4501209
C 4

>>4501209
>E
If possible. If not, >A. It either no one or open invatation with me.

>G
"To most people, getting fat would be a huge strain on the body. However, you already know that I'll work it off within a week." Remember lads, abuse of power make men into skin and bones... wait a minute, I think it supposed to be the other way around.

Also schedule some time to heal some of the sick and take some of the burden off Cardew. (Just a little. It'll make me feel better.) It'll help with my reputation, atleast a little (yes, that's totally the only reason... h-hey, stop giving me that look).

It's also good to note that looking like a fat bastard in the middle of a famine will, at best, piss people off. At worse, it'll start a riot. (Abuse of our magical abilities was what we were aiming for, right guys? Guys? I'll drop acouple of stones after a couple of invo-*smack*.)

Have a laugh and call your lover.

>>4501209
>C
>2

>>4501231
>>4501250
>>4501284
(I think we can make all of this work. Vote is locked! Writing now.)

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>>4501231
>>4501250
>>4501284
https://youtu.be/pFM70w-lYns

There's something sweeter on your lips, and it's not just the taste of brandy. This is more like it. Something familiar. "I would go it alone, were it possible."

Sister Cardew and Walter move to protest, but you immediately stress, "I know it is not possible."

A sigh of relief actually escapes Harriet. A few years looked like they fell off her life. Walter massages the side of her shoulder slightly. While they both fire you a worried look, the nobleman stresses, "no."

"Not on all of your watch," you agree. Formally, you scratch behind Ray's ears to remind him, "I'm not dead already, but you'd— you would kill me yourself if anything happened. Wouldn't you, Ray?"

More exasperation falls off of your friends. The question to your boy is met with a look of extreme respect from your dog, and your dog alone. He knows about the threats below the church. A low growl, and a playful nip at your free hand is further confirmation of readiness.

You pull Ray into barely-rough hold to grandly declare, "the greatest guard in all of Corcaea." With much more silliness, you decree, "you wouldn't give me a hard Time, would you? Come herrrrrre."

Violent nuzzling commences from both of you. He mock-growls. You mock-growl back. Ray realizes he can actually play-wrestle with you. The weight is definitely good for something, as you can say with no difficulty to to Walter and Harriet, "please give an open, quiet invitation to our allies. Stress to them all how desperately they are needed here, within the church. I want the smallest accompaniment possible, save for James." To Ray, you firmly state, "down, boy." He immediately complies. "Not yet. We'll get them, don't you worry. Good boy."

Walter's annoyance is back tenfold. "You're joking. Of all the people to go alone with? Klepto?"

"James is a remarkable friend, incredibly cunning, has more experience with ruins and demonic affairs than nearly any of us, and I—" Something snaps. "I— I will not be going alone."

You want to laugh, or cry, or scream. Ray whines at you. A little laughter comes first, but you settle on drinking. Sister Cardew is giving you an incredibly worried look. She fires a glare to Walter, and starts talking to him in a low voice. You can't really care.

There's no bottom of a glass to lose yourself in. You're grounded. The late morning sun is catching on a few old flowers set aside, just along the edges of the church. Dust gathered on the back of the pew, and has been kicked up aplenty, but most of what you can smell is woody caramels and mild liquor. The wood at your back, from remembered history. Ancient love, and earth that's been cared for one thousand times before.

(1/3)

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>>4501658
You just can't be bothered to listen, close your eyes, and completely drown yourself in excess. In the world. Abuse of power is meant to have reduced you to skin and bones. But your devotion to Agriculture is without question. There's no reason you should be in agony. You remember real pain, and every broken pane of glass that felt like it sliced through the back of your throat. Years of it, from each and every attempt to eat or drink. To look after yourself. You could cry from relief. Though the physical expectation of excruciating pain is present, it's difficult to fathom what could cause you pain now. The curse is gone. Stuffing yourself far past your limits is a disproportionate rescue.

This much liquor so early in the day is a blessing. You can't even get drunk anymore. The buzz in the back of your skull isn't inebriation from a toxin. It's not layered, complex, toxic, or too overwhelming to understand. It's a gift from a Goddess of the world, of life, of growth, and fertility.

It's pleasure.

Walter snaps at you, "stop." He's legitimately upset. "Richard." More mildly, he stresses, "even if it's not hurting you now—"

Remembering to breathe, you pull yourself away from the divine comfort. The lingering, overwhelming fullness has a smile across your face. You're acutely aware that the flush across your expression is indecent.

It's a poor contrast for your counsel's dourness. Ray whines at you again, though sits a respectful inch or two away. The smile falters. Everyone seriously looks worried, particularly Echo.

"I understand your concern," you murmur. "My appearance, at best— coming off the heels of a famine—"

"It has been years, Richard," Sister Cardew firmly reminds you. "Years. Even the Church of Flesh is thriving. You saw how well most of their clergy were able to build themselves up."

"At best," you try to resume, "the furious public will not— will not take kindly to the Church of Temperance being led by a glutton. No less one with a— with a sinful temperament. I would expect rioting in the street—"

"Don't be ridiculous," Walter groans. "It's not that bad. But it won't help matters. You need to listen, for fuck's sake."

"Arranging for regular running, an appropriate diet, and maintaining your health is already a significant challenge," Sister Cardew sighs. "We all are here to support you, Richard. But you have to work with us." She looks horrifically upset. "It was difficult enough to assist you during our stay in Beorward. I hated Cyril's behavior towards you—" The memory of being force-fed, or pushed to work out far beyond your limits is a mild blip in the months of respite. "—but I understand the necessity. Please do not make our lives any more difficult than they already are."

(2/3)

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>>4501660
Vocalizing your self-debasement is an old standby. You're not slipping into old habits. "I am— I want to help, in any way that I can. Misusing— abusing Agriculture would come with severe loss, though." There's no irritation. You're delighted. "This is another opportunity. A blessing."

Echo all but collapses off the back of the pew, complaining to the ceiling, "here we go." Harriet's exasperation is hidden behind the thinnest line you've ever seen her lips in.

"Truly," you insist. "For most— for most people, getting fat would be an enormous strain on their body. You both know full well how active I am. My devotion to Flesh. If nothing else, the additional work would assist my reputation— "

Rolling his head back around to smirk at you, Walter can't bring himself to shoot down your enthusiasm. Sister Cardew has no such problems. "You simply cannot handle every last one of these tasks yourself, Richard. There are plenty of better ways to aid your clergy. Helping yourself will help my work just as well."

"I do sincerely wish to take some of the burden off of you," you sincerely interject. She calms down, while you note, "healing throughout the city will not come easily. I know you have your work cut out for you."

"Thank you," she sighs.

It's hard to say if you've been fantasizing about Time, or are collapsing under the stress of the situation already. There's good reason your behavior was as dire as it was in Ostedholm. There's a strong urge to muse about how quickly you might lose several dozen pounds, with the right kinds of invocations.

"Richard," Harriet whispers, as curtly as possible. She looks like she could slap you. The woman is no mind-reader, but the way you're nervously holding your hands almost-together around your flask is enough cause for concern. "What even is in that?"

"I am not entirely certain," you groan, while promptly getting up. It's not a mistake. It's further confirmation of no pain! None whatsoever! You almost laugh, and decide against it, to not risk making any further sound. The smile is back, as is some serious complaining of your belt. You really can't care.

Your lover is immediately on your mind.

It's probably nothing to worry about.

Ray immediately gets off the pew, to follow your trail. Heading down the aisle, with a wave over your shoulder, you call to Harriet and Walter, "I will see to Mercy, and we will reconvene as soon as I am able. Please do not disturb us."

The concern fired off at you intensifies. Sister Cardew and Walter immediately follow in your stead. Sister Cardew swears multiple times ("by all the dried ink and broken quills,") as she nearly trips on the hems of her skirts. Walter mimics the expletives ("for fuck's sake, I don't understand even a fraction of the reputation, but this is ridiculous—") while outpacing his partner.

(Over by a smidge, 3/4)

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>>4501663
Walter leans towards you, as you stride through the long halls of the choir. The lanky nobleman matches your speed. "Father Anscham." He's deathly serious. "I'm worried about you. Don't fuck with me. Where are you going?"

"Thank you for the concern, but I will be fine." You tactfully reply, "it's as we discussed, Walter. I am going to get some privacy. Our meeting is adjourned."

Sister Cardew catches up, with some difficulty. She's breathing hard, thanks mostly to the dust. "You're not fine. While it's alright, I do want you to feel as if you can take some Time for yourself. Let me know if you need anything. You are not alone in your endeavors." She's falling behind again. "We will get to the bottom of these matters—"

Some serious judgement is passing over you, from one of the most pretentious men you know. Walter scoffs, "I told you we would resolve all of this in a day. I misspoke. A plan of action is acceptable, but I would never wish to let you down. While my own findings will be covered, we clearly have far more study ahead of us. Harriet is absolutely right, in that your affairs should all be seen to." In a much quieter, and far more casual tone, he notes, "I'll stay in the keep if you need anything else. I've got my hands full just with Harriet, so I can't imagine what you—"

"I can hear you," Sister Cardew smirks, "and he's right—"

>A] Seriously thank your friends for the concern and support, but you are honestly fine. Dismiss them.
>1] Go to your usual room. It's humble to an extreme, but you ACTUALLY are the Father of Temperance, and really don't need anything more.
>2] Take up residence in the tower keep, in the nicest room available. Its security is without compare, and you'd like to be neighbors with Harriet and Walter in the event of any serious threats to their safety.
>3] The quarters for the leader of the Church of Mercy are the finest in the country. It should suit a Goddess nicely.

>B] You do actually have something further to mention, and it has nothing to do with your meeting.
>1] You seriously don't want anyone else accompanying you and James. Stress that you'd rather keep this as quiet as possible.
>2] That meeting with Agriculture needs to get bumped up in your schedule. Once the affairs in the dungeons are resolved, request that Sister Cardew clear everything else from your agenda.
>3] Harriet's and Walter's opinions actually mean a lot to you. Stop for just a second. You're worried too, and need some reassurance.
>4] While you respect Harriet's and Walter's opinions, you're stressed enough as it is. Try and reassure them that you're fine.

>C] Write-in.

>>4501665
>>B] You do actually have something further to mention, and it has nothing to do with your meeting.
>4] While you respect Harriet's and Walter's opinions, you're stressed enough as it is. Try and reassure them that you're fine.

Been worse and will be better.

>>4501665
>C] Write-in.
Hit the bottle and bid adíeu to the science team.

>>4501665
>A] Seriously thank your friends for the concern and support, but you are honestly fine. Dismiss them.
>1] Go to your usual room. It's humble to an extreme, but you ACTUALLY are the Father of Temperance, and really don't need anything more.

>C] Write-in.
Mention to them that Harvey should come along for the dungeon run

>>4501951

Gonna go ahead and say let's not get Harvey, he is more the killing type and we are supposed to be diplomatic.

>>4501953
what's that supposed to mean? He will only kill if we are attacked or decide to attack.

>>4501953
If we are talking about being solely diplomatic then I question bringing James along

>>4501954
>>4501956

That's what I mean, we aren't going on a purge. Klepto is a lot more flexible and creative than Harvey. We don't need to bring the tank along. Remember that the dungeons are really tight and he is a big dude with even bigger armor, hardly the place for him.

(Got work in a couple of hours at most, noticed the discussion slowing down a bit. Going to close the vote in 10 minutes if there is no further argument, and will make the call myself at that time if no consensus is reached.

Presently, a strong argument is being made to only bring James and Harvey if they are well-behaved. You guys know for a fact that Harvey has made a pact with Malimos, has an open mind about demons, is extremely protective, and is capable of critical thinking. James as well is easily your most cunning congregation member (maybe second to Serpent), and his instability is mostly emotional more so than logical. Aside from both of their flaws, I think it would be reasonable to extend an invitation to both of them, and see who wants to come.

Let me know if that seems reasonable. If there's direct opposition to this suggestion I will absolutely consider alternatives.)

>>4501967
seems reasonable to me

>>4501967

As long as Harvey can fit in the dungeon and not be a liability im ok with it.

>>4501970
>>4501974
(Sounds great lads.)

>>4501898
>>4501949
>>4501951
>>4501953
>>4501954
>>4501956
>>4501958
(Integrating the whole shebang where I can! Thanks so much for the stellar discussion. Some transparency is super refreshing. Hope it helps. Vote is locked! Writing now.)

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>>4501975
https://youtu.be/QuPkWL_YZtY

"I know you are concerned," you stress, particularly to Walter. There's more light in your voice, still. The afternoon sun is shining. The church is warm, and so are you. "Everything is going to be fine. Truly. James is flexible. Creative. I understand your worries about his judgement, but this is no slaughter. We are to ensure the security of my home, and nothing more. That said—"

Looking to the rafters, the high ceilings, and all the open space around you, it's hard to feel claustrophobic. There's no darkness. No cells. Not yet. You have friends aplenty, and they're brave enough to take on anything. With a grin, you ask Sister Cardew, "will you please keep this matter between us, James, and Harvey?"

"Of course," Sister Cardew replies. You slow your pace just enough for her to catch up, to which she gives a grateful smirk.

Walter nearly collapses with relief. "I don't mean to insult your judgement, Father, but I wanted to suggest him myself. That would be remarkable."

"I will be in my usual quarters," you inform both of your friends, sincerely looking forward to the absurd company you keep. "There is no need to concern yourselves. I have been worse—"

"That's no excuse," Walter starts.
"Yes, but—" Harriet begins.

They both look to each other. The gentleman gives your priestess a glance, and bows his head a bit. Harriet nods to you, "that is no reason to down-play any issues you are currently facing."

You are not going on a purge. The size of your company is a greater concern than your own state. These are not issues! You are doing fine. Better than ever. "I will be better," you quietly remind her.

She sniffs, moderately convinced. "Alright."

Everyone is infinitely more agreeable. There's practically a skip in your step. Moving feels fantastic after sitting for so long. With another wave over your shoulder, you call, "take care of yourselves, please."

Rolling his eyes, Walter hangs back, and sets about discussing some further business with Sister Cardew. The two members of your research team call off a few good-byes as you pull away, out of the main aisle, and off into the rest of the castle.

Your room is incredibly close. It was always a blessing to hear the choir so near to your quarters. The echoes of praise, sermons, and songs to your Goddess provided hope in your darkest hours. Two hundred candles must pass you by, down stone corridors and through humble halls. There are no servants. No clergy. No one attending to ample cobwebs, and no one to witness you hitting the bottle. Besides Ray, that is. Your boy doesn't mind in the slightest as you continue to binge.

By all the Gods, does it feel good. Getting to dig into a mortal need, to safely tap into the desire for indulgence, and to put something tangible into your body is so welcome, you can't stop smiling. The rest of the walk is a blur.

(1/3)

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>>4502039
The small room is exactly as you left it. The broken mirror at the far end of an almost undecorated space. The numerous plants you kept, dead from months of neglect. An assortment of books, primarily ones gifted from your first visit to Calunoth. Walter has yet to relocate the rest of your collection from King Magnus. Your sword, Piety, is propped up against a far wall. The enchanted mace, shield, and satchel Yech gifted to you are right beside it. The bed is straw, the singular sheet is as ascetic as ever, and the wardrobe you keep likely is empty. That's it. No rugs. No gold. No pomp.

It takes only a few minutes to move out the broken mirror, toss the plants, make a short prayer to Agriculture as you relocate the salvageable soil, and come back to the single window. Its ratty curtain. You want some privacy, close it, and can't lock the door behind you. Every lock in the damn church has to be replaced, and that's fine. A note is quickly drafted, reading "do not disturb." It's tacked onto your door, and you settle into peace, and quiet.

Ray looks curiously to you, as you drop onto the bed. It feels phenomenal. Better than a wooden pew, and almost as fantastic as the weight sitting in your stomach. It doesn't matter if it's bizarre to not be bothered by it. Research can come later. Demons can come later, be they internal or external. You are a diplomat. A man of peace, reason, and love.

"Mercy," you smile, "light of my life. The day is fading fast. Would you share—"

She's on you in an instant. The exhaustion is, too. Being in a bed is a relief beyond relief, as a warm, familiar, and entirely reassuring presence wraps up between your arms. It's more than the light of day, or an afternoon creeping through the cracks in the curtains. The Goddess of compassion has snaked Her embrace into downright cuddling with you the moment She's appeared.

No concern is on Her face. No worry. No fear. Her own softness and need for physical contact matches yous. One of Her legs has wrapped itself against yours, while the other props up Her hips. She's being indecent, despite remaining full clothed in the same healer's garb as before. The curls upon Her head rest on your shoulder, brushing lightly along with Her lips right beside your face. A flush of copper and roses dances along Her nose and cheeks.

"Yes," is the immediately reply. Mercy has a grin that could melt all the ice in the world. She kisses you at least ten times before elaborating further. Your face hurts a little from smiling so hard. It looks as though Hers does too, as She whispers, "I thought you would never ask. Three weeks. I missed you so much. We accomplished so much together."

(2/3)

>>4502044
"Your friends are alive, and well. Irefist permitted Us to heal him." An amused glance catches on your flask. On your protruding stomach. Her smile gets a little more sheepish.

She nuzzles against you. A few sparks dance in your eyes. So, you're over-doing it. Drinking from the gift of a demon, and enjoying the company of one Goddess, while relishing the gifts of another deity is a bit much. But by all the Gods is it satisfying. The slight pressure from Mercy's hold is a magnificent compliment to the tightness of your clothes beneath your robes. It's obvious that She doesn't mind. The flush across Her face absolutely is mimicking your own.

It's obvious that She's feeling exactly what you are. There's a little laughter as She observes, "you're enjoying yourself."

You're no liar, and don't need to hide anything from Her. Holding Her even closer, the additional pressure is magnificent. You place a kiss on the tip of Her nose, and grin, "yes. Feeling better?"

Ray is giving you both a look like you're insane. He settles in the center of the room, nose pointed at the door. The trained killer will absolutely alert you to any intruders. He's not judging, either.

"Yes." She's breathy, barely whispering, and even gives Ray a cheeky smile. The gaze comes right back to you. "Your happiness means everything to me." Her smile doesn't falter, despite an abrupt change of subject. "Yet your friends think I am unreliable. That I am not looking out for you."

"This is really bothering you," you murmur.

She wiggles up, against your shoulder. Breathing against the little skin that isn't covered on your neck, Mercy nods. "It is so good to know you are in capable hands. Ones that wish to understand. They will be of much better service for your research. Their devotion to Spirit is without compare." She kisses at the spot that's been breathed against. It couldn't be more sensitive. "But there is so much you need to discuss." She pecks at the same spot again. Thinking is nearly impossible. "So many questions."

>A] Her issues with being around other people period are alarming, to say the least. You both have to talk about Mercy's unwillingness for others to invoke Her.
>1] Put your foot down, get a little space, and really insist that you need to talk seriously.
>2] Keep things cozy.

>B] Stress to Mercy that Harriet and Walter mean the best for BOTH of you. You care deeply for your friends, and want the Goddess to understand that not every relationship or conversation has to be so extreme.

>C] You're taking a morbid amount of satisfaction from binge drinking. It might not hurt to touch on the subject with Mercy. What exactly is Her relationship with Agriculture?
>1] You're happy, and absolutely are going to keep up the behavior regardless.
>2] You're a little worried. Isn't Mercy meant to embody restraint? Aren't *you*?

>D] Write-in.

>>4502048
>C] You're taking a morbid amount of satisfaction from binge drinking. It might not hurt to touch on the subject with Mercy. What exactly is Her relationship with Agriculture?
>1] You're happy, and absolutely are going to keep up the behavior regardless.

>>4502048
>A] Her issues with being around other people period are alarming, to say the least. You both have to talk about Mercy's unwillingness for others to invoke Her.
>1] Put your foot down, get a little space, and really insist that you need to talk seriously.

>C] You're taking a morbid amount of satisfaction from binge drinking. It might not hurt to touch on the subject with Mercy. What exactly is Her relationship with Agriculture?
>2] You're a little worried. Isn't Mercy meant to embody restraint? Aren't *you*?

>>4502124
>>4502159
(Cool cool, going to keep this open for another 10 minutes or so. These aren't mutually exclusive. If there's no further discussion I'll close the vote and update at that time.)

>>4502048
A2, no need to stress but it is serious.

C, 1-2, your happy and going to keep drinking, but perhaps that is a problem, considering your supposed to restrain yourself. You may have to give ever last pound you got, and while the thought tempts greatly, given the dire need of yourself, you can't help but be mildly concerned that this may be falling back in old habits... the urge to keep on giving even when you got nothing left to give... the temptation is frightening.... Consul is appreciated.

Slight B, of your up for it. Not strictly necessary, but good to keep in mind.

>Make sure to spend some time for yourselves, you lovebirds

>>4502048
A1 C1

Ask about the rest of the Pantheon too while we are at it

>>4502124
>>4502159
>>4502202
>>4502216
(Great! We can work with all of this. Vote is locked! Writing now.)

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>>4502222
https://youtu.be/7gYG95NG1YA

There's no need to stress Mercy. Not for the quiet that falls between you two, for all the love in your eyes. The Goddess of compassion sincerely understands. So, you both pull away from one another, and sit upright.

Despite your stomach outright resting over your belt, and the threat to its integrity, the drinking continues. Ray doesn't protest. Mercy eyes you curiously. A thread of happiness is all wrapped up into the pins and needles of comfort through your spine and back. More even than the heat across your face, and the intense pleasure all through your stomach, there's *emotional* satiety. No one is going to hurt you. No one is going to come between you and your Goddess. It's fine to stay so comfortable. To actually talk to someone. The need to give something— anything in return for so much relief— has you lean over, and take Mercy gently by the hand. You know how much She appreciates being close.

You smile at one another, as She says, "you are trying so hard. Is it— you are not merely coping."

"No," you breathe, not bothering to hide your grin. "No."

"Things are difficult enough as it is. I never meant to make matters worse, Richard. I am so sorry."

"You never have to apologize," you murmur, musing how much you can still drink between pauses. One more pull is enough to cap the need momentarily. You're not losing yourself! A broad smile can't begin to convey how badly you've needed actual respite. An outlet. Anything. "I legitimately have never felt better."

You're kissed on the hand. Mercy obviously wants to pull you right back into more intimacy, but you put your foot down. With a gentle squeeze of Her palms and fingers, you completely pull back. She's far from upset as you say, "we need to speak candidly with one another. Things do not have to be so— so complicated, or extreme. You saw how well Harriet and Walter have supported my efforts. How *good* their intentions are. Their devotion to Spirit is without compare— but is no slight against you, Mercy. We all are serving the truth. Your love. Your light."

You give Her a small kiss on Her forehead, just barely brushing aside Her bangs. The locks are softer than petals, and the taste of honey is almost on Her skin. The motion is wonderful. She's wonderful. The smile beaming up at you puts more heat on your face than all the liquor you can conjure.

Melancholy is right beside it. "You want space," She observes. "I am a distraction."

You sweetly muse, "my sunflower."

She gives you a terribly amused look, and dead-pans, "buzzz."

(1/? Mobile, thank you for your understanding blessed readers and voters)

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>>4502443
"We can take Time for ourselves," you insist, not letting on a bit of your heart swelling, or the extreme temptation to buzz back. "You know how much I care, but— but please. Talk to me. Tell me what's on your mind. We need people in our lives, and the people— and the people need you. There are ample ways for us to balance Your will, and to *save the lives of humanity.* Let me protect our children."

She is truly the patron of defense, and has always sincerely listened to you. "You set aside Our day? As often as you were able?"

You give an apologetic grin. "Of course. I cautioned Sister Cardew that once a week would be insufficient, but she— she insisted that the public would find even this much distasteful. She has a point. Why, I— I still am struggling to understand." The smile falters. "Lives are at stake. Humanity is counting on us." You can't help it, and take Mercy into a hug.

It's abundantly clear that the ease of the invocation is helped by so much proximity. Mercy sighs against you, as you hold Her hair, and gently keep Her head resting against your chest. There's little exhaustion. There might as well be flecks of gold in your eyes, for the light pressure, further reminder of softness, and overwhelming comfort. Held up against a reminder of you hard-won muscle, your partner is more than a bundle of affection. In a blend of compassion, pain, and a fullness of soul, you plea to the Gods. "Help me. Lead me from temptation. Help them. *Grant our children salvation.*"

Mercy is shockingly calm. All the light in Her eyes locks with the metal swimming through your gaze. A hand is gently placed to your Relic, as She keeps the gift right over your heart. "I made you a promise: that I would grant Our children relief from their pain. To answer their cries, and to bring them back into Our arms."

The hug becomes a tight hold. It's way too tight. Pleasure threatens to overtake reason, and any thoughts of pulling away vanish in an instant. The fire in you burns tenfold. The sun itself is in your partner's speech, as She clings to you like you'll slip through Her fingers at any moment. "I will hold them. I would bear *any* burden for you."

Breathing is dangerous. She's dangerous. So are you. You grin, "you'll answer them?"

"Yes," Mercy nods, equally flustered. "All I ask is that you are here for me."

You're infinitely past your limit, and have to say something. "I love you," comes first.

"I love you too," Mercy murmurs. The smile being held against you is brimming with so much emotion, you can't fathom how She's keeping things together.

This is all familiar, in many wrong ways. "I— I can't help but be reminded of old habits." Only mild concern knits your brow. The sun and the world feels *amazing.* "The desire to give, and— and give, and *give,* even if I have nothing left. I would gladly wear myself down to nothing for you, Mercy. And the *temptation*—"

(2/?)

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>>4502450
She's the one who pulls away. A look of actual scrutiny passes over you, as Mercy completes your concern. "You are frightened."

"I do not want to fall back into old habits," you stress.

She smirks. It's so cute, you could die. "Oh? Such as granting yourself a reprieve, from suffering and sin?"

"Absolutely," you confirm.

Her smirk continues, and neatly mirrors your resolve to continue the behavior by any means necessary. It's not masochism that has you seeing how far you can stretch your limits. Given how much you should ache, it's not even addiction that has you take another gratuitous swig of liquor. It's with a deep flush across your face that you casually ask, "I am meant to be the Father of Restraint. Our church preaches temperance, in all things. Is this—" You make a vague gesture towards your body. "—is this a problem?" A complex look crosses over Mercy's features. She's deliberating over how to phrase something delicately. "You know how much I appreciate your counsel. How much I need You."

A deep, perfectly happy breath leaves Mercy. "I am compassion. Your happiness, your joy, your pleasure, and your pain are everything to Me. Everything."

"I understand," you murmur.

The complex look across Her face deepens. "I am defense. Failing to protect the Father of my church is incomprehensible. The safety of My children must be upheld. The halls of Our home are to stand *strong*. So are We. I am the shield. I am the tower." The metal flirting across both of your eyes, your hair, your heart, and your soul catch upon Her lips. "I am the sun. I am the light. I am gold, and all that is held dear. I am the verve in your hearts, and the energy within all things."

She's staring you dead in the eye. "I am the hands of every healer. I am that which mends— and often through the hands of another. For Flesh will weep. Agriculture will wilt. Spirit may falter, and Time will claim you all. Yet I *restore*." Both of your hands are clasped tightly within Hers, as Mercy declares, "I am the truth. To be kind, to be chaste, to look after the ones that I love. To feel their wants, their despair, their hope and their shame— to have to mend every wound, and to feel every broken heart—"

(3/4)

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>>4502453
You're pulled right back into an unbelievably tight hug. The Goddess' smile smushes against your robes, as Mercy buries Her face against you. There's a small explosion of joy, and pleasure, and reassurance in spots of gold before your eyes. A quiet gasp escapes you, despite your best efforts. While wondering if Mercy is intentionally challenging your ability to exhibit restraint, She murmurs, "the last thing I could care about is your temperance, let alone your weight. I cannot speak on behalf of any other— but I want to see you happy, Richard." The muffled smile intensifies. "If you find a way to live with the tragedy of mankind, and to show *yourself* compassion, I could never take issue. I have always loved you." She parts from the tight embrace, enough to plant a kiss right on your cheek. "I love you," Mercy repeats, "and this is *Our* church to run as *We* see fit."

Giving you a little more space, She clarifies, "that being said, Our church is founded on tradition. The status and image of Our home cannot change overnight. Not everyone may be so understanding. Their concerns may be misplaced, but your friends and I only want what is best for you." Something extraordinarily possessive demands your attention, as Mercy insists, "I will not tolerate any self-abuse. There *is* a limit to all things."

"I love you too," you immediately try to interject, "and appreciate all of this more than I can say. But please— but please clarify."

"You are the Father of my church, the defender of my home, and an ally to man and demon alike. Your enemies have tried, and failed to destroy your vessel—" The Goddess of Honesty simply pouts at you. "You made *me* a promise."

The promise ring upon your hand has more symbolism than most. You toy with it a little, moving the free fingers on your left hand against the yellow-gold. "I did. My behavior— I have no intention of hurting myself. Agriculture and I—" Some serious clarification is necessary, and this is a DELICATE subject. "What is your relationship with Agriculture, exactly?"

Another very odd look passes across Mercy's face. It's a blend of love, and violent jealousy. Something sweet creeps into Her voice. The overall impression is decidedly inhuman, as She frowns, "We have much in common, and are rarely at odds. She is my foremost compliment. A Goddess of health, to my healing. A patron of life, to my light. Agriculture is fertility, to my compassion. She is the world to my sun, the growth in my gardens, and a partner in love."

"What's wrong," you frown in return.

"No matter how close We have been, She is worried for me," Mercy pouts. "You are, too."

"Your distance is cause for concern," you gently explain. "We all have a connection. One that runs deeper than the world, or— or even Your sun."

A gale picks up outside. The ties on your ratty curtain are pulled at. A brisk swirl of fresh air filters into the hot and heady chamber you both occupy.

(Options in next post.)

>>4502455

>A] This is a *really* good opportunity to discuss your relationship with Agriculture. Tactfully, but honestly share with Mercy how things have been between you and the Goddess of Growth. You want to gauge Mercy's response without overwhelming Her.

>B] Side-step the conversation about your pact and relationship with Agriculture just a moment longer. The way you run the Church of Mercy is one of the most important things in your life.
>1] Restraint is an unbelievably hypocritical thing to preach about, given your circumstances, lifestyle, personality, etc. Express that you would feel uncomfortable spreading this particular tenet. You SERIOUSLY need further counsel, however Mercy can give it.
>2] For the love of all the Gods, She's still being vague. Ask Mercy to simply clarify Her meaning of temperance. You'll come to your own conclusions.

>C] You don't have the courage to openly communicate with Mercy about Agriculture just yet. Ask about the other Gods. (For pacing's sake, choose ONE of the following. Majority vote will decide.)
>1] Storm. He's visited you twice.
>2] Spirit. She's worked through you with Mercy on many occasions. They must know each other to some extent.
>3] Dream. You REALLY could do a better job serving Him.
>4] Flesh. It would be a miracle if you could invoke Him right now.
>5] Vengeance. The way He works through you is curious, to say the least.
>6] Time. You're scared shitless of Her, but curiosity is eating you alive.

>D] Write-in.