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>>4522193
https://youtu.be/NrD7RaMnygk

The woods are on fire. On a night without a moon, under a deep lavender sky, lies the impossible forest you traverse. It's the middle of the year, and supposed to only be midday. Yet, snow litters the ground as far as the eye can see. Gravestones pepper the terrain, though they are the only ruins to be found. Both men in your company recently dealt with the crackle and pop of uncontrollable destruction. They're walking behind you— nerves on end— precisely because you excel at extinguishing blazes. The fire did not come from above, though the clouds are dense enough that a flying attacker would be difficult to spot. The fire did not come from below, though the land is razed. The fire is coming from within the trees themselves. The heat is creating small puddles of ink around the base of each trunk. The air smells like paint, and damp sand. The softness of your voice ensures that there is no echo throughout the vacant woods. "Keep close. I'm fairly certain of what this— of what this is."

You would be fools to wander. The rope that James led into the gallery is gone. The caltrop trail he left upon the floor is nowhere in sight. The moment you stepped into this demon's domain, a portrait— your entrance, and everyone's exit— vanished without a trace. It depicted you and your friends from behind, in a white gallery. It was to be a portal into a monster's mind. No more than an arm's reach away is another portrait, but this one is depicting your company from ahead. The item materialized from the moment you entered, but has kept a very specific distance away. Chains dangle from it, clinking as it floats in mid-air. You're positive it's close enough for only you to touch. It's nowhere near as lifelike as the last. This is in a mishmash of styles and skill. The effect slowly mirrors the movements you three are making in real-time, and because of your close proximity, it's nauseating to look at for more than a moment.

Bringing up the rear of your trio is James "Klepto" Sower. The same man is there on the canvas, at the rear of your procession. Every texture and hue is unbefitting of the outrageous minstrel. His wavy hair should have auburn to it, yet on the painting the hue is muted, and lifeless. The gold cap upon his head could not possibly contain actual gold leaf. There is more puff to his shirt sleeves, though they are in a less fitting shade of yellow for your order. The gangly blonde is far more attractive than what's hanging before you all, even. Yet there he is, creating the smallest appearance he can in the reflection (without outright hiding).

(2/4)

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>>4522196
Harvey Jay Algrith, "the red lion," is effortlessly blocking most of Klepto's body from view. Beneath a filthy, blood-caked cloak is the masterwork set of sinewstone armor you gifted to your knight. It's nowhere near as grungy in reality as it is on the oil-coated mirror. Though the man's hygiene is atrocious, it's not so bad as to keep the suit in such an abysmal condition. There's a greater smattering of freckles on his face in reality. His eyes are significantly kinder in person. Yet there he is.

At least, the same degree of amusement persists. He tries smirking a few times, and darts his eyes about. The painting has trouble keeping up.

The mirror you shattered four years ago was thrown out this week. You hadn't looked at so much as its shards since last year. Pinching your own cheek confirms that you're not still in the presence of the God of Dream, or visited by the manifestation of His nightmares. The weight on your face is not in your imagination. It may be that your friends have been particularly nice, or it may be that this image is as distorted as the others. The gold in your hair should at least be cleaner, and brighter. Not muddied copper. The divine Relic about your neck should be far less muted, and unquestionably an item from a Goddess. Scars do not litter every inch of your skin, and have faded much over time. The unhinged, wide-eyed stare you possess is surely not that disturbing. The gemstones and metals of your eyes have been described as intense, but this is impossible to look upon directly without thinking you inhuman. The robes on your frame are definitely more subdued than this. They were supposed to be more flattering. Tasteful. This depiction of you is not.

At the bare minimum, your face has never been so round. There's no trace of your distinct cheekbones. "This is wrong." It's not portraying you fidgeting, either. "We are likely looking at a demon of interpretation. Possibly one that does not comprehend— no, likely one which cannot depict an individual accurately. Not from moment-to-moment. I can't imagine any reason why, save for creating discord, or feeding off of interpretation itself."

"You're j-joking." Harvey chuckles. "What's it g-going to d-do, m-make Klepto cut his own n-nose off?"

The clown pinches the end of his nose, leers, and teases, "the better to sniff out your bullshit with, my dear." He drops the jape instantly. Whispering commences. "If you hadn't covered your rear in spikes, I'd kick it. There's definitely more to this. Father, is it getting any closer?"

(3/4)

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>>4522199
The three of you immediately stopped walking on arrival. One step backwards does not create a gap. The painting maintains its proximity. Clink. Clink. "Only if I move away." A glance back, for further confirmation. Nothing's changed. There's the expanse of snowy, darkened forest, and not another soul in sight. A few crackling branches snap in the flames as they burn. You realize the sound's likely able to disguise a quiet approach. Everyone present begins looking for footprints in the snow. "I can't make out much in the background of the image, thanks to how—" There's no way you look this fat. "—thanks in part to how close it's keeping. None of our weapons or equipment are depicted upon it, either."

Harvey doesn't dare to unsheathe his sword, or to remove his shield from his back. A shrug is the most he hazards. "Let's keep it th-that way. M-might b-be keeping its d-distance now—"

"Wonder why," James chuckles.

"Sh-shut up. B-but why ch-chance it? Let's g-go around."

(Options in next post.)

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>>4522200
>A] Intentional proximity to the Gods, and physical evidence of Their works has always been a blessing to you. This is a reflection of some VERY deeply ingrained habits, as a result of many cumulative choices. You're going to be incredibly intimidating once you get back into shape, if nothing else.
>1] Men like you have no use for pride. The mirror you broke in your room was from mental distress, not your appearance, and you have made strides in self-acceptance. You're going to own these changes to your appearance, and will not tolerate any other shit given to you about it. The Gods have done nothing to hurt you, and petty rumors will not stop you from running your church, seeing to your mission, or loving yourself.
>2] Fidgeting is fine. You are concerned. (Write-in why.)
>3] Sit down. Don't get sick. You're actually very upset. (Write-in why, and what you'd like to do about it. Desire and ability to change fundamental character traits cannot happen instantly, but personal expression is limitless!)

>B] Your friends are responsible for helping with your public image, and protecting your welfare. What the fuck?
>1] It's going to be months before you can get back in shape, short of divine intervention. This is wrong. Ask for confirmation that this portrait is inaccurate.
>2] Quietly, politely ask Harvey and James why they have been avoiding mentioning any changes in your appearance. You don't even look like the same person who met them.

>C] You have lives to save, are looking after your health better than ever, and this is likely a trap or distraction. Neither of your friends mind your appearance, and your lover is willing to redefine the tenets of your religion to accommodate your happiness. You aren't about to waste another second of your life on petty appearances. (We will not present a prompt like this again regarding your self image, barring extreme circumstances and/or necessity. Feel free to specify any thoughts you have on the matter, too.)
>1] Cautiously try to walk around the portrait.
>2] Continue onward in a straight line. Stop the second the painting approaches. Keep your shield up for good measure.

>D] Write-in.

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>>4522203
(Good evening everyone and welcome! Catalyst Quest is kicking off tonight with a longer voting window than usual. This vote will be open until tomorrow morning, Friday, November 6th. All times provided in the thread are EST.

Schedule?: 1-2+ updates Monday-Thursday. Full sessions Friday-Sunday, with updates as often as votes permit.
Voting windows?: No faster than 30 minutes a pop mid-session, though we will likely keep the same slower pace as our last thread to better facilitate discussion.
Mechanics?: Typically we use 1d100, bo3. Situational modifiers, bonuses and maluses are based on the prompt selected and are applied before the roll. Percentage of success is most often used. Because of the highly narrative nature of this quest, and the unusual situations you all often find yourselves in, this is subject to change. Either way, I always let you guys know what's being called for before the fact, and of course write-ins and other strategy can make a huge difference!
What if I don't like what someone else is doing? SPEAK UP! Unless a vote is listed as mutually exclusive, I take all votes and discussion into consideration. Vocal opposition is always strongly considered.
Setting and character info?: The Google Drive link contains all up-to-date information. The timelines are listed on the front page. The current journal contains your character sheet, info on the pantheon, your allies, major demons you've attempted to save, the current calendar, maps, and more. The old journal, fanart, and character art is saved for posterity.

So excited to be back guys! I have a TON of fun stuff planned. If anyone ever has any questions, feedback, constructive criticism or concerns please let me know. Your participation is priceless, and I'll always try and respond to the best of my ability. Let's take on some demons!)

>>4522203
C 1

>>4522203
A1, B1-2 is more for for my curiosity.

Investigate your surroundings.

I have an idea of what's going on, but I'll wait until they answer the question.

Hello, by the way, it's good to be back!

>>4522225
I'm not fat, it's just that my passion for my faith refuses to be contained!

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>>4522203
>D] Write-in.
Decipher this image

>>4522203
>D) write in
Bro, time to get swole bro. No more flabby fatcakes of mercys and agri. Time to flesh up bro

>>4522318
Blow it out your ass.
>>4522566
Bro, why don't you actually vote bro. No more unfunny tard tier shitposts. Time to shut up bro.

>>4522578
>no vote id
you nigger

>>4522580

This was me, I voted on my phone when the thread popped up you cum guzzling, slack jawed mongoloid.
>>4522212

>>4522212
>>4522225
>>4522227
>>4522318
>>4522566
(Good morning lads and thank you for the participation lol. Going to count the first two votes, and disregard the write-ins due to the extremely strong vocal opposition, and my poor ability to decipher memes into coherent writing. When in doubt, spell it out for me. I'll do my best, though. Doesn't hurt to stay civil, either :^) Vote is locked! Since we're moving faster this morning, I should be able to keep shorter windows and do a proper session. Writing now!)

>>4522581
doesn't change that you are a Nigger

>>4522583
Vanity has always been alien to you. It would be a waste of Time to dwell on an image. Even if you were hung-up on pride, anyone with a lifestyle as active as yours has little to fear. The mirror you broke in your room was from mental distress, not your appearance, and you're looking after your health better than ever.

You and your friends quietly attempt to side-step the portrait. It hovers at the same distance away, demanding your attention wherever you go. Far from annoyed, you tease Harvey and James, and set about inspecting the surrounding area. A few different angles are offered of your company, though all of yours are round. Wholesome curiosity has you ask, "is this depiction inaccurate?"

"Of course it is," Klepto snaps, rubbing at his face. A profile view within the frame is exaggerating the bulbous end of his nose, just up to the point of deformity. "Right?"

Harvey brushes off his shoulder, as if he's expecting a clump of moss to go with it. "Right."

There are footprints in the snow, but only all of your own. It's as if the powder covering the ground had only just fallen. The forest fire is providing adequate warmth, but the leather soles of your shoes are getting damp while making further attempts to walk around the painting. It continues to persist in front of you. The slight smile across your face broadens. The object is concerned only with staying a viewing distance away. It wants you to see the image upon it, which suits you just fine. The teasing intensifies, as you test moving only parts of your body away from its frame.

"Of course. I'm not fat." The looks cast at you by your friends are so dismayed, you have to laugh, and immediately elaborate, "this must be a reflection of the passion I hold for my faith. It can't be contained~"

The clown at your back looks like he wants to throw something at you, as he groans, "oh, will you shut up. How the fuck can you be so chipper around this shit—"

"I have a fair enough idea of what is going on," you grin, "but that never has stopped me before. I was not— I am not joking, James." The smile doesn't falter. This feels like the most obvious thing in the world. You say with the utmost sincerity, "the love that I share for others has to extend to myself, too. If this is the way that the Gods wish to work through me, I will never balk at Their image. Certainly never my own. Sister Cardew was— Sister Cardew is onto something."

"Is th-that so," Harvey mutters, skeptical. "Klepto, anyth-thing on the horizon?"

"Give me a lift," the minstrel smirks.

(1/3 probably, paragraphs were never meant for 4chan)

>>4522626
The two of them set about getting Klepto onto Harvey's shoulders. It looks ridiculous, but neither one of them interrupt your preaching. "Yes. We are not defined by how we feel about ourselves. It is the actions that we take. How we approach our circumstances. I don't have to be satisfied in order to accept that this is the way that I am today. An awareness of these facts will only— can only better help me, as I strive to improve upon myself. I do not have to condone the choices that I have made, but I can live with them. To continue to best serve the Gods with all of my ability. They accept me as I am. It would be a sin to not afford myself the opportunity to do the same."

The image of you on the canvas is flushing indecently. There's a hazy look in his eye. This is ridiculous. You're not that lecherous. "Compassion towards oneself may be the most challenging aspect of my tenets, but even— even ancient practitioners of the Church of Mercy are aware that it is as important as any other. Are you having any luck?"

James has a small, unusual object on his person. It's a lens on the end of a tube, which can retract in on itself. While perched upon Harvey's shoulders, he's looking through one end of the item. Both men look a little more at ease, if for no other reason than to hear some optimism. The scout whistles. "Paint."

"P-paint?" Harvey moves to get his friend to the ground. It only takes a moment for James to hop off. "N-not a—"

"No, not a demon. Nothing. Just paint. No walls. It's like a smear, on the end of the forest. Pretty dark, and I can't make out any edges. This isn't a room. It looks like we're on the canvas. In the canvas." A brash look is directed at you. "Did you have us go inside of a demon?"

Clarification is necessary. "Not necessarily. Father Edmund instructed me to never touch the painting within this demon's cell— not that the painting itself was the demon. I have been under the impression that the— that the object we entered from was a method of containment, in and of itself."

A red flag swings up, with sudden movement within the frame just out of arm's reach. You snap your eyes to the portrait before you. There's no doubt in your mind that you all look a little more grotesque. There's more filth upon Harvey's frame, and a vacant look in his eye. He's fighting with you over a flask. A flush is across your face, and an indecent grin. There's little brightness to be seen in your hair, or on your Relic. James is still hiding, haughtily eyeing you both down the length of his nose. All of your company's unusual proportions are unquestionably exaggerated. The way the image is departing from your actual actions has both of your friends shifting uncomfortably. They look as if they want to bolt away from the object as quickly as possible.

(2/3)

>>4522627
"Neither of you have made any comments on the changes to my appearance," you quickly note. "Neither here—" A gesture towards the painting, which it doesn't mimic. "—nor in months past. Why?"

"Seems like you kn-know what you're g-getting yourself into," Harvey shrugs. "I'm n-not your wife. It's your b-business what you d-do with your b-body. Especially when it's saved my ass m-more t-times th-than I can count. Can't say I wasn't worried last n-night, b-but it's l-like I said: I wasn't ab-bout to stop you, or anyth-thing."

The encounter you had with a demon of agony left you without any time to breathe, even with the aid of two Goddesses. It's folly to imagine Harvey even being capable of interfering. He must have been terrified. "I didn't mean to worry you. I know I must— I don't even look like the same person who met you."

Klepto frowns. "Probably for the best. Won't help getting you back to work with the city, but I'd rather have you alive down here, than dead up there. Don't hug me, Richard, I swear—"

Everyone present is aware that it's a miracle you didn't die in Ostedholm, or at any given moment up until this point. You back up. "Thank you."

"We'll help you b-burn off whatever you want," Harvey offers. "Eith-ther way."

It's legitimately a blessing. "I would prefer to simply not mention it again."

The clown spits. "The city will, whether you like it or not. Fuck 'em, though. It's not important right now. What's going on? Stop with the games, Father. I thought you hated mind games. Cashew is rubbing off on you."

"Neither of you see anything?"

"No."
"N-no."

Your gaze falls on the damn painting. It's hard for it not to. "There's nothing violent in the painting. Not truly." The figures within are an embodiment of most other sin. Gluttony. Lust. Greed. Sloth. Pride. Envy. "I'm certain that I know what's going on here."

>A] You're a lot sharper than you look. (Write-in.)

>B] This demon fell deeply in on itself. It has to be within the painting before you.

>C] This is an expansive domain, and you're not so easily convinced that you're the only person or thing here. Scavenge. Search. You'll stick together, even if it might take precious time. (A roll will be required.)

>>4522628
>C] This is an expansive domain, and you're not so easily convinced that you're the only person or thing here. Scavenge. Search. You'll stick together, even if it might take precious time. (A roll will be required.)

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>>4522637
(Seriously appreciate you man, hope you're having a great morning. Little supplemental material update! It's been slow, so I'm going to go take care of a few things. Vote is open for now!)

>>4522628
>>B] This demon fell deeply in on itself. It has to be within the painting before you.

It probably has layers, I wager that the deeper we go the worst our depictions are going to look.

>>4522628
A, Demon of Interpretation. Not only his own, but a reflection of our own as well. How we see ourselves in an unflattering light, a inner truth of the shadows within recesses of our minds, a unhealthy mental depiction of ourselves, painted in a reflective interpretation of my guest here.

That's my interpretation, at least- ok ok! I'll cut down on the joking!

>>4522628
There is nothing indecent about passion, or faith, though it may look like it to you, my friendly guest.

>>4522637
>>4522704
>>4522811
>>4522814
(Yooo alright guys! Would normally have called for the roll but these write-ins are based as hell. Just going to lock the vote here and incorporate everything I can. Vote is locked! Writing now.)

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>>4522833
"Stay together, please." The recent visit from Dream Himself has you even more inspired than usual. While gesturing for your friends to get a move-on, you start talking to a painting. They search the area. You distract. It's as good of a use of your lips as any. "So. A demon of interpretation."

Klepto and Harvey are all business. The former keeps his eyes peeled, moving to the center of your group. You easily cover his actions from the sight of the frame while he scours through the snow. No branch is left unturned. At the rear, the red lion does more than guard. He clearly still suspects a quiet approach. His weapon and shield are out.

You keep your voice low. "Not only one who reflects his own perception— but a being who depicts our own ideas, as well. Our own characterizations. How we see ourselves in an unflattering light."

The item before you has changed its tune. It may have picked up on how little your physicality bothers you. Excess is emphasized. Indulgence. Sexuality. A familiar, though inappropriate gaze is boring back at you, ringed with green and gold. It's mimicking a miasma of pleasure so intense, only a God could grant it. You drop your tone. "An inner truth. The night. The shadows buried within the recesses of our minds. An unhealthy mental depiction of ourselves— depicted literally here. A most reflective rendering."

"So you're saying we think we're a bunch of freaks and sinners, is that is," James dead-pans, turning over a rock as if it's hiding an enemy. Nothing crawls out. He flashes the portrait a grin, grabs at his crotch, and thrusts a little towards the canvas. "Singing to the choir, is that it? Please."

"That is my interpretation, at least—" you can't help but laugh at Harvey groaning at the both of you. "Alright. If it is seriously bothering you, I can cut down on the humor."

The portrait before you laughs outright, as the phrase cutting down is uttered. You pay it no attention. Harvey glances over his shoulder, and mutters, "n-no. I want to get out of here as quickly as we can. What d-did eith-ther of you ev-ven expect to find in a place like th-this?"

James has pocketed multiple small stones. They're probably to replace the weapons he discarded before descending into the dungeons. "No sight of anyone else here," he notes. "Not a hide nor hair. Animal, or beast. Father?"

(1/3)

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>>4523019
A single, cursory glance is all you really need. "The snow feels real enough, but the trees themselves are clearly of a Magical nature. The heat emanating from them is continuous. They should be ash— yet there is nothing upon the air. The scent of paint is understandable, but the sand is what alarms me. It is not of the earth. Not as it should be. It's far more organic. Damp. This demon—" You gaze back at the painting. Your portrayal is dragging a hand south, while maintaining eye contact. You sigh. "There is nothing indecent about passion, nor faith." You leer right back at the frame. "Though it may appear that way to you, my friendly guest—"

The guest on the mirror mimics your grin, only turning away to harass the portrait of Klepto. Excessive hugging ensues. Hands in places they shouldn't be. The real minstrel is tickled pink. "I'm not that stuck-up. This thing has no idea what it's talking about. ...painting about."

"We sh-shouldn't ling-ger," Harvey whispers. Clouds are gathering. "It's stalling for someth-thing. It has to be."

A series of terrible thoughts occur to you. "This demon fell deeply in on itself. It must be— it must be within the painting before us. It likely has layers, and I wager that— that the deeper we go, the worse our depictions will look."

Horror slakes across James' face. "You want to go inside this, too?"

Harvey isn't phased by the suggestion. He's keeping his gaze overhead, to the blackened night sky. "I don't know what ch-choice we really have, if th-that's th-the case—"

The figures within the portrait suddenly snap back to a fairer rending. Motionless, just like the three men standing before it. Not nervous. Confident, even in the face of the unknown. But there is no mistake that Klepto looks older, uglier, and far haughtier. Harvey has that less-than-heroic look in his eye, which lingers over the gold adorning your person. The armor on his back is neglected, almost to the point of disrepair. While you're far from in denial about your weight, there's no question that the mirrored image has you looking even more rotund than before. The expression across your face is not only lascivious— you give off the impression of a madman.

A distant voice comes from within the painting. It's disembodied, and haunting. The three of you practically fall back. Harvey's sword is spun to face it in an instant, as is your shield, and a sack full of rocks from James. The three of your motions all sync up with the small utterance. You're reminded of a child who's up to no good, though the question echoes throughout the woods, above all the crackling flame. An echo initially, though the demon finds itself before long. Tilting. Melodic. "Look. Look. Look. Overlap. Scheme. Constitution. Come to me. Come within. Make your choice. Two suffice. Illustrate the lesser sin."

"Fuck no," Harvey immediately mutters, looking around for the source of the noise, or an exit.

(2/3)

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>>4523023
"Sloth. Greed. In your hands—" The voice must be referring to Time, or Dream. Likely the former. "—are wasted all that you claim to need—"

The figures on the portrait pose in caricatures of sin. The red lion is sprawled out on the floor, inert, while still wearing his priceless suit of armor. You're simultaneously praying, running a hand along your body, and stealing gratuitous swigs from a flask. James is simply staring at himself— both in real life, and in the portrait.

The minstrel is obviously deeply bothered. As the face in front of him continues to slowly age, he distantly remarks, "we should move, if we're going to."

"Envy. Pride. Quick to deride. Blame will come—" The voice is absolutely referring to Time. "—with one upside. Not for you, but for another. He who calls excess his lover."

The sky is dark. It's difficult to see more than a few inches in front of your face, to a back-lit painting, and its frame wreathed in chains.

"Gluttony. Lust. Have your friends misplaced their trust? Is their leader so unjust? Stay awhile. I'll be discussed. Take some more. You surely must. Your fore-bearers, too—"

"Oh," James finishes, looking to the ground in horror. "It's not snow." He mocks the painting's tone. "The place is caked with dust. There's plenty of people here, just not how we'd want to see them—" Harvey immediately moves past James, grabbing at his arm. "—hey—!"

The red lion has been called a coward, but you've never thought him as lazy. He's moving to touch the painting first. James locks eyes with you for a split second. The stare has every indication that he'd rather be caught dead than to let Harvey get away with being a hero.

(Options in next post.)

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>>4523028
(ALL OF THE FOLLOWING ARE MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE. Majority vote will decide.)

>A] Body-block Harvey, and try to answer the question verbally. You do legitimately have to try something.
>1] Sloth, and greed. You can stand idly by, and covet some answers, even if lives are in danger.
>2] Envy, and pride. This demon has an advantage over you, and you can't stand it. There's no way you'll let your friends potentially harm themselves for your sake, either. Not when you're the hero, here.
>3] Gluttony, and lust. You can't get enough in the way of questions, let alone demons. This is your element, and the only thing you love more than seeking out danger is lingering over it.

>B] Make your answer clear through your actions. None of you are afraid of what this demon might try to do. You'll make sure everyone has some form of contact, and goes together in one way or another.
>1] Sloth, and greed. Harvey's self-neglect extends to just about everything other than his material possessions. It's made him into one of the most heroic men you've ever met, and you'll gladly let him go first.
>2] Envy, and pride. James' focus on his own image is only eclipsed by the admiration he possesses for greater men. If his disdain for Harvey's behavior will compel him to possibly make a sacrifice on behalf of his friends, you won't stop him.
>3] Gluttony, and lust. You're closest to the painting, and can reach out before anyone else. If it weren't for your ceaseless pursuit of the Gods— having them in you, and loving everything about how they work through you— no one would even be here today. You can accept your flaws, and admit to enjoying a few lesser evils.

>C] Write-in.

>>4523030
>>B] Make your answer clear through your actions. None of you are afraid of what this demon might try to do. You'll make sure everyone has some form of contact, and goes together in one way or another.
>3] Gluttony, and lust. You're closest to the painting, and can reach out before anyone else. If it weren't for your ceaseless pursuit of the Gods— having them in you, and loving everything about how they work through you— no one would even be here today. You can accept your flaws, and admit to enjoying a few lesser evils.

"Everything in moderation, friend. *Including sin.*"

>>4523030
A3, checkmate

>>4523030
My oh my, are you quite so sly!
To make a being such as I,
Lose sight with my own eyes!
In the depths of my soul,
Only truth must toll,
And though I may be laid bare,
It 'tis only curtsy you must share,
For if a painting speaks a thousand words,
Then you must be a Book of Soul,
Laid bare, open to all.

For you may tempt us to deceive,
yet you yourself play make-believe,
For it is not the Six Sins I embody,
But the Seventh you deny,
For in my soul you must know,
That my Wrath is Divine,
That my Mercy is so fine!

Do not tremble to and fro,
Let us help you in the depths below.

>>4523053
>>4523054
>>4523069
(You guys. Holy shit. You spoil me, for fucking real. That poem goddamn. This is a three-way tie and I did explicitly state majority. Going to leave this open until a breaker comes through. Please clearly specify if any of you wish to change your vote, or piggy-back on someone else. Since these are all in the same vein, if there is no breaker in the next one (1) hour, I will lock the vote and attempt to combine them. Vote remains open for now!)

>>4523069

As a compromise I will second this. We can have our flowery speech and then yeet everyone inside. Would be fitting or Richard I think.

>>4523136
(Seriously appreciate you man, thank you. Alright then! Vote is locked! Writing now.)

>>4523141
https://youtu.be/U4IhHG8Pwq8

You can accept your flaws. You can body-block Harvey with ease, and eat a few spikes to the side of your arm. It's apparent to everyone present how much joy you take in directing your focus straight towards a demon, as the night become all-consuming. The portrait is dead ahead. It's thanks to your ceaseless pursuit of the Gods that everyone is gathered here today. It's because of your adoration for their methods that love is all through your voice. You have your quarry, and want it to hear your answer. The tone is tilting. The meter is crude. It's a work of passion, and inspiration. After all, there's no harm in enjoying a few lesser evils.

"My oh my, a demon sly?
Dare you steal my sight as I
Misconceive and magnify
Valid icons of our figures?

Truth omitted in two-thirds,
Your court'sy upon a scroll,
Paintings speak one thousand words,
Yet here hangs a book of soul.

My friends you may not deceive,
Their portrayals are make-believe,
Two of six in paint I weave,
Though the Seventh you deny.

My lover hangs 'pon the sky.
It is WRATH that is divine!
For "Mercy," my heart does sigh.
Compassion! Our sacred shrine!

Take comfort from my station.
In all things— including sin—
Ask not for moderation.
Indulge me. Seek help within."

The sky is dark. It's impossible to make out anyone's face. James is being firmly held by Harvey, who's shoulder is grabbed by you. There's no Time for protests, for thought, for bickering, or for further sin. The moment the last words leave your lips, you reach out, and step deeper inside of the painted world.

-----

It feels as if something made of ice sinks into the pit of your stomach. Deeper. Darker. Colder.

The air could be cut with a knife. Mist parts from your breath. The close proximity of the men at your back is sorely appreciated. It's bitterly dark, and you all scramble to get lanterns lit. There should be hours of oil remaining, and you brought plenty of candles. That's not your concern.

The world is made of blocks of ice. The floor, ceiling, and angular walls on all four sides are ice. It can't be more than six feet across in any direction. Claustrophobia is rare for you, but it's hard to not feel trapped. You're a couple inches taller than the ceiling, and have to uncomfortably bend down just to stand. To add further discomfort to the shift in environment, hands are suspended in the walls, floor, and ceiling. They are not dismembered. The rest of the bodies are suspended deeper within the frozen water. Their deceased's faces cannot be seen in the shadows all around.

"Mercy," you start, and stop.

(1/2)

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>>4523300
The blocks of ice are unquestionably the walls of a maze. Far, far off in the distance is the portrait. It's illuminated from behind, in hues of deep jade and sapphire. The figures upon it can't even be seen from this distance. It has to be nearly a mile away, though it's at least straight ahead. There must be walls in-between.

You resist the urge to swear, as your stomach is killing you, and several distractions rapidly build. James is right at your back, and kicks a nearby wall hard enough to hurt himself. "For FUCK'S sake!"

Harvey is right next to him. The two of you practically occupy the entire small space you're standing in. He looks apologetic. "Come on. We'd b-better g-get m-moving."

There's a sharp bend in the wall to the front, and to the back. Klepto has out one of the coarse rocks he pilfered, and is scratching marks onto the walls. They're numbered. One slants downwards, heading towards the painting in the distance. There's blood on the walls leading down, though they're blackened, frozen, and old. He's labeled it "1".
The other, "2," slants upwards, and appears to have the same general appearance as the room you're occupying.

He's testing the writing in a number of ways. Holding the lantern up to the ice. Scratching it with the underside of his nail. Spitting on it. It looks like he suspects it won't persist. "Fucking BULLSHIT." A sneer is thrown your way. "I'm not getting any younger, but I can take a hit. You and Harvey shouldn't. I need you fuckers. No protests next time— if there is a next time. For fuck's sake. Thanks, Father. But don't make me fucking say it again. I'm going to kill you. This is the line."

A ragged breath escapes you. There's a faint reflection from the lantern light upon the ice all around. Your hair is a lot darker, and resembles copper now more than gold. It's abundantly clear that adjustments need to be made to your robes, which do not fit. Nothing really does, as it seems your image is now mirroring what you were gazing upon in the portrait you stepped into. The pain in your waist is from your belt and trousers being tested beyond their reasonable limits. The gaze in your eyes is likely twice as intense and startling as before.

A crawling feeling settles into the pit of your stomach. Your massive stomach. You're starving, even though you're certain you had a decent breakfast. The binging you did in the last two days was enough to placate a Goddess, yet you're so hungry, it hurts. A small growl vocalizes itself. There's heat in your face, if nowhere else in the entire maze you're in, and it's impossible to completely focus on the task at hand.

You discreetly turn around, and let out your belt. The largest notch is still too tight. The heat in your face intensifies.

James mutters to himself, "we might not have enough light."

Harvey looks like he could kill someone, and sheathes his sword and shield once more. "B-better n-not waste it."

(Options in next post.)

>>4523306
>Please choose one option from A and one option from B.

>A] This demon decided to indulge you, and you alone. (These are mutually exclusive. MAJORITY VOTE WILL DECIDE.)
>1] Time is incredibly important to you. You are positive you'll be able to temper any urges you have for now, and will know when to rest when it's appropriate. Pray to Flesh and Agriculture for forgiveness while you walk. (A CUMULATIVE MALUS WILL BE APPLIED. Mercy would surely appreciate you looking after your health. Anything more severe than this may damage your pact with Her, and so is not being presented as an option.)
>2] Conjure the lightest, non-alcoholic, and filling thing you can manage with Yech's flask. Have enough to kill the sin a demon's put on you, and get a move on. Agriculture and Mercy will be placated if nothing else, and you don't want to have any ability compromised in the immediate future. (NO MALUS WILL BE APPLIED, and your pacts with Mercy and Agriculture will remain unchallenged. Your relationship with Agriculture may benefit.)
>3] Write-in.

>B] Time's a wasting.
>1] Take the hall labeled "1."
>2] Take the hall labeled "2."
>3] Take a precious moment, and a free hand to draft a map as you walk.
>4] Do something else, or specify a more strategic course of action. (Write-in.)

>>4523310
>>2] Conjure the lightest, non-alcoholic, and filling thing you can manage with Yech's flask. Have enough to kill the sin a demon's put on you, and get a move on. Agriculture and Mercy will be placated if nothing else, and you don't want to have any ability compromised in the immediate future. (NO MALUS WILL BE APPLIED, and your pacts with Mercy and Agriculture will remain unchallenged. Your relationship with Agriculture may benefit.)

>B] Time's a wasting.
>3] Take a precious moment, and a free hand to draft a map as you walk.

We have perfect memory and this looks like a maze, might be worth a try.

>>4523310
My oh my, you've pulled out all the stops, my guest. Thank you for your honesty.

A3, a slight prayer to Dream and Time is important, I believe. I won't contest the other votes, though I will say this is likely a trial of wills.

B3-4, we can study the walls as we go.

In the Darkest of the Nights, I often Dreamt I was among the stars. Even if our lights go out, mine won't falter. Let's go.

>>4523358
If my vote is causing trouble, I'll revoke it in support of >>4523317, if you don't mind.

>>4523317
>>4523358
>>4523410
(Seriously appreciate it man! I'll try to combine the two as best as I can, just making some dinner at the moment and was spending some time with my gf. Will update shortly!)

>>4523470
(Back and ready for action. Vote is locked. Writing now!)

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>>4523623
"My," you breathe. "Oh, my. My guest has pulled out all the stops. Very well. Time is wasting." You scramble to get your journal, some pens, and your flask. James and Harvey give you a look. Both men bristle. You don't want to die today, and try to immediately explain, "I could readily memorize our course, but why leave anything to chance? I'll draft the map as we walk."

They're eyeing the damn flask. "No," James smiles.

You make a point to clearly state, "the lightest, non-alcoholic, and—" A gulp. These are death-stares directed to you. "—and filling thing you can manage. Please." To your friends, you try to beat down the heat on your face to stress, "Time is a precious thing. A demon has put this sin on me. Even in the darkest of nights, I— I and Dream are among the stars. Our lights may go out, by mine will not. Neither will Mercy's. I am maintaining Her favor, and— and Agriculture's. It likely may even benefit my connection to Her. This is yet another opportunity for me to bear the burden of a lost soul. We are here for a reason, and will move on—"

"Fine," Harvey scowls, exasperated. "Fine. It's n-not d-digg-gging into the supplies. D-don't you d-date b-bitch when we're b-back up top. Or n-now. Stay on your feet."

Klepto looks like he's going to smack the container out of your hands. There's muttering. You ignore it, and don't inspect the contents of the flask before quickly taking a sip. It's hot enough to exacerbate the heat in your face, and make up for the ice all around. Chia seeds, pumpkin, nutmeg. Nothing too sweet.

You can't focus on anything else for a moment. Two. Three. You worked with Sister Cardew on this for weeks, and keep a pen in hand. The most basic outline of the map comes out in the meantime. The rudimentary experience you have with perspective makes even the simple outline a challenge, but it's manageable.

Harvey and James tap their feet. "My hat is better than that," James bluntly critiques.

"I can't erase it," you frown.

"Your head would be sticking th-through th-the ceiling," Harvey teases.

They're giving you shit for taking too long. It's fine. The urge to add additional flourishes, the painting in the distance, or what may lie ahead can wait. Praying to Dream and to Time is important, but you'll do so as you walk. This is a trial of wills.

The map is inadequate. There's not enough lighting. The brew in your flask is almost grating. It's delicious, satisfying on a visceral level, and you're stuffed— but it's just liquid. You can't dig your teeth into it. It's impossible to tell if you still need more, or just want it. The warmth, and pressure from within is disproportionately pleasant. More than usual. More pleasure than a Goddess has been capable of granting you. You might be lingering over the item. There's something horribly right about it.

Harvey gently takes the flask from you, with only one of his hands. A sword is in the opposite. "J-just for n-now."

(1/2)

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>>4523716
You almost trail after it, immediately catch yourself, and make no further protests. This isn't worth arguing over. You're not going to stand for having any ability compromised in the immediate future, and have dealt with worse effects on your body, behavior, and soul. "Let's go."

Both of your friends look extremely worried. "Pen," the red lion insists, capping the container.

You sigh, and wave a writing utensil at him. It's then stashed between your teeth. The impulse to gnaw at something is inescapable, but it helps. You find a way to prop up your journal in one arm, keep your lantern out with the other, and still are capable of drawing as you walk.

Harvey hides the flask somewhere on his person. He's a patient man, understands sin better than any other heathen alive, and doesn't give you any further trouble. "Stay b-behind m-me. Fath-ther, you're ch-choosing th-the path. Klepto, you st-stay b-behind him. Kill him if he tries anyth-thing with th-the supply."

"That is not funny," you grimace.

He doesn't look like he's joking, and speaks directly to James. "Watch th-the m-map, and keep th-the m-markings up, too."

The corridors here are small and narrow enough that you all have to walk single-file, and can't risk venturing forth without exposing anyone. There's no shelter. No exits. No other paintings in sight. Under your breath, you briefly pray. "Her will is unchangeable. Dream, grant us reprieve from this twilight of the damned. Grant me respite from my sin, that I may better..."

>Select either prompt 1 or 2.
>Majority vote will decide.
>Feel free to write-in additional actions, strategy, discussion, or any other things you wish to convey to your friends.

>1] Try to take the shortest path to the painting. Head down the decline. Something caused all of that blood, and you will not be caught unawares. Make sure Harvey keeps up front.

>2] Head up the incline. It might be a longer route, but maybe not. Something caused all that blood at your back, and you don't want to find out what it was.

>>4523720
Welp, this may end poorly, but color me intrigued by 1.

We might as well tackle it head on before Richard gets worse. Pray to Mercy for our team's defense, and pray to Flesh that your body may be still effective in a fight.

Advise from our friends is appreciated.

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>>4523745
(Thanks for hanging in there man. Got a ton of updates in today and we had a lot of AMAZING participation! You guys are the best, what a fucking awesome start to the thread. Going to call it here for the night so I can get some rest. Appropriately, here's the last bit of supplemental material promised! Journal entry on Praxilyos. This, along with everything else that was worked on has been uploaded to the Google Drive. Should be completely current! Good night everyone!)

>>4523720
>>1] Try to take the shortest path to the painting. Head down the decline. Something caused all of that blood, and you will not be caught unawares. Make sure Harvey keeps up front.

Wouldn't be the first time we descend into madness, going uphill is also more taxing on stamina.

>>4523720
>1] Try to take the shortest path to the painting. Head down the decline. Something caused all of that blood, and you will not be caught unawares. Make sure Harvey keeps up front.

>Comments/write in
I really enjoy this inner world desu, it's cool to travel through and interact with this demon. I hope it's willing to talk, I'm quite intrigued by the challenges and insights it presents us.

I'm really only trying to expediate the travel for Harvey and James sake.

>>4523720
>2] Head up the incline. It might be a longer route, but maybe not. Something caused all that blood at your back, and you don't want to find out what it was.

>>4523745
>>4524118
>>4524154
>>4524362
(Good afternoon guys! Seriously overslept and had a headache to clean up for most of the afternoon but I'm back and ready for action now. Vote is locked! Writing now!)

>>4524692
https://youtu.be/oErHKvxOVjo

For all of the incessant prayer, anxiety, and sin, you can't help but find the entire situation stunning. Particularly its lair.

This is a window into a lost soul. An opportunity for interpretation, and exploration. A challenge to take head-on. A blessing.

The blocks of ice underfoot, and the frigid air compliments the heat all through you. An uphill slope is probably going to be a lot more taxing, anyways. "We'll take the shortest path possible," you suggest, looking to a bloody hallway with stars in your eyes. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't intrigued."

Harvey laughs, and shuffles around to the front of your group with some difficulty. "Typical. I was hoping we wouldn't put it off! B-but g-good. Come on."

"You know I appreciate both of you. Truly." The scrawniest member of your company has to wait for Harvey to skirt down the hall before he can get behind you. They don't need to know you're really only concerned for their sake. Agitating the side of your robes can't adjust your shirt beneath, but any motion feels fantastic. You're acutely aware that it's not normal to take this much satisfaction from even brushing against your body. "I would rather make the most of my efforts now. Before I get— before I get any worse. In the event that things get any worse— if you have any advice—"

Even your friends have limits to their restraint. Klepto manages to slink past you and Harvey, and maliciously laughs. "You know what they say, Richard?"

"D-don't," Harvey groans, setting off for the decline. "You're g-going to echo d-down the whole corrid-dor."

A whisper is assumed, as James laughs to himself. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained!"

You set off after Harvey. Some light chuckling doesn't hurt. Two can play at this game. "I always assumed that the phrase was figurative. Wearmoor's old church leads may have had a better sense of humor than I thought. But James, you're forgetting something, too."

"What's that," he titters.

"This is far from my first descent into madness."

"If th-this place d-doesn't kill me first—"

"I assumed that going uphill would be more taxing on our stamina," you laugh, though with increasing difficulty. "I'll ease up on the humor. I know you're both nervous. The route at our backs may have been faster. But maybe— but maybe not. I'll pray for all of our safety." Far more quietly, you add, "I hope that this demon is still willing to speak with me."

Everything aches within minutes. The prayer resumes. First and foremost to Mercy, for everyone's defense to hold. There is no shelter. A careful procession is critical. The slick ice blocks underfoot made flat ground treacherous. The steep slope down is a death trap, if nothing else.

You pray to Flesh that your body will still be effective in a fight, if nothing else.

(1/3)

>>4524814
It's as if ice has settled into your soul itself. The disconnect is something you've felt before, and you do not pray for forgiveness. This is something you've owned, accepted, and understand the ramifications of in full.

My current state is an insult to the God of combativeness— but the Gods are Merciful.

Harvey takes out a small knife, and digs it into the wall periodically as you all move for extra support. His shield is out to catch anyone if they fall. The lantern you're carrying casts beams around the spikes of the red lion's silhouette. Light scarcely reflects off the walls. The blood splattered and dried all around has only increased. You're not going to be caught unawares by whatever caused it, but the utter absence of cover has everyone's nerves on end.

It occurs to everyone present that despite the bends and turns in the corridor, there's been no outlets to speak of. No breaks. No pauses. At least half an hour must pass by. The corridor is almost looping in on itself, and continuously descending. Spikes gradually appearing on the walls and ceiling. You have to crouch down even further. They're embedded in the ice, and the corridor is getting thinner. The further you walk, the more that the walls are tapering in.

You and James cast your torchlight as far as you're able— but the steepness and bends of the passage make the effort nearly useless. It's incredibly difficult to tell where there's an outlet— or if there's any outlet at all. The painting's position hasn't moved, at least. James states the obvious. "Back-tracking in here is going to waste more Time than what it's worth, but this is bad."

The floor's steepness is increasing by the second. It's too narrow to switch-back, or even walk one or two steps to either side. Maintaining full contact with your feet is only doing so much good. The spikes are also beginning to manifest on the floor. The back of your calves, the pit of your gut, and just about every other inch of you is burning. It's a great feeling! One that is far better than it should be! You're breathless, but know that keeping up the procession without changing something is going to be the death of you.

A fate better than death.

You murmur a few more praises to Mercy. To Agriculture.

This is a gift.

Expediting the travel is for your friend's sake. You would keep this up indefinitely, if you could.

With more levity than he should, Harvey adds, "slipping is g-going to g-get you both killed. M-mayb-be m-me, too."

"We could slide," James gleefully proposes. "Two shields, right? I don't think your armor is getting scratched by anything, either, Harvey—"

"N-no," he smiles. "I'm n-not ab-ble to b-block your entire scrawny ass j-just with m-muscle, Klepto. We n-need th-the shields, and you'd ruin th-their integ-grity."

(2/3 was just over)

>>4524819
"Mine is enchanted," you innocuously add, "by an archdemon of Agriculture, and an ally to the Church of Mercy. It can bear any burden, and withstand any blow—"

"See?" The minstrel at your back couldn't sound more pleased with himself.

"N-no," Harvey continues to smile. "We d-don't kn-know what's furth-ther d-down. Could b-be someth-thing hid-ding, or a d-dead-end."

>Be advised that your current maluses are substantial.
>The following may not be mutually exclusive. Majority vote will decide, if necessary.
>Your QM will merge prompts if needed, and/or determine what rolls may be required.

>A] You love slides.
>1] Make a strong argument to Harvey as to why this is reasonable and justifiable in any way. (Write-in necessary. A MODERATE ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED.)
>2] Steal Harvey's shield, toss it to Klepto, and go for it. (A HIGH ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED.)

>B] There are better ways to tackle your problems head-on. Craftsmanship or skill isn't the question— it's how long your endurance will hold out. (A ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED.)
>1] Fasten some poles or other tools to help you and your allies descend. You'll keep your eyes ahead, and keep up the pace, even if it's more taxing on you all (and a little riskier).
>2] Take much smaller steps, face in towards the slope, and take any other physical measures necessary to ease the descent. It's going to slow things down exponentially, but you'd rather be safe than sorry.

>C] Turn around. You do now have to also walk uphill both ways, in the ice, in the lair of a demon, JUST to offer them a shot at salvation— but tell James it'll make for a good story later. You'll try the other path. (A LOW ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED.)

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

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(Also worth noting, you were given a full inventory list by Sister Cardew in the last thread. Pic related. Feel free to get creative.)

>>4524821
>>C] Turn around. You do now have to also walk uphill both ways, in the ice, in the lair of a demon, JUST to offer them a shot at salvation— but tell James it'll make for a good story later. You'll try the other path. (A LOW ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED.)

Worst case scenario we can slide down here from the very top! That would be so much more fun right?

>>4524821
A1, D

We do have several hundred feet of rope to use, and I can't think of little better time to use it! Tie off the rope securely around the spikes, and we can commit to a controlled descent. It'll be faster and less effort that walking down, while we won't be completely be off guard if we have to fight. If we need to ascend, the rope will help immensely.

Plus it'll be fun, but the obvious doesn't bare mentioning.

>>4524821
>A] You love slides.

>>4524837
>>4524882
>>4524892
(Vote is locked, going for majority.)

>YOU LOVE SLIDES
>(But keep it controlled.)

>Roll 1d100. Best of 3 will be used.
>-45 WHAT'S SELF-CONTROL? (There's a demon in you, and they're making life a whole lot harder.)
>-5 THE RIGHT KIND OF ACHE (As much as you like it, you're already tired enough to have a detriment to physical performance.)
>+15 THIS ISN'T YOUR FIRST RODEO (You actually have ample experience with weird environments, and slides!)
>+5 SHOW THEM THE ROPES (Using what's at hand will compensate for some early exhaustion!)

Rolled 88 (1d100)

>>4524905

Rolled 66 (1d100)

>>4524905
Yay! It brings me back to the... well, fun-filled days of my youth.

Rolled 80 (1d100)

>>4524905

>>4524913
>>4524918
>>4524927
(Wew that 88-30=58 is the bo3 then! Fantastic. Vote is locked! Writing now.)

>>4525018
https://youtu.be/Bvf5F7UfQ3c

You love slides, and fish for several hundred feet of rope from your satchel. "A controlled descent, then. One that is safer, faster, and takes far less effort than walking down." You hand off a huge length of rope to James, who is making no effort to hide his smugness from Harvey. Harvey opens his mouth to complain. You easily preach over him. "We will not be caught off guard this way if we have to fight— and if we need to ascend? The rope will help immensely. Please give me a hand, Harvey."

He takes the rope. There's grumbling.

You're delighted. It goes without saying that the fun of the venture is your actual motivation. Several spikes on the walls and floor are tested. Several of the sturdiest are used as an anchor. James insists on doing all the knots himself, and Harvey surrenders his shield. You get your own defense off your back, and have to stash the journal for now. This has been a straight shot thus far, and you might have been lingering too long on the blood effects to produce the entire map accurately. It can wait. Your exuberance will not. A brief idea flashes through your mind of doubling back— just to be able to descend from an even greater height— but the slope is severe. It will have to do.

Harvey takes the lead, and insists on setting the pace. "If eith-ther of you crash into m-me, I d-don't kn-know if I can keep m-my g-grip."

A cheeky glance is fired between you and James. Neither of you makes any promises you can't keep, and you set off. Down on the shield. It was difficult to tell how badly the climb was taxing your legs— particularly your knees— but the effect is immediate. You sigh in relief. The rope compensates completely for the exhaustion you were already dealing with, and you keep a firm grip.

A steady pace is assumed, thanks to Harvey throwing warning glares over his shoulder almost constantly. The slope gets even sharper after a couple of minutes.

Harvey's grip almost falters. He shouts, you and James fire each other a wicked grin, and you all careen for a few precious seconds.

Yay!

The uncontrolled slide is over before it began. The red lion kicks out against the wall, and you almost slam into his back. Catching yourself is almost effortless, thanks to how outstanding your reflexes are. "Are you alright," you huff.

More grumbling. He's clearly happy to have not died, and briefly replies, "fine. Come on."

The steady pace is resumed. An excruciatingly slow pace. You want it again, and have to fight tooth and nail against it. It's not the physical effort that's taxing. By all rights, this should be a breeze. It's the tension in your shoulders, the rope digging in underhand, and the incessant desire to do more.

(1/3)

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>>4525085
It takes you back to your childhood. To being deprived of even the most basic building blocks of life. To being devoid of the sun, and food, and water. To begging for some reprieve. For relief. To be sated in any way.

Your friends and demons alike can call you a glutton, but you know that your behavior comes from a good place. A devout place. One of compassion, towards unmet needs.

Ah. To be a child again.

There's still rope to spare, when the descent levels off into a flat landing. It's about ten feet long, and the opposite wall is lanced with razor-sharp spikes. They're caked in rotten gore. The spikes on the floor and walls were easy enough to navigate around, thanks to everyone's caution, and you all nervously look to one another. No one has yet to even get a scratch on them. Your arms are aching beyond belief, but you breathe a sigh of relief, and come to a slow stop. The exertion normally wouldn't have taxed you, but your head is swimming, and it's obvious that your heart is being pushed much harder than it's used to.

Harvey laughs out loud, right at Klepto. The red-head hops to his feet, and gestures broadly to the lethal spikes just ahead. "N-not g-getting scratch-ched b-by anyth-thing? How ab-bout th-that?"

"Oh, shut it." The minstrel skips upright, and hands the knight's shield over. The passage is still small enough that he has to pass the object over your head, as you move to stand. "You alright there, Father?"

It burns to even get back to your feet. It burns in your face, and every other inch of you, in a way that only your lover is capable of producing. You have to take an extra minute to get your composure back, and to not make any indecent sounds, but manage alright on your own. It's not painful. It's more sensation than you're used to. It feels incredible. There's an intense urge to keep moving.

James clears his throat. He put on a pair of gloves when you first entered, but the tip of his nose is getting a bluish tint. "Remind me to not give Cashew such a hard time. Toss me a coat. The scarves, too."

While Harvey inspects the area just ahead, you fish some of the spare clothes out from the satchel, and help James get his bare skin covered. He insists you do the same, even if you can't feel the cold as well. It's uncomfortable to an extreme, but you at least toss up your hood, and cover your face and hands. Pins and needles run all along your nose and cheeks. Even if you couldn't feel it, it's clear your skin was taking a hit from the frigid conditions.

There's an odd look being directed at you. You finish tying off an old (classic, yellow, favorite) scarf, and quietly say to James, "thank you. What— what is it—?"

He puts his hands to his covered cheeks, and gushes, "this isn't a bad look for you, is all." He's making a goofy smile, intense enough to be seen at the corners of his eyes. "Don't mind me. Harvey!"

(2/3)

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>>4525089
"G-good th-thinking," he grins. James tosses over a scarf, which he catches, and wraps around the little skin visible around his beard. "Alright. It sh-should b-be clear. Come on."

The corridors ahead are all long, and slightly ascending. The ice here is not covered in blood. It's clean, nearly transparent, and polished to an intense sheen. The path blessedly widens, and there are no additional spikes. Three concave corridors stem from the wall ahead. They all mimic mirrors, from floor to too-short ceiling. Each one greatly distorts whoever is looking upon it. It's fun (to you, at least). James immediately has his frown back.

The leftmost reflective opening is as narrow within as the steep slope you all just came in from. The images within make you all appear broader, and it's well-lit. The lantern-light in hand is almost blinding as it hits off the walls. You likely would only need a single candle to easily see down the passage. The entire corridor appears to have a mellow ascent. It's floor is nearly flat, but the bright blue ice upon it is so cracked in places, it juts up here and there. You'd have to continue in single-file.

The central corridor is a gorgeous shade of lilac and amethyst. The ice is fragmented in ten thousand places. The reflections upon it are like a mosaic. The ascent is the steepest, and you can't make out any forms whatsoever. Not even ten feet higher than your current position begins a blind-spot, and what's surely a further passage beyond. It's inspiring. You wager it's the fastest way to reclaim the space you've taken from the painting in the distance.

To the far right is a hodgepodge of paint, splattered upon the walls. The azure, cornflower, cobalt and midnight are dizzying in their intensity. The ascent is moderate, and the corridor is a little darker than the rest, but you suspect it would be a fairer path. The ice is solid, and you can see a far ways off into the structure. It's surely a slope you could handle, even in your current condition.

Harvey and James look to you expectantly. The former smirks, but doesn't say anything. It's fine. You probably look as comfortable with the situation as you feel, and smirk right back at him. Your shield is strapped to your back, the journal comes out, and you resume plotting the course.

>A] Take the leftmost path. Catch your breath. Try something light. (NO ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED.)

>B] Take the central path. You're willing to push yourself in the name of saving Time. (A MODERATE ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED.)

>C] Take the rightmost path. It's a fine compromise, and you're terribly curious. (A LOW ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED.)

>D] There's something else you need to do, while you catch your breath. (Write-in anything else you'd like to say, do, etc.)

>>4522193
So I saw this on the board, thought I'd take read through the archive. Christ the thread with the succubus (#4) is a dumpster fire. It's seriously making me consider stopping there. Do things get any better?

>>4525101
Why don't you read on and find out?

>>4525101
(That's the absolute low point of the entire quest, and is virtually uphill from there. There's low points later but it was such a catastrophic failure for the protag that as recently as the last thread he was still having some PTSD-related bully from just thinking about it. But yes, anon. It does get better. The writing quality also astronomically increases, and I use images a lot more often moving forward as well.)

>>4525092
C, you got me there :^)

Try to take in and enjoy the beauty while we can.

>>4525105
If the writing quality was an issue, I wouldn't have made it that far in the first place. That's good to hear though.

I've one other question, one I dread the answer to: do the incredibly out-of-place romantic elements stay on the periphery? Why you felt the need to take a rare character that was perfectly suited to avoid waifu nonsense, and almost immediately saddle him with waifu bait eludes me, but I can tolerate it if those elements stayed on the fringes.

>>4525116
(Glad to hear it man. Hang in there. You really are at the low point. There is a distinct reason why the female characters behave in such an irrational way, and go out of their way to hang around him. The romantic elements with them do not persist, and there are LARGE swathes of the quest with 0 romantic elements whatsoever from any of the cast. When it does come up later, it's with a different set of characters and has a lot more to it.)

>>4525118
>The romantic elements with them do not persist, and there are LARGE swathes of the quest with 0 romantic elements whatsoever from any of the cast.
This is incredibly relieving to hear.

>When it does come up later, it's with a different set of characters and has a lot more to it.)
This, less so.
...as long as it doesn't involve the Father, I can deal.

>>4525125
(Definitely give it a look over, and let me know what you think if you feel up to it! There's a LOT of character growth and change in dynamics over the course of the story. Rare for anyone to dive in deep to the entire archive, you're ambitious as fuck and I can't tell ya how much I appreciate it. Thanks for letting me know that you've been sticking to it even that far. One more word of caution: the Avowed arc has some pacing issues, but they are intentional. If you're enjoying lack of romance and thriving on the psychological elements, God stuff, and worldbuilding though you'll probably like it a lot more. Thanks for reading man! Hang in there!)

>>4525108
(Thanks for voting man. Getting some shut-eye, will do everything in my power to wake up earlier in the morning. Hoping to get one more good session done this weekend! See ya guys in a few hours, voting window will be open ofc til I get back.)

>>4525092
C] Take the rightmost path. It's a fine compromise, and you're terribly curious. (A LOW ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED.)

>>4525092
>>C] Take the rightmost path. It's a fine compromise, and you're terribly curious. (A LOW ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED.)

>>4525108
>>4525228
>>4525335
>SATISFY YOUR SCENIC CURIOSITY
>A LOW ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED

>Roll 1d100. Best of 3 will be used.
>You remember that your Relic provides immediate pain relief, and are negating a cumulative malus as a result.

>-45 WHAT'S SELF-CONTROL? (There's a demon in you, and they're making life a whole lot harder.)
>+15 SPEED DEMON (Regardless of the abrupt spike in weight, your heart is a lot stronger than that of most men.)

Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>4525346

Fatso goes on a hike

Rolled 44 (1d100)

>>4525346

WHITNESS ME!

Rolled 14 (1d100)

dabs

>>4525349
>>4525355
>>4525377
(74-30=44 with the bo3! Thank goodness lol. The self-bully will continue until morale improves, it seems. Writing now!)

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>>4525380
Flourishes in red, purple, and blue ink update your course within the journal. The path has been straight enough to not require any indication of your company's movement. The little figures you initially drew are on the opposite end of the page, and it's clear you're farther than ever from the painting. You're more determined than ever. James scratches in a few numbers on the floor. From left to right, he marks the corridors from three to five. You match the labels on your own illustration, and set off for the rightmost hall.

The Relic around your neck is unfastened from its chain, and wrapped neatly around your torch-hand. It won't get in the way of any drawing, and the relief from your pain is immediate. It's a good thing. Setting off for the incline has your friends hop to getting to the front and back of you once more. They don't trust that you can manage it. It's fine!

An ugly, disparaging remark crosses your mind.
Not regarding the leader of the Church of Mercy.
Not for the Father of Compassion.

Fatso goes on a hike.

You can handle a small slope. Confidence is key! You don't feel sick to your stomach. The way your waistband and belt are digging in feels wonderful. The Relic completely masks any exhaustion that's already soaked into you. It may heighten the awareness of the other physical responses you're having. A deep, carnal kind of gratification— because there is excess on you. You're not that lecherous. The reflection upon makeshift stained glass is a shadow greater than your usual self. There's no doubt that this shouldn't be any test of skill. It's an exercise in indulgence. Your heart is hale, your joints are used to extreme activity, and running has been your passion for your entire life.

This is fine.
You feel fine.
This is nothing.

The corridor is beautiful.

https://youtu.be/ZkS3ZfFksPU

Shifting lacquer catches on your torchlight. Embedded within the ice are one thousand shades of blue. The canvas is ice, but a blush shines back at you. A depiction of your company is reflected and refracted upon the walls, ceiling, and floor. They swirl. The images are not contrasting, nor conflicting with one another in any way. Prominent are the form and function. A coating of gloss is across every last flaw and error. As you walk, Harvey keeps his sword and shield held high. He suspects that the murals are hostile, but the movement is gentle. It's a trick of the eye. An illusion in full. Art in motion.

"Was this demon an old master," you breathlessly wonder.

"The fuck are you talking about," James snaps.

The tension all through Harvey's shoulders and back multiplies with every syllable. "Shut up."

(1/2)

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>>4525449
The light that's dancing all along the walls catches on an ugliness in both of your friend's eyes. It's something you've rarely seen in either man, but it's unmistakable. Insecurity is coating them. Drenching them. Your initial thoughts upon entering the chamber flashes back at you. Glancing to the reflections all around, it's clear to you that this is an inaccurate portrayal once more. But it is not the paint upon the walls. It is not the images embedded within the ice, that seem to shift and follow your company as you proceed. It's not from the gradual slope underfoot, and the absence of any enemy all around.

The trouble lies with the viewer. James and Harvey don't want to see themselves. They're keeping their eyes dead ahead, and it seems as if every glance Harvey makes to the left or right is irritating him further.

A few more disgusting thoughts carve into the back of your brain.
f̶l̶a̶b̶b̶y̶
f̶a̶t̶c̶a̶k̶e̶s̶

They're discarded as quickly as they came. You know better than this, and have an infinitely better self-image than anyone gives you credit for.

This isn't about hypocrisy, denial, or a poor sense of perception. You were visited by Dream Himself last night, and can recognize an unreliable narrator better than any other man alive. You may physically feel like death, and are relying on a divine Relic to keep exhaustion at bay, but this is seriously nothing. "James. Harvey."

>Your friends feel like shit, and it looks like things are getting worse by the second.
>You are an inspiration for all of mankind— when you put your mind to it. The Father of Compassion has earned his place in the world.
>As the leader of the Church of Mercy, as a priest of Dream, and as a man who is willing to accept his own flaws, you know how to preach better than anyone else alive.
>You don't know either of them as well as you could, but...

>A] Live up to your titles. (WRITE-IN something inspiring.)

>B] Remain silent, and press on as quickly as you're able. (A MODERATE ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED.)

>C] Ask both of them to voice their insecurities. It might make things worse, but who knows?

>>4525452
>C] Ask both of them to voice their insecurities. It might make things worse, but who knows?

>>4525452
A; tell them of your experiences as a child, whose faith, though immaculate, often led him astray. Something deeply personal you loath to tell others about. A personal demon laid to rest, an insecurity conquered and forgiven.

It'll serve as both a distraction and an inspiration, while we continue onwards through these dark caves of reflection.

>>4525452
>>4525486
Support

>>4525456
>>4525486
>>4525490
(Fuck yeah. Great stuff lads. Vote is locked here, then! Writing now.)

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>>4525506
"A cave of reflection." It could hurt to ask, but you want to try. "Could you both tell me what you see?"

"The fuck do you care for," James continues to snip.

Harvey remains quieter than usual. Withdrawn.

"Drinks on the surface may not come as quickly as I would hope for. I would like to tell you both of my Catalyst— but I— I believe it would only be fair to hear of your own demons, first. It's alright if you don't wish to—"

A distant, and entirely unfitting voice trails out from the red lion. "I haven't d-done anyth-thing. You're d-destroying yourself, when all I had to d-do was sacrifice someth-thing th-that was g-given. All I want to d-do is protect you, and Walter, and ev-veryone else—"

The minstrel at your back snaps, "the fuck are you on about?"

Silence hangs in the air. No echo. No repetition.

Nervous laughter breaks out behind you. In a whisper that only you can hear, James continues, "the things you have are worth more than most of us are! Dimwit. You think anyone else on earth rates the shit you do? Saving all of our lives, over and over again. And for what? What are any of us actually worth? I'm not a hero. I'm not a coward. I'm not a leader, or a follower." It sounds like he wants to cry. "I can't even tell my own story. Go on, Father. Go ahead and preach. For all the good it'll do for someone like me."

"I don't want to," you confess.

The stare at your back weakens. "I didn't mean that."

Harvey is being disturbingly quiet. The crunch of ice underfoot is the only sound for a few moments.

"You know I can't help myself," you softly begin.

https://youtu.be/Z-Q72YA3DFg

"Insecurity." Both men beside you stiffen. There is love, and conviction all through every last word that leaves you. "We all had a difficult childhood. We all have had a poor foundation to build our lives upon— but mine was bolstered. I looked not to the barren fields, nor to the loss of faith in my fellow man. It was not a search for a cure to the Catalyst that saved me, for all the years in the dark. It was not our weaknesses that were to be my guide. I had my faith."

You keep your eyes ahead. The hold you keep upon a divine locket, and the light of a Goddess tightens tenfold. There's no pain in your hands, but a swell of tension all throughout your chest. Fear of the pantheon. Fear of the dark. Fear of yourself. "And for all of my preaching, there is something about it that I am loathe to discuss. I destroyed a young man's life, at such a young age, I had scarcely lived my own. In a mockery to Vengeance, I had taken away the freedom of choice from another. I was taken from my family, and—" You swallow. "—and I trusted in the church of Mercy to not steer me wrong. I believed that my captors would show grace, as— as I know it. I told Stace. I told him so many times. The Gods are Merciful."

Three clouds of fog catch on the frost in the air. It hurts to breathe.

(1/3)

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>>4525576
"My faith was immaculate, and it is for that very reason that it led me astray. I hoped, and I prayed, for years in the dark. But never— not even once, has my faith faltered. It is everything that I am. Everything I hope to be. Call me a demon, if you like— but I know that my devotion, allegiance, and love is what has guided me here today. It has been a singular beam of light upon a cell floor. It was the hand of the Father, who took me from darkness and sin. It was the care and teachings of a Mother, who showed me what it means to serve with everything I have. It was my unfailing need to never look back. To commit to one course of action, no matter the cost."

In a softer voice still, you remind both of your friends, "it is the trust I placed in all of you."

James sniffs. He might have broken down, but you don't falter. He doesn't, either, and you all continue walking more and more verve.

"It was the hope I held to recover. To return to a life worth living. The confidence I placed in my caretakers. The loyalty I hold for our King."

Harvey makes a noise like he wants to laugh.

Your smile returns. "The willingness to pursue you all to the ends of the earth, and bring you back to the light. To come home. To save mankind. My insecurities are conquered— and I know— I know with all of my heart that they can be forgiven. Just like the lost soul we are here to see today."

"Hey." There's a tap on your back. "Stop. Both of you. Just for a second."

Harvey starts as if he wants to complain, but you immediately come to a halt.

James gives you a hug, even though it's awkward from behind. He still smells like paint and dust, the bones of his elbows nudge you, and he can't get his arms all the way around you. It's still wonderful. "Save that shit for the church, alright? Wasting all of that on us. Come on."

Thanks to the vice he's assumed, it's impossible to easily hug him back. Instead, you smile so hard your face hurts. "No promises."

There's no end in sight to the corridor, but both of your friends seem to be in far better spirits. You and James break the hug. The ascent continues its gentle rise. Harvey is still remaining extremely quiet, and pensive, but after at least another ten minutes of walking further, he manages to find his voice again.

It's wavering, as if he can't find the right words. "I d-don't rem-memb-ber who I am. What I n-need to d-do. Where I n-need to g-go. It's n-nev-ver b-both-thered m-me. B-but I can't help but wond-der. You're so s-sure of yourself, Fath-ther. I am, too, but it's for all th-the wrong reasons, isn't it?"

A tsk leaves Klepto's lips. "Harvey."

(2/3)

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>>4525579
"I j-just d-don't have anyth-thing to lose. Anyth-thing to g-gain. For m-myself, you kn-know? I care ab-bout th-the world, too, b-but I can only d-do so much. It's n-not th-the same. B-but I kn-know—" He's wincing. It's incredibly difficult for the man to speak at length, but he presses on. "—th-that someth-thing isn't right with m-me. N-not like with eith-ther of you—"

"Thanks," James drawls.

"Sh-shut up, Klepto. I'm trying to ex— ex— tell you what I m-mean—"

"You're fine," you try and stress. "Go on."

"N-neith-ther of you have ever m-mentioned anyth-thing wrong with m-me, eith-ther. Why?"

>A] This isn't like Harvey. You're all behaving strangely, but this has NEVER bothered him before. Try to pick up the pace. You're deeply concerned, but don't want to press him any further. Vocalize your concerns, but emphasize that you don't want to linger. (This is going to be physically taxing.)

>B] It never felt like your place to say something, and it still doesn't. You love Harvey like a brother, and don't judge him in the least. Offer to arrange for a meeting with Sister Cardew, if he'd like, if his Spirit is really something that concerns him. (You'll keep the same steady pace you've been using)

>C] Reassure your friend, and let him know how you feel. Plain as day. (Write-in.)

>D] You're still worried about James, too. (Write-in.)

>>4525581
>>C] Reassure your friend, and let him know how you feel. Plain as day. (Write-in.)

Your missing memories do not define you, whatever your past might have been I've seen what it has produced, *you*. My brave knight, a stalwart leader. If you want to remember...perhaps Father Willhelm will be able to help, if he can take them away surely he can put them back. In the meantime Sister Cardew can help, there is nothing and no one we cannot help.

>>4525581
>C] Reassure your friend, and let him know how you feel. Plain as day. (Write-in.)
memories dont define us in the now or the future, only remind us of what we once were

>>4525581
C; Your hygiene worries me a great deal, despite the hypocrisy; but that isn't what you mean, is it? To not know who you were, a man lost in the dark mists of his mind; in a sense, it is very frightening indeed. But you have also been given something unique, that many men and demons alike covet. A fresh start, uninformed by your past, but also unhindered by it. It was never the past that made a man, Harvey, but the choices and actions he makes in the present, in the moment, that matters most of all.

If we've been presumptuous, I'm sorry, and am willing to listen. I don't wish to derail his line of thought further.

I would pull a D, but James seems in much better Spirits now :^)

>>4525597
>>4525611
>>4525616
(Incredibly good shit guys. Vote is locked! Writing now.)

>>4525624
https://youtu.be/mnsHz23ZUQg

"I'm going to sound like a hypocrite." Your smile falters. "I know we are not speaking of hygiene, or habits. You're in the dark in a way, too. Lost within the mists of your mind. It is terrifying, and I— I know you are afraid. But that is alright."

Harvey hazards a glance over his shoulder. The tension through his back only gets worse. "What m-makes you so s-sure?"

"You have something unique. Something that men and demons alike covet. A fresh start. You may be unaware of your past— but you are also unhindered by it."

He turns back around, with a look that says that's easy for you to say. But there's a thoughtfulness in his eyes.

It's enough to encourage you to press on. "I'm being presumptuous. But I know— I know beyond any doubt that it is not the past that makes a man. Memory is but a brief reminder of what we once were. It is our present moments— our choices, and the actions that we make now. THESE are the things that matter most of all. And— Harvey?"

His voice is distant. Deep in thought. "Yeah?"

"You're easily the bravest man that I've ever met. My knight—"

"Stop." He grins. "You're b-being rid-diculous—"

You have to insist. "No. I mean it. You are a stalwart leader, and I'm sorry. I want to listen, but I can't help myself. I— this is far from my field of expertise. I want you to know how much I care, but memory, and matters of the mind— Sister Cardew would gladly assist you, if no one else is willing or able. But perhaps Father Wilhelm could help. He possesses the ability to remove memories—"

Harvey stops dead cold in his tracks. You nearly hit his back. James does crash into you, though you're soft enough that neither of you really mind. Everyone pauses.

With wide eyes, the red lion stares straight at you. "What d-did you j-just say?"

"Father Wilhelm. The leader of the Church of Dream. He's a dear friend. A treasured mentor. He alone is able... to..."

Horror sinks into everyone present. Harvey looks like he wants to sit down, or to grab you by the shoulders, or to scream.

He laughs in a light way, just to himself. He shakes his head. You all resume walking.

"He alone is capable of removing the memories of others. It is utterly unique. I take it— it is highly likely that with such an ability, he can— surely, he can replace them."

James has his hands to his face, and can't believe what he's hearing. Still, he finds a few words. "We're getting out of here as soon as we can, Harvey. I'll drag his smoky ass all the way down here myself, if I have to. Mark my fucking words."

The red lion is deep in thought, and utterly speechless. He's walking like a dead man.

(Options in next post.)

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>>4525645
>A] You'll get a messenger to Father Wilhelm the moment you return to the Church of Mercy's main levels. Spare no expense, and demand his presence. As the leader of the Church of Mercy, you DO possess the authority to do so. It may pull the leader of the Church of Dream away from matters of importance, but this will not wait.

>B] You'll write to Father Wilhelm as soon as you reasonably can. Don't make Harvey any promises, but ask James if he actually would deliver the message himself. You trust him to be capable of handling this matter, and doubt how much good the minstrel can do for your image with the city (given your current condition). The trip from Eadric to Somerilde is incredibly long, and it could be over a month before James returns with any word, but you're asking regardless.

>C] You'll write to Father Wilhelm when you can, but leave pursuing this matter up to Harvey. This is his life, his burden, and his question to answer. Don't push it right now.
>1] But when the time comes, promise that you'll aid him to the best of your ability, whatever his choice is.
>2] You need to be frank. You are up to your eyeballs in other issues, but will grant Harvey any and every resource he needs to pursue this on his own. Say as much, and then drop it.

>D] Write-in.

>>4525651
>C] You'll write to Father Wilhelm when you can, but leave pursuing this matter up to Harvey. This is his life, his burden, and his question to answer. Don't push it right now.
>1] But when the time comes, promise that you'll aid him to the best of your ability, whatever his cho

>>4525651
>>C] You'll write to Father Wilhelm when you can, but leave pursuing this matter up to Harvey. This is his life, his burden, and his question to answer. Don't push it right now.
>>1] But when the time comes, promise that you'll aid him to the best of your ability, whatever his choice is.

>>4525651
>>C] You'll write to Father Wilhelm when you can, but leave pursuing this matter up to Harvey. This is his life, his burden, and his question to answer. Don't push it right now.
>>1] But when the time comes, promise that you'll aid him to the best of your ability, whatever his choice is.

>>4525651
C1, D

It is much to think about, but it changes nothing about the man you are. Your both my friends, and I would go to the ends of the Earth for you, if need be. Just say the word.

>>4525655
>>4525657
>>4525664
>>4525682
(Absolutely based. Locking the unanimous vote here, then! Noting the write-in as well. Lovely stuff. Writing now!)

>>4525716
https://youtu.be/M8SQsQA5pEs

You'll write when you can, but this matter is up to Harvey. This is his life, his burden, and his question to answer. Only one thing needs to be said. "This changes nothing about the man you are. I would go to the depths of the earth for either one of you. Just say the word."

Everything speeds up. The walls streak past in a blaze of color and light. The reflections are distorted beyond comprehension.

The world feels as if it's melting. The ice upon the walls is dripping with paint. A bright, glaring image is all around. The portrait encompasses the walls. It is not in the distance. It is all that there is of the ceiling. It is not on the periphery of your vision, though there is nothing left of the floor.

The world is suspended for a moment in a miasma of liquid and depiction.
Everything stops making sense.
You are frozen in a singular moment.
So is James.
So is Harvey.

(1/3)

Rolled 96, 15 = 111 (2d100)

>>4525732
There is no illusion.
You all want to protect one another.

They reach out.

(2/3)

>>4525735
James swore he would kill you and Harvey if you tried sacrificing yourselves again. The red lion's courage falters.

You make a choice.

>MAJORITY VOTE WILL DECIDE.

>A] You won't let anyone in your care hurt themselves. They may try to kill you for it, but this is your burden to bear. (Roll a flat 1d100. Best of 3 will be used.)

>B] Follow James deeper into the painted world. Drag Harvey in with you. (No roll will be required.)

>>4525738
>>B] Follow James deeper into the painted world. Drag Harvey in with you. (No roll will be required.)

Never split the party, we are stronger together.

>>4525738
>B] Follow James deeper into the painted world. Drag Harvey in with you. (No roll will be required.)

>>4525738
>>B] Follow James deeper into the painted world. Drag Harvey in with you. (No roll will be required.)

>>4525738
>B] Follow James deeper into the painted world. Drag Harvey in with you. (No roll will be required.)

>>4525747
>>4525758
>>4525764
>>4525766
(bros... ;u; Really, though. lovely. Locking the unanimous vote. Writing now!)

>>4525738
B good now, y'all hear :^)

>>4525814
>>4525818
You drag Harvey out from his reverie. Together, you follow James deeper into the painted world.

https://youtu.be/6GBm7c1q7vc

Everyone crash-lands onto a hard, tiled floor. No pain registers in your body, but you're positive it's going to leave bruises. Everything is dark.

"Fuck." The singular expletive comes from Harvey, deep in the shadows of a rectangular room. The ceiling is twice as high as what you dealt with in the caverns, and at least twice as broad. The red lion fell a few feet away from you, but sounds as if he's fine. There's room to spare, and you can breathe. Your lanterns are extinguished from some unseen motion. A light flickers above. It casts a pale blue light upon the angular hallway you now are in. Double-doors line either side. They're equally harsh in their design, all in angles and sharp edges. The walls are coated in paper, but there are no markings upon them. They are white.

Nausea hits you, hard and fast. The layout of the doors here are identical to those within your dungeons. It's as if it's the same corridor you entered from, but trapped in another Time. Nothing makes sense. The light overhead is not from flame, nor Magic. The dim glow flanking both side of the passageway mirrors it. Your eyes are rapidly adjusting to the poor visibility, but you don't get to your feet just yet. There's a crick in your neck from bending down for so long. The amount of cloth you're wearing is excessive, as the area you're in is a normal, room temperature.

There are more important concerns. James is laughing to himself. He's ripped off the scarves and gloves to feel his face, and laughing like his skin is the funniest thing he's ever felt.

It looks like he's aged twenty years. The cartilage and bulk of his nose is bigger, and longer. There's fine lines around his eyes and mouth, from exaggerated expressions throughout his youth. His posture isn't nearly as confident. His hair is grayer, and lifeless. The image is certainly more akin to what you first looked upon when you entered this demon's domain. It's a poor image for an entertainer, and a man who's livelihood comes from his image.

A sinking dread settles into the hallway. The blonde can't stop laughing. He's holding onto his face, and his sides, and sounds like he's trying hard not to cry.

Harvey gets to hit feet, looks around wildly, and offers you a hand to get up. Just a single word is whispered. "Th-thanks."

You accept the gratitude, and his hand without question. Getting to your feet isn't so bad. It seems that your own appearance and mentality is unchanged. Possibly better than it was moments ago.

James won't stop laughing. Harvey gives you a look. It's that look like he wants to slap some sense into the formerly-young-man. It's probably not the Time, nor the place for it— but it's difficult to say what Time it is, or even what place you are in.

(One paragraph over 1/2)

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>>4525897
No matter what anyone may say about you, you are a good man. A priest of Mercy. Someone who will stay by his friends, and follow them to the ends of the earth.

You won't regret them doing the same for you.

>A] Don't thank James. There's a Time for that, and it's not right now. Firmly tell him to get on his feet, and make for the door at the end of the hall.

>B] Briefly express your gratitude, as James did for you. Leave it at that.
>1] Ask both men present if they want to scope out the surrounding rooms. You don't want to be ambushed, or worse.
>2] Tell both of your friends that you're certain this demon is forcing you all to waste your Time, and go to the door at the end of the hall.

>C] Mercy. He's lost a quarter of his life.
>1] Time scares you shitless. You won't like it, but you have to write to Mother Aimar. This has to be changeable.
>2] Pray to Time, to Dream, and to Spirit. Seriously stop everything. Don't get sick, but you need to do something.

>D] Write-in.

>>4525902
>>C] Mercy. He's lost a quarter of his life.
>>1] Time scares you shitless. You won't like it, but you have to write to Mother Aimar. This has to be changeable.

Her will is unchangeable, and this is very much NOT her will. Which means it IS changeable, might invoke Time regardless. Our love eclipses any fear.

>>4525902
>C] Mercy. He's lost a quarter of his life.
>1] Time scares you shitless. You won't like it, but you have to write to Mother Aimar. This has to be changeable.

>>4525902
B2, we can C2 while on the go.

>>4525902
Time's will is unchangeable, but this is not of her will, but of another . Keep in mind, this is a demon of Time AND Dream. Don't fear, or lose hope, friend.

>>4525907
>>4525930
>>4525939
>>4525948
(Yes. Vote is locked. Writing now.)

>>4525960
https://youtu.be/yVzUj0oAYOk

Fear drenches you. It's not going to stop you. Not for anything. "Mercy." You stride over to James, and take a knee beside him. You grab the man hard by his shoulder, and shake him. "James. Look at me."

There's tears streaked across his face, along with the frostbite, and enough self-pity to kill a man. He miserably asks, "what?"

"Time's will is unchangeable— but this is not of Her will. This is the work of another. There is a demon on you, and we are going to get it out. You have yet to lose hope for me. Don't lose it for yourself." You scramble to get a sheet of parchment, having kept your journal in hand all the while. "We're writing to Mother Aimar. I don't care how much she scares me. Love can eclipse any fear. We'll set this right. You tell me what you'd like to say. Go ahead." Pen in hand, you already begin writing. "Mother Aimar. I will not waste your Time. This message is written on behalf of..."

The tears before you dry. A letter is penned on the spot. You both implore the Mother of Ages to provide her guidance, on behalf of the church of compassion. Mother Aimar answers to your authority, and you're certain that a reply will come swiftly. The letter is sealed, stamped, and securely placed on your person. It's going to be mailed the instant you're able, but you get to your feet, and offer James a hand. "Come on."

He sniffs. The hero gets to his feet, and pulls you into a tight hug. He doesn't cry. He's pissed, and can't even express how much the effort means to him. So he hugs you all the tighter, and knows how much it means to you, too.

"Thank you," you murmur. "Thank you so much. I'll pray for us as we walk. This demon is bent on wasting our Time, and I will not grant it one more second."

Harvey pats you on the back, and the three of you make sure that everyone is intact. There's a few scratches and bruises from the fall, but nothing too severe. You don't need to treat any injury. Harvey's armor badly damaged the tile he crashed into, but the corridor is otherwise untouched.

At the end of the hall lies a double-door, illuminated from within. A cell. Containment for a creature that has fallen so far in on itself, it may be unable to escape. You're no coward. Under your breath, you implore the patrons of the mind, the imagination, and the sands of ages for guidance. To not lead you astray. For hope. For your faith to be rewarded. Harvey has his sword and shield drawn, and is keeping Klepto directly behind him. You get your own shield in hand. The journal and lantern are put up, and all the excess fabric. You take one extra moment to remind your company, "this is a demon of Time and Dream. It is changeable."

With a deep breath, you open an unlocked cell door.

Madness lies within.

(1/2)

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>>4526003
https://youtu.be/G55GspnNkBo

You stride into the cell without any hesitation. Harvey and James come directly in behind you. The scent of aging meat and sand is hot and heavy in the air. There's no light. There's no sanity. An intense urge to vomit, run, scream, or hide overtakes you. A long tendril of silt and bluestone extends from the back of the room, with a hand attached to its end. The mixture of gore and paint slams the door shut, and slinks back into the body at the end of the hall.

It's a colossal face. There is blood everywhere. The form and function of the demon feels as if it reaches out and eclipses the entire wing you're standing in. It's in you. On you. At the same Time, the creature's body is residing in one, fixed place. It's fused to the walls. Bits of machinery and pipes stick in and out of its skin. There are brushes, flecks of hair, and a shape that defies comprehension. The monster's hair is matted, yet swims in the air. It is countless eyes transposed in and on one another. Impossible colors, all shifting in and out of one another. It's neon, and pastel, and monochrome that makes your eyes swim, and your gut churn.

Every inch of you wants to vomit. It's disorienting to an extreme, and you can't make out any distinct shapes within the mass save for one gaping mouth. The mouth extends across the entire demon's face, across the hall, in and around you and your friends. It is collapsed in on itself, and outside of itself, and here in the present.

You feel a little further from God.

The voice that rings out from the demon is disembodied. An impression of lilac and lost years sticks to the inside of your skull, as you clutch onto your head, and try not to scream or puke. The lips in and on and around the room move out of tandem with the voice. Leering. Grinning. Shrieking. It's glaring, and beautiful, and impossible.

"I am the face of every nightmare become real. I am a throne of dust. You are a phantom of your former self. You are more than what you were. You are further from what you can be. What am I? Who are you? Answer me. Answer me. Answer me."

>Write-in.
>In addition, roll 1d100 to maintain your composure. Best of 3 will be used. Write-ins may provide additional bonuses.

Rolled 87 (1d100)

>>4526006
You are a living nightmare. An enteral dream. A whisper in the night, a laugh of fright, a sorrowful joy. You are unique, yet common; the embodiment of all of man's hopes and dreams, fears and nightmares, across all ages. You are as everybody see you to be, and you are what you wish to be. You are Interpretation incarcerate.

I am but a faithful fool, a madman in the moment. I am the will of the soul, the lover of light, a man of earthly mighty. I am the passion of the sun, the savior in the Night, a ray of hope in the darkest depths below. To many I am Demon of Faith. To others I am the Father of Compassion. I am the man in the present. I am Father Richard Anscham, leader of the Church of Mercy. I hope to be your friend.

Rolled 29 (1d100)

>>4526006
>>4526083

Seconded

Rolled 1 (1d100)

>>4526006
Hello painting, I'm Dick!

(Not intended as an actual response.)

>>4526267
>panic

>>4526083
>>4526179
(That 87 is the bo3, and I'm going to count that spectacular write-in as a complete success.)

>>4526267
>>4526271
(I was one second away from sleeping and now can't stop laughing. Good. Thank you. Vote is locked. Writing now!)

Rolled 15 (1d100)

>>4526006
>>4526267

This world is filled with suffering.

>>4526273
>>4526291
https://youtu.be/kL6fN3HNAXo

For the briefest of moments, you want to turn, to run, to scream, to vomit, or to lose your mind. Maybe a combination of all four.
Panic. Panic. Panic. Panic.
There's a shriek in the back of your mind.
A complete break of sanity.
The absence of all reason, thought, hope, or love.

A Catalyst.

You put a hand to your mouth, and choke back a wave of nausea. "Mercy—"

It is not the presence of joy that drives your lover. It is not Her ambition, or lack of logic that keeps Her suspended between the world of Gods and men. She understands the condition of all of your children— and you do, too. You choke out a single sentence, and understand Mercy's agony in full. "Our world is full of suffering—"

The men at your side are gritting their teeth, and looking to you for guidance. For hope. For protection. They cannot invoke, and both have looked upon nightmares untold. Both are shaking like leaves, but hold their ground. They do not panic. They do not run, even in the face of terror itself.

You swallow the wave of bile. Another. The burn in the back of your throat is hot, and rancid. You take a step forward towards insanity— towards its shrill laughter— and find yourself. You repeat its words. "You are a living nightmare."

The pulse in your chest has never beat so quickly in all your life. You are inspired. "An eternal Dream. A whisper in the night. Sorrow in joy. A laugh of fright. You are unique, and the most common of all things: the embodiment of all of man's hopes and Dreams. Our fears and nightmares, across every age. You are as everyone sees you. You are what you wish to be. You are interpretation incarnate."

James and Harvey are furious, and don't back down for an instant. They don't dare to interrupt. The demon continues to slowly shift and move in the walls ahead. It has rows of square teeth, that are whiter than any bleached thread. They're so large, you can see chunks of viscera embedded in them from a distance.

You take another step forward, into the mouth of madness. "I am the jester of my court. The fool of my faith. A madman of the moment. I am the will of our souls. I am the lover of Light. I wield the very Earth's might. I am the passion of the Sun, and a savior of the Night. I am your ray of hope, here in the darkness below." Your voice drops to a whisper. "You may know me as a demon of faith."

A tendril of blood and gore snakes along the ground. You keep your eyes locked with the agonizing swirl of paint and death before you. There's love all through your tone. Not disgust. Not judgment. With all the softness and Mercy you possess, you confess, "others wish to call me the Father of Compassion, but I am also a priest of the present. I am a devotee to Time, to Dream, and to all of the Gods. I am Father Richard Anscham, leader of the Church of Mercy— and I hope to be your friend."

(1/3)

>>4526350
Klepto laughs as if his soul has left his body. "How the fuck am I supposed to follow that up, Dick."

The voice of a demon is one thousand voices, as one thousand instruments play. The discordant cacophony has your ears ringing from the second it starts, but you do not bend. You do not falter. You take another step forward. The demon of the night is laughing. The choir of its sin is screeching at you, and the tendril along the ground snakes out towards you. The instruments cease their symphony. A worm of rot, paint, and ruin is heading your way. Slowly. Methodically. "Do not hesitate. Answer me."

At your back— without any hesitation— James spits, "I'm the ballad never sung. A message cut to ribbons. A duet without a partner. The love of Mercy, without the Mother. I'm a knife in your back. An overused trope. A demon of wit. A stranger in your bed. The life that you stole. I am the walking dead. Now cut the bullshit. Stop with the questions—"

"Answer me," the demon leers. Its head cannot turn from its position recessed in the wall ahead, but the pipes protruding from its skull pull and tear against its Flesh. Blood oozes from the small openings created, and drip down into the monster's eyes. A colossal tongue snakes up, crawling along its face, and wipes away the crimson. It lingers over the motion. A familiar sin. "Indulge me. Tease me. Please me. Share your sin. You picked the weaker. Answer me now, he who is meeker."

"N-no," Harvey grins.

You nearly drop dead.

The red lion couldn't look more pleased. "You took Klepto's youth, and tried to ruin Rich-chard's image. G-good th-thing he's tougher th-than any one of us. You'd have gotten m-me too! So, g-get fucked. G-give th-them b-back who th-they really are. I d-don't want to b-be friends with a m-monster. Not when I've g-got en-nough d-demons to save right here."

James begins laughing nervously. Uncontrollably. "Oh, you sorry sack of shit— I love you, too, Harvey, but this is really not the—"

The tendril that's been creeping across the floor splits. There are three branches that extend, and stretch out towards all of your faces. You keep your shield high. "Mercy."

"What are you," the demon repeats. Its voice is distant, and still so discordant, it has you wanting to get sick all over again. "What are you?"

The figure lingers over Harvey's face. Its voice is far from amused. The demon is sneering. "The world may see you as a coward or a madman— but you are not a man of stagnation. You bide it." It can't speak of Time. Good. "The hope you hold is for mankind. You are a hero. Pure of heart. Far from blind."

Harvey looks like he could spit at the demon, but stays back. James snickers, while hiding behind the armored knight. "Oh? Me next?"

"You hide behind humor, and favor oration. The weakness you clung to suited a lesser station. I have taken your youth, and granted reprieve. Forsake your vanity. Embrace your will to deceive."

(2/3)

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>>4526352
The demon has abandoned all pretense of coherent rhyme or meter. It doesn't care for form, or function. It's enamored by your company. By the Time you've taken to interpret with it. This is a dreamer. A creature of the night. One who draws inspiration from darkness. From you. "Father."

"Do you have a name?"

"Death."

"I know you have fallen deeply in on yourself—"

"Life."

You don't interrupt further.

The demon of interpretation takes on a sing-song voice. Something free of form. It can't contain its enthusiasm. The very walls tremble from the might of it. "And everything in-between. You profess to love the sun and the earth, the night and the day. Yet you are captivated by sin. It is the absence of light that has motivated your descent. You express compassion in any form. I have granted you a chance to express yourself in full. The choice to approve of oneself, regardless of what you are told. To accept that your pursuits are anything but transgressions. To explore your desires. To indulge your obsessions. You seek pleasure, in any form it can be given. You are bent, but not broken. I cannot push you into submission."

There is an incredibly long pause. You realize that the hands stretching out towards you all are not hands, necessarily. There is a single, enormous eyeball recessed in each palm. The irises are cobalt and lavender. They're stunning, and nauseating to an extreme. The whites are rimmed with blood, and they're darting over you all erratically. Excitedly. The demon has a manic tilt to its voice. "I will accept your proposal, but I have several conditions."

You can't believe your ears.

>A] Hear out the demon's proposal. You won't commit to anything just yet.

>B] You want a friendship, not a business deal. Refuse to bargain at all. You will fight this thing tooth and nail to behave reasonably (though hopefully not literally).

>C] From this demon's perspective, it's been trying to help you all out— but only as everyone present saw fit. It might not be malicious at all.
>1] Refuse to hear out the bargain. Ask the demon of interpretation about its lair. You were expecting a hideous ordeal, yet it took you almost straight here?
>2] This is a lot of blood. Everywhere. And the ash of all those corpses? Why?
>3] Try asking about something else. (Write-in.)

>D] Make your own bargain. (Write-in a proposal to get this demon to befriend you.)

>E] Harvey has an incredibly good point. You've hedged your bets on Praxilyos, and this monstrosity has robbed Klepto of years of his life. Even if you're grateful for any effects it's had on you, there needs to be something done. Hammer the red lion's point home. Stay on the defensive, and keep your shield up.

>F] Write-in.

>>4526354
A; you leave me intrigued. I'll listen, but this is no bargain committed to. I also have a few questions as well.

Question C1, 2, & 3-What is your interpretation of the length of time spend alone here, long amongst yourself?

And just so you know, E is nonnegotiable in our friends case.

>>4526368
*'lost among yourself'

>>4526354

>C] From this demon's perspective, it's been trying to help you all out— but only as everyone present saw fit. It might not be malicious at all.
>1] Refuse to hear out the bargain. Ask the demon of interpretation about its lair. You were expecting a hideous ordeal, yet it took you almost straight here?
>2] This is a lot of blood. Everywhere. And the ash of all those corpses? Why?

Think we need info before we decide. Also no deal to the bargain no matter what.

>>4526354
B

Bzzz

>>4526368
>>4526372
>>4526383
>>4526396
(Three way tie? Good. I'll make it work. Vote is locked. Writing now!)

>>4526354
>B] You want a friendship, not a business deal. Refuse to bargain at all. You will fight this thing tooth and nail to behave reasonably (though hopefully not literally).

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>>4526436
>>4526458
https://youtu.be/rumvsghcGh4

Curiosity has yet to kill you. "I would like a friendship with you. Not a business deal, but— but I will not deny you the opportunity to speak your mind." You fire a glare to Harvey, and to James. One that says you both are right, but this is non-negotiable. "I will never make you a promise I cannot keep, and I will not barter for the life of someone under my care. I will listen, to— to grant us all a chance at interpretation. Nothing more." Your shield stays high. "Do you understand?"

Monochrome lights flicker within the demon's many eyes. "You have questions. A rarity, from your type."

"I am not my fore-bearers. I can see when someone bears no ill-will in their heart. Your intent is clear. Nearly everything else— the rest of your very existence is not." You can't help but enjoy yourself, and smirk. "What is your offer? Answer me."

That terrible laughter. It puts neon in your bones. "You came to me of your own volition. To have wandered thus far? You must have a mission. We can exchange our visions in turn. To feel. To grow. To learn."

That damn phrase. A cold sweat is on you. "What did you— what did you just say—?"

"Not a one I can speak. You are forsaken by the first, from a choice all your own. The second held dear, for your love you atone. The last is my own, in a way most profane. Death would be sweeter than speaking three's name."

"You're also a demon of Spirit. You— you can speak of the Gods, in a way—? This—" You run a hand through your hair. "This is remarkable." You have too many questions, but you're not bargaining. "What of the rest of your proposal, then?"

"You will not honor it."

"No," you flatly state. "But you are not fooling either of us. I know you can't pass up this opportunity. Share your vision with me. You can take your Time, if you like— and only your own. I cannot fathom the ages you have spent down here all alone. These are my cells. My cages. My keys." You drop your voice, in a promise. "We both know that I'll take every last bit of punishment you can deal out— and you do want to share. Indulge me. Answer me."

The demon's head begins to slowly turn in place. The skin around its face isn't fused to the walls. It's fixed onto the structure. Nails, pipes, and a number of other pieces of unnatural metal works hold it fast. There's a gradual tearing sound, like meat being pulled taut until it snaps. The urge to vomit is extreme. There's no particular reason you can discern for what must be an excruciating motion. It may want you to come to your own conclusions. It may be utterly insane. It may want to die. It speaks in pastels. Light. Airy. "I would like for you to spend more—"

"Time."

(1/3)

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>>4526503
"Yes. With me, Father. You are an enigma." Static frizzes and fries in the air between you both. Blood is suddenly in the demon's gums, as it gnashes its teeth. "What are you? What are you? What are you?"

There's no point making a deal with a demon. Sane or not, this is unnecessary. You get to the point. "How do you perceive your wandering? For how many ages have you been lost within yourself? If you can speak of it in any way, do so. Now."

The utter silence of the friends at your back is sorely appreciated. They have to recognize that you can't afford any distractions or disruptions in the conversation. Brother Wilhelm did not merely ensure you saw to getting enough rest while in Calunoth. He taught you that— if nothing else— repetition can aid in making sense within a Dream. "Now. The Time that you have spent in the dark? Answer me."

A trail of laughter streams from the demon's lips. It's a thin line of paint on the air. Shadow soaks into the strands. "Darkness reigned. In sin— my brother. Upon His head He wore a crown. Fear was His name. Never His lover."

"Time. A King of Time. ...King Thaddeus. He— you—" The architecture in the hallway outside is similar enough to an archdemon's former home. Angular. Brutal in its simplicity.

This demon is easily as old as Arkthros. Possibly older.

"But you don't know how long it's been. You can't possibly."

"No."

James shifts. His joints can't feel anything like they used to. A tendril of meat and ash snakes its way closer to the minstrel. Your voice becomes a bark. "ASH. Soot."

The monster stops in its tracks, inches from Harvey's shield and face. The red lion has made no motion to move, but fires you a thankful glance. His hair is practically standing on end from the tension throughout his frame.

"Please," you mildly continue, "do not make me raise my tone. Keep your focus here, on me. I wish only to understand. I want to interpret your meaning. To serve. Your domain is coated in blood. Death. Decay. There was a forest of human remains when we first entered. The descent we took here was littered with blackened blood. There have been ample opportunities for you to kill us outright. I know you must possess the power to strike us all down where we stand. So, why— why did you lead us straight to you? Why would you harm anyone?"

"My intent was to take you away." The demon drags its massive tongue along all the blood upon the floor. "To mislead, and beguile. I would have taken what you hold dear. One. Five. Ten."

"Years," you clarify.

"Yes. For you to wander in peril. To unearth your darkest fantasies. To find the depths you could reach, in darkness, and night. Beneath the clouds. My pale moonlight. Yet— a most delightful surprise—"

(2/3)

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>>4526505
The tendrils of hands and eyes snake back, deep into the recesses of the demon's face. The limbs crawl over and under the skin upon its face, like worms within over-sized veins. "—you know how to tantalize. Temptation, dangled before me. You will not turn. You will not fade. You will not dull, nor be dismayed. I cannot corrupt your vision. Neither through cruelty, malice, or standard derision."

The demon sighs. It's one of the most disturbing things you've ever seen in your life, and that's saying something. The creature's broad lips and flat teeth are barely visible, as a cloud of lilac paint kicks into the air. It smells like warm dust, and old paint. "There was no use in toying with your image. Your hearts have felt too much toil to be destroyed by my visage. My curiosity raised, why would I bother? You're better to me alive than dead. Better found than lost, my dear—" There's a sudden, sharp movement from the periphery of your vision. "—darling—" You dig in your heels, throw up your shield, and brace for an impact. "—Father."

The demon is painting upon the wall, using the blood on the floor as ink. It's still bleeding from its head. A horrific thought occurs to you. A monstrously abhorrent thought. "The gore. The ash. The paint. It was splattered, and scattered, but there was a meaning to it. A pattern. No discernible bodies. No names upon a single grave. Was it— is all of this... yours?"

No response. At least ten different eyes before you are swimming with every emotion conceivable. It's impossible to piece it all together, but you think you can try. There is one more horrific question on your mind.

"You have fallen in on yourself, yes— but you have also robbed James of his youth. I know your intent was not malicious— but he is suffering. Please. Is there anything that can be done? This has to be reversible. This is not negotiable. It is a mockery of Time's intent—"

There's a sick, disgusting laugh all through the demon's lair. "You think me so blind? I intended to share with you my vision in full. To open your eyes. This is no corruption. You both were granted what has already transpired. And what you symbolize. You already know this destruction."

(Options in next post.)

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>>4526509
>Several of these are mutually exclusive.
>If necessary, majority vote will decide.

>A] You're furious. There has to be a way to fix this. You don't care if it jeopardizes your work, let alone a potential friendship. This is a monster, and you will not place its feelings above your friend's life.
>1] Intimidate the demon into giving you a more appropriate answer.
>2] Plainly threaten it with something worse than death. The effort will not help with your image, but you can live with it.
>3] Get in its face, and swear on every last God that you'll kill it if it can't find a way to bring back James' youth. Your friends will back you up. You're willing to deal with the consequences.

>B] You know nothing about how Time works, but this is a start. You'll add this to your note to Mother Aimar, and seek her counsel. If anyone can do something for James, she can.
>1] This monstrosity must be in excruciating distress. It's likely too far removed from reality to express it. This is still a lost soul in need of your aid, and you're not giving up on it.
>2] This demon is clearly fucking with you, and you won't tolerate it for another second. Put your foot down about its behavior, if nothing else.

>C] This demon is infatuated with how resilient you are. You won't bargain. Cut your losses, and leave.
>1] Something this ancient and powerful should be kept locked away, and never let out. You'll find a means of returning to the rest of the world with or without its help. Make the offer once, and then go— let come what may.
>2] You want to make this venture worth something more than you can say. Blankly tell this monster you will not leave it here to rot, but that you have to go. Maybe swearing to dedicate Time to it later will help matters. It's not bargaining. You don't want to give up on anyone.

>D] Write-in.

(This vote will remain open for at least the next 6 hours. We will resume our weekday schedule at that time, with 1-2+ updates a day. Thank you all for the SPECTACULAR start to the thread!)

>>4526511
B1-2, because I believe in both.

And what of our interpretation? An artist does not own the meaning of his work; that is up the eye of the beholder. You may have given us your interpretation, but you have failed to interpret ours. How can you fully understand that art which you mar? Give us back our rightful form, so you can truely partake in the tapestry that is our soul!

>>4526511
>D] Write-in.
Try to see this situation from the demons perspective, it knows of Time more than we do.

>>4526511
>>B] You know nothing about how Time works, but this is a start. You'll add this to your note to Mother Aimar, and seek her counsel. If anyone can do something for James, she can.
>>1] This monstrosity must be in excruciating distress. It's likely too far removed from reality to express it. This is still a lost soul in need of your aid, and you're not giving up on it.

Something this old can't be intimidated, it has nothing to lose. Our best bet is to play off of it's infatuation with us and try to get on it's good side.

>>4525126
Richard has gotten the relic, and I am baffled. I skipped over the torture porn with the succubus, and from then to now Richard has been nothing but "I've been so incredibly horrible" and "thanks demons for showing me how horrible I was", and instead of the usual "no you haven't been you loony" it's been "yes you have, but you meant well". And I'm sitting here going >what the hell happened?
>why doesn't he care where the people that followed him to the bottom of the world went?
>Is he still drugged in the succubus's room?

>>4526567
With mental trauma, the brain gets screwy at the best of times. At worst, your completely lost it, and become stark raving mad. You should also keep in mind that Richard has either become an unreliable narrator, or you may have missed a plot point by skipping the torture porn. Just read the timeline, lad.

https://m.imgur.com/a/zD6ywiQ

>>4526595
>Just read the timeline, lad.
Nah. I enjoy reading quest archives as much as I enjoy participating. And if I can't make it through the archives to present day, I doubt I'd like what was waiting for me at the end anyway.

I'll quit bothering you all here in the future though.

>>4526595
wait.
Did you just post a link to an image? On 4chan?

>>4526608
I understand, but you can understand my confusion when your saying you skipped portions of the story, then you get confused by what's happening/ed to the protagonist, then you refuse to catch up on the summary of whatever you skipped was. You do get where I'm coming from, yea?

It does get better in later threads, especially when Richard escapes the ruins, but if you don't want to continue, I would understand. Some of the choices we make can be trying, but I'll say that it does say something that this thread is still going, with a dedicated audience still enjoying it.

>>4526610
Yes. The timeline. You don't even have to read it all, just the portions you want to skip mate.

>>4526619
If there's a major plot point buried somewhere in the extended scene involving a hot chick mutilating a sickly mindbroken priest that's had his pain center replaced with a second pleasure one, I've no interest in trying to dig it out. From what little I could stomach it reads like snuff porn.


>>4526621
I was pointing out that 4chan is an image board.
I guess /qst/ really is isolated from the rest of the site.

>>4526638
You know, it's funny you come up when you did. We're currently dealing with problems of Interpretation atm, and seeing you post yours is a bit funny, atleast in the meta. Your Timing couldn't be better.

By the way, I'd like to see you post the image in the link, and have it still be readable in a single post.

Either way, it's been fun anon. I'm heading to bed. Hope you have a lovely day!

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>>4526643
night anon.

(Oh good heavens just look at all this discussion. I'm going to grab some coffee and try to respond thoroughly. Vote is open!)

>>4526567
Going to answer this with as much transparency as possible, given how much our protagonist has learned over the course of the quest. I'm going to spoiler tag everything, as I'm going to connect a few dots, and don't know if archiveanon wants to see the whole hand.

>instead of the usual "no you haven't been you loony" it's been "yes you have, but you meant well".
There was major development between Richard, Ofelia, and Celegwen over the course of the fourth and fifth thread. The women in his care followed him to the depths of the earth for the Relic, not for him. Once he got it, the pretense, lies, manipulation, and just about everything else they were presenting as their support towards him was cast by the wayside. Richard recounted everything that happened to him in order to get the Relic, and both of his companions had no illusions that he was out of his mind. That doesn't change that his motivations were in the right place, and no one could deny that he DID accomplish his goals despite everything he had been through. Neither Ofelia, nor Celegwen wanted to maintain the farce. That doesn't mean they were both monsters, and they wanted to at least concede that the man who saved their lives over and over again had his heart in the right place.

>why doesn't he care where the people that followed him to the bottom of the world went?
Chasing them was out of the question, there were significantly larger concerns regarding his very survival, and you guys were bullied badly by both women for your behavior. A HUGE rift grew between Richard, Ofelia, and Celegwen over the course of the fifth thread, but it was always there. Our boy is an unreliable narrator through and through, but the severity of it peaked after being tortured.

>Is he still drugged in the succubus's room?
Not so far as you guys are aware. :^)

>>4526608
I sincerely appreciate the discussion! Please feel free to continue sharing your thoughts man, they are unbelievably valuable and talking over past points can be incredibly illuminating.

>>4526610
The timelines are massive, and require being cut in half to post here.

>>4526638
I hate it, but I'm going to go re-read it and try to condense the points of it. Be back in a flash.

>>4526638
As unpleasant as it is, I went ahead and re-read through the entire torture scene. The point isn't buried in there. It's literally forced onto the reader, throughout the entire scene. The succubus repeats over, and over, and over again that the protagonist's behavior has been unacceptable. That her needs were never considered. That Richard was behaving in a way that she felt made him unfit to have Idonea's relic. That she was hurting him because she didn't want him to hurt anyone else. She was crying through the whole thing, and robbed the reader of any say in the matter right out the gate. It was intended to be as distressing for the reader as it was for our protag. A loss of humanity, of control, a VERY harsh criticism of their behavior up until that point-- and it ended with an offer for salvation.

Remigius is a monster through and through, but her point throughout the entire scene was that Richard's inability to perceive how OTHERS see his actions is what led to him becoming a sickly, mindbroken priest that had his pain center replaced with a second pleasure one. Having one's flaws pointed out in full can feel worse than torture, and an extended scene of it is enough to turn off almost anyone. I took a big risk putting something like that in a quest people read for fun, but here we are, 17 threads later, with the situation practically reversed.

I hope that sheds some light on a few things. tl;dr The torture Remigius inflicted on Richard was unbelievably traumatic, and may have seriously hurt his self-image and perception to an extent that he still is bothered by it to this day.

Looks like our readers are, too.

(All that being said, going to lock the vote here!)

>>4526539
>>4526540
>>4526566
(Majority vote for B1, and we can certainly work in these write-ins. Vote is locked here, writing now!)

>>4526883
https://youtu.be/f2Mn3AMWsiE

Desperation is on you. More than a demon. More than your sin. "I want to understand. Please. There must be a way. You know of Time better than I could ever hope for, so— so tell me. Show me your perspective. Please attempt to understand my own. An artist— and artist does not own the meaning of his work. We are all at the Mercy of an eye: and it is that of the beholder. I cannot hope to comprehend your vision, if it is one that is marred. Open your eyes. Look to our rightful forms. Partake of our visions. Gaze upon the tapestry of our souls."

"It is my vision you fail to perceive," the demon replies. "Not one that is marred. You preach, and you pray— but your eyes are the ones that deceive. This is a fate that is known to the stars. The sands of your life. Look through your cage's bars. This man here before me is a peddler of deception. I ask the same favor. Trust in your perception."

You look to James. He's the same man he was who entered, but there's something darker to his appearance. His visage. Not the leering, lecherous, light-hearted fool you know, and love. He's bitter. Resentful. Confident. He isn't clinging to your actions, or the company he keeps. He's sheltering himself from certain danger. Exercising caution. From the budding wrinkles around his narrowed eyes, to the bristle of his thinner hair. He's hardly an old man. He's lost his youth, but there's something he's gained as well.

Wisdom. Maturity. He's desperate to live, and to thrive. Not to fritter away his youth. He wants it back. He wants to be someone.

It hurts to breathe. You speak to a demon as if it were your child. "You're hurt. I won't give up on you. I can't. But please— please try to understand. We only have so much life to live. Even the brightest stars can go out. If this is Time's vision, and your interpretation, I can't stand it. I can't stand any of this. I love you all— I love you all so much. I—"

You take a moment, and a deep breath. Hands clenched. One around a gift from the Gods, and another behind the works of an archdemon. You grit your teeth. "I won't tolerate any of this. Not for another second. Will you help him, or not?"

"I already have," the demon of interpretation replies. "What is lost cannot be found. We are but grains of sand upon the shore. His vanity has been unwound. You're still insatiable— and want for more?"

There's no guilt. No grievances. "Yes."

"You offer me nothing in turn. No respite from my pain. For yourself, you still yearn. The concerns on your shoulders are crushing. Your station. You waste yourself here, with me— and ignore a whole nation. I care not for the troubles of the world up above. I look now to a man crippled by love. This will consume you, but you will not be broken. We cannot erase that which is written. Your choices are cemented. The artist has spoken."

(Options in next post.)

>>4526925
>A] Break down. Give James a hug. Ask to leave. Fuck this.
>1] You're not coming back. Let the demon rot.
>2] You'll come back another Time— with Mother Aimar, or Father Wilhelm, if you can. This creature is infinitely too insane and dangerous to ever take someone innocent and unprepared down here ever again.

>B] Refuse to accept the demon's answer. Kindness and compassion will not sway the void of this monster's heart, but maybe something else will. (Write-in something you'd like to try further to persuade it.)

>C] Most people are too scared to deny you what you want. As the most spoiled man in the nation, this is a shock beyond reason. Your behavior in response to this can be justified in almost any event. (Write-in something you'd like to say or do. QM discretion applies as always, but we have a lot of leniency here.)

>>4526927
>>B] Refuse to accept the demon's answer. Kindness and compassion will not sway the void of this monster's heart, but maybe something else will. (Write-in something you'd like to try further to persuade it.)

My side of the deal, I offer you salvation. From your pain, from everything.

>>4526927
B; you are right, I am a man of many concerns. The weight of a nation is on my shoulders, yet I come to visit you when there is no logical reason. I'm not the Father of Reason, but of Compassion. My concern was always the welfare of ALL under my care. I will not leave a soul behind, to rot in the dark tapestries of his mind. I open my hands in friendship, to give some respite. Friends don't bargain; they gift. Kindness is not weakness.

(We could offer a bit of relief with the relic if you lads want?)

>>4526927
>C] Most people are too scared to deny you what you want. As the most spoiled man in the nation, this is a shock beyond reason. Your behavior in response to this can be justified in almost any event. (Write-in something you'd like to say or do. QM discretion applies as always, but we have a lot of leniency here.)
May I commission from you this art and show you what We can create in turn? Kotgurls

>>4526938
>>4526948
>>4526949
(Beautiful guys. Locking the vote here. Just a quick reminder that you guys are using the Relic at the moment for your own pain, so it's viable to not offer it. Writing now!)

>>4526958
https://youtu.be/Vjd2xDs9Q04

This is going to require more finesse than you're used to. A whole lot more, for a man who lives by compassion, and not by reason. But your kindness is not weakness.

The irony of Sullivan's absence is not lost on you. But regardless of the weight on your shoulders— of allies, the Gods, or even the entire nation— you are not one to take 'no' for an answer. You grimace. "Friends do not bargain. They gift. Now, you are absolutely right— there is no logical reason for me to come here. But here I am. Here I stay. As a man of many concerns— as a priest of Dream, and of Mercy— I look to your very welfare for inspiration. Not to leave you behind. Not for you to rot, or to bury yourself deeper in the tapestry of the mind."

You show the palm of your hand, and the Relic inside. Pain crashes into you so hard and fast, you stagger. It's an unhealthy kind of exhaustion. You've been pushing yourself. Dual invocations, lack of sleep, a staggering increase in weight, and stuffing yourself for days on end is adding up fast. Two bent swords are on display. Your vision swims. Blood drips from the ceiling. You don't care, and gasp, "I offer you my hand in friendship. I offer you my home. Take my hospitality. Take my affection. Take this respite, and hear me: I wish to offer you something more." You close your hand. The world immediately normalizes. You don't falter again. "Not divinity in a physical form. A greater gift than any other."

Shifting clouds of florescent light drift across the air. James and Harvey are visibly sweating. The demon waits for an answer.

"A commission, from the Father of the Church of Mercy. I give you the opportunity to create a masterpiece. Would you like to hear the details?"

The demon is a buzz of static, and frenetic energy. Its head cranes forward from the wall, with another sickening snap of Flesh being torn asunder. The thought of surrendering your Relic to the creature crosses your mind. You want to help. You want to show it Mercy— but your current exhaustion and pain is through the demon's fault as well. You discard the notion, and focus.

"Beauty," you murmur. "Let's gaze upon the most captivating of figures. No mortal woman. No flight of fancy. I wish to look upon the image of another. A demon, who can gaze upon what I create in turn. Grant me your perception. I grant you this blessing. Share with me. Tell me your interpretation of salvation."

A child's voice filters out from the demon's colossal lips and grotesque teeth. A young child, who sounds badly hurt. It's nails on a chalkboard. Chewing on tinfoil. A barb in your mind. "What have I done wrong?"

Harvey can't stand it, and has to ask from behind you, "what th-the fuck?"

The monstrous child's voice continues, "what is there to forgive? I'm the one who's hurting. I'm the one who needs rescue. You're trying to save me from— from—"

(1/2)

>>4526993
Horror. Not panic. It's sickness, in the pit of your stomach. Not nails. It's a cold slime, sticking to the back of your tongue. Nausea. Dread. "The Gods. You feel like you're the victim. But don't you want—"

"What is there to be redeemed? Why does the infinite need to be preserved? How can you deliver me from what I am?"

James and Harvey are both looking at you like you're insane. You probably are. This may be a more difficult situation than comforting the Goddess of Agony.

It's a good thing that the Goddesses of Intelligence, and Growth are both on your side.

>Write-in.

>>4526994
Your perception. The sensations you feel. Even your circumstances need to be redeemed. Pain can be your greatest inspiration, not in creation but in prevention. Even if you are a victim of circumstance, it is not what surrounds us that define us. It is not the past that binds the paint to form. It is the illusion we wish to turn into reality that inspires us. That is why I am here, to deliver you from what you are into what you wish to be!

That is, if you want to take my hand in friendship.

>>4526994
I wish to turn you into a being of inspiration.

>>4527028

Ehh I don't think he wishes to be anything else, he seems pretty content with existing like this. If he is a demon of interpretation perhaps we could tempt him with a new perspective, one that he cannot comprehend in his current state. He wallowed in this form long enough, doesn't he wish for something new? Something previously uninterpreted. He thinks of himself as innocent apparently, so blaming wont get us anywhere. He was human once, a demon for longer. But never more, or less. We are the only chance to a new horizon, and is an artist not meant to wander?

Addendum: we could push this angle with praxilos too. The ultimate scintillation would be salvation, none have achieved it and no one knows what it's like. the instant between sinner and repentant. Wouldn't that be the ultimate thrill?

>>4527091
Actually, I disagree with you here. He may not wish to be anything else, but that may be because he's been suffering so long, lost in himself to the point that he can hardly interpret his own existence, let alone his agency. He may have simply never considered it before. It a way, I believe he must have suffered a trauma so heavy, he just retreated inside himself to try and figure it all out, and never did. He very well could be a victim here as much a demon, for it's not only malevolent intent that creates one (Idonea, Beltoro, Yetch are many that come to mind). I'm not blaming him, but his perception of the past, the pain he feels, his circumstances that brought him to this point.

Addendum: I don't think Interpretation comprehends his own existence fully atm. I doubt he'll be tempted by another incomprehensible perspective.

>>4527138

I think you are assuming a lot there, I am going off what he himself said. It is easier to redirect his thinking rather than forcefully go against it. I am having a hard time figuring out exactly what point you are trying to make though.

>>4527028
>>4527138
>>4527151
>>4527033
>>4527091
(I'm about 85% sure I get what you guys mean, and goddamn does my face hurt from smiling all morning. This discussion is my lifeblood. For the sake of clarity, can you both try and clearly point out your goal/action/point you're making? Just plainly. OOC is fine. Just want to make sure I understand completely.)

>>4527164

He is a demon of interpretation. I want to use that to convince him to change so he can have a new perspective on things, more stuff to interpret. Trying to double down on his catalyst basically. He doesn't think he did anything wrong so pushing the "redemption" angle won't work or at the very least it will be a lot more extra work.

>>4527164
It's a redemption of his circumstances and situation, not necessarily himself. His existence seems to be one of endless suffering, an eternal nightmare of his incomprehension. It's obviously causing him a lot of pain, and I wish to help him turn his pain into inspiration, to prevent harm instead of causing it. Interpretation can easily turn into Inpiration, if the will is there to change, and this will ease his suffering instead of prolonging it.

We may be who we are, but we can turn into what we wish to be.

>>4527151
I can say your assuming a lot as well, but I believe we having the same thoughts. I'm not trying to go against his own thoughts, but redirecting his perception into a more positive direction. His existence need not be endless trying to comprehend the incomprehensible. If he his Interpretation, he can interpret himself as he wishes to be, instead of trying to understand what he is. Does this help clarify my perspective?

>>4527170
>>4527186
>>4527199
(Seriously appreciate it! I'm currently at work, am pretty busy, and want to do this all justice. These are some pretty conflicting ideas. I'm going to leave the vote open for a while, think it over, and see if anyone else has any thoughts to share as well. If I can't reconcile the split by the time I'm off of work, I'll find a way to make it happen anyways. Thanks for all your patience and participation, for real.)

>>4527213
Well lads, I would also appreciate your opinions on this as well.

I'm going to rally the troops and do a run-off vote between the write-ins. VOTE IS LOCKED.

>>4526994
>This is a run-off vote based on the two well-justified write-ins provided.

>Select one of the following.
>Majority vote will decide.
>In the event of a tie, or no further votes, QM discretion will be used.
>Feel free to add additional comments or justification, and to reference the previous posts for further explanation on these ideas.

>In the name of fairness, the two previous IDs used for the vote will not be counted. 1 ID votes will also not be counted.
>THIS VOTE WILL REMAIN OPEN FOR THE NEXT TWO HOURS.

>A NEW HORIZON] Push the envelope of identity. This artist cannot conceive of a way out of itself, and has been lost to a world of inner turmoil. Invite it to show the world a never-before-seen interpretation of what it truly is. The instance between the sinner and the repentant. Ask the demon of interpretation to truly accept itself, to be more than its suffering, and to embrace its Catalyst. Acceptance of one's flaws does not mean they are condoned. You want this demon to know the truth of itself, so it can find a way to live once again.

>REDEMPTION THROUGH INSPIRATION] Pain is a Catalyst of a different sort. Challenge the demon to conquer its incomprehensible circumstances. It seeks meaning through creativity. It can inspire itself-- through change. To take all that it is, and become all that it can be. Not the old, not the known, but a new idea entirely.

(Apologies for jank btw, still mobile. My summary is just supplemental to the discussion provided, do please consult the post and prior convo for full context! Be back in a bit.)

>>4527575
>A NEW HORIZON] Push the envelope of identity. This artist cannot conceive of a way out of itself, and has been lost to a world of inner turmoil. Invite it to show the world a never-before-seen interpretation of what it truly is. The instance between the sinner and the repentant. Ask the demon of interpretation to truly accept itself, to be more than its suffering, and to embrace its Catalyst. Acceptance of one's flaws does not mean they are condoned. You want this demon to know the truth of itself, so it can find a way to live once again.

>A NEW HORIZON] Push the envelope of identity. This artist cannot conceive of a way out of itself, and has been lost to a world of inner turmoil. Invite it to show the world a never-before-seen interpretation of what it truly is. The instance between the sinner and the repentant. Ask the demon of interpretation to truly accept itself, to be more than its suffering, and to embrace its Catalyst. Acceptance of one's flaws does not mean they are condoned. You want this demon to know the truth of itself, so it can find a way to live once again.

>>4527600
>>4527676
(That seals the deal. Vote is locked! Writing now.)

>>4527734
Well, a fair contest. I submit to the ruling of the majority. I will only say...

Be careful what you wish for.

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>>4527734
>>4527780
https://youtu.be/WiONUl3B9po

Blood squelches underfoot. It's nearly as slick as the sweat in the palms of your hands. The sickness in your soul. "I will never deliver you from who you are. Who you can be. I will not assume you need to be offered redemption. You are an artist. A master of your craft. Permit me to witness your greatest work."

Your pace picks up. Harvey and James shout as you put up your shield, and come face-to-face with an abomination.

The demon is in pain beyond comprehension. Tears are at the edges of its impossible eyes. The pastels of its living corpse are embedded in a grave of its own making. Turned within its own lies. Lost to Time. Trapped in a reverie that cannot be woken from. It is full of questions. "What are you?"

Softly, sweetly, you offer it all the empathy you possess. "I am a friend, and I offer you salvation. You were human once, but never less. You may be a demon, now— but that is a shackle. These are the restraints that have kept your self-compassion at bay. Love your innermost being, and everything that makes you who you are. Do not return to the earth, or look the sun in the sky. Do not Dream of the stars, or obey the sands of Time."

Compassion seizes you, in a fit of devotion beyond all logic or reason. You do not care for what is possible. You care for the lives of the lost. Your fallen brothers and sisters. You are a preacher of Mercy, but no light of the Goddess comes to your voice. This is your answer. "Show me something new. What is the instance between the sinner, and the repentant? Accept your flaws. Please. Show us all the truth of all truths. EMBRACE your Catalyst!"

There is a horrible trembling in the walls. The ceiling. The floor. This is the domain of a demon, and you ask for it to be more. "You have been trapped in a nightmare of your making! This is nothing. This is folly! This world of inner turmoil is not ALL that you can be! It is a trapping! A MOCKERY of your vision—!"

There's a horrific tear. The demon is wresting itself free of its bonds. The massive jaws that surround you on all sides rapidly retract. It's bleeding profusely from every orifice. The metal protruding from its skin loosens, and collapses to the floor. It is an orchestra of death, and unnatural life. Light reclaims the corridor. A single beam shines upon the center of the floor.

"Mercy." You won't stop for nothing, hold your ground, and bellow over the choir. "We will not condone all that you hate. You are the artist— conceive a means of ACCEPTANCE! What does it mean to live beyond death?!"

(1/2)

>>4527796
A flood of sand is sinking from the demon's many eyes. It's been silent, but begins to let out a low sigh. Paint is flooding around your feet, and in the very air you breathe. Harvey and James do not back up. The heroes you call friends rush to your side, coughing hard, and join you before the sight of insanity. The monster's eyes are closed for the first Time since you entered its true cell. Its hands are resting upon the floor, as if it's deep in thought.

It is finding an inner reflection.

You practically scream, "surpass all that has defined your suffering! Push the envelope of identity! You are no corruption of the glass, the thread, or the moon at night! You are something MORE! TAKE US TO A NEW HORIZON—!"

A space between color and time eclipses your vision.

It cannot be perceived as an image.

It is something more.

Something new.

Harvey and James scream, and throw their hands before their eyes— but yours widen. You grin, and laugh, and fall to your knees. An endless stream of gratitude rains from your lips. It's more than prayer.

The demon's form has become something never seen before. It is not in the way of a mirror, though it is all that can be reflected. It is not the oil upon a canvas, though it paints a perfect picture. It is not the song of your prayer, though it makes you feel closer to every last God.

It is interpretation incarnate.

Not a demon. Not a beast. Not a man, and nothing like any God you have ever seen.

You gaze upon a figure, and it gazes back. It makes you think of all that can be. The truth of all truths. The first form is the very act of its being.

It assumes the method. You must give it an answer.

It will be the result.

>Describe YOUR innermost trait.
>The core of your being.
>The thing that makes Father Richard Anscham— the leader of the Church of Mercy, the defender of the city of shields, the demon of faith, and the FOREMOST RESEARCHER OF THE CATALYST— the man he is today.
>It need not be faith.
>You know who you are, but what matters to you most?
>What makes a man of all the Gods?

All thoughts on your identity will be taken into consideration.

>>4527780
(Just want to say man thank you so much for being such an amazing sport about this. You all are absolute treasures, and I can't say how much I appreciate the enthusiasm and out pour of creativity!! Going to leave this vote open overnight so everyone gets a chance to vote. I'll be around, though. You all are the best.)

>>4527806
It's fine. In a way, I'm glad you took the interpretation the way you did. The conclusion of my thoughts on it... I'd rather not say at the moment. ;^)

I think I'll sit this one out. I'm still new here, so I would know the least about the core being of Richard, and I'd probably muck it up for the rest of you lads. Cheers, mates! I trust your judgement on this matter? And wish you luck in your interpretations!

>>4527825
*matter, and

Gotta love autocorrect :^)

>>4527825
>>4527826
(Glad to hear it man, and looking forward to your thoughts. :^)

I know this is given as a very high-pressure prompt, but that's why I mentioned that all votes will be considered. :^^^^) Feel free to abstain, or course, but really though!

This prompt is about what the quest feels like for you. How you see the unhinged eyes you play through. It doesn't have to be a meta commentary on other voters, or even how Richard is portrayed. The prompt is asking what matters to you most. The thing that you love, or hate, or just feel like makes a difference in how you play. I won't ever include a vote that's completely out of character. This is an open invitation to express what makes you care.)

>>4527832
Well, I guess it's his childlike nature. Even though he was beaten bloody and traumatized out of his mind, he never really lost who he was. It's... not really sound, this idea. But Richard reminds me of a lost childlike wonder to the world, a caring nature that can only be nurtured then. Potential. Idealism. Honesty. Even the shadows of his adult life can't help but cower to to the might of his childlike wonder and delight. Kindness isn't weakness. Not to a child.

But I'm rambling now. Take a bit of salt with my words. I may not know what I speak, or mean.

>>4527798
>What makes a man of all the Gods?

What has shaped Richard?
What has strengthen his bond with the gods?
His Motivation to live up to the King's expectations of him.
To research a cure to the catalyst?
To try to cure this Demon?
One Thing.

>Belief

Belief in the gods
Belief in Mankind
Belief in Himself

That he can do these things, that he has been endowed by his country and the gods to achieve these things, that he will find an answer to the impossible.

Belief is the root of all things, it can move mountains, dry rivers, turn a Man into a demon,

And a child into a man of all the Gods.

>>4527855
>>4527868
(God fucking dammit this is so good. I'm going to force myself to get some sleep so I can wake up early enough to update before work. Good night everyone! The vote remains open until I'm back!)

>>4527798
want for understanding, a desire for the unconvenient.

>>4527798
Huge

>>4527798
Cock

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>>4527982
>>4527981

>>4527798

Richard to me embodies the true potential of mankind, the drive to rise above. Tenacity, resilience. Before he became a man of all the gods he was just a child, a child that endured unspeakable horrors. The thing that led him to this day, to the gods, was an indomitable spirit. His motivation might have been his faith, belief and compassion but the driving force, the bedrock of everything has been sheer willpower. For all of his flaws and sins, there has never been a more stalwart representation of FORTITUDE.

>>4527855

I won't fully agree to this. I think childish is the wrong word to use here, it implies he is naive and clueless. For me his actions are very mature, forgiving your enemies is borderline impossible for nearly everyone, a child reacts on impulse while Richard always falls back on his virtues, on his kindness. What I *think* you might mean is his purity? Even through everything he has been through his soul is unmarred, he didn't let his dreams and ideals be crushed, not even under the weight of the entire world. He kept his essence, where others would have lost themselves. I don't mean to put down your post, just add on a bit and perhaps clarify some things.

>>4527981
>>4527982
>>4528010
(Thank you lads. Thank you.)

>>4527855
>>4527868
>>4527936
>>4528150
(This is spectacular. You all are the best. Vote is locked! Writing now.)

>>4528169
https://youtu.be/PCyynFl4E9c

An interpretation stares back at you. You're both grinning ear-to-ear, like the madmen that you are. It's a reflection, but unlike any mirror you have ever seen before.

Staring back at you is the face of idealism. Honestly. Potential. A stalwart representation of fortitude itself. The man standing before you is not caught between life and death. He is something more. Every star in the sky dances in his eyes. It is faith in the world. It is the hope of a youth that was never lost. Purity unrivaled. He laughs with belief, knowing that he has triumphed over all adversity. Humble robes adorn the frame of a runner, who refuses to say 'no' to indulgence. His heart is bleeding gold. A gaping hole is in his chest, in a shape reminiscent of a locket. He is the physical evidence of divinity. There is gold all throughout his hair. The same substance coats his hands, and swims through the night and forestry within his eyes. He is scarred. This is a figure who can withstand trauma that would drive anyone out of their mind, and come out all the stronger for it.

You get to your feet, and stand before the full potential of mankind.

Both of the priest's hands are extended towards you, in a gesture of good-will. It's purity. Someone who is caught between repentance, and sin. Someone who is compelled to give everything that he has, and wants to take in so much more. With all the kindness anyone could ever hope to express, a reflection of yourself strides across the floor, and pulls you into a tight hug.

More than his presence is around you. It is the bedrock of willpower. He speaks with the voice of a man of all the Gods. The timbre and pitch of his speech is gentle, and sweet. The accent is of your home. The land you love. Someone who wants to care, and nurture, and who takes delight in demonstrating his values above all other things. "I believed in you. Are you alright?"

The scent of clove, myrrh, amber, and parchment is on both of you. The motion feels real. The hold on you is firm, and unwavering. He is indomitable, but the walls of the domain are trembling. This is the lair of a demon, and one no longer exists here. For one brief moment, you can only think of how to respond to the birth of this new existence. Thanks to the ferocity of the embrace you're in, he's buried your face against his robes. The shifting hues of amber and yellow are soft.

So is he, and it's reassuring to an extreme. This is a lover, who wants to share his faith with all that is, and all that ever will be. A hero.

You can't really see your friends— and for one more moment, that's alright. They're both equally quiet, as you find an answer to the impossible.

(Options in next post.)

>>4528190
>A] Say something.
>1] "You never needed to let your ideals be crushed. Not your Dream, and not a single second of lost Time. Not under the weight of the entire world. I believed in you, too."
>2] "You only ever needed to believe in yourself."
>3] Write-in.

>B] Hug him right back.

>C] (Gently) pull out of the hold, and make sure your friends are alright.

>D] This is unsettling to an extreme, but you're not going to be phased. You want to understand, and will approach this situation with as much caution as humanly possible.

>E] Write-in.

>>4528191
>>B] Hug him right back.
>2] "You only ever needed to believe in yourself."

>>4528194
+1

>>4528194
>>4528230
(That'll do lads, that'll do. Vote is locked! Writing now.)

>>4528232
https://youtu.be/z7rxl5KsPjs

You hug him right back. "You only ever needed to believe in yourself."

The world is shaking. A few pieces of the cell all around you collapse. Sand and dried paint kicks up into the air, as the domain you are deep within utterly crumbles. The embrace you keep lasts only a moment longer, before Klepto's wavering voice registers on the periphery of your mind. The clown sobs, "Richard. Richard, what are you doing? What is this— what the fuck is this— what have you done—"

The arms of compassion do not hug you for any longer than what's necessary. The hold you're in parts. The rest of reality sinks in. The cell is well-lit, but slowly is falling to pieces. Paint is melting from the ceiling, to the walls, to the floor. The blood all around is gathering in pools, rising up in murky inches. Water courses from underneath the door at the end of the hall you entered from. There is no other exit.

Between both ends of the corridor still stands Interpretation, you, James, and Harvey. Only you, and the embodiment of a Catalyst appear to be calm.

Something is wrong.

Though the manifestation standing before you is harmless, Harvey has his sword drawn. Tears are streaming down his face. He's quietly laughing to himself. "I have n-no eyes. Why am I b-blind? Th-they're sinn-nners, b-but I kn-know th-them. I'm n-not insane. I'm only hum-man."

James is holding onto himself. There's desperation all throughout his tone. "I don't need a mouth. I don't need reason."

So far as you're aware, you have a heart. You try to understand. Both men standing near you are facing Interpretation— but it's clear that they're not seeing the same thing.

The being grimaces at you, with a familiarity that sends a chill down your spine. He recognizes their distress, and feels it in turn. You know your friends are suffering. "Their interpretations are not nearly as kind."

Harvey has his sword drawn, and his hand is shaking. He can't stop crying. He's barely holding the item up to protect himself. He wants to see, but is shield is held before his face as if he wants to flee for his life. "Stay b-back. You d-don't rem-memb-ber. You d-don't n-need to. Stay b-back."

Another colossal piece of the ceiling drops. It's five feet across at its widest, and falls no more than three feet behind you all. The crash is deafening.

No one moves. James is beside himself, running his hands through his hair, and quietly laughing. "I'm not my age. I'm the story. The ballad sung." He has a sadistic glint in his eye, and swiftly draws out a dagger. "Not a happy ending. I'm a tragedy! A masterpiece. But I'll never make anything like it. It's impossible. You're impossible. I'm not who I am. You don't know who I am."

His interpretation is nothing like mine.

"James—"

(1/2)

>>4528256
The reply is a bark. Not a request. Blood might as well come to his eyes. "KEEP OUT OF THIS, RICHARD. Stay back. All of you."

The figure standing beside you offers an apologetic glance. He's fidgeting. There's anxiety all through his form, from the knowledge that he is responsible for this turmoil. "This is not your fault. They are victims of their own interpretations."

"I'm b-blind," Harvey repeats. His quiet laughter deepens. It sounds as if his soul is aching. "I've b-brought this on m-myself."

>A] Demand that James not harm whatever he's seeing. He's going to get himself killed. This being exists out of Time and space.
>1] He's out of his mind. You're significantly stronger than he is, in almost every way. Tackle him to the floor. Wrest the knife from his hands. Slap some sense into him, if necessary.
>2] Explain what's happening. Klepto is still one of the most cunning men you've ever met. He surely will listen to reason.

>B] Harvey is having a complete breakdown, and probably needs your attention more.
>1] Try to reassure him.
>2] Insist that he lower his sword, if nothing else.

>C] This place is crumbling, and you all need to flee.
>1] Invoke Mercy to restrain both of your friends. They might resent it, but this is for their own good.
>2] The demon of interpretation was completely lost in itself, and you're more worried about it than anything. Implore the embodiment of Interpretation to follow you. Pray that your friends do the same.
>3] Use your Relic. One of its sides is meant to shape violent intent into compassion. It's unorthodox, and you may be forcing something onto your allies, but you're willing to try.

>D] Write-in.

>>4528259
>>C] This place is crumbling, and you all need to flee.
>3] Use your Relic. One of its sides is meant to shape violent intent into compassion. It's unorthodox, and you may be forcing something onto your allies, but you're willing to try.

Grab them both, let them see themselves the way we see them, let Richard become a mirror.

>>4528264
+1

>>4528264
>>4528267
(I think we can make that work. Vote is locked. Writing now.)

>>4528259
>>4528264
Support

>>4528316
(Appreciate the vote man, ty! Almost done with the update, will be out shortly.)

>>4528317
https://youtu.be/dh7nTM6D-GU

You ignore the knife in James hands, close the distance between you both, and grab him firmly by both shoulders. He tries shrugging you off, and every last bit of his anger is shoved against your side. The wiry, middle-aged man can't do much to fight back against you. You're likely double his weight, and dramatically stronger in every conceivable way.

His voice cracks with raw hatred. "Get your SICK fucking HANDS off of me!" He's keeping the blade in hand turned towards himself, still taking pains to not cut either of you. It's compounding his inability to fight back further. "I'll kill you if you touch me again, Richard! GET OFF OF ME, YOU FAT, SELFISH, DENSE FUCKING CREEP—! You don't know the FIRST fucking thing about what I need! GET [I]OFF[/I] OF ME! GET OFF OF ME!"

This isn't anything you haven't heard before, and literally drag him kicking and screaming across the room towards Harvey. The knight lowers his sword, with tears running down his face. "What do you want?"

Nothing could feel worse than what your friends are going through. You wrestle James into a hold with one arm, using much more force than necessary. He needs to know he's not going anywhere.

There's more screams of abuse. You're not hearing any of it. "This is not who either of you truly are. You are gazing upon your own interpretation, but your self-image is flawed. Look."

Unwinding the chain around your hand, you're greeted by angry red marks from the metal digging against your skin. It's been days now that you've been relying on its properties. There is a passage of Time here that isn't right, but you don't dwell on the abrasions. You look to a pair of bent swords. Violence bent towards compassion. "There is something more to both of you."

With the side of a nail, you open your Relic. There is a small, but immaculate mirror housed within. You've never gazed upon it before, and have never needed to. The instant that the item is opened, its previous properties dissipate.

You gasp, and nearly drop James. The degree of agony you're in is almost unbearable. Your lungs are burning from inhaling paint and sand. There's a hunger on you that is days in the making. The ache throughout all of your body resonates as deeply as your soul. It's as if you haven't slept all night or the last three days, but you stay standing. There's some expletives being screamed at you about being a pervert, and a monster— and you talk over it. "You need to look at yourselves as I see you. As the world sees you. Look."

You need to flee. The walls are crashing down on all sides, yet both men in your company cannot help but look to the object in hand.

It won't be the first Time I've forced Mercy upon them, but they thanked me before. They will come to thank me again.

(1/3)

>>4528341
The man you've kept in a vice relaxes, and begins crying hysterically to himself. It's ugly. Every last bit of hatred he's been throwing your way is directed towards himself. He slumps in your arms, and drops the knife in hand to the floor. "You see a drinking buddy. The clown that made a fool of himself in the Pit. A story-teller who spins nothing but lies. You think I'm insane— and a genius. You love me. You've always thought I was worth saving, even before you ever knew me. You'd rather talk to me than anyone else in our sick little circus. You're desperate to just have some fucking Time together. For fuck's sake, Richard. I'm sorry, and I—" He's crying so hard, he can't even speak for a moment. A hand comes to your back, trying to drag himself up. "I keep making you prouder. Every day you've known me. Every sorry day I've really been alive."

He buries his face in the side of your sleeve. "I didn't mean any of that. I'm sorry."

"I know," you murmur. "It's alright."

Harvey is completely silent. His tears have dried. His teeth are clenched. Disbelief is all across his face. He knows what he's looking at, but still won't internalize it. "You'd have rath-ther walked a d-day in m-my sh-shoes th-than anyone else's." Something seizes him. "You respect m-me, and would follow m-me to the end of the world." Motivation. "You d-don't th-think I'm b-blind at all. "He turns his face completely from Interpretation, and looks to the object in your hands. "You want m-me to come to m-my own conclusions, b-but in th-the end, I'm still your friend. You n-need m-me to see th-the b-best I can b-be."

You are the bearer of truth, and look to the red lion. He keeps out his sword and shield, and charges for the door at the end of the corridor. He's furious. "Th-this th-thing can rot for all I care." There's at least enough anger to get him to keep moving. "We can talk m-more ab-bout th-this sh-shit if we m-make it out alive. Let's g-go!"

James manages to wrest himself free from your grasp, and screams, "WAIT! THE DAMN WATER, HARVEY, YOU IDIOT—!"

Skidding to a stop, Harvey doesn't get to place a single hand on the cell's only door. "We m-might have to swim." He looks to you, though not with terror. He trusts you to do the right thing. To save everyone here.

The rogue among you sneers at Interpretation. "This is your lair. It's collapsing because its demon is gone, is that right?!"

There's no answer you can perceive to his question. The mirror-image standing beside you murmurs, "he still does not understand."

There's a brief pause, as if something is silently replying. James snaps, "it won't make for a better story, you sorry sack of shit. We're making it out alive." The bard looks to you, and with legitimate gratitude all through his eyes. The same expectation. "You got us into this mess. How are we getting out?"

(2/3)

>>4528345
Water continues to filter in from the corridor beyond. It's flooded with blood and paint. The ice in the cavern you entered from must be melting. It took well over an hour to traverse even the fastest routes. There are spikes all throughout the chamber you descended from— but the rope you left should still be in place near its peak. You are not in the best of shape. With the locket open, your vision is swimming from sharp pain. It hurts to stand, and to breathe, let alone to do anything more.

The being beside you softly says, "you are more than a mirror. See yourself the way that others see you. Show yourself the same compassion. I may embody interpretation— but you embody so much more."

You feel like you're going to pass out. In a distant voice, you remind everyone present of what you believe in. "To live is to serve."

(Options in next post.)

>Be advised that you have several substantial maluses. One has been accumulating. (Currently -15 to all physical rolls, due to the severity of the pain and exhaustion that you're in.)
>This is in addition to a number of other stacking modifiers, that will be highly dependent on the prompt selected.
>Write-ins subject to QM approval.

>>4528347
>Choose ONE of the following.
>Majority vote will decide.

>THREAT ASSESSMENT] Turn from Interpretation, and run. You're going to do everything in your power to keep it from harming anyone else.
>CONTAINMENT] Explicitly tell Interpretation that you want to get it to shelter, but need to discuss its situation only when it's safe to do so.
>CLEMENCY] Invite Interpretation to come with you to the Church of Mercy's keeps. Your allies are in no place to argue, and you will protect them if necessary.

>In addition to the prompt above, choose ONE of the following.
>Majority vote will decide, unless it makes complete sense to combine a prompt.

>A] Get out your mace and shield. You're using your own two hands for as long as you're able. Have Harvey/you lead the charge. (Clearly specify who will lead. AN EXTREMELY HIGH ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED.)
>1] Keep your Relic open. You don't want to risk things collapsing all over again. (ALL CUMULATIVE MALUSES WILL STILL APPLY.)
>2] Keep your Relic in hand, for your own purposes. (THE CUMULATIVE MALUS WILL BE NEGATED.)

>B] Don't fuck around. You'll exercise as much restraint as you can, given the circumstances. Invoke Mercy for Her protection, and ask for nothing more. (A MODERATE ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED.)
>1] Keep your Relic open, and lean into the pain. (THE CUMULATIVE MALUS WILL BECOME A POSITIVE. You're aware of the effects this may have on you.)
>1] Keep your Relic open, and rely on Mercy for pain relief. (THE CUMULATIVE MALUS WILL BE NEGATED.)

>D] Invoke Agriculture. You'll utilize Her ability for barriers, for growth, and to create a safe route to the domain above. (A MODERATE ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED. ALL MALUSES WILL BECOME BONUSES. You're aware of the effects this may have on you.)

>E] Invoke Mercy and Agriculture. It's not overkill. You want to live. (A LOW ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED. You're not certain what effect this may have on you.)

>F] That water is going to keep rising in the depths below. You have to go up. Harvey is in a full suit of armor. You're all exhausted, and things are going to keep collapsing. You're willing to risk your life. Invoke Storm. (No roll will be required. There are usually severe, lasting physical repercussions for calling upon the God of the Tempest. MAJORITY VOTE IS MANDATORY. Vocal opposition will be considered in full. Discussion welcome.)

>G] Write-in.

>This vote will remain open for the next 9 hours.

>>4528350
>CLEMENCY] Invite Interpretation to come with you to the Church of Mercy's keeps. Your allies are in no place to argue, and you will protect them if necessary.

We'll likely see about getting it it's own room in a tower, with art and Paint supplies. It'll be touch and go to see who can actually interact with Interpretation in a safe manner.

>E] Invoke Mercy and Agriculture. It's not overkill. You want to live. (A LOW ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED. You're not certain what effect this may have on you.)

We're gonna be an interesting time with this dual invocation, hopefully we don't pass out from over taxing ourselves.

>>4528350
>CLEMENCY] Invite Interpretation to come with you to the Church of Mercy's keeps. Your allies are in no place to argue, and you will protect them if necessary.

>D] Invoke Agriculture. You'll utilize Her ability for barriers, for growth, and to create a safe route to the domain above. (A MODERATE ROLL WILL BE REQUIRED. ALL MALUSES WILL BECOME BONUSES. You're aware of the effects this may have on you.)

Reject Fatness, embrace THICC DICK