There is light in this world, even if you have to search for it.That's what Juno said. Strange words, coming from someone like her. It's as if you've been given a rare glimpse at what lies beneath her spiky armour, at the gentle yearning at the core of her being. There's a part of you that wonders if this might all be one of her games, but... it doesn't feel that way. These rare moments of sincerity have a certain unmistakable feeling to them.“I had a lot of fun! We should definitely do this again. Although...” Elle muses, picking up the empty bottle of wine and studying it, “Maybe a little more moderation next time.”Daniel groans from where he lies on the couch, covering his face with his hands. “What did I do to deserve this?” he mumbles to himself.“You've done nothing, clearly. For no reason at all, you've woken up with a terrible hangover,” you taunt, “Life truly is unfair.”“Just leave me here,” he moans, “Just let me die.”“I'll keep an eye on him,” Jan assures you, giving the soldier a sympathetic look, “You go on, don't worry. You are right though, Miss Legrasse, we SHOULD do this again. It was nice, not having to think about... well. You know what I mean, I'm sure.”You've all got things that you'd rather not think about. Sometimes, it feels easier not to think at all.“Has anyone seen Miss Tomoe?” Elle asks after a moment, “I thought I heard her leave early, but it could've been a dream.”“I can't imagine she's the sort who likes lingering goodbyes,” you suggest with a shrug, “She'll come and go on her own terms.”
>>6129649Previous: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=MolochIn comparison with the glorious weather around Lake Nibelung, it would be impossible not to feel a little glum upon returning to the Pale Estate. A thin misty rain hangs in the air, while vast leaden clouds crawl sluggishly through the sky. You assume that the same sun is hidden somewhere behind those dense clouds, but that theory will have to remain unproven for now.“You go on ahead and get settled. I've got a few messages I need to send,” Elle says as you enter the estate, “It's nothing exciting – I want to send Master Teilhard a letter of thanks, naturally, and I wanted to send a message to King Albrecht. The Demesne, you know...”“I know. It's waiting for us. For me,” you murmur, shaking your head slowly. Elle vanishes into the office in order to send her messages, leaving you to wander into the dining room and sit in a random chair. You're on the cusp of entering the fourth layer of the Demesne. If old Kalthos was telling the truth, Gratia should be waiting for you there. Even as the thought sends a pang of yearning through you, it also stirs of a faint tremor of fear. After all these years, what if she...You still that thought as Alex enters, giving you a friendly nod of greeting. “Welcome back, Isambard,” he begins, “How was Lake Nibelung.”“I enjoyed myself,” you admit, as if confessing some dirty secret, “How were things here?”“Uneventful. Oh, but there was one thing,” Alex recalls, “It was strange, actually. I was doing a little shopping in Castaigne and ran across an old friend, but do you know what? He completely ignored me! I met his gaze for a moment, so I know he saw me, but he quickly turned and hurried away before I could say hello. It was quite odd, I must say!”“Could you have done something to offend him?” you suggest.“I can't imagine so. We've not seen each other for some time,” the older man shrugs, “Well, perhaps he was in a hurry and didn't want to get drawn into conversation. I shouldn't overthink it. Speaking of shopping, actually, I wanted to talk with you about something. That map your father left, leading to the Mire of Phalaris. Were you thinking of following up on it?”“It's a possibility,” you reply cautiously, “Were you going to try and talk me out of it?”“I know better than that, lad,” Alex laughs, “No, I just wanted to warn you to bring plenty of supplies if you do. You're looking at a day's march at best, and that's just to reach the rough area on the map. You could be gone for quite some time, and there won't be much chance to resupply once you're out there.”>I'll keep that in mind, but I'm heading to the Demesne first>Then we should stock up now. The Mire of Phalaris was my next lead>Don't worry, I had other plans... (Write in)>Other
>>6129650> Then we should stock up now. The Mire of Phalaris was my next leadANYTHING BUT THE DEMESNE
>>6129650get a sitrep on the party.Only Elle is officially working for the King, everyone else has their own duties. Or school. They good with those?Also, seeing how they've been with us the longest, have Ariel and Elle received their own Lessons in all these misadventures? What do they think of that, and the pace Bard is keeping with these trinkets?
>>6129650>Then we should stock up now. The Mire of Phalaris was my next leadI'm all antsy about Gratia now... maybe if we show up with more lessons, we can finish whatever she's started and get her out of there?Welcome back, btw!
“We should probably stock up while we can, in that case,” you decide, “You're right, I was thinking of investigating the Mire of Phalaris. I don't know what my father found there, but if I'm going to follow in his footsteps...”Alex sighs, giving you a weary smile. “It's selfish of me, of course, but I do wish you'd stay put for a little longer. Sometimes, I think you forget that this place is your home.”“I know, Alex, but I'm close. I'm so close now,” you murmur, leaning back in your chair, “Gratia, my father... I feel like they're both within reach now.”“But you want to go wading around in a cursed swamp instead,” he points out carefully. You wince, his words cutting straight to your core. “Ah, forgive me. It's not my place to question your decisions,” Alex continues, shaking his head, “Tell you what. I'll write up a list of supplies that you might need, you go and take some time off.”“Even though I just came back from some time off?”“I'd hardly call it “time off”. A few days at most, that's barely a long weekend,” Alex scoffs, “Now go, run along and leave the shopping list to me!”-Starting with Elle, you knock at the office door before showing yourself in. Elle jolts around in surprise as you enter, fumbling with the slips of paper scattered out before her. It looks as if she was deep in thought, until your unexpected interruption.“Sorry,” you tell her, “I can come back later.”“No no, it's fine,” the oracle assures you, shaking her head, “I was just... um, I was wondering if I should send a note home or not. I don't really know what I'd say, though... Do you think I should just leave it?”“You're probably asking the wrong person, but I'd say just leave it,” you answer, closing the door and sitting down beside Elle, “The Mire of Phalaris. What do you think?”“Huh? I think it sounds... swampy?” Elle suggests, her eyes widening, “Is that our next stop? I thought-”“I know, the Demesne will have to wait a little longer. I'm sorry,” you remark, giving her a slight shrug, “At least it'll give King Albrecht plenty of time to consider your request for admission.”It's strange, the mingled look of relief and disappointment that flashes across Elle's face before vanishing completely. “I understand,” she says quietly, bowing her head ever so slightly, “I am bound to follow your orders, Master Pale.”She's teasing you, of course. Juno really is a bad influence on her.“Speaking of the Demesne, though, I was curious about something,” you continue, “Your Lessons – how far into the Demesne do you think you'd be able to get?”Elle considers this. “It's hard to say. Not far,” she admits, “But I might, just barely, be able to reach the third layer.”[1]
>>6129664“Really?” you remark, raising an eyebrow. If your calculations are correct, and they usually are, that would leave her with, at most, the Sixth Lesson. Considering her studies, and her role as a Royal Oracle, you expected more than that.“Believe it or not, most people find it quite difficult to attain even a single Lesson,” Elle reminds you, leaning a little closer to study your face, “We're not all like you, you know. When it comes to the Demesne, you're... quite remarkable.”A brief silence falls, and then she hurriedly leans back. “What I meant to say is...” she quickly adds, “Um... I don't actually know what I meant. I wasn't really thinking.”“I have that effect on people.”Flustered now, Elle tugs at the high collar of her dress and struggles to gather her thoughts. As she struggles to find the right words, you suddenly recall Melinda's description of the Magna Mater's children – blessed or cursed, but destined for great things. A shudder runs through you, reaching all the way down into the pit of your stomach.“I don't know. I can't explain it,” Elle says at last, shaking her head, “Let's just count ourselves lucky – otherwise, we'd be old and frail before finding Gratia.”You nod slowly, although you sense a strange reticence in her words.What isn't she telling you?-Leaving Elle to mull over a possible letter to her parents, you go and search out Ariel. You find her in a quiet parlour, stretched out on a low couch and gazing up at the ceiling. “I'm just wondering what's so interesting about this,” she remarks as you clear your throat, “Daniel seems to spend plenty of time lying like this.”“Usually because he'd hungover,” you point out, “You're not hungover, are you?”“I assume not,” Ariel agrees, sitting up and brushing her hair back into place, “You've got a very serious look on your face. What kind of trouble are you getting us into now?”“How does the Mire of Phalaris sound?”She lets out a low whistle. “Yes, that does sound like trouble. At the very least, it sounds like a lot of hiking,” she pauses, “Maybe too much hiking for little old me. I'm still not totally recovered from all that mountain climbing.”Calling it “mountain climbing” is a bit of an exaggeration, but you see her point. “You don't have to come with us if you don't want to,” you assure her, “I'm not keeping you here, after all. If you ever want to go back home...”“Where's “home”, though?” Ariel points out, “Seigfried House is nice and all, but it's not HOME. Fort Venger isn't an option, and going back to my direct family DEFINITELY isn't an option. If I wasn't here, I honestly don't know where I'd be. Is that weird?”>A little weird, but it's none of my business. Stay where you please>Not at all. I'm perfectly happy to have you around>I do think you should see your real family more often, though>I think... (Write in)>Other
>>6129676>A little weird, but it's none of my business. Stay where you pleaseKinda curious about the senpai but they did do her dirty
“A little weird,” you admit, with a shrug, “But it's none of my business. Stay where you please.”“I would have thought that it WAS your business, considering that I'm staying in your house,” Ariel counters, “Or is this you trying to be all cool and aloof? Some girls might like guys who are distant and cold, but I disagree.”“What I mean is, there's plenty of spare rooms here. You don't take up much space, and you don't leave a mess.”“That just makes me sound like a pet. Some girls might like that too, but-”“Please don't finish that sentence,” you interrupt, your protests causing Ariel to grin broadly. You weren't even aware that you were playing a game, but it seems like she won. “Anyway,” you stress, giving her a glare, “Alex was writing up a list of supplies, so I should see how he's getting on.”“Non-stop excitement, that guy,” Ariel muses, “But I suppose he's steady and reliable. Some girls-”“I'm leaving.”-“Right. Supplies,” Alex begins, clapping his hands together, “First of all, I suggest getting some good quality tents. If you have to cheap out on everything else, spend the extra money to get good tents. Even if you find some solid ground to camp on, you'll wake up in the middle of the night with damp seeping in if you go cheap. Trust me.”“It sounds like you've got some bad memories there,” you remark.“That's because I do,” he grunts, “I used to camp out a lot as a boy. Every lesson I learned, I learned the hard way. But that's enough about me. The food on the list, that's per person per day. Be careful with the weight, it adds up on you. Now, water...”With an attention to detail that borders on the maniacal, Alex goes through the shopping list. Nothing seems particularly unusual or difficult to find. Carrying it all, though, is another matter entirely.“We should be able to pick this all up in Portsmaw,” Elle suggests, peering at the list, “I just hope that Major Ionescu is able to spare a few men for us. If the cipher on this map is correct, we'll need a Galsean to find... well, whatever it is that your father was looking for. No “child of Agoria” can find it, after all.”“The Major certainly owes us one, after everything we've done for him,” you point out, “But if all his men are busy hunting down the rogues... well, we'll just have to go and ask him directly. I just hope...”You just hope that there isn't some new disaster looming in Portsmaw. You don't dare give that thought words, for fear of somehow conjuring it into being, but as you glance at Elle you can tell that she's thinking the same thing.“It'll be fine,” she assures you, and herself, “I'm sure it'll be fine.”[1]
>>6129687The train rattles as it hurtles towards Portsmaw, but despite the steady progress you can't help but feel impatient. Now that you've set your mind on exploring the Mire of Phalaris, you're keen to get stuck in. The thought of uncovering some vast mystery, hidden from the rest of the known world, has a tantalising appeal. For years now, men have wondered about the true fate of House Phalaris – usually in hushed tones, as if afraid to be caught discussing such things.“All this time, there's been something out there. Hidden from all of us,” you murmur, “I can scarcely believe it. What about you?”“I'm keeping an open mind,” Elle answers cautiously, “And before you ask, no. Even we oracles don't know anything more than anyone else. House Phalaris retreated into the depths of their great fortress and sealed the doors. They locked themselves away, and then one day their fortress was simply... gone. As far as anyone could tell, they were swallowed up by the mire.”No matter how many times you hear it, the old story always sends a chill running down your spine. After everything you've seen, at the Iron Keep and beyond, you suspect that the truth is far stranger than anyone could guess.-There's a certain novelty to seeing a small group of Galsean men lingering on a street corner, talking quietly amongst themselves. The Portsmaw locals give them a cautious berth as they walk past, but there's no sign of open hostility. The Galseans all wear red armbands over their scruffy, mismatched clothes, perhaps as a vague nod towards a uniform. They give you respectful salutes as you pass, pressing clenched fists to their chests.Though there is still a sentry standing guard at the entrance to the Galsean enclave, he seems especially relaxed. Barring another incident, you doubt he'll be here in a few weeks time. Entering, you quickly retrace your steps back to the Major's hovel. As you walk, you notice a general improvement in the conditions – many of the houses show signs of recent repair and improvement, while the previous air of tension and suspicion has somewhat lifted.“We did this,” Elle whispers to you as you walk, patting you on the arm, “Maybe not all of it, but we certainly helped.”“Now imagine what we'd be able to do if we really set our minds to it,” you mutter back, “We'd be running this whole kingdom.”“I hope not. That sounds like an awful lot of hard work.”“True,” you concede. Before you can say anything more, you spot Major Ionescu sitting outside his home – an uncommon sight. Raising a hand in greeting, he gives you a solemn nod and gestures for you to approach. “Major Ionescu!” you call out to him, “Always a pleasure!”“Master Pale,” the Galsean replies in his doleful voice, “You want something from us, do you not?”You tense up, only to relax as he breaks out in a rare laugh.[2/3]
>>6129696“Come. We have never shared a meal, have we?” Major Ionescu asks, leading you into his home, “Our meals are not luxurious, but it would please me to share what little we have. Sit. Eat. We can talk business afterwards.”Murmuring thanks for the hospitality, you sit as a silent Galsean woman lays out a selection of dishes before you – thick slices of black bread, salted cuts of meat, and bowls of sour pickled vegetables, served with small glasses of some potent Galsean spirit. There's no particular formality about the way Major Ionescu eats, picking at each plate as he chooses.“As you have seen, our lot in life has improved. Perhaps more than I had hoped, even in my brightest of dreams,” the Major remarks, “But not all of the news is good, I fear. Do you recall the man you captured, the Black Wanderer?”“It would be hard to forget.”“He has vanished,” the Galsean says bluntly, taking a sip of his liquor, “He was put in a carriage and sent north, to your capital. He never arrived. The carriage was found, attacked and burned, but no bodies. A strange case.”“Oh dear...” Elle sighs, going pale, “Should we... is there anything we can do?”Major Ionescu shakes his head. “My best men are... how do you say it, on the case? If there is a trail, they will find it. You would only get in their way,” he explains, “Besides. You have your own duties, do you not? You do not need further distractions.”He's not wrong there. “We need to borrow some of your men, Major Ionescu,” you tell him simply, “As you've said, they are excellent trackers. We need to find something, and I think that only a Galsean can do the job.”He considers this, slowly tugging at his moustache. “Your father once said much the same thing to me, Master Pale. I lent him some of my men, and they never returned,” he recalls, with a faint note of bitterness, “You would ask me the same thing?”>I think you owe me a favour at this point, don't you?>I'm a better man than my father. I'll bring your men back alive>I know the risks, Major, but I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important>I... (Write in)>Other
>>6129704>I know the risks, Major, but I wouldn't ask if it wasn't importantI wish we could promise to bring them back aliveAt least it’s likely they won’t ALL die?
>>6129676>Not at all. I'm perfectly happy to have you aroundWould have been my vote, though I'm not averse to our boy being aloof and tsundere.>>6129704>I know the risks, Major, but I wouldn't ask if it wasn't importantI suppose you could say we're staking our life on it, eh?
“I know the risks, Major, and I can't promise that I'll be able to bring all of your men back in one piece. I wish I could, but then I'd just be lying to you,” you tell the Major, “But I wouldn't ask you this if it wasn't important. This isn't something that I ask lightly – after all, I'll be walking into the exact same dangers.”Major Ionescu lets out a low hum as he thinks, finishing off the last few pieces of his meal. He's making you sweat, and enjoying every moment of it. You don't try to rush him. You are, after all, asking him to offer up some of his men to an uncertain fate. That's a little more significant than asking to read some of their old scrolls.“I will ask for volunteers,” the Major says at last, downing the last of his liquor in a single gulp, “I will make no promises. If no men step forwards, I will not force them to join you. But if my men wish to accompany you, I will not stop them either. The choice will be theirs.”“I see,” you reply slowly, carefully. That's not exactly the response you had been hoping for.Maybe the Major can see that, because he lets out a low laugh. “You are a friend to our people, Pale. I do not think you will be disappointed,” he tells you, “But I will need time to share the word. Come back tomorrow, and we shall see who has answered your call.”You nod, a little heartened by his assurances. “That'll have to do,” you decide, “Until then, Major.”“Another drink?” he offers as you're getting up to leave, gesturing with the bottle.“We'd better not,” Elle tells him, giving you a serious look, “We've still got business to take care of.”-“Volunteers...” you think aloud to yourself as you're leaving the enclave, “I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't a little bit worried. What if nobody turns up? Or some people do, but they're of such low character that we'd be better off without them?”“Or,” Elle suggests pointedly, “What if we get a good number of strong, healthy volunteers with good moral character?”“Oh, I see. You're being optimistic again,” you remark, “Quite the enviable talent.”Smiling softly to herself, Elle just walks on towards the city centre. Soon, you're searching out shops for the various supplies on Alex's list. There's no real sense of urgency, though, and you spend more time just idly wandering the city streets. After a while, though, you can tell that there's something distracting Elle. Cutting your search short, you enter a quiet teahouse and retreat into the privacy of a booth.“So, are you going to tell me what's up, or are you going to make me guess?” you ask, “I should tell you, I don't like guessing.”“It's...” Elle begins, her voice faltering almost immediately, “I've... not been entirely honest with you, Isambard.”[1]
>>6129719These words send a cold chill running down your spine. Not entirely honest about WHAT? And for how long?“My parents are... Niceans. They believe very strongly in the Nicean Prophecies, and I was raised to believe them too,” Elle explains, picking her words carefully, “But they have a very particular set of believes. Niceans believe that the Godhead will, one day, give rise to a new deity – God, a loving and protective force that will bless mankind. Ah, um, I don't need to explain this to you, do I?”“I'm aware of the prophecies,” you remind her, “God, the Godhead, even the wounded woman. What do your parents believe, exactly?”“They believe that God already exists, hidden away at the very deepest depths of the Demesne. Only when someone is able to reach the lowest depths, will God be able to ascend to the world above,” the continues, “There's an old family prophecy, passed down from one generation to the next. It says that our family, the Legrasse family...”“You'll be the ones to find this... God... and set it free?”“No,” Elle answers, shaking her head, “But we'll serve and guide the one who will.”You consider this in silence for a long moment, thinking back to your earlier conversation – your “remarkable” progress through the Demesne. “You think I'm the one in your prophecy,” you reply at last, “And you've been helping, encouraging me to delve into the Demesne because of that?”“Not just that!” she insists quickly, shaking her head, “I didn't even believe it at first. I... I joined you because of King Albrecht's orders, to fulfil my duty to you. It's only recently that I've started to wonder if... if it might all be true. At first I didn't know how to explain it to you, but I felt so bad not saying anything. I couldn't keep it from you any longer.”A long silence.“I don't... want there to be any secrets between us,” Elle continues, her voice growing hushed, “I know that you probably think I have some ulterior motive now, and maybe I do. But I hope you can still find a way to trust me.”>Of course I trust you. This doesn't make any difference>I want to trust you. But now, I'm not so sure>You've been using me for your own purposes. I can't just forget that>I... (Write in)>Other
>>6129719>“I've... not been entirely honest with you, Isambard.”Oh no...
>>6129730>Of course I trust you. This doesn't make any differenceMy father's corpse is said to lie in the fourth layer, and Gratia is also roaming somewhere on that layer. I don't know if I'll have any reason to be made to reach the furthest depths of that place afterward, but I'm certain somebody or something will inevitably give me that excuse. (sigh) If it were this easy to groom a lackey solely to reach the end of the Demesne to face the Godhead or retrieve God, you'd think the King or some other shadowy cabal would have achieved it long ago.
>>6129730>Of course I trust you. This doesn't make any differenceJust don’t mention this to the rest of your family, they might get weird
Perhaps you've become jaded from your recent adventures, because you find yourself remarkably unmoved by Elle's confession. Of all the dark, terrible secrets she might have been keeping, coming out with something such as this feels like... nothing. Your immediate thoughts could be summed up by two simple words - “that's it?”“Of course I trust you. This doesn't make any difference. This changes nothing,” you assure Elle, reaching across the table and touching her hand. It's a fleeting moment of contact, your fingers barely brushing together, but it's enough to make her eyes widen in surprise. “My father died in the fourth layer, and Gratia is supposedly hiding out there too. I don't see why I'd have any reason to go any deeper than that, but I'm sure someone or something will be only too happy to give me an excuse,” you sigh, “But I wonder if it'll really be that easy. If it was, I imagine someone else would've done it by now.”“I don't know. I don't even know how true it all is. Not all prophecies are, um, correct. There's nothing malicious about it. Over the generations, rumour and myth can take on a life of their own,” Elle pauses, smiling nervously, “My parents... had really high hopes for me, you know. They say I was born under all sorts of favourable omens. So when I left the Choir, they nearly disowned me. If the prophecy really did come true, and I was the one to usher it in...”“Your parents might finally be proud of you?”“That's... that's not why I'm doing this!” she yelps, only to let out a little laugh as she realises that you're just teasing. “Although...” she continues, allowing herself a tiny smile, “I admit, I would like to see their reaction when they found out.”“I'd rather they didn't find out. It would just be awkward for everyone involved,” you remark, “I've got enough problems, without having to worry about your family's strange cult.”A pause.“No offence intended,” you add.“None taken,” Elle assures you, her smile growing a little more confident, “They ARE strange – I just never realised it until I left home. But then, I think most families are like that.”“No kidding,” you laugh, “I'll tell you what, I'll make you a deal. So long as you don't try and get me involved in weird cult business, we'll say no more about this whole thing. We'll pretend that this conversation never needed to happen.”“I'll take that deal.”-Elle seems like a different person as you leave the teahouse, her gaze firmer and her head held high. She had hidden it well, but now you realise just how much the tiny secret had been weighing on her. With her conscience unburdened, you can return to your shopping with renewed focus. Soon, you're looking at waterproof boots and backpacks as if nothing at all had happened.[1]
>>6129730>Of course I trust you. This doesn't make any differenceWe thought she was doing one duty. Turns out she's doing two. We already knew she was religious, too.I would like to mention that if Calamity allows a perosn to shortcut their way down, it implies weird things about any savior at the bottom...>>6129773drat, I'm late...
>>6129773“I think we should get a good lantern too,” Elle says suddenly, “Gas or voltaic, it doesn't really matter. It's not on Alex's list, but I think it'll be dark, wherever we're going.”“I think so too,” you reply, your voice perfectly neutral, “Especially if it's night.”“You know what I mean,” she pouts, examining a particularly large lantern. Nodding with apparent approval, she adds it to your growing pile of supplies. It's getting to be quite the haul, and you've only covered two people. Depending on how many volunteers Major Ionescu is able to scrape together, you might end up needing significantly more. “Now, tents,” Elle continues, “Gosh, they're certainly not cheap!”“Alex did say they're worth the expense,” you remind her, “I don't want to wake up with a wet backside. I'm willing to tolerate a great many hardships, but I have to draw the line somewhere.”“Mm, I know. But still, maybe we can save a little money. Here, look at this,” she points, “This tent should fit two people, and it's a good deal cheaper than two individual tents!”A silence falls as you look up to the tent she points you, reading the measurements listed. While it might claim to fit two people, you'd practically be sleeping on top of each other. Looking at the measurements again, then looking back to Elle, you can see that she's thinking the same thing. The silence draws out, each of you wordlessly daring the other to make the first move.“...I'm just kidding!” Elle laughs at last, her nerve breaking first, “The budget can easily stretch to two tents, it's no worry at all!”“Who said I was worried?” you counter, raising an eyebrow.“Well, no, I wasn't...” fumbling for words, Elle slowly turns red.“Excuse me!” you call out to the shopkeeper, even as Elle flails and stammers, “We'd like two tents please!”>Going to pause here, I think. Scheduling is a big crap this weekend – I won't be able to run tomorrow, but I should be back online for a session on Monday. Next week should be better though>Thank you for reading along today!
>>6129784Thanks for running!Praying the Legrasse family has very little in common with the main Martense branch right now
>>6129784Elle remains best girl, in spute of strong efforts by Ariel and even Juno.Thanks for running, QM!
>>6129784Cheers! Also, we should definitely ask Alex about that old friend he ran into, something interesting there for sure...
>>6129784Thanks for running.That's 3/4 who have some kind of baggage thanks to a prophecy. Juno did say that the four of us are similar, so Ariel could likely have one guiding her too. There's also a daddy issues joke in there.
>>6129939Ariel does uncannily resemble a Pale more than a Tielhard...
>>6129994We could make her an honorary Pale after all this, if she lives. How would Gratia like having a Teilhard cousin that's actually nice and not an edgelord like the rest of the Pales?
>>6129997+1, she really can stay over at our horse forever.
>>6130022We don't have a horse yet
For all your talk of moving on, of putting the matter of Elle's strange family behind you, you keep wondering. Could there really be a God slumbering in the lowest layer of the Demesne? As impossible as it might seem, it's no more or less likely than any of the other wild theories you've heard. Until someone actually reaches those final depths and returns to tell the tale, the possibility cannot be discounted.Could that person be you? It seems likely, or at least possible, that your father was trying to reach those final depths. Are you supposed to inherit his mission too? And if the stories are true, and God truly does lie at the bottom of the Demesne, would it look fondly upon someone like you, who has embraced the power of Calamity to force their way forwards?Always questions, never answers. This, perhaps, is the curse of Insight – no matter how hard you search, you can never find the truth.-When you return to the Galsean settlement, you see that your fears were unfounded. Three volunteers stand waiting for you, milling about with a kind of restless energy. One of them you recognise as Mihail, but the other two are strangers to you. The first is a large man, larger than most Galseans, with a shaven head and the face of a thug. The other is a young woman, as sharp and pointed as a dagger.“You are popular indeed, Pale,” Major Ionecsu murmurs, studying the volunteers from afar, “At first, there were far more than just these three. I have done you the favour of selecting the best. Most of the others were young pups, unskilled but eager to prove themselves. Enthusiastic, yes, but a poor choice for travelling companions. These three, though, should suffice.”“Mihail too?” you ask quietly, nodding to the young man.“Hrm,” the Major grunts, “I asked for him to stay, but he insisted. Should you wish to take him, I will not object. Whatever my wishes, it is his choice to make.”“And who are these others?” Elle asks, looking at the other two.“Usik,” the Galsean begins, gesturing to the man, “He is, perhaps, not the best tracker amongst all our people. But he is strong, and determined. When I asked for volunteers, and warned of the risks, he wished dearly to be chosen.”He certainly looks like he could be useful for carrying the supplies, at least. Judging by the size of him, he could could probably carry the weight of two men.“And this is Alina,” Major Ionescu continues, nodding towards the young woman, “She is a skilled tracker and hunter, if a little rash. She wished to join the Rangers, like so many of our men, but was denied. Now, I think, she wishes to make herself useful.”Rash, impulsive... that might be dangerous, where you're going. “Can I talk with them?” you ask.“By all means,” he assures you.[1/2]
>>6130268“Friend!” Mihail calls out, greeting you with a cheerful wave, “I hear that you are going on an adventure!”“I'm not sure I'd call it that,” you warn him, “It could be dangerous. This isn't a decision to take lightly.”“I know, I know,” he admits with a foolhardy smile, “But when I heard that you were looking for help, I could not say no. We Galseans owe much to you, Pale, and I will be happy to return the favour. Besides...” He pauses here, and gives you a wink. “I have always wanted to see more of your land. This, finally, will give me a good reason.”You give him a non-committal grunt, then move on. Usik watches you carefully, his piggish eyes narrowing slightly as if measuring you up. “Master Usik,” you begin, “Why did you volunteer?”“I do my duty,” he rumbles, his voice like rocks grinding together, “You are a friend to our people, as your father was. When friends ask, we answer.”“...Did you know my father?” you ask carefully, something in his voice catching your attention.“I know OF him,” Usik answers, falling into a sullen silence.Sensing that you're not going to get anything more from him, you move on to Alina. She snaps into a curt salute as you approach, slamming one clenched fist into her breast. “Master Pale!” she announces, a stilted formality in her voice, “I would be honoured to be your guide!”“I understand that you were rejected by the Rangers,” you mention, the words causing her eyes to harden, “Can you tell me why?”“I can track and fight as well as anyone else, but they would not accept me because I am a woman,” she answers, a suppressed anger causing her voice to shake, “In the home islands, it would not happen. But here, I am bound by your rules. Your customs. You travel with a woman too, I see. You would not reject me so easily, I hope.”“We'll see,” you tell her. While you can't fault her enthusiasm, there's something faintly abrasive about her. It's like she holds a grudge against the whole world – not that you can really blame her.With a final nod, you return to Major Ionescu. “Well?” he asks quietly, “If you so wish it, I can release all three into your service. Many of my best men are occupied elsewhere, but I believe these three will suffice.”>I'll take them, all three of them>I won't need all three of them, just... (Who?”>There's something else... (Write in)>Other>I was able to get some time for a single post today – I'll leave the vote open and check back tomorrow to see how things look. We can bring along one, two or all three of the Galseans, as you see fit.>See you all tomorrow!
>>6130269>I'll take them, all three of themThe more the merrier?
>>6130286+1https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qMFFfsXLlbA
>>6130269>>I won't need all three of them, just... (Who?”Usik and AlinaMihail seemed plenty uncomfortable with the idol business last time, this is looking to be even worse.Unless we want to grab that girl working in the museum, these two will do.
>>6130031*houseAutocorrect wants us to be a wandering, homeless cowboy or knight.>>6130269>I'll take them, all three of them
>>6130269>I'll take them, all three of themOur retinue grows - as befits the Lord of a great house
>>6130269>I'll take them, all three of them
>>6130269>I'll take them, all three of themWhat an interesting group we're turning into.
“What do you think?” you murmur to Elle, “Anyone catch your eye?”“Hmm,” she muses, studying Usik with a dubious eye, “I'm not sure about that one. He seems... violent.”“We are, by nature, a violent people,” Major Ionescu points out, “I know Usik. When the Lliogor descended upon the home islands, he fought as well as any man. There are many here who may not have survived if not for him.”“I didn't mean-” Elle stammers.Major Ionescu silences her with a gesture, shaking his head. No offence was intended, and no offence was taken. Before you can get distracted even further, you return to the three volunteers as they talk quietly amongst each other. They all turn as you approach, looking your way with a bland curiosity. “Good news. You're hired,” you tell the trio, “Get your supplies ready, and we'll leave at noon.”-Leaving Portsmaw, first by train and then by carriage, you find yourself sneaking glances at the Galseans. Considering that this is their first time seeing the wider world outside their enclave, their reaction is strangely muted. You suspect that it's a kind of natural caution, a reluctance to draw too much attention to themselves. They attracted more than a few curious stares on the train, although fortunately that was all.The carriage can only take you so far, of course, before the difficult terrain so typical of the Mire of Phalaris makes further travel impossible. You stop at a tiny village on the very edge of Pale territory, a place called Waycrest, and haggle with one of the locals for the use of their spare rooms for the night. It's a surprisingly large house for such a tiny village, perhaps the last remnants of some faded noble family. Whatever the reason, it gives you plenty of space and a solid roof over your head. Considering that this might be your last taste of civilisation for a while, you plan on making the most of it.As the Galseans are settling into their borrowed rooms, you catch Mihail on his own. “I know it might be a little late to be saying this,” you tell him quietly, “But it's not too late to change your mind. Where we're going, things could get... strange. If you're not prepared for that-”“No. I can do this,” Mihail interrupts, shaking his head, “One day, perhaps, I will need to be a leader for my people, yet I have had scant experience. Not good, yes? So you see, I have to do this.”“I won't pretend to know how things work in your homeland, but I think I understand,” you reply, “It's difficult, having to live up to a family name.”Mihail nods slowly, lapsing into a thoughtful silence. “Well, anyway,” you continue, changing the subject before the mood can sour any further, “How's Melinda?”“Ah. Busy, always busy,” the Galsean answers with a rueful smile, “I told her that you were looking for volunteers – never have I seen her so scared!”[1/2]
>>6130898The next morning, you bid a reluctant farewell to the trappings of civilisation and set out for the Mire of Phalaris. Alina leads the way, occasionally glancing at a copy of your maps, while you carefully follow her path. You had thought that you were prepared for a difficult journey, but within the first few hours of travel, you realise that you were wrong. The ground underfoot is soft and clinging, and you find yourself having to tug your feet free with every step you take. Faced with such exhausting work, you're very glad that Ariel had the good sense to stay behind.You have to trust that Alina knows where she's going, for there are seldom few landmarks to guide you. The land stretches out around you like a monotonous canvas of rank decay, occasionally broken by a dead, hollow tree or a lumpy boulder rising out of the swamp. A heavy mist clings to the ground, cutting your visibility down even further. More than once, you think you catch a faint glimpse of movement from within the thick fog, but every time to turn to look there is nothing to be seen.Time means little in a place like this, but gradually you see the light fading from the sky. Alina seems to read your thoughts, gesturing towards a slightly raised section of ground. Hurrying as best as the cloying mud will allow, you follow her lead and arrive at a section of mercifully solid ground. “We should camp here,” she announces, breaking her long silence, “Might not find another chance before we lose the last of the light.”“Agreed,” you tell her, “Settle in, everyone. Make yourselves comfortable.”-You're able to salvage enough wood from the surrounding mire to build a campfire, although is burns with a damp, listless flame. Setting up the tents is a farce all of itself, but you finally manage to get them up before the daylight fails completely. Elle retires early, too exhausted for words, and leaves you with the Galseans. They sit far apart, barely looking at each other let alone talking. Alina sits by the fire, toying with an old revolver, while Usik lurks at the very edge of the camp, staring off into the blackness. Mihail is the only one who seems to notice that the others exist, casting the occasional nervous glance at them. The pressures of leadership, such as they are, are starting to weigh on him.>It's late, and you have another long walk tomorrow. Better to rest while you can>It looks like Mihail could use someone to talk to. It might ease his nerves>Usik hasn't said a word since you departed. Perhaps you can coax something out of him now>Alina has been guiding you so far. Maybe you should check in, see how she feels about the journey>Other
>>6130899>Alina has been guiding you so far. Maybe you should check in, see how she feels about the journey
>>6130899>Usik hasn't said a word since you departed. Perhaps you can coax something out of him nowLearn something before the inevitable
If you're going to be travelling with these people, you decide, you should probably try and get to know them a little. At least then you'll be able to properly mourn them when things go horribly wrong. You're exaggerating, of course, but the possibility remains. Considering that Alina has been guiding you thus far, you should start with her. Maybe she's uncovered some wondrous insight while you've been walking.“Miss Alina,” you begin, sitting down opposite her, “What do you think about the journey so far?”Alina looks up, peer at you through the dancing campfire flames. “This place is good for us,” she says, her voice quiet and clipped, “Flat land, few obstacles or cover. Even with the fog, it would be hard for anyone to ambush us.”“Oh. That's... good,” you remark, “I hadn't actually considered the possibility that anyone would put in the effort to ambush us all the way out here. I'm not even sure who WOULD ambush us. Someone with entirely too much time on their hands, I suppose.”The Galsean woman just stares at you, as if your words had passed entirely over her head. “Maybe we won't be ambushed,” she concedes after a long silence, “But maybe we will.”Those two possibilities do, in fact, cover things pretty well.“Back in the home islands, I found a strange place. I was just a girl, roaming the forest. The place had been burned. It had happened a long, long time ago, but nothing grew there. I told my parents, and they ordered me to never visit that place again. It was a BAD place,” Alina continues, the words suddenly spilling from her lips, “This place, it reminded me of that. This is a bad place too.”As you're processing these words, Alina gets up and slinks away into her tent. You watch her leave, then feel a prickle as the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Turning, you see Usik staring out at you from the outer edge of your camp. The firelight just barely reaches him, half shrouding his face in shadow.“Do you think this is a bad place too?” you ask, moving a little closer, “Like she does?”“Yes,” he says bluntly, “But it makes no difference. Many places are bad, haunted. Many people are bad too.”“And haunted?”“Haunted too,” Usik nods slowly, then falls silent. His stillness, his silence, reminds you of some ancient statue. Looking at him now, you can almost imagine moss crawling across his impassive features as they slowly, slowly crumble away to dust. “Major Ionescu said you fought the Lliogor with him,” you state suddenly, saying the first thing that comes to mind in order to break the silence. “I did,” Usik answers, in his usual unhurried pace, “You haven't.”“No. The last time the Lliogor reached our shores was before I was born,” you agree, “Fortunately for me, I suppose.”[1]
>>6130918“You, your people. You think the Lliogor are savages. Barbarians. You're wrong,” Usik continues, raising a hand to point one fat finger at you, “They are smart. They learn. When they first landed on the home islands, they died in the forests. They died alone, and in fear. But they learned. They used the forests against us. You could not imagine it, being hunted in your own homeland.”A deep anger throbs beneath Usik's words, and for once you're left grasping for a snappy response. “No,” you admit at last, “I couldn't.”Usik just grunts, turning away to stare back out into the night. You linger for a moment more, to see if he's got anything else to say, then retreat to your tent.-The next morning, you have a quick meal drawn from the supplies you brought and set out for another long slog. It's brighter than the previous day, at least, with much of the mist having dispersed overnight.Before arriving at the Mire, you vaguely wondered if you might be able to hunt some game in order to bolster your supplies. Now, you see that you were wrong – the birds and beasts seem to have abandoned this place entirely, and even insects are nowhere to be seen. It's not just that this place is dead, it seems to reject the very idea of life.Mud squelches underfoot as you follow Alina's trail, the monotonous process of walking soon numbing your thoughts. Losing track of time, you couldn't say how long it is before something rouses your attention once more.“I must confess, I've been having... doubts,” Elle admits, lurching a few steps forwards to stand beside you, “What could your father have been looking for out here?”“I've been asking myself the same thing. Some lost secret of House Phalaris, perhaps?” you suggest with a shrug, “I can't even say that we'll know it when we see it because, well-”“We won't see it,” she finishes for you, nodding ahead to Alina, “She will, I hope. But what if she doesn't know what to look for? Even with the map, we may still be as good as lost.”“Let's wait and see before having a crisis of faith, okay?” you tell her, gesturing around at the mire surrounding you, “Just relax a little. Enjoy the stroll through this wonderful scenery and let me worry about everything else.”“Wonderful scenery? That's-” Elle repeats, but she doesn't get the chance to finish her thought.“Got something ahead!” Alina hisses, holding up a clenched fist. Even before you join her up ahead, you see what she's talking about – the faint silhouette of ruins, blocky buildings and a listing, half-collapsed tower. “This is not on the map,” she remarks, waving the paper at you, “Was this what you were looking for?”“No, I don't think so,” you murmur, studying the map, “The remains of some old Phalaris town, I suppose. Long, long abandoned.”[2/3]
>>6130927You see a few more signs of life – albeit life that has long since departed this place – as you approach the ruined town. A few wooden posts jut from the swamp, the remains of some raised bridge or footpath, and on one occasion you find a toppled signpost. Time has since erased anything written on the sign, but you still feel vaguely encouraged by the sight. At one time, people travelled through this area and used the sign for guidance.As you arrive at the decayed settlement, you see that there was more to it than you originally thought. Many of the houses are half-sunk into the mud, their own weight inexorably pulling them deeper into the more, but a few of them, perhaps built on firmer ground, remain. Time has been unkind to them, of course, but they haven't collapsed completely.“Might get a good view from that tower,” Alina suggests, pointing to the leaning monument.“Yes, perhaps,” Mihail points out, “And you can enjoy that view as you fall to your death, yes? It does not look stable to me. Not safe at all.”Usik, as you expected, offers no opinion on the matter.>We're getting distracted. We need to forget this place and move on>Alina, go up to that tower and take a look. See what you can find>We should search the village. It'll take time, but there might be something left behind>Other
>>6130930>Take the time to reinforce a building. Even if we don't use it as a fort for an ambush, having a sturdy place to camp will be good for the trip back.
>>6130930>>We should search the village. It'll take time, but there might be something left behindNo tower climbing, we can’t lose Alina so early
“This place might be of use to us,” you decide, looking around at some of the more intact dwellings, “A base of operations, of sorts, if we can't find anywhere else to set up camp. We might not need it now, but it might be useful on our way back out. And if we do run into trouble, whatever form that trouble may take, we could take shelter in the houses here. Some of them look sturdy enough.”“Is he normally this paranoid?” Mihail whispers loudly to Elle, his words causing Alina to let out a tiny snort of laughter.“I think it is wise,” Usik argues, giving the other Galseans a scowl, “Do you really think this place is safe? It has swallowed some of our people already, yes? Or do you think they are hiding here, living happy lives?”His words shock the rest of the Galseans into silence, causing them to cast uneasy looks about each other. “Okay, you heard the man!” you announce, “Let's get to work. We'll search the area and find the best house, then see what we have to do to fix it up. If we have to camp out here tonight, so be it. Alina – leave the tower. I think Mihail is right, I don't trust that thing not to collapse completely once you set foot inside it.”“Yes. Understood,” Alina answers, with a faint hint of relief.-There's something eerie about the ruined settlement, but you can't put your finger on exactly what. There's no suggestion of violence, nothing to indicate that the people here were driven out by conflict, yet you can't shake the feeling that something terrible happened here. Maybe not here in this exact settlement, but across the whole region.A bad place, like Alina said.You decide to focus on the largest intact house in the village. You assume it belonged to some local leader at some point, because it seems to be build stronger than any of the other homes. The ceiling has collapsed in a few places, causing the upper level to pool with damp, so you limit yourselves to the ground floor. It actually has a functional door, although the wood feels soft and spongy to the touch – it's hard to imagine it stopping a determined attacker.“Isambard?” Elle calls out softly from within the decaying manor. You find her in a darkened room at the rear of the manor, staring at the degraded remains of an oil painting. You can't make out what the painting is supposed to show – buildings, perhaps, blandly functional towers of grey stone and glass. They look a little bit like some of the tenements in Portsmaw, albeit stripped down to the brutal minimum.“To my faithful retainer, from Lady Phalaris,” Elle reads aloud, squinting at the tarnished brass plaque set into the frame. Then, with her eyes growing unfocused and her voice deepening, she continues. “Were the Phalaris driven into exile?” she wonders aloud, “Or did they choose to leave?”[1]
>>6130927I'd take tye Lliogar to resemble the Mongolian Geeat State/Golden Horde and tye Galseans to be Slav anaalogues, but this description reminds me a lot of the Chinese and Japanese incursions into Taiwan and the surrounding Austronesian islands.
>>6130959You don't sleep well, that night. You don't think anyone does. On more than one occasion, you're woken by the faint groan of rotten floorboards creaking underfoot as someone wanders through the deserted manor. At one point you wake to the faint scream of night owls, the sound seeming to come to you from some vast distance. When the first hints of morning's light appear, you find yourself letting out a sigh of relief.“Did anyone... hear anything strange last night?” you ask carefully, setting aside your half-eaten breakfast.“You probably heard me,” Elle answers with an apologetic smile, “I just couldn't get settled. I was roaming about, looking for... well, um, I don't actually know what I was looking for. I thought that the Emanations might provide guidance, but...”“Giving you the silent treatment, huh?” you remark, shaking your head, “Fine, whatever. It doesn't matter – we'll just have to get by without them.”-You take the cautious decision to leave some of your supplies behind in the manor, allowing you to move on ahead with lighter packs. You hardly imagine you need to worry about thieves or scavengers in a place like this, and it'll help you cover a little more ground. The Galseans are quiet as they march, as they normally are, but Elle seems more withdrawn than normal. Her expression is thoughtful, uneasy. It might be the atmosphere getting to her, or...“Something on your mind?” you ask quietly, lowering your voice so that the others won't overhear.“Mm, that's right,” she murmurs, “Last night, when we were looking at that painting... I've never heard the Emanations like that before. It was as if THEY were asking ME a question. That's... well, I shouldn't need to tell you that it doesn't work that way.”“Maybe they're just as curious as we are,” you suggest, forcing a smirk, “I mean, it's a good question. Where are the Phalaris now?”If the Emanations don't know the answer to that, it would suggest that the Phalaris are somewhere, or somehow, outside or beyond the natural order. Whatever that means.-“We're here,” Alina announces simply, coming to a halt so suddenly that Mihail walks a few paces beyond her before stopping as well.“Here?” he repeats, “Where is here?”“Here, on the map,” she explains, waving the paper map and gesturing around here, “This is it. This is what you wanted to find.”You look around, searching for any hint of anything beyond the endless expanse of swamp. Logically, you know that – if your father's cipher was accurate – you won't actually be able to see anything, but you search for it nonetheless. “Spread out, you three,” you order, “Search this whole area.”“Search it for what?” Mihail asks, casting Alina a nervous glance.“I don't know!” you snarl, frustration creeping into your voice, “Anything and everything!”[2/3]
>>6130967*I'd taken the*Great State
>>6130976I guess a big sign saying treasure here was too much to hope for
>>6130269>I'll take them, all three of themWe are using the powers of devil worship to free God. This cannot possibly explode in our faces.
>>6130980Bit late to that vote, anon.
>>6130976Setting down your backpack to use as a rough cushion, you sit and watch as the Galseans wander aimlessly around the swamp. As they walk, you try and look for anything out of the ordinary. Even if you can't see it directly, whatever IS is, you still hold out a vague hope that you might be able to sense something – or perhaps even the absence of something.But no. The ground here is, perhaps, slightly more uneven than the otherwise flat swamplands, but even that might just be a trick of the eye. Perhaps it was always this bumpy, and you're just looking for something that isn't there?With a soft sigh, Elle sits down beside you. There's no use in her searching too – as a fellow child of Agoria, she's just as blind as you. You're vaguely relieved to see that she's just as frustrated as you are, even if she IS hiding it a little better. “Be honest with me,” she whispers, “Was your father the sort of man who would send people chasing off after a false lead? Is that the sort of thing that would amuse him?”“I don't think anything amused him,” you answer, letting out a heavy sigh, “I don't know. If he left a false lead at all, it would've been big and obvious – a very clearly worded diary entry, left right where we could find it. This map was well hidden in the Demesne, and it was in a code that only his closest friends could decipher. No, there's something here. We just... we just need to be patient.”“Mm,” Elle agrees softly, “...I should've brought a book.”“I think that was the only thing Alex DIDN'T put on his list,” you remark with a wry smirk. You start to say something else, only to bite off your words as you see Mihail frantically waving to you.“Hey, HEY!” he calls out, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting to you, “Stairs! We've found STAIRS!”>It's a bit early, but I'm going to pause things here – it's a convenient stopping point. I'll be running again on Saturday, same approximate starting time>Thanks for playing!
>>6130990Thanks for running!Why’s it always gotta be the spooky underground caverns
>>6130997The truth is buried beneath ages of manufactured history.
>>6131010Wasn’t there some element of this in Moloch’s last quest too?I vaguely remember an entire city being stolen away by spirits. Anyone who managed to look upon it would also be taken. Maybe something similar happened to the Phalaris, since they apparently share a world.
>>6131022That would be more on the side of the demense and the emanations.This one is sounding a bit more like the ancient city with the ritual for creating a new god or something.
A long silence descends as you glance towards Elle and meet her eyes. You see confusion in her gaze, but also curiosity. She's thinking the exact same thing that you are – how could there be stairs here, of all places?Then, without a word being said, you both leap to your feet and snatch up your backpacks. Hurrying down from your perch, you run towards Mihail only to slow your pace as he frantically waves his arms at you. “No no no, wait wait wait!” he yelps, “Not safe, friends, slow down!”Slowing to a halt just a few paces away from him, you realise something very strange – he stands partly submerged in the mud and filth, the tops of his boots hidden from sight, but he doesn't seem the least bit troubled. Oblivious to your confusion, Mihail extends his hand to you. “Here, friend. Take my hand, then slowly – SLOWLY – walk. One step at a time, and not too fast.”“Don't believe your lying eyes,” you mutter to yourself, grabbing Mihail's arm and allowing him to guide you forwards. Mud squelches under your first step, then your second, but your third step...It's impossible to describe the exact feeling, the sensation of two contrasting feelings happening all at once. You feel soft mud under your boot, exactly as you might expect, but you also feel hard stone as your foot sinks deep into the filth. Mihail nods silently, gesturing for you to move forwards. You do so, stumbling and nearly falling as you find that the solid ground is nowhere near where you expected it to be. Though the surface of the mire remains unchanged, your foot sinks far deeper than you thought possible.“Stairs,” Mihail repeats, “Ah... perhaps it might be easier to close your eyes?”-With Elle clutching tightly to your arm, and Mihail leading you, you step blindly into the abyss. A shrill panic nags at you as you descend, the rational part of your mind reminding you that – as far as your eyes could see – you should be fully submerged in the mud by now. Despite what your body is telling you, though, you certainly don't FEEL as if you're drowning in mud.Eventually curiosity gets the better of you, and you open your eyes to take a peek. The stairwell is surprisingly unadorned, surprisingly... normal looking. If not for the fact that you marched through a vast swamp to get here, you'd think you were in a dark, slightly plain house of no particular character.Elle gasps softly from behind you as she too opens her eyes, looking about in confusion. She says nothing else, though, as Mihail leads you down the last few steps and arrives at a door.“Should we knock?” he asks, forcing a grin. When you shake your head, he shrugs and slowly pushes the door open.[1/3]
>>6133992While it may be convenient, for a mansion long submerged in mud and filth to still have working voltaic lights, you're understandably disturbed by the sight. Stepping onto the upper balcony above the atrium of a tastefully decorated, if a little aged, mansion, you creep around the outer edge of the room before descending another staircase. For the first few moments, you're held frozen by indecision before you slowly look around.Doors, first of all. One wall has a large, elaborate door that you assume was once the main entrance. Now, a heavy set of iron bars has been mounted over them to block any attempts at entrance or exit. Directly opposite the “entrance” is another set of doors, these ones leading deeper into the manor. These doors are just as strange, with no handles or obvious means to open them. Usik brushes past you and pushes against the doors, but even his straining muscles aren't enough.Stepping back from the doors, you turn around and look up. A decorative clock is mounted above the door, the hands fixed on midnight. Even waiting for a few minutes, counting down the seconds in your head, the clock doesn't show any signs of movement. It's one of the few pieces of decoration on the walls – here and there you see faded marks where portraits and paintings might have once hung, but they must have been removed a long time ago. Taken deeper into the manor, perhaps? You imagine the family in desperate retreat, taking whatever treasures they can and fleeing deeper into the manor. But fleeing from what?“Look,” Elle murmurs, touching your arm before pointing back to the floor. You walked over it without even looking, but now you see it – an intricate mural set into the marble tiles, depicting a cavorting bull beneath an inscription in Classical Agorian. “By human hands alone,” she translates, “That's... an old motto used by the Phalaris family. Very old, before they were blessed by the Ingenuity. That means...”“This is their fortress,” you finish for her, “When House Phalaris sealed themselves away, they didn't vanish from the world as we thought. They were right here the whole time.”“Then...” Elle asks softly, “Where are they?”“Further inside, maybe,” Alina suggests, nodding towards the inner door, “Questions later, especially questions with no easy answer. I saw other doors. Here, see?”You turn to follow Alina's pointing finger. Hidden in the shadows beneath the balcony, you see two more paths – one with the door hanging wide open, the other sealed tightly shut. Peering through the open door, you see a decidedly shabby space compared with the main hall. Servant's quarters, you assume. Moving to the closed door, you reach out to the handle but Alina catches your arm before you can try it.[2/3]
>>6133993“Wait,” she whispers, pointing down to the tiled floor, “That symbol, see?”You take another look at what you first assumed to be a meaningless scratch or scuff on the floor, finding a new sense of purpose in it. It's too structured to just be some random damage.“Trail signs. Galsean,” the tracker explains, giving her colleagues a look, “No? Nobody else recognised it? Mihail?”“I, ah, my attention was elsewhere,” Mihail stammers, waving his hands in a frantic gesture.“Useless,” Alina mutters, shaking her head, “Our people were here, definitely, and left this sign. It means “sacred place”. A place best left alone.”“Dangerous?” you ask carefully.“No. Not necessarily,” the dark-haired woman shakes her head, “But a place to be respected. If we should enter, it may be an act of trespass.”A brief silence meets this announcement, and it falls on Elle to speak first. “It must be a chapel,” she suggests, “It's hardly uncommon for a family to have their own private chapel, especially in an entrance hall like this.”“So the neighbours could see it, and know how pious the owner was?” you remark, your words drawing a nervous grin from Mihail. “Well, whatever is is, we need to do something,” you add, “We didn't come all this way just to sit in an entrance hall and bicker.”>We shouldn't go too far. Let's focus on a way to get that inner door open>We should search the servant's quarters. They may have left something behind>Even if we are trespassing, we should investigate this “sacred place”.>I've got an idea... (Write in)>Other
>>6133995>We should search the servant's quarters. They may have left something behind
>>6133995>We should search the servant's quarters. They may have left something behindPeople who flee on the spot will always leave something behind in exchange for their lives
Admonished into silence, your companions say nothing for a brief moment. Alina scowls, seemingly doing her very best impression of a sulky teenager, while Mihail shifts his weight from one foot to another. Usik, naturally, says nothing – there's a part of you that wants to draw your gun and fire it at his feet, just to see if it might get a reaction from him. You won't do that, of course. You have some measure of restraint, after all.“We should search the servant's quarters,” you decide at last, “They may have left something behind. Something we could use, or something that tells us what happened here.”“I will go first,” Alina offers, shooting Mihail one last glare, “I can check for any dangers.”If there are some booby traps left behind, for whatever reason, you suppose that it's better if she triggers them rather than you. Nodding for her to take the lead, you follow behind her as she creeps through the open door. Inside, the corridor stretches out for a short distance with several more doors waiting for your attention. Some are closed, but most hang ajar. Starting with the closest open door, Alina hesitates.“This door was forced open,” she explains, kneeling down and pointing to some faint marks on the floor. “No lock on the door. They tried to brace it with something. That,” she murmurs, pointing to a broken wooden chair lying nearby before gesturing back into the hallway, “Something... someone was dragged out.”You all stare at the scars on the floor for a while longer, all lost in your dark thoughts. Even with the barred door, something got inside to drag away the servants – unless the danger was already inside with them.“They didn't know what was happening,” Elle whispers as you move to the next door, “Some of them played along, some of them tried to resist. It didn't make any difference.”“Played along with what?” Mihail asks, his voice low, “Resisted what?”Elle bites her lip, then shakes her head. “I don't know. I can just feel... I can feel their fear, their confusion,” she replies, “It left a scar on this place, no different to those marks on the floor.”“Let's keep moving,” you tell her softly, touching her shoulder, “There's nothing we can do for them now.”With a nod, the oracle moves on ahead of you. Alina lets her go, pretending to be busy with examining the marks on the floor. You follow a few paces behind Elle, only to lunge forwards at the sound of her scream. She recoils back out from one of the bedrooms as you approach, practically falling into your arms. She clings to you for a moment before her composure returns, and she lets out a nervous little laugh.“I'm fine, I'm... okay,” she assures you, stepping back and gesturing towards the bedroom, “I just got a little bit of a fright, that's all.”That's an understatement.[1]
>>6134026Peering around the door, you see what frightened Elle so much. Lying on the bedroom floor is a discarded mannequin of some sort, lifelike in that eerie way of theirs. Kneeling down for a closer look, you move it around a little bit. It's heavier than you expected, with metal pieces beneath the porcelain skin. Judging by the complex, articulated joints, it would have been quite flexible – a child's toy, really, only scaled up to full human size.“What is it?” Elle asks, “I mean, aside from the obvious.”“It looks like a mannequin,” you tell her, stating the obvious, “I don't know, what else can I tell you? What it's for, what it was doing here... those are questions that I can't answer.”“Ugh,” she murmurs, “I hate-”Before she can finish that sentence, a grating shriek rings out from the main entrance. Instantly forgetting the mannequin, you leap to your feet and rush back to the hall. At first, you don't see any sign of what could have made such an unsightly sound, but then you look up towards the ceiling. Mounted high up in the corners are several human heads, all crafted from worn brass. Their mouths are sculpted to be wide open, with a dense metal mesh visible between their jaws. The screech continues for a moment more before dying suddenly, cut off to be replaced by a harsh, atonal voice.“More visitors, is it?” the voice snarls, robbed of any identifying features by the grating, metallic quality of it, “My, it's getting very busy here all of a sudden.”“Who are you? Show yourself!” you shout back, before glancing aside to Elle with a vaguely foolish feeling, “Do you think they can hear us?”“Of course I can hear you!” the voice replies immediately, “Did you really think that you could escape my notice? You, who creeps and crawls through my corridors?”Did they really have to make it sound so... weird?“But I am a gracious host, and you have aroused my curiosity,” it continues, perhaps softening slightly, “Proceed. But remember, I will be watching you.”With those final words, the brass heads let out another screech before lapsing into silence. That silence is soon broken by a groan of the inner doors grinding open, the clock above moving until the hands read one.“It's funny, isn't it?” you remark, staring at the open door, “Before, I was wondering how we might get that door to open. Now, I almost wish it had stayed closed.”“Stop whining,” Usik grunts, moving on ahead through the open door. You follow him with a muttered curse, stopping in your tracks once you see what awaits you within. Even Usik seems shaken, staring up at the ceiling in confused awe.The entrance hall had been somewhat normal, almost too normal given the circumstances. But this inner chamber is anything but normal.[2/3]
>>6134041A short distance in front of you is another mannequin, this one bolted firmly to the floor. Like the mannequin you saw earlier, it has numerous complex joints set throughout its body. Unlike the other toy, however, this one has thick wires strung through metal loops across its body. Like a puppet's strings, the wires stretch up towards the ceiling, then loop down towards a set of cranks and wheels on one wall. To manipulate the puppet's limbs, you suppose, posing it like a doll.But really, the mannequin is hardly the most impressive thing in the chamber. Emerging from the ceiling, suspended by great bundles of wires, is a massively oversized arm. It reaches down to point at the mannequin, a finger almost as long as you are tall stabbing out towards it.Nobody speaks for a long while, each of you taking in the strange sights in your own ways. Thanks to the silence you can hear a distant sound of machinery, like a train's engine, throbbing somewhere else in the manor – further inside, deeper beneath you, all around you even. You strain your ears, trying to hear the sound a little more clearly, but then another metallic shriek rings out.“We were nothing before the Ingenuity descended, whispering to us in our dreams and granting us inspiration,” the voice snarls, “That is how the history books remember us, is it not? That is, when they mention us at all. What you see before you is a... a representation, of sorts. Imagine it, honoured guests. Imagine how we felt, to be granted such a... blessing.”“Are they testing us?” Alina asks, her voice taut with fear, “It's not fair... How are we supposed to know that?”You leave her question unanswered, drawn over to the control on the far wall. The puppet jerks into life as you move a few of them, causing one arm to jolt up until it hangs, suspended, at waist level. It's clumsy work, but you think you could get the hang of it. All the while, you wonder what this is REALLY about. Does this voice, whoever it is, really care if you get the answer right or wrong?Maybe not, but you don't see much choice other than playing along. Another sealed door lies at the far end of the room, and you expect that your unseen host is the only one with the means to open it. With that in mind, you start to pose the mannequin.>Raise the puppet's hands in a gesture of pious gratitude>Reach out the puppet's arms in a motion of grasping avarice>Lower the puppet's arms in a gesture of stoic indifference>Something else... (Write in)>Other
>>6134047>Slump the puppets arms in a pose of apathetic hopelessness
>>6134053Clever. They sound bitter, yet they went along with it.+1 to this.>>6134047
>>6134053+1
As you fiddle with the controls, you wonder again about what your host really wants. Perhaps they're just curious, seeing what they can learn from you with this strange experiment – a form of art therapy, in its own way. If you were to base your answer on the history books, then it's obvious. The puppet would be rapt with awe and joy, praising the Godhead and the Emanations with all its might. But you highly doubt that the truth was really so simple.With that thought in mind, you quickly turn wheels and adjust levers until the puppet hangs slack. With its torso bent forwards and the arms hanging limply by its side, it casts an image of despondency – a sense of hopelessness, and apathy. Acceptance too, perhaps, the acceptance of one facing an inevitable fate.Stepping back from the levers, you stare up towards the hidden speakers and gesture vaguely towards the puppet. Even when you're prepared for the grating shriek that follows, it still sends a shiver down your spine.“Interesting, very interesting. I see that we have a cynic among us!” the voice spits, “I wonder – does that reveal more about YOU than it does US? Well, no matter. You've done as I asked.”Even before the voice has finished speaking, the next set of doors swings open. As you start to approach, you see the clock advancing towards the second hour. You don't know what happens when the clock reaches twelve once more, and you'd rather not find out.“We were building, and inventing, long before the Ingenuity revealed itself to us,” the voice adds suddenly, speaking slower now, “What did it teach us? Nothing. It taught us nothing. But suddenly, the high and mighty families were willing to accept our work. They welcomed us into their lands to build factories and lay railroads, safe in the knowledge that our work was sanctioned by the Godhead. Even as a child, I wondered – did the Ingenuity make us who we are, or did we make the Ingenuity?”“Is this part of the test too?” you call out. Your question is met with a crash of metallic noise that might be a laugh, but nothing more. Grunting softly to yourself, you lead your companions through the next set of doors. Another hall awaits you, identical in design to the entrance hall you first saw, but... decayed, degraded. The walls have crumbled in some places, revealing churning metal machinery behind them. Pistons pump and gears whir, but the exact purpose remains unknowable. Perhaps the machinery has no function at all, but then why build it in the first place?“Do amuse yourselves for a little while,” the metallic voice urges, “Make yourselves at home. I'm afraid that I won't be able to offer you anything to eat or drink, but I assume that you would have refused it regardless.”An entirely correct assumption, in this case.[1]
>>6134074>despondencyGod damnitThis was the word I was looking for when I wrote that in but it just wouldn’t come to mind
>>6134074Picking a spot on the floor more or less at random, you sit and take out some of your rations for a quick meal. The bland food does little to raise your spirits, but it offers you a faint touch of normality. No matter how strange things might seem, you still need to eat and drink. You just hope you don't have to find a way of using the bathroom in this nightmarish place.“I think, perhaps, we should consider... leaving,” Mihail suggests tentatively, already wincing as if anticipating your response, “This place is very... not good.”“Very bad,” Elle corrects him.“Mm, yes. Very bad,” he murmurs, nodding to himself, “Bad things have happened here.”“Go if you want. I won't,” Usik grunts, raising one meaty fist in a half-hearted threat, “I still have a job to do, Mihail Ionescu. I will not abandon it.”Mihail pales a little, then glances aside to Alina for support. She doesn't notice his pleading eyes, too focused on her own inner thoughts. She's just as afraid as he is, you can see that much without her needing to say anything, her stubborn pride doesn't allow her to show it openly. As if reaching some decision, she hurriedly stands. “I want to have a look around,” she announces, “Perhaps there are more trail signs. If our people made it this far, they may left us some clues.”You and Usik join her, although Elle stays sitting with Mihail. “Don't go too far,” she warns, giving you a serious look, “And definitely don't go wandering off on your own.”Flashing her what you hope is a reassuring smile, you follow Alina as she prowls around the second hall. Like the first hall, it has a closed door at the far end – a heavy metal door, with no handles and a clock above – and a pair of smaller doors on the side walls. You don't even bother with the large door, trusting that your host will open it when the time comes. Alina pauses at the door on the left, staring at a tiny symbol carved into the surface.“This means...” she hesitates for a moment, “It is complicated, hard to translate exactly. I think “shelter, but signs of danger” would be close.”“This seems to be the guest bedrooms,” you remark, pointing to a brass plaque set into the door, “That would fit with “shelter”, I suppose, and the “danger” part goes without saying.”Alina lingers by the guest room door as you check the opposite end of the hall. The second door is unnamed, or rather the name has been obliterted from the brass plate set into it. When you try the door, it remains stuck firmly in the frame. Usik brushes you aside, planting his shoulder against the door and giving it a firm shove.
>>6134108Confronted with the Galsean's massive strength, the door pops open on the first attempt. A stinging scent wafts out as the door opens, a faint medicinal smell that reminds you of your time in the Portsmaw infirmary. There isn't much to see, though, just a short length of corridor that ends in a second door.“You're welcome,” Usik grunts, nodding vaguely towards the open door, “Try the next one yourself. I must check the bedrooms - our people were here, and I want to know what happened to them.”Understandable. You're a little curious about the medicinal smell, though. It seems entirely out of place in a noble mansion, even one as strange as this. Were it the smell of machine oil or gunsmoke, you wouldn't have been surprised, but medicine... that's a whole other matter.Glancing back towards the main hall, you see Elle locked in a hushed conversation with Mihail. The young Galsean looks a little calmer, but you wonder how long it might last. He's out of his depth, but then, aren't you all?Enough procrastination. You need to do something. How else are you going to “amuse yourself”?>This medicinal smell is curious. You should investigate>You ought to stay with Elle and Mihail, see how they're holding up>You should check out the bedrooms with Usik and Alina>Other
>>6134120>This medicinal smell is curious. You should investigateIf Mikhail is getting cold feet he can stay there or even go back up to the surface. Hell, we might not even need any Galseans now that we’re inside
>>6134120>This medicinal smell is curious. You should investigate
Standing at the threshold, with the astringent smell tingling in your nostrils, you feel your curiosity grow. Mihail doesn't need you to hang around and babysit him, you decide. He can always return to the surface if he really feels the need – now that you've found your way into this place, he's served his purpose. You'll let him make up his own mind. For now, you've got a strange smell to investigate.Entering the short corridor, you find that the inner door is also stuck. Fortunately it's not too bad this time, and you're able to open it with just the small cost of an aching shoulder. The medicinal smell grows stronger as you enter, blinking at the sudden brightness. The room is painted a faded white, the voltaic lamps above burning with a cruel intensity. Cluttered with various stacks of mouldering books and cases of medical instruments, the room immediately strikes you with a sense of unease.You barely make it a handful of paces inside the room before the speakers above let out their customary groan. This time, though, it's a little quieter. You get the feeling that the others, back out in the nearby hall, are not part of this conversation.“I have always believed that one can only learn so much by studying virtuous and lofty things,” the voice muses, “If you truly wish to understand the world, you must see both sides of it – the good and the evil, the natural order and unbound Calamity. We are raised to shun that which is rotten and foul, but why?”“Consider decay. Putrescence,” it continues, “This is the inevitable fate that awaits all living things, yet we shy away from it. We treat it as something loathsome. Cowardice, really.”You say nothing, focusing on picking a path through the makeshift infirmary. There are numerous dark stains on the floor that you take great pains to avoid, and racks of sharp tools bristle everywhere you look. At the far end of the room, you see the unmistakable shape of a body laid out beneath a white sheet. You start towards it, only for the voice to stop you dead in your tracks.“Your father thought much the same as I do,” the voice mentions, almost casually, “Young Master Pale.”“You spoke with my father?” you ask aloud, “What-”“Later, Master Pale. Later. We'll continue this discussion later, when we can talk face to face,” it answers with a faint mocking note, before a blurt of static ends the conversation.With nothing left to be said, you cautiously approach the body and draw back the sheet. The body has been cut open with surgical precision, the sight of the dry, faded viscera causing you to grimace. The corpse's face is not one that you recognise, but something about it is familiar to you. The blank, faintly artificial features are ones you've seen before – in the Demesne.This body isn't a real human. It's a Denizen.[1]
>>6134126+1 to offering Mihail an out, privately, or publicly if he insists>>6134120
>>6134143Spooky, and fascinating. I somehow assumed the denizens were unable to leave, voluntarily or otherwise.
>>6134143You stare down at the dissected Denizen for what seems like an eternity, forcing yourself to take in as many details as possible. You're no expert in anatomy, but even you can recognise that the Denizen's internal organs aren't... right. The heart is oddly shaped, bulging in all the wrong places, while the intestines are an aimless tangle. These are not organs that could sustain normal, natural life.But that doesn't answer the important question – how could a Denizen be HERE, outside the Demesne?-Your head is still spinning when you return to join the others, sensing a thunderous mood hanging over them. Usik scowls deeply, as if his worst fears had been confirmed, while Alina casts the occasional nervous glance his way. The next door stands open, while the clock above the door stands at the third hour.“I thought I told you not to go off on your own,” Elle scolds, giving you her best attempt at a stern frown.“I don't think we're ever alone in this place,” you counter, gesturing vaguely towards the ceiling, “Anyway, I'm back in one piece. What did I miss?”“Nothing,” Usik answers bluntly, “Are we ready to move?”“Almost. Just one little question. Mihail?” you nod back towards the entrance, the young Galsean nervously following you over for a more private conversation. “Are we good?” you ask him simply, “Because nobody is forcing you to be here. If you can't handle this, it's best that you leave while you still can. I don't think things are going to get any easier.”For a moment, just a moment, Mihail looks as if he's about to accept your offer. Then, with a deep breath, he shakes his head. “No. I have to do this,” he insists, “You are here because of your father, friend. So am I. I would... lose face if I turned back now. Some things, when lost, are very difficult to get back.”“Hm,” you murmur, lowering your voice a little more, “What's with Usik?”“Ah,” Mihail looks vaguely glad to be changing the subject, “He found something, in the bedrooms. A pendant, I think. It belonged to a friend of his. That man, he is sure, is now dead. He is, ah, very angry. Be careful – he blames, I think, your father. Which means, in a way, he blames you too. Be very careful. And, ah, don't tell him that I told you. Please?”You frown, carefully unsnapping your holster and making sure your revolver is close to hand. You'd rather not use it on the heavyset man, but if he forces your hand...“Let's move,” you announce, returning to the others and waving an arm towards the open door ahead, “I'm sure our gracious host has something wonderful prepared for us. It would be a shame to keep them waiting.”[2/3]
>>6134158The second “test” is somewhat less grandiose than the first one. No giant limbs this time, at least, although it's no less uncanny. The grinding sound of machinery is louder here, immediately providing an irritating distraction. Ignoring it as best as you can, you focus on the mannequins spread out before you. A single Mannequin stands close to the entrance, confronted by a number of them standing in a semicircle. They are all posed as if in applause, exaggerated masks of happiness clamped to their faces.“Ah yes. Acceptance,” the voice sneers, “Whereas before, we were troublemakers and upstarts, the arrival of Ingenuity changed everything. We were a noble house, fit to rub shoulders with the great and the good... so long as we turned our efforts towards the benefit of those who had once scorned us.”As the voice pauses, you look around for the “task” prepared for you. The single mannequin – representing the Phalaris, you assume – is currently faceless, while a vast number of broken, scrapped mannequins litter the surrounding room. Many of them are smashed almost beyond recognition, but you see some with intact faces – all sorts of expressions are represented there, from shining joy to snarling rage. Others are grimmer, with faces like bare skulls, or disfigured beyond expression. More than one has a hinged jaw hanging slack, sharp metal teeth bristling.“I trust that you've figured it out by now?” the voice asks, “How do you think we FELT, upon our ascension to the lofty ranks of nobility?”The voice cuts off with a final snarl of static, leaving you to scavenge up a suitable face. You've got plenty of “willing donors”, but where should you start?>A joyous expression. There seems to be plenty of those>An expression of sorrow. You can see a few of those lying about>A furious expression. You're sure you can find one of those>You'll see what else you can find... (Write in)>Other
>>6134163>A furious expression. You're sure you can find one of thoseOur host sure SOUNDS angry.
>>6134163>A furious expression. You're sure you can find one of thoseWhat made the Phalaris seem to be "troublemakers and upstarts" to the others if they were that small or minor in the first place? Doesn't seem to add up. Did they have all these fancy tech and progress ideas from the start, and only with "Ingenuity" having come to them were they even allowed to talk or be paid attention to? There's some contradictory vibes here with the information we're given and can deduce
>>6134163>You'll see what else you can find... (Write in)Fury seems too strong here, do they have just plain old annoyed
>>6134181There WAS a democratic revolution in the country next door...
>>6134163>You'll see what else you can find... (Write in)Annoyed.They should potentially also be relieved if they were provided a consistent stream of resources, representing hope that they could establish a truly independent existence.
Looking at the semicircle of mannequins, you feel a shudder running through your entire body. You can practically hear them congratulating you, showering you with smug applause even as the fake smiles twist their faces. How did the Phalaris feel? How would ANYONE feel?Without a moment's more thought, you march across to the piles of discarded mannequins and start searching for a suitable furious expression. Pushing aside countless puppets with idiotic grins, you finally spot what you're looking for – buried under a pile of broken toys, you see a face twisted with rage. Wading in, you start methodically moving the mannequins aside as you dig for your treasure. The others remain at the entrance, watching you with cautious, curious eyes.“No no, don't all rush to help me,” you mutter to yourself, “There's no need. I've got this all... Shit!”The curse blurts from your lips as one of the mannequins convulses at your touch, the previously slack jaw snapping at the empty air like a vice. Recoiling back, you waste no time in bringing the heel of your boot down on the mannequin's skull. Your first stamp dents the skull, while the second causes it to cave in completely. Gasping for breath, you step back and watch with distaste as murky fluids leak from the mannequin's shattered skull. Why would a puppet... bleed?You're not sure if you want to know the answer to that, actually. It might only make things worse.Kicking aside the limp body, you finally reach your target. Fumbling with the clasp, you pull the raging mask free and carry it back to the faceless mannequin. Putting the mask into place, you step back and wait.“Ah, anger. Is there anyone here who doesn't feel anger burning within them?” the voice ask, “I think not. You, oracle, who labours under the weight of impossible expectations. You, soldier, who was helpless to stop his friends walking to their deaths. Should I continue?”“That won't be necessary,” you call back, watching with some unease as Usik's hands ball into fists, “Perhaps we could hurry this along?”“So impatient!” the voice scolds, although the door opens nonetheless.Alina scuttles towards the opening door, with the other Galseans following soon after her. Elle starts to follow, then glances back towards you. “Isambard?” she asks, “Is something wrong?”“No. Nothing. Well, yes. Everything about this place is wrong,” you admit, shaking your head, “I just need a moment to gather my thoughts. Go on ahead, I'll catch up in a minute.”Elle hesitates for a moment more, then turns and hurries after the Galseans. You let out a sigh once you're alone, setting your backpack down and sitting on it. “Okay,” you say, looking up towards the ceiling, “We need to talk.”“...Do we now?” the voice asks after a long silence, “Well, I suppose I can spare you a few minutes.”[1]
>>6134200“What's this really about?” you ask wearily, gesturing around you, “Troublemakers and upstarts?”“What else would you call anyone who challenged the status quo?” the voice replies, “In that regard, we're no different to the Tomoe. Our weapons meant that the lowest peasant could fell the highest noble with just the pull of a trigger. Our factories meant that those weapons could be made at scale. We could've put a rifle in the hands of every man in this nation, and made a second Rhyl. What would you call a family with that kind of potential, if not troublemakers?”“But you did none of that. You didn't arm the workers and bring down the monarchy,” you point out, “Why not?”“Because my ancestors were weak!” it snarls, “All it took was the faintest flicker of recognition, of feigned respect, and they sold their souls. It fell to me to correct their mistake.”“And you? Who ARE you?”The voice hesitates. “Later,” it insists, “Don't rush me, Master Pale. I'm starting to like you, and I would so hate for that to change.”-With each new hall you pass through, the manor seems to degrade even further. The facade has almost entirely fallen away now, the walls having peeled away to reveal an endlessly churning machine. Even passing through a short corridor is a terrible thing, with grinding cogs always ready to snatch up an outstretch limb or a loose sleeve. The next door is already standing open when you arrive at the hall, joining your companions as they linger uneasily on the sheet metal floor.“Isambard!” Elle calls out, rushing over to greet you, “The door was open when we got here, but I didn't want to move too far ahead. I thought... I felt like this place might swallow you up if we were separated for too long.”“Are we all ready to move on?” the voice asks, and you can imagine the unseen speaker rolling their eyes, “This next question will be for you, oracle. Call it a matter of professional curiosity, from one colleague to another. Go on, see what I have prepared for you.”“An oracle?” you murmur. Your host must be starting to trust you, if they're willing to let a detail like that slip. That, or they don't expect you to walk out of here alive.“I never wanted to be an oracle,” the voice recalls as you pass through the door. This room is the largest yet, so large that you struggle to see the far wall against the gloom. “Iron and steel, coal and oil... these were the things that I understood. These were things that men could control, could bend and shape to their will. Steel is honest. It has no ambiguity. I respected that about it,” your host continues, “But, regardless of what I wished, I was afflicted with visions – always visions of a terrible future. Something was coming, I was told. Something very bad indeed.”[2/3]
>>6134221>I respected that about itpast tense?
>>6134221“Something coming?” Mihail asks, awkwardly looking around as if unsure of how to talk to your unseen host, “You mean the Lliogor?”“No, not them. Well, yes actually. They're coming too, and you're not remotely ready for them,” the voice answers, with an ugly laugh, “And that brings us to my final question. I have seen what is coming, the war that will one day descend upon this land. The Lliogor will come, and they will bring with them blood and terror unlike anything this land has ever seen.”“So, oracle, I must ask you this. What would you do?” they continue, “You could provide weapons, great and terrible weapons, to those who once scorned you, arming them for the war that is to come. Or... you could turn away and leave them to their fate. There will always be quiet corners of this world for those willing to hide. So I ask, what-”“Oh, will you just STOP!” Elle interrupts, her eyes and fists both clenched tightly shut, “I am so SICK of your games! I am SICK of your awful voice, your ghastly puppets, and your mocking lectures! If you've got something to say to us, just come out and SAY IT!”The last of these words seems to echo around the room for a very long time, gradually fading until the only sound left is that of the oracle panting for air. You stare at her in amazement, utterly lost for words. Slowly, the realisation of what she just did dawns on Elle, and a deep red blush of embarrassment starts to spread through her cheeks.“Oh no...” she whimpers, “I've ruined everything, haven't I?”Before you can answer that question, you hear the next door opening with a slow – and somehow petulant – groan of metal.“Maybe not,” you tell her quietly.>I think I'm going to take a pause here – closest thing to a good stopping point that I can think of. I'll be continuing this tomorrow, starting from the same approximate time>Thanks for playing today!
>>6134231Based Elle is truly the best of bestgirls.Thanks for running!
>>6134231Thanks for running!Extremely based move from Elle there
>>6134231Elle best girl, putting the retarded vagueposter anime characters in their fucking place
>>6134231Thanks for running!Based Elle putting the seething Phalaris in their place.
>>6134231Based. What she did was show what kind of person she was, which was exactly what Phalaris was looking for, while also calling out the pretentious actions he was mocking the church for.
“Do you think it's true?” Elle asks softly, her voice barely audible over the sound of machinery, “Do you think there's... something coming?”“If we're talking about the Lliogor, then yes. I think it's almost inevitable that they'll return to our shores sooner or later. They attacked the Galsean Islands, it's only natural that they'd continue on to Agoria,” you reply slowly, choosing your words carefully, “As for, well, whatever else she was talking about, that's too vague. Our best chance is to try and squeeze some more information out of her. Maybe I should get you to give her a good telling off.”Covering her face with her hands, Elle lets out a low groan. “Please don't remind me,” she complains, “Honestly, I don't know what came over me.”“It worked, so I'm not going to complain too much.”Lowering her hands and giving you an awkward smile, Elle nods. “We'd better not lag too far behind,” she says after a moment, “Or our host might change her mind and make us do this the hard way.”-You're not exactly happy to see a mannequin awaiting you in the next hall, the puppet posed with one arm extended. You keep your distance for a moment, studying the small metal object glinting in the outstretched hand.“You've been a very cooperative test subject... for the most part. Certainly more cooperative than our previous guests,” your host announces in a groan of static, “So, I've prepared a reward for you – although, really, this is more like returning your own property to you. Go on. Take it.”Cautiously, as if expecting the mannequin to lurch into motion as soon as you get close, you reach out and snatch up the metal emblem. Taking a closer look at it, you see your own family insignia gazing back up at you.[Pale Family Emblem: +1 Insight Attunement, +1 Ingenuity Attunement.]“We're almost at the end now. I'm eager to look you in the eye and shake your hand. I'm sure you feel the same way,” the metallic voice sneers, “But before we do, I think your colleague wants something.”The voice dies with a last wail of static, leaving you to look around at your companions in confusion. Mihail hastily shakes his head, while Alinda remains sullenly silent as she gazes towards the floor. Usik is the only one who meets your gaze, his eyes as flat and lifeless as those of the mannequin beside you. “Need your help with something,” he says at last, tilting his head towards one of the side doors, “Saw something. Wanted to check it out.”Remembering Mihail's earlier warning, you feel a sudden thrill of danger cut through you. Yet, you have a feeling that backing down would be no less dangerous.“Sure,” you tell Usik slowly, “The rest of you, wait here. This won't take long.”[1/2]
>>6134712With a heavy, leaden pace, Usik leads you across to the side door. Some of the machinery has broken here, collapsing down to block the doorway with a thick brass pipe. With a grunt, Usik bends down and lifts the pipe up just enough for you to crawl underneath. You hold it up as best as you can while the heavyset man squeezes through the gap, just barely making it through before the pipe comes tumbling down again.You stand, panting for breath, as Usik clambers to his feet, casting an impassive gaze around the narrow corridor. There's barely enough room for him to stand upright without brushing against the whirring gears and cogs jutting from the broken, decaying walls, but he doesn't seem to notice the danger. He just looks over your shoulder, staring at the door ahead.“...Follow me,” you tell him quietly, surreptitiously lowering your hand to the butt of your revolver as you turn towards the door. With taut nerves, you approach the door and wait for the right moment. When the heavy sound of Usik's footsteps falls silent, you know that the time has come.Whirling around and snatching your revolver from its holster, you turn to face Usik just as he's bringing his own gun up. Your speed catches him by surprise, but he's quick to recover. “What's this about, Usik?” you ask, your finger hovering a fraction of an inch away from your revolver's trigger.“We're all going to die down here,” Usik replies, his voice sullen, “Your father brought his men here, but he was the only one to return. You're the same.”“I'm not the same as my father,” you argue, coldness seeping into your voice.“It doesn't matter,” the heavyset man grunts, “Your father is gone, but the blood of my people still cries out for vengeance. We're all going to die down here, but I'll be damned if I die without seeing you pay.”It's ironic, in a way. All this time, you were worried that Mihail might be about to crack under the pressure. Yet, for all his bluster, you can sense a trace of doubt and hesitation in him. After all, he hasn't pulled the trigger just yet.>Lower your gun. It'll keep him doubting himself>Try to talk some sense into him. He's not totally lost yet>Take the shot. You can't afford to play his games>Other
>>6134712err, wrong item I think>>6134713>If only it was that easy to make him pay. I've lived with him for years, and I couldn't tell you what it is the man cared about. Even if I managed to drag his body out for you to mutilate, it'd be a mild annoyance at best.>But know this: I am not my father. I will not abandon anyone on these maddening tasks. I won't separate anyone's family to reconnect with my own.
>>6134729Absolutely the wrong item. There's no coming back from this one, time to retire as a QM forever
>>6134713>Try to talk some sense into him. He's not totally lost yet.Usik, we all knew we were going into danger when we agreed to come. We all volunteered. But THINK, man: don't you think this sort of shit might be how our host turned the others against one another? Are you really going to return to the Major alone, a traitor and a coward? Or are you going to come back, with answers and dragging the ACTUAL perpetrator along with us, head held high?
>>6134713>Try to talk some sense into him. He's not totally lost yetIf he wants vengeance he should take it on whatever actually killed his kinsmen, maybe this place itself, but not us.>>6134734Embarrassing!
So we're 10 effective Insight, and need solitude and sovereignty to reach 6 in all stats.That's probably plenty to just go diving in the demense for a week.
“You're not a stupid man, Usik, or at least I don't think you are. You're smart enough to know, deep down, that you've got a better chance of surviving this place with me than without me,” you tell the Galsean slowly, the unwavering barrel of your revolver pointing towards his gut, “Otherwise, why else are you hesitating?”Usik grunts, a faint tremor running down his arm. A tiny movement, but he might as well be waving his gun around for how significant it really is.“We all knew we were going into danger when we agreed to come here, Usik. Whatever our reasons were, we all volunteered to come here. Maybe you came here for vengeance, but you're pointing your gun at the wrong man,” you continue, “Did you ever stop to think that this.. this hysterical behaviour is what got your men killed in the first place?”“But my men would never have come here if not for-”“For my father? Sure, maybe. But you're not going to make HIM pay, unless you want to track down his body and put a bullet into it – and I really don't think that'll bother him very much now,” you sneer, “Put your gun down, man. Save it for the real culprit here. You could leave here as a coward and a traitor, or you could leave with your head held high. It's your choice.”The last of your words echo out for what seems like an eternity before Usik slowly lowers his gun. “You are wrong, Pale. Whatever you think, I will not leave this place. I know this,” he mutters, the words rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest, “I have know this from the moment I volunteered.”“I'm not the same as my father,” you repeat, “I won't abandon you here.”“It does not matter,” Usik says, shoving his revolver back into his belt and turning away from you, “I died along with the home islands. My body just hasn't admitted it yet.”-A groan of metal echoes out as Usik lets the heavy pipe fall back down to the ground. Rising to your feet and brushing dust from your clothes, you nod a greeting to Elle just before she throws her arms around you in a desperate embrace. Almost as soon as the embrace begins, she leaps back. “Stop worrying me like that!” she scolds, “What were you even doing?”“Just having a private conversation,” you tell her, casting a glance aside to Usik, “Man to man. You wouldn't understand.”Elle pouts, but lets the matter drop. Mihail cautiously approaches and touches Usik on the arm, steering him away from you and whispering something to the man in their strange, alien language. “We had a look around while you were gone,” Elle says quietly, “Alina says there aren't any trail signs around here. She thinks... well, she thinks that's bad new.”“You think the rest of them didn't make it this far?” you ask, “I don't understand. What we've seen so far... it's been strange, but not so dangerous.”“Unless your father was being, um, uncooperative,” she suggests, “You heard what our host said.”[1]
>>6134754You move on, glancing up at the clock as you pass through the next set of doors. It stands at six, meaning... what, exactly? You've used up half of your allotted time in this place? The unspoken threat nags at you, more of an annoyance than a source of fear. Without knowing the consequences of running out of time, it's hard to be appropriately terrified, after all.“I think we're getting close now,” Elle tells you, her face scrunched up into a thoughtful frown, “This corridor up ahead should... Oh God!”Her thought turns into a startled yelp as she peers into the corridor itself – a spectacularly narrow corridor, the walls lined with a series of cages, each one holding a slumped mannequin. A far cry from the mannequins you've seen so far, these new puppets are works of demented art – their bodies bristle with metal spikes, gleaming teeth jutting savagely from their yawning mouths and claws thrusting from their malformed hands. Just the sight of them is enough to cause Elle to stagger backwards in fear.“Maybe... we do not have to go this way,” Alina suggests, “There are other doors, back on the side walls.”“I doubt it. All of the other side rooms we've seen so far have been dead ends. I don't see why these ones would be any different,” you reply bleakly, “What do the rooms say?”Alina scurries away to check the ajar doors, then returns. “That one is the workshop,” she says, pointing one way and then the other, “The other is the oracle's chambers. Maybe we should take a look anyway?”Anything to delay the inevitable, you suppose. Looking down the final corridor, you're struck again at just how thin the passage is. Between that, and the rigid arms thrust out between the cage bars, it's all too easy to imagine being tangled up in those bladed hands.>We shouldn't waste any more time. We're moving forwards, no matter how bad it looks>We can spare a little time. I'm curious to see what they've been doing in the workshop>We should be thorough, and search through the oracle's chambers too>Other
>>6134765>We should be thorough, and search through the oracle's chambers tooMaybe we can learn a little more about our unwholesome host.
>>6134765>We should be thorough, and search through the oracle's chambers tooAn oracle of the Phalaris, huh... Surely whatever he's been receiving isn't all doom and gloom and the future being bad
>>6134743>10 insightDo you think eventually we'll hit Bloodborne rules and start seeing some spooky shit on a daily basis that not even oracles can see?
>>6134765>We should be thorough, and search through the oracle's chambers toothe timescales seem off. If they were already inventing stuff before the houses were established, is the current church of Emanations actually quite young?
>>6134765>We should be thorough, and search through the oracle's chambers tooLet's not walk into the death trap without searching around first.>>6134769>Surely whatever he's been receiving isn't all doom and gloom and the future being badOur host seems to be implying that they could have easily just armed everyone but became a shut-in since they're still seething about never being accepted until Ingenuity came in.
>>6134765>We should be thorough, and search through the oracle's chambers too>>6134773No doubt
“I think we should take a look in the oracle's chambers,” you suggest, pointing towards the waiting door, “You know, to be thorough.”“Yes, of course!” Elle agrees quickly, “We'd be failing in our duty if we didn't explore all options. Our host mentioned that she was an oracle, after all.”It's nice that you're both pretending to believe the excuse, even if neither of you is fooled. Still, not one of the Galseans objects to the decision – quite the opposite in fact. They eagerly follow you to the door, but that's where they pause. “Ah, friend. I think... this is a sacred place for you, yes? I think, perhaps, we should not intrude,” Mihail suggests, “We can wait out here. Shout if you need us – just, ah, try and shout louder than all these machines.”“Don't wander off,” you warn them, before leading Elle into the corridor beyond. You immediately notice a difference here – the walls are fully intact once more, the surging machinery hidden from view. Even the noise from outside seems deadened, reduced to a dull throbbing. Elle takes your hand, and you slowly approach the next door on the far end. The scent of incense wafts over you as you open the door, stepping forth into the bright light beyond.Shaded voltaic lamps are mounted all around the room, bathing it in a constant soft white glow that lends the room a hazy, dream-like feeling. The room itself is not large, most of it taken up by a raised platform shrouded by gauzy white curtains. A shape is silhouetted behind the curtains, something almost – but not entirely – human. You can hear Elle breathing softly beside you, each breath short and tense. Gently freeing yourself from her grip, you approach the platform and draw back the curtain.Elle doesn't scream, but she comes close. Even you let out a strangled gasp as you see the incomplete thing propped up on the platform. It would seem crude to describe the thing as a mannequin, insulting to compare it to the monstrous creations outside, but you can't think of any other name for it. A true work of art, the puppet body is crafted from glossy dark grey porcelain, adorned with fine gold decorations. The thing is limbless, with a steel rod for a spine that extends down into the platform to hold it upright. It has the face of a skull, but a mane of what you hope is artificial hair. It's hard to imagine the time and effort that went into creating something so beautiful, yet unsettling.As you stand and stare, Elle slowly approaches the platform and reaches one trembling hand out towards the mannequin. Carefully, as if the thing might collapse into pieces at the slightest touch, she brushes her fingers against the puppet's cheek.And that's when it moves.[1]
>>6134809With a slow, fluid motion, the puppet's head rolls away from Elle's touch before straightening up, the hollow eyes gazing blindly over her shoulder. The short, unfinished arms waver slightly before falling still, as if the puppet thought, for one brief moment, that they were a complete being. Seeing something so obviously artificial moving like a living thing is repulsive, and you find yourself automatically reaching for your gun.“Wait!” Elle hisses, grabbing your arm, “Wait, please!”“I was dreaming,” the puppet says, each word slow and measured, “What would you ask of me?” It has a soft, melodic voice, although it is laced with the same metallic static that your host has. You could never mistake it for a true human voice, but it's close.“What... have you dreamed?” Elle asks tentatively, “Can you tell us your dreams?”“I dream of the eclipse. It is always there, no matter what I dream,” the puppet answers, “I hear the cries of night owls, and the thunder of artillery. I see great trenches cut through the mud, and men who live in them like rats. This will be how our world dies.”“Oh God...” your own oracle whispers, clasping her hands over her mouth.“Who... what are you?” you ask, stepping forwards even as Elle staggers away, “What happened to this place?”The mechanical oracle is silent for a moment. Just as you're about to get Elle to ask your question for you, it speaks. “I am an oracle,” it states simply, “This is Miss Phalaris' Demesne. She created it.”“Why?”Another silence. You can actually see intricate mechanisms whirr within the puppet as it “thinks” about an answer. “Miss Phalaris required a place outside of the natural order so that she could conduct her experiments in peace,” it says at last.“And those experiments were... what, exactly?”“I am sorry, I cannot answer that question,” the oracle states, an eerie, almost cheerful note entering its voice, “I would like to dream now, please.”“Isambard, can we... leave it be?” Elle whispers, tugging at your arm, “I think Mihail was right, I don't think we should've intruded.”You nod slowly. Somehow, you don't think you'll get much more out of the mechanical oracle. As you're turning away, though, it speaks once more. “My...” it says, the voice flickering as if uncertain, “My shawl...”You look around in confusion before your eyes fall on a scrap of white lace peeking out from beneath a stack of faded papers. Glancing at the inscrutable designs penned on the worn papers, you move the stack aside to examine the shawl beneath. You can sense a dormant power within the ancient lace, Lessons imbued into it by the former owner. Was the oracle offering you the shawl, or asking you for it?>Leave the shawl alone. You don't even want to touch it>Take the shawl for yourself. You can use its power>Place the shawl around the oracle's shoulders. It's the least you can do>Other
>>6134841>Place the shawl around the oracle's shoulders. It's the least you can do
>>6134841>Place the shawl around the oracle's shoulders. It's the least you can doWe still might need help from this oracle
Reaching down, you pick up the shawl and run your fingers across the delicate lace. It feels virtually weightless, as if you were holding some ephemeral thing. Just holding it leaves you with a sense of sadness, of loss. Elle stares at it, a thin sheen of tears glistening her eyes even as she is unable to tear her gaze away.With the shawl held out before you like a funeral shroud, you brush aside the gauzy curtains and drape it over the mannequin's shoulders. It shifts slightly as you do, like someone stirring in their sleep, but soon falls still once more. After making a few more minor adjustments to better hide the truncated stumps that pass for arms, you step back to examine your handiwork. It still looks grotesque, and more than a little depressing, but you feel a little better about yourself.“...Thank you, Isambard,” Elle whispers as you're leaving, “That was a good thing you did. I hope, in some small way, it brings her better dreams.”“I hope so too.”-The Galseans don't say anything when you return, and you don't need to say anything. Anything that needs to be said, they can see it written on your face. You brush past them, ordering them to stay close with a curt gesture. The clock above the door now stands at the seventh hour, and you're about ready to see the master of this demented place. You're just not sure what you'll do when you see them.A ripple of movement runs through the caged mannequins as you enter the narrow corridor, reminding you once more of a person shifting in their sleep. Turning sideways to narrow down your already slim profile, you awkwardly shuffle past the first few mannequins. The next puppet has its arms outstretched, forcing you to squat down low before inching past it. Glancing backwards as you do, you see the others following in your wake. Alina slips through easily, as if she was born for this, while Elle tries her best to match the lithe Galsean's motions. Usik comes in behind this, his bulky frame causing him obvious problems in such close confines. Mihail, you assume, is bringing up the rear, but it's hard to tell with Usik blocking so much of your view.With the muscles in your thighs burning, you gradually ease yourself back upright again and move on. The end is in sight now, and you feel an urge to quicken your pace. Fighting back the urge, you look back once more. Alina and Elle have made it past the outstretched arms, while Usik is just about through.“Come on,” Elle whispers, offering the heavyset man an encouraging gesture, “You're almost there.”With a groan, Usik pushes himself back upright, but too soon. He jostles one of the outstretched arms as he stands, and the reaction is immediate. With a sudden blaring shriek of static, the mannequin begins to thrash within its cage with the others soon following suit.[1]
>>6134894With a nightmarish crash of metal ringing in your ears, you hastily worm your way through the last of the narrow corridor, grabbing Alina and dragging her out as Elle squeezes past her. As the oracle collapses to her knees, gasping and shaking, you hear Usik let out a loud bellow of pain. One of the mannequin has a hold of him, bladed claws sinking deep into one meaty shoulder. As you reach for him, the puppet lunges forwards and sinks its needle teeth into the side of his neck. Blood spurts, and the Galsean's yell becomes something terrible – something wet and guttural.Snatching your revolver from your holster, you fire a single shot into the mannequin's head and blast it back. It falls away from Usik and collapses sideways, ribbons of flesh still trailing from its teeth. Blood squirts from Usik's neck as he drops to his feet, his hands flailing clumsily at his throat. Reaching under his shoulders, you pull as hard as you can and drag him free from the corridor.“Oh no, oh no no no...” Elle stammers, trying to put as much pressure on Usik's wound as she can. The blood still bubbles up from between her fingers, but not nearly so much. Alina pushes Elle aside, pressing a gauze pad into the wound and fumbling with a length of bandage.“Is it bad?” you breathe, watching as she works on his wound.Alina looks up, meets your eyes. “Bad,” she says simply.-Alina does the best she can, but there's only so much she can do with limited resources. Between you and Mihail, you manage to get Usik upright again but you highly doubt that he'd stay upright for long without your help. The woman flutter around you, their movements uncertain and aimless. “We need to keep moving forwards,” you announce, your order causing them both to freeze in place immediately.“Go forwards?” Alina repeats.“Well, we can't exactly go back can we?” you argue, jerking your head back towards the thrashing, screaming mannequins, “No. We keep moving. We've got to... we've got to salvage something from this mess. Something. Anything.”The Galsean woman looks dubious, but says nothing. “I hear... music,” Mihail murmurs as you drag Usik towards the gilded, ornate door ahead. Straining your ears, you hear it too – delicate string music, the pretty sound rendered harsh by more of that metallic buzz. Shaking your head, saying nothing, you carry on forwards. Alina throws the door open, and soon you're stepping into a well decorated drawing room. Sitting on a sofa with an expectant smirk on her face is a young woman, dressed all in black.“Well, you certainly know how to keep a girl waiting,” the young woman purrs, “But I suppose you're here now. Yulia Phalaris, at your service. It's SO nice to finally meet you.”[2/3]
>>6134911“Yulia Phalaris?” you repeat, “But she was head of the Phalaris family when they vanished, and that was-”“Quite some time ago, I gather. You'll forgive me if I don't recall the exact date. I'm looking good for my age, aren't I?” she interrupts with a smirk, “We'll talk about that later. I can see that you've got a more pressing matter on your hands. Put that gentleman down, will you? Just looking at him is giving me a sore back. Actually, give him to me. I can find a use for him.”She actually seems a little offended when you don't immediately drop Usik at her feet. “What do you mean “find a use for him”? What use?” you demand, “What are you going to do with him?”“I can always use fresh material for my experiments, and he's exactly what I've been looking for,” Yulia answers, shaking her head, “Look, he's dead already. He's lost too much blood, and the infection is already setting in. He's gone, but I get some use from him.”“If you think I'm going to just-”“Oh, I see how it is. I understand,” Yulia nods to herself, “You'll get something out of it too. You're seeking Lessons, aren't you? I can offer you something in return that you'll find VERY useful. It's a no-brainer, really. Everyone wins!”Everyone except Usik, obviously. As for her offer, you suspect that anything she might have to offer will no doubt be steeped in Calamity, in corruption. The kind of power she has to offer will always come with a price.>Let her have Usik. His wounds are too great, there's no sense in being stubborn>You won't let her take Usik. Even if his wounds are fatal, he still deserves better than this>Other
Update: I think I'm going to pause and leave this vote open until tomorrow - I've got a few errands to run, so I don't have much more time to write.Until then, see you tomorrow!
>>6134915>You won't let her take Usik. Even if his wounds are fatal, he still deserves better than thisWe promised we wouldn't abandon himPlus it's her fault he's like this anyway with those murderous mannequins
>>6134961Supporting this Were better than our father…plus we have too much Calamity already
>>6134915>You won't let her take Usik. Even if his wounds are fatal, he still deserves better than thisIt's tempting to just shoot Yulia right now, but that might be too hasty. I can't see us leaving with her still alive though. Gideon might have still felt some kinship with her even after all of this or maybe he simply fled with his life, but our boy Bard clearly has urges to kill sometimes and she hasn't given us a good reason for her to be spared. I'm guessing Yulia either modified her body and is part mannequin or Denizen or she somehow managed to emulate the Demesne's effect on aging.
>>6134915>You won't let her take Usik. Even if his wounds are fatal, he still deserves better than this
>>6134915>You won't let her take Usik. Even if his wounds are fatal, he still deserves better than thisWe promised.
>>6134915>You won't let her take Usik. Even if his wounds are fatal, he still deserves better than thisWhy is every single girl besides Elle and Ariel (?) such a bitch?
>>6135089>Why is every single girl besides Elle and Ariel (?) such a bitch?Because, as the protagonist, we get the best girl(s?).
>>6135089>>6135109Juno only pretends to be a bitch for the sake of her rep, seemingly. And the Major's daughter at the museum was nice. Alina seems okay and has a hot goth thing going on too.
>>6134915>"What infection? Be specific, I don't expect you mean tetanus from the blade."Surprised no one has commented on this. You'd think the knife through the neck is what's getting him, but she specifically referred to an infection setting in. Maybe it's related to his behaviour.Spitballing: the Phalaris built an artificial Demesne to ride out the doom Yulia prophesized, but something about Demesne's causes people injured within them to be converted into denizens. The Phalaris tried to mitigate this by uploading themselves into artificial bodies, the Mannequins, but that's obviously turned out poorly too. Maybe Yulia here wants a newly turned denizen body to work out how to restore her sister's humanity or something.>>6135089Deranged mad scientist waifu has been introduced too late for real contention in the waifu wars, but she doesn't seem that bad so far. Guess we'll see if she lets us go without a fight against the unspeakable horrors of the Phalaris estate ( I doubt it).
>>6134915>You won't let her take Usik. Even if his wounds are fatal, he still deserves better than thisThe infection does sound important, but I'm not sure what the nature of it would be yet.Yulia seems to have some control of the doors, but it's still a tossup if the mannequins are entirely produced by her or the demense.>>6135193It's a strong theory to be sure. I'm wondering if the infection plain turns them into mannequins though. This could be a Demense of ONLY Ingenuity or something.
>>6135089In hindsight, the funniest part about our trip to the mental asylum was that the doctor was completely right to refuse us since Teufel was only ever attacked again because of our actions. We probably won't ever visit the place again, but Bard was definitely checking the doctor out too.>>6135193I didn't think much of the infection, but having it be one that turns the injured into a Denizen might be possible.Though it looks more like Yulia plunged the manor into this artificial Demesne and have everyone else but her killed solely to further her experiments. It's been close to a century since Phalaris disappeared. She had little reason to hide since she probably would already be dead from old age at this point if it weren't for her unnaturally extending her life.
>>6135193>"What infection? Be specific, I don't expect you mean tetanus from the blade."Good shout.>>6134915>>6135051I'll back that, too.
>>6135193+1 this too alongside not leaving Usik behind
“That's not going to happen,” you tell Yulia, carefully shifting Usik's weight onto Mihail's shoulder. The young man staggers a little under the additional burden, but somehow manages to keep his comrade upright.A slight frown crosses Yulia's face. “Are you sure?” she asks, tapping a finger against her chin, “He's no use to you now.”Snatching your revolver from its holster, you bring the gun up and press the muzzle against Yulia's temple. “Don't make me repeat myself,” you snarl, cocking back the hammer, “Even if these wounds are fatal, he still deserves better than... than whatever butchery you have planned for him.”Reaching up with one finger, Yulia gently pushes your revolver away. “There's no need to be rude,” she says with a smirk, “And while I'm sure that shooting me might be satisfying, it really wouldn't achieve anything aside from being an inconvenience... for both of us. You wanted to talk, didn't you? Then set your man down and come over here – we've got a lot of ground to cover, so you should probably sit down.”You hesitate for a moment, then lower your revolver. Mihail lowers Usik to the ground at your nod, kneeling down beside the wounded man. “Keep an eye on him,” you tell him, “Try and... I don't know. Try and make him comfortable.”“Don't worry about him bleeding on the carpet, it'll wash right out,” Yulia adds, gesturing over to a set of plush armchairs, “Shall we?”-“Gosh, where to start?” the black-haired woman asks herself as she sits, casually throwing one arm over the back of her chair, “You'd think I'd be better prepared for this, considering how long I kept you waiting, but I've never been the most organised-”“What did you mean, “the infection”?” you interrupt, “What infection?”“Oh, that,” Yulia grimaces, “It started to seep into my puppets a few years back. Years? Decades? It's hard to keep track. Anyway, it was such a shame – they started getting disobedient, even fighting with each other. The more they fought, the more it spread. In the end, I had to scrap almost all of them. All that work, wasted!”A pause.“This is the part where you're supposed to feel sorry for me,” she adds.“That's not going to happen.”“So cold!” Yulia gasps, “You really do take after your father, don't you?”“Miss Phalaris, perhaps you could explain what those puppets... actually are?” Elle suggests, speaking up before you can say something you might regret, “Are they some kind of machine that you created?”“Not quite,” Yulia answers with a smirk, “But before I can explain THAT, we need to take a step back. I mentioned that there was a great threat looming, remember?”“The Lliogor?” you recall.“Not them. Not really,” Yulia shakes her head, “I'm talking about the Stryx.”[1/2]
>>6135455You feel your mouth go dry at the sound of this word, your heartbeat quickening. Even though you keep your face impassive, Yulia seems to sense your reaction and smirks. “So you know them too,” she muses, “Perhaps we should compare notes?”“I only know the name,” you answer, shaking your head, “I'm hoping that you know more.”“As far as I've been able to learn, the Stryx are a threat from Outside. They are drawn by blood and feed on terror, growing fat on horror. Your father first called out to them, albeit unknowingly. The vanguard have already arrived, although they are few in number and have not yet adjusted to our world,” she explains, her hand twitching in time with her words, “The vast bulk of them are yet to force their way in, but it's only a matter of time before something draws their attention.”“Something like a full-scale war with the Lliogor?”“Exactly!” Yulia's eyes widen, her lips drawing back to show a sharp-toothed smirk, “Which presents a question – how do you fight something that feeds and grows stronger on fear? The answer, on paper, is simple – we must set aside our fear.”You let out a humourless laugh. “Easier said than done,” you point out.“Correct. A few carefully cuts to the brain will do wonders to dull fear, but I find that the results make for poor soldiers – sluggish, passive, insufficiently capable of violence,” Yulia shrugs, “But I am, if nothing else, persistent. I kept experimenting, stripping away more and more, replacing what I took with steel and porcelain. You've seen the results, of course. All useless.”“Useless?”“Oh yes. Fascinating experiments, but quite useless for opposing the Stryx. Not only that, but they seem unfortunately susceptible to outside influence – which brings us back to the “infection” we were talking about earlier,” the madwoman shrugs, “I suppose it's my own fault. I created an empty vessel, it's only natural that something else would fill it up.”“But Master Usik isn't an empty vessel,” Elle points out, “Could he be... immune to this infection?”“I don't know, but I'm fascinated to find out!” Yulia declares with a laugh, “You know, I was pretty annoyed when you wouldn't hand him over but it might prove to be a blessing in disguise.”You're so glad for her. Really.“Oh, don't give me that look!” she protests, “I'm just talking about observing his condition, that's all.”Maybe you should try and change the subject before she gets any funny ideas.>I told you the first time. Stay away from Usik>Why did my father really come here to speak with you?>I'd like to know more about your experiments. What did you have planned for Usik?>I've got some more questions for you... (Write in)>Other
>>6135457>Do you have any prosthetics that can replace the part that's been cut? Even if he fights off the infection, that's no good if he bleeds out.>Did my father manage to help you with any of this? It's starting to sound like he spent a lot of time and money not getting much closer to fighting these things.>The Denizens. Are you thinking of using them against the Stryx too?
>>6135457>Why did my father really come here to speak with you?>>6135459These are all good questions too
Also, we should contend with the possibility that Bard's dear sister is currently possessed by a Stryx. Elle is definitely not geared to face her, but even if Bard is mentally prepared for it, we don't yet have a plan to get the Stryx out.
>>6135459>>6135470+1 to these four. I'd personally prioritize>Why did my father really come here to speak with you?and>Do you have any prosthetics that can replace the part that's been cut? Even if he fights off the infection, that's no good if he bleeds out.if we have to pick>>6135457
“If you're going to observe him, you'll probably need him to survive for as long as possible,” you point out, tilting your head over to where the Galseans cower and wait, “Have you got anything that might be able to put him back together, and perhaps stop him from bleeding out?”Yulia leans back in her armchair, savouring your question. “So now you're the one coming to me for help, hmm?” she remarks.“The way I see it, it's a no-brainer,” you reply, offering her a cold smile, “Everyone wins.”“Oh, funny. Very funny,” she giggles, demurely covering her mouth as she laughs, “Well, when you put it that way I might be able to do something for him. Just don't complain about my methods, okay?”If she hadn't said those last few words, the thought wouldn't have crossed your mind. Without another word, Yulia leaps from her chair and marches back through to the main room. Mihail and Alina look up in alarm as she enters, but she brushes straight past them without even glancing around. Vanishing through a white door, she emerges a moment later with a bulky syringe and a vial of some deep red fluid.“This is Azoth, the culmination of all my experiments,” Yulia says casually, drawing a small measure of the thick liquid into the syringe, “Fabulous stuff, Azoth. You can do all sorts of things with it. It's malleable, that way. It's just a shame that it's so hard to harvest without all sorts of... moral outrage.”“So where did you get it from?” you ask, “Wait, do I even want to know?”“Azoth is the primordial material of life. So, naturally, it comes from living things. Animals have some, but not enough for any practical purposes,” the scientist explains, “I made this dose from the last lot of guests.”“Excuse me,” Elle yelps, “I think I'm going to be sick.”You watch, transfixed with revulsion, as Yulia peels back the bloody gauze strapped to Usik's throat and sinks the syringe straight into the open wound. The flow of blood seems to slow, then stop, as she presses down on the syringe. Though it may just be your eyes playing tricks on you, you could swear that his flesh is writhing.“Right, we'll leave that to cook,” Yulia announces, wiping her hands down on her black trousers, “Where were we?”-Together, you carry Usik over to an examination table and lay him down where Yulia can keep an eye on him. For all her talk of observing his condition, she barely glances across at him. Rather, her gaze remains fixed on you. It's actually quite uncomfortable, and you like to think of yourself as someone with a high tolerance for such things.“Tell me,” you ask her, “Did my father manage to help you with all this? It feels as if he spent a lot of time, and even more money, to achieve precisely nothing. Why did he even come here?”“I'd like to think that we helped one another,” Yulia replies, with an ambiguous smile that you don't like very much at all.[1]
>>6135491“For one thing, it gave us a chance to compare notes. Some of my visions made a lot more sense after talking to him. For his part, just talking about his little Stryx problem brought him some measure of comfort – it let him know that he wasn't completely mad,” Yulia continues, “We talked a lot about what to do. Whether there was any way to stop what was coming. Or, failing that, how best to survive it.”“I'm going to assume you weren't very successful on the either part.”“You don't have a very high opinion of either of us, I see. Well, I suppose you're half right. We agreed that there was no practical way to stop what was coming,” she laughs, “Convincing the Lliogor to set aside their conquering ways and live a life of peace isn't TECHNICALLY impossible, but the probabilities aren't favourable. As for the second part, well, your father was convinced that the answer lay in the Demesne. That's why he first came to find me. I don't like to brag, but I was able to reach pretty far down. He wanted to know my secret.”“And...” you pause, “What IS your secret?”Yulia leans forwards, her dark eyes boring into yours. “I think you already know,” she murmurs.Calamity, of course. While you've tried to be careful, merely dipping a toe in that black ocean of corruption, you see now that Yulia is drowning in it. Where else could her diseased genius have come from?“I've got a question for YOU, actually,” Yulia announces suddenly, her voice jolting you from your reverie and causing you to flinch back, “Do you know HOW your father managed to find me? I thought I was fairly well hidden, but apparently not hidden enough.”“I don't know,” you answer, shaking your head, “He had a map leading here, and he knew that he needed a Galsean guide. Why would you let them find you, by the way?”“I had this wild thought that one day, far off in the future, someone might find me down here,” she muses, a wistful smile forming on her lips, “Some stranger from a strange land, here to wander amidst the ruins of some long-dead civilisation. As they roamed this land, peopled with silent, stupid Denizens, they might stumble across my little abode, and I would have such tales to tell them!”Her words have a triumphant ring to them, but they're met with a cold silence. “Well, it's just a little fantasy I have,” she confesses, pouting slightly, “It's not a prophecy or anything like that.”“Do you really think the Denizens will remain, even after we're gone?” you ask, trying to change the subject, “Were you thinking of using them against the Stryx too?”“Considered it, but they're even worse than my puppets. Utterly useless. They're not even good as a source of Azoth,” Yulia complains, “I suspect that's what separates us and them. We've got something that they simply... don't.”[2/3]
>>6135512With those words, Yulia seems to decide that the conversation is over. Getting up from her armchair, she wanders away and starts to examine a strange device with a large brass horn atop it. The soft music dies suddenly as she pulls a black disc free from the machine, replacing it with what seems to be an identical disc. With a few more adjustments, a different piece of music starts to play. Humming along to the tune, Yulia ambles away to check on Usik's condition.You really ought to keep an eye on her, but for some reason you trust her not to harm him – not out of any goodness or sincerity on her part, but purely because he's more interesting to her alive.“What...” Elle begins, before lowering her voice to the lowest whisper she can, “What are we going to do about her?”“What do you mean?” you murmur, although you know full well what she means.“I mean, are we going to let her... keep on doing this?” she asks, “What if she does something worse?”>You're right. We have to do something to stop her>So long as she's willing to let us leave, I'm willing to leave her be>I know how you feel, but I'm not sure if there's anything we can do>I think... (Write in)>Other
>>6135527>I know how you feel, but I'm not sure if there's anything we can do>>At least, right now
>>6135527>Seems to be a situation no different from how it normally is with the Phalaris. For all our complaints, they're preparing a lot more against a common enemy than most of the people we've contacted.>The Teilhards won't immediately fall into a panic, but we can't just tell their men to stop fearing.>Just about the best thing we can do is suggest an idea that's more useful AND less abhorrent.Has she considered more manually controlled mannequins? They're puppets, surely there's a way to guide them from a distance. From there we have quite a bit more leeway to put SOMETHING between our soldiers and the Stryx that fear can't travel through.Or full on mobile suits. They can get through airtight suits, but we can reduce the number of soldiers at all to the hardened elites.
>>6135527>So long as she's willing to let us leave, I'm willing to leave her beShe seems plenty capable and is a far lesser evil than the Stryx, while also working against them
>>6135527>I know how you feel, but I'm not sure if there's anything we can do
“I know how you feel, but I'm not sure if there's anything we can do to stop her,” you reply quietly, peering around the edge of the door and watching as Yulia paces back and forth. She glances around as if sensing your gaze, giving you a friendly wave before going back to her work. Shuddering, you draw back and give Elle a grimace. “Not yet, at least,” you add, “And as much as I hate to say it, she might still prove necessary.”“Necessary how?” the oracle asks, frowning a little at the idea.“Let's assume that she's right, and there IS some great threat coming. Whether it's the Stryx or the Lliogor, or both at once, it doesn't really matter. We're not prepared,” you explain, “Maybe she can help with that.”“She hasn't been especially willing to help before now,” Elle points out, “She turned her back on us, for... for her own stupid, spiteful reasons. She's not about to have some change of heart now, is she?”Slowly, you shake your head. “Look around you. Look at what she's been doing. She's had years, decades even, with nothing to do except plan and prepare, and barely anyone to show off to. I think she might actually like being able to put some of her plans into action,” you suggest, “If nothing else, it might steer her research in a direction that's a little less... abhorrent.”Elle considers this for a long time, although her expression is not hopeful. “I think I'll just be happy if we can get out of here alive,” she admits eventually.You're about to reply when the wet sound of coughing reaches you from the far room. Leaping to your feet and expecting the worst, you run through to the makeshift treatment room where Usik lies. The heavyset man is convulsing, shuddering and writhing on the cold metal table while Yulia watches on with fascinated eyes. Brushing past her, you hasten to hold Usik down before he can hurt himself. It's only when he grows still that you notice his throat – now healed, albeit into a malformed knot of scar tissue.“Just a bit of cosmetic damage,” Yulia remarks, noticing your gaze, “Besides, women like scars. When he gets home, he'll be fending them off with a stick.”“Oh, that's good to know,” you sneer, “Never mind everything else, Usik's love life was the REAL reason why we came here.”“Happy to be of service,” the scientist says, turning and walking away. She reappears a few moments later, carrying a thick book under her arm. “Since we've decided that you're not going to try and kill me – thanks for that, by the way – I thought I might share some my, ah, less abhorrent research with you,” she explains, offering the book, “Nothing particularly controversial in here, I can assure you. Firearms, artillery, military doctrine... it won't help you against the Stryx, but it might blunt the Lliogor invasion a little.”“No need to thank me,” she adds quickly, “I'm just showing off, after all.”[1]
>>6135567Wow ok we get it you have good ears
>>6135567As the Galseans slowly file in to sit with Usik, you follow Yulia back out to her plush, personal chambers. She has a smug smile on her face, which is fairly normal for her, but just for a moment you allow yourself the luxury of imagining something deeper there – a sense of happiness, perhaps, for knowing that she helped someone. You're probably just imagining things, though.“So,” you begin, “Any signs of this “infection” yet?”“No, none. It's quite fascinating, really,” Yulia muses, “I'll have to take another look at some of my puppets, to see if I can figure out what's really going on with them. That should keep me occupied for the next, oh, ten or twenty years – assuming I don't have to entertain any more guests like yourself, of course.”“Watch it,” you warn her, “If it wasn't for “guests like me”, you wouldn't have had this opportunity to begin with.”“True, true,” she nods slowly, a thoughtful look creeping across her face, “Tell me, Master Pale. Have you seen your sister yet?”You hesitate, the sudden change in subject taking you by surprise. “No, not yet,” you tell her eventually, “...Why do you ask?”“No reason,” Yulia answers, her voice oddly solemn, “I was just curious.”>I'm going to pause here for now, I think I'm running on empty today. I'll be taking a short break for the week, but I'm planning to be back in action on Saturday>Thank you for reading along today!
>>6135584Thanks for running!Can’t believe dad talked about our dear sister to this madwoman. Or perhaps she has her own ways of gathering info from the outside world just like Kalthos.
>>6135584Thanks for running!
>>6135584Thanks for running!>>6135591Maybe as that other anon speculated, our sister is tied to the Stryx in some way? Or was/is helping find a solution to them?
>>6135584Thanks for running!That went better than expected. Yulia getting BTFO by Elle was the highlight of this part.>>6135617>Or was/is helping find a solution to them?If Gratia was the girl that talked to Teufel before us, her goal seems to be fixing Gideon's fuck up of inviting the Stryx to the world and stopping them.
>>6135567>it won't help you against the Stryx, but it might blunt the Lliogor invasion a little.”So she’s just going to stay hidden down here forever…?Does she have any advice for us - other than to explore the Demesne?>Have you seen your sister yet?”Speaking of sisters…what happened to hers? Why did she turn her into an unfinished puppet?
>>6134911>an expectant smirk on her face>>6134915>she interrupts with a smirk>>6135455>she says with a smirk>Yulia answers with a smirk>>6135457>Yulia seems to sense your reaction and smirks>her lips drawing back to show a sharp-toothed smirkLet's kill this bitch after we're all done with her for the sake of plot contrivance
>>6135759Brats aren't for killing, they're for correction.
You were worried that you might need to retrace your steps, going all the way back you came and passing through those hideous, feral puppets once more. This proves not to be the case, with Yulia leading you out through a secret passage – a secret passage that, you suspect, did not exist until she wished it to. Putting the exact mechanics of that aside, you're soon emerging out into the outermost entrance hall. Looking around in relief, your eyes settle on the clock above the door.“So...” you ask carefully, “What were those clocks for?”“Oh, I was timing you. I was curious to see how long it would take you to reach me,” Yulia answers with an indifferent gesture, “Far quicker than your father, by the way.”“I see.”“Of course, he wasted SO much time on arguing with me. I can't tell you how long he spent, shouting and threatening, before he finally decided to play along. Even then, he said he would “correct my insolent attitude”, to use his own words,” she recalls, smiling fondly, “I've never cared very much for men, but your father-”“Please don't finish that sentence,” you interrupt, your words bringing a satisfied smile to Yulia's face. That was, of course, exactly the reaction she had been hoping for. “What do you plan on doing next?” you ask next, hoping to change the subject as quickly as possible.Slowly, the smug grin on Yulia's face is replaced by something more thoughtful. “I wonder,” she muses, “Do you remember what I said about steel?”“You said you trusted it,” you remind her, “Past tense – I noticed that. Something changed, didn't it?”“Over time, I realised that the same things that I once respected about steel also made it weak, flawed. Steel has no capacity to improve itself – it takes human hands to shape it, to mould it into something better. Steel may be strong, but it's also stagnant. We can only go so far with weapons of steel,” Yulia explains, tapping a finger against her cheek to the rhythm of her words, “But I've dreamed of something better – a fire that burns in a far distant land, a fire that burns away all impurities. I think I might seek out that fire. If there is a weapon capable of driving back the Stryx, that fire will guide me to it.”-Yulia walks with you all way up to the staircase leading back to the surface, but there she stops. For a moment, just a moment, she looks at the stairs with a faint sense of longing. “Well, here we are,” she announces, gesturing vaguely, “You realise, I suppose, that I can't follow you out.”“I had guessed as much,” you agree.“Do you wish that you could?” Elle asks softly.The question seems to take Yulia by surprise. She considers it for a moment, then shakes her head. “I think we both know that I've burned too many bridges to ever return,” she admits, “Some of the things I've done, well, people might not look on them too favourably.”[1/2]
>>6138278It's good to see the sky again, even if it's a murky, hazy sky with no sun in sight. It's hard to guess how long you spent underground, or even the exact time now. It might be early morning, or the last hours of the evening. At least one of your questions is gradually answered as you march, the sky slowly growing brighter as the morning light builds. For once, a stroke of luck – you weren't looking forwards to a long march beneath the night sky.You're very glad when you spot your impromptu shelter looming up from the mire. Pouring the last of your strength into your legs, you hurry towards the ruins and pause at the doorway. Drawing your revolver out of habit, you slowly open the door and sweep through the building. With no signs of life, and your stockpile of supplies remaining untouched, you feel safe enough to put away the gun.There's no harm in being cautious.-By the flickering light of your lantern, you open the heavy bundle of Yulia's notes and start flicking through the pages. Many of them are beyond your comprehension, displaying intricate diagrams of obscure machines with unknown purpose. When you see the recognisable silhouette of a rifle, you pause to take a closer look. If you understand the diagram correctly, it seems to be some strange mechanism that uses the recoil from firing to automatically load a new cartridge.It'll never catch on. Give an enlisted man a gun like that, and he'll waste all his ammunition in a matter of minutes without hitting a damn thing.“What do you think?” you ask Elle quietly, “What should we do with this stuff?”“Hm? I suppose we could give it to Master Teilhard. There are an awful lot of designs in here, but he might be able to pick out the best of them,” Elle answers, “Oh, but then he might ask where we found this. If we told him about Miss Phalaris, he might send his people to try and, um, capture her.”“You make that sound like a bad thing.”“It's not her that I'm worried about,” she points out.Very true. Sending a party of armed men may just end up delivering a new batch of test subjects into Yulia's greedy hands.>Master Teilhard doesn't need to know the truth. We could say that we found the notes here, in this old village>We should tell Master Teilhard everything. He can decide the best course of action to take>Perhaps it's better to keep these notes hidden for now. Then we don't have to tell anyone anything>Other>Just an advance notice - I'm probably not going to be running for tremendously long today or Sunday. Busy week, so I'm feeling pretty low energy
>>6138280>Master Teilhard doesn't need to know the truth. We could say that we found the notes here, in this old village
>>6138280>Master Teilhard doesn't need to know the truth. We could say that we found the notes here, in this old villageSay we found them in the DemesneFoolproof Can’t wait to see Isambard cry when the machine gun catches onClassic Pale underestimation of innovation
>>6138280>Master Teilhard doesn't need to know the truth. We could say that we found the notes here, in this old villageBuried in the swamp, and locked with all manner of puzzles and mirrors. He would not believe how much a person could be infuriated by a stranger with mere words and voice recordings.so err, is Usik gonna be alright?
>>6138280>Master Teilhard doesn't need to know the truth. We could say that we found the notes here, in this old villageSeconding checking on Usik.
“Master Teilhard doesn't need to know the truth,” you decide, “We could say that we found the notes here, in this old village. Or just anywhere in the Mire, really. So long as he doesn't know how to find the Demesne, I don't think we need to worry about him stumbling across it – and that's IF he wants to try and search this damn place even more.”“I think that's probably best. Even so...” Elle leans over and peers at some of the designs, “I feel a little bad about letting these designs see the light of day. They're not... I know we need to fight, I'm certainly not going to deny that, but these things seem so... inhumane.”You turn a page, looking down at a diagram of what seems to be military tactics. It shows a group of men struggling to crawl through jagged barbed wire while rifle fire pours down upon them.“I think I see what you mean,” you sigh, closing the book and pushing it away.-The rest of the long march back to civilisation passes sluggishly, and mostly in silence. Even though they all made it out alive, the Galseans remain stubbornly dispirited. You can't really blame them, considering everything they saw down there, but it still feels like you're delivering a batch of broken souls back to Major Ionescu. They volunteered, but did they really know what they were getting themselves into? Did any of you?Raising your eyes, you cast a secretive glance at your Galsean companions. Mihail looks nervous and tense, occasionally forcing a brittle smile as he senses someone glance his way. Alina doesn't bother with the pretence, simply staring forwards with a bleak look in her eyes as she walks. Usik has said nothing since leaving House Phalaris, although you suppose he's got an excuse – the wound in his throat has healed in an ugly manner, bloated up like a thick collar of flesh. Yet, as ugly as his wound seems, he can march as well as anyone else and carries more than his fair share of the luggage. You're not sure if he's “okay”, but he's definitely alive.So you march on, saying little and trying not to think. Even when you arrive back at the border of the Mire and climb aboard your waiting carriage, the mood barely lightens. It wasn't that long ago that you were swimming and basking in sunshine on the banks of Lake Nibelung, but that feels like a different lifetime.“You are coming back to Portsmaw with us, yes?” Mihail asks, finally breaking his long silence. His eyes, hopeful, expectant, bore into you.“I don't know,” you sigh. Yulia's mention of your sister keeps coming back to haunt your memories, and you're loathe to waste any more time before making for the Demesne. Yet you're the head of the Pale family now, and that means you have a responsibility to maintain relationships and connections.[1]
>>6138300“No, we'll go,” you tell the young man after a long pause, “I suppose we'd better, or Major Ionescu would hunt us down and visit us instead.”“Oh no,” Mihail laughs, “Oh no, he would not do that!”“He would,” Alina counters, “You would wake up one night and find him sitting in your bedroom.”“Just so long as I don't wake up and find him in my bed,” you grunt.-Despite your complaints, arriving in Portsmaw feels surprisingly good. It's actually nice, seeing crowds of living people filling the train station and surrounding yourself with the noises of civilisation. It won't be long before you're craving peace and quiet once more, of course, but for now you'll savour the hustle and bustle of the city.At Mihail's insistence, you stop to get a hot meal before returning to the Galsean enclave. It's simple food, cheap sausages fried in even cheaper oil, but he wolfs them down with a visceral satisfaction. Clearly, you're not the only one enjoying the city's pleasures. He makes some vague noises about second helpings, but you drag him from the restaurant before he has a chance to convince you.A strange sight awaits you when you arrive at the Galsean encampment. Two figures sit outside the main gate – one is the sentry, uniformed and half-asleep, while the other is Major Ionescu. Just before he notices your arrival, you have a chance to see the worry etched deep into his face. The moment is gone quickly though, his dark brows dipping in a frown of irritation when he sees you. Or rather, when he sees Mihail.“You have been dawdling, boy,” the Major warns, “You think I do not know this?”“No! This is... ah, not how it seems,” Mihail stammers, looking around at you, “Our noble friend insisted on getting a meal first! How could I refuse?”Major Ionescu fixes the young man with a withering glare, immediately seeing through the ruse. With a soft yelp, Mihail lowers his head and scuttles through the gates before vanishing into the dense streets. Usik and Alina follow after him, giving the Major nods of greeting as they pass him by. Watching them leave, he lets out a low sigh.“You left with three, and returned with three,” Major Ionescu muses, “This should be a cause for celebration, yes? But somehow, it does not feel that way.”“It's a long story,” you tell him awkwardly, “We almost lost Usik, for one thing.”“Usik is not a man who dies easily,” the Major remarks, rising from his stool and leading you into the settlement, “But yes, I noticed. His throat-”“Long story,” you repeat. How would you even explain Yulia's strange experiments to a man like Major Ionescu, when you don't even fully understand them yourself. Fortunately, the Major seems to accept your excuse and let the matter rest... for now.[2/3]
>>6138310A faint feeling of misgiving nags at you as you sit down in Major Ionescu's dwelling, politely refusing his offer of a drink. You have the terrible suspicion that he might be about to demand something of you. Whatever it is, hopefully it won't take too long. Leaving you for a moment and vanishing into a gloomy back room, Major Ionescu rummages around in the clutter for a moment before returning.“Here. A token of my appreciation,” he explains, setting a small wooden box down before you, “For returning my people to me.”“Thank you, Major Ionescu. It's really not necessary,” you tell him, although you take the wooden box regardless. Opening it up, you see a brass medal sitting on a rough cushion inside. Elle lets out a soft coo of appreciation as she studies the artistry, taking it out and delicately pinning it to your jacket.>Sacred Tree Medal received: +1 Prowess Attunement.“Now,” Major Ionescu continues, “There is something I would ask of you.”Here it goes.“Young Mihail,” he says bluntly, “How did he serve?”>He did everything I asked of him and didn't get himself killed. I have no complaints>He's not ready for leadership. Not yet. But I think he has potential>He almost lost his nerve. He was more of a burden than an asset>He was... (Write in)>Other
>>6138316>He did not help in a way the other two could not, but he also didn't cause problems, unlike those two.>He can manage people, but he won't be a leader until he wants to lead himself.
>>6138316>He's not ready for leadership. Not yet. But I think he has potential.We pretty much did all the leading, and the other Galseans managed themselves (or didn't, when Usik nearly killed us) without his help. But he's got charm, and seems nice, attentive, reasonabke, and knew them well enough to warn us about Usik before we noticed the big lad's nerve was breaking for ourselves.
>>6138310>He almost lost his nerve. He was more of a burden than an asset>He was... Better than Usik at least
“He's not ready for leadership. Not yet,” you answer carefully, “But I think he has potential. Right now, I don't think he wants to lead. Until he wants it, I don't think he's capable of being a leader.”Major Ionescu throws back his head and lets out a hard bark of laughter. “Oh yes. I know that he is no leader. Perhaps he will never be a leader. That boy is still finding his way in life. He thinks, perhaps, that he must take my place one day, but his heart is not in it,” he explains, his brow furrowing as his laughter fades, “But I worry. He is already a man. Sooner or later, he must decide what he will do.”“Out in the field, he didn't show any particular talent,” you continue, inwardly wincing at how brutal that sounds, “I mean, there was nothing unique that he brought to the table. But he didn't fail in any particular area either. He didn't help especially much, but he didn't hinder me too much either. Not as much as Usik did, at least...”“Usik?” Major Ionescu raises an eyebrow.“We had a... disagreement,” you tell the Major, choosing your words carefully, “You didn't tell me that he lost friends in my father's expedition, or that he was harbouring a desire for revenge.”“We all lost friends in that expedition, Master Pale. As for his desire for revenge...” Major Ionescu gives you a slight shrug, “He is not an easy man to read. You can see this. Whatever secrets he keeps, he keeps them locked deep within his heart. Regardless, I see that whatever bad blood exists between him and your father, it did not do too much harm.”But it came very close.-Major Ionescu lapses into a deep silence after you've said this, considering your words on Usik and Mihail. Studying his face, you feel a sudden pang of sympathy – not for the Major, so much, but for your father. Did he have these same thoughts, these same doubts, as he watched you grow up? When he banished you to Coral House, was he simply trying to help you find your own way in life?It's too late to ask such questions, though. They won't ever find an answer.“Being a father must be very hard,” Elle murmurs as you're leaving, “I'm glad I won't have to worry about that.”“No, you'll just have to worry about being a mother,” you counter, before hastily adding, “That is, if you want... if you find the right... Ahem.”“Shall we hurry along?” she asks, changing the subject with a deft hand even though her cheeks are burning red, “I think we might still be able to catch the next train back to Castaigne.”“Yes. Let's hurry,” you agree, already marching off towards the train station. Once you're back at the estate, you can check for any important news before setting off again. No waiting around this time. No wasting time.[1]
>>6138343“Isambard?” Elle asks as the train rattles along towards home, “Can I ask you a question?”“You just did,” you reply, idly flicking through Yulia's notes and peering with incredulity at some of them. A carriage without horses? Impossible – the public wouldn't accept it.“I... okay, you got me there. I've got another question, then,” she continues, “Yulia's... offer. Her deal... when she asked for Usik, were you tempted?”You look up from the notes and meet her gaze. “No,” you answer simply, “I said that I would bring them all back, or at least do everything in my power to bring them back. I wasn't going to go back on my word like that, even if it was a secret that would remain buried with House Phalaris. I'd know, and that would be enough.”Elle considers this for a moment before nodding. “You're a good man, Isambard,” she murmurs, leaning back and closing her eyes.-It's late when you arrive back at the estate, and you barely have the stamina to make it to your bedroom before collapsing into a deep sleep. Your dreams that night are a confused blur, haunted by the cries of night owls. The only other thing you remember upon waking is a pair of silver eyes staring right into your own – Gratia's eyes, eyes that you remember all too well from your childhood. As impossible as it may be, the dream feels like more than just a normal dream. It feels like an omen.“Any important news?” you ask as you hurry downstairs, catching sight of Alex at the breakfast table, “Hello, by the way. We're back.”“I can see that,” Alex answers, “And no, there's been no news. In fact, it's been oddly quiet around here.”“Probably because I wasn't here,” you remark, “I hope you weren't too bored.”“Oh, I managed to scrape by. I had your little friend to keep me company, pestering me all hours of the day for old family stories,” he gives you a weary smile, “I don't think I've ever met someone so fond of the Pale family, and that includes your father.”That certainly sounds like Ariel.“So,” Alex continues, “How was your little expedition? Did you find what you were looking for?”“Unfortunately, yes,” you sigh, taking a seat at the breakfast table and helping yourself to some of the waiting food, “Just another one of my father's many messes to clean up, not that there was much we could do about it. I suppose we learned a few things, at least.”Namely, that it's only a matter of time before the whole land is awash in blood and fire. You'll spare Alex that little detail for now, and allow him enjoy his blissful ignorance for a while longer. Why let him worry about something that is completely beyond his power to change?[2/3]
>>6138355Just as your patient is starting to wear thing, and you're considering going to check on them, Elle and Ariel come downstairs to join you. Ariel gives you a bright smile of greeting as she sits down at the breakfast table. “I was starting to think you weren't going to come back,” she teases, “Too bad, I was just getting used to running this place. I managed to convince Alex that you were leaving this place to me in your will.”“She didn't convince me of anything,” Alex interrupts, “Don't worry, lad. Your inheritance-”“There isn't really much to inherit, is there?” you remark casually, “Anyway, I don't intend on dying any time soon. Sorry.”“Ah well,” Ariel jokes, “So, how long were you planning on sticking around this time?”“Not long. I want to head off to the Demesne as soon as possible,” you tell her, giving Elle a glance, “No more delays.”“What about Miss Phalaris' papers?” Elle reminds you, “We were going to show those to Master Teilhard, remember?”A short silence descends, Elle's words striking the conversation dead. “I'm sorry,” Alex says at last, his eyes wide and surprised, “Did you say “Miss Phalaris”? Just where have you-”“I'll explain later,” you assure him, “And yes, I hadn't forgotten about the papers. They'll keep for a little while longer, won't they?”Elle says nothing to this, just looking at you with concern in her shining blue eyes. Just looking into her eyes makes you wonder if you're being hasty, taking a silly dream far too seriously. If there was any real cause for concern, surely SHE would be the one to know about it. If the oracle isn't worried, you shouldn't be worried either. Right?“I could drop them off for you,” Ariel suggests, “I mean, I can't do much at the Demesne anyway. This way, I'd be making myself useful. Getting to enjoy the Teilhard family chef is just an added bonus!”>No, I'm being rash. We'll go and see Master Teilhard together>That would be useful, Ariel. You go to Siegfried House, and we'll head to the Demesne>Other
>>6138366>No, I'm being rash. We'll go and see Master Teilhard togetherThese designs are too revolutionary. We CANNOT have them thrown out or destroyed or worse
>>6138366>No, I'm being rash. We'll go and see Master Teilhard togetherSurely this will be the last distraction unless it turns out that the old friend Alex had saw before is going to die soon or something.It'd probably be better to hand the notes ourselves in case Master Teilhard has something to give us in return.
>>6138366>That would be useful, Ariel. You go to Siegfried House, and we'll head to the Demesne
You give Ariel a faint smile, nodding in thanks at her offer even as you're wondering if it's really necessary. There is a chance, no matter how small, that Master Teilhard might look at the designs and discard them. Too complex, too ambitious, too... impossible to actually work. You might not be able to understand them much either, but you should be able to convince him of their importance.“No, I'm being rash,” you decide at last, practically forcing the words out, “We'll go and see Master Teilhard together. I want to enjoy some of that cooking too – no offence, Alex.”“None taken,” the older man replies with a warm smile, “I know my way around a kitchen, but I know that I'm no master chef. I'd be a lot richer if I was!”Elle laughs delicately, covering her mouth with a crisp white napkin. “I certainly won't mind a chance to rest a little,” she admits, “Master Seidel, did any messages arrive for me?”“Unfortunately not, Miss Legrasse,” Alex tells her, shaking his head, “You were expecting something, weren't you?”“Mm. I asked King Albrecht for permission to access the Demesne as well. I know that it's technically not his decision to make, but I thought that he might be able to pull some strings,” she explains, frowning slightly, “Even if that wasn't possible, I thought he would let me know, at least. Even just letting me know that he received my note...”“He's probably just busy,” Ariel suggests with a shrug, “Or he sent word to the old palace and forgot to tell you.”“He wouldn't just “forget” me,” the oracle insists, her frown deepening. It's rare to see her looking so irritated, especially without Yulia Phalaris here to provoke her, and you briefly sense an argument brewing. Then, abruptly, the storm clouds dissipate as Elle waves the subject away with a disinterested gesture – a gesture that reminds you very much of Juno. “It doesn't matter. Even if I can't get into the Demesne, we still have a mission to carry out,” she decides, “I won't let my own personal interests become a distraction.”“And I'm sure we're all very glad to hear that,” Alex adds, stepping in to smooth over any last tensions, “Anyone for second helpings?”It must be nice to live in his world, where all problems can be solved with a good breakfast.>Okay, I'm going to take a pause here for today. I'll be running for a short session tomorrow. Short week this time, unfortunately>Thank you for playing today!
>>6138392Thanks for running!Happy to see the total Demesne procrastination vote won out even though I couldn't make it.
>>6138366>“What about Miss Phalaris' papers?”Elle really just threw it out there while people were having breakfast
>>6138493She can be blunt in her own fashion, can't she? What a woman. Top tier waifu. I missed the vote on whether to tarry before the return to the Demesne, but in retrospect I'm glad we're holding off to see if the king will authorize the future Lady Pale to join us. At the very least, we can't be tempted by certain anons to fuck our sister if Elle is present.>>6138392Thanks, QM!
>>6138513>Gratia has to judge Elle worthy of fucking her brother>Isambard has to judge ??? worthy of fucking his sisterIt'll be hilarious to see it finally happen
>>6138392Oh right, thanks for running>It must be nice to live in his world, where all problems can be solved with a good breakfast.Who says that world can't become a reality?
>>6138513>we can't be tempted by certain anons to fuck our sister if Elle is presentFrom what ocean did you gather this pearl of wisdom?
“So what's this all about, anyway?” Ariel asks, heaving the carriage door closed behind her, “Yulia Phalaris' papers? I mean, really?”“Really,” you confirm, “But don't let anyone else know that. We've decided not to mention that part – far fewer awkward questions that way. But yes, we met with Yulia Phalaris beneath the mire, and she gave us these notes. From what she says, we're going to need them.”Ariel lets out a low whistle of amazement as she takes this in. “I feel like nothing surprises me these days,” she admits after a while, “I can see why you don't want to go telling just anyone that. You'll sound completely mad.”“Some days, I FEEL completely mad.”-You're kept waiting outside for what seems like an eternity when you arrive at Siegfried House, the soldiers on guard awkwardly resisting any attempt to make conversation while the time passes. Eventually, Master Teilhard emerges from the front door with a deep frown etched onto his face. “Master Pale,” he begins, a faint note of bitter amusement in his voice, “My advisors suggested that I shouldn't meet with you like this.”“While I'm glad to hear that you're not listening to your advisors' advice, I do wonder what you're paying them for,” you reply smoothly, “Can I ask why they said this?”“Inside. We'll talk more there,” the old soldier tells you, leading you inside with a curt gesture. The soldiers hastily back off as you enter the grand house, shutting the doors behind you. Master Teilhard doesn't say a word until you're in his office, when he finally allows a flicker of unease to pass across his face. “You've developed something of a reputation, Master Pale,” he announces, “People are talking.”“...I assume they're not saying good things,” you decide, “What, exactly, are they saying?”Master Teilhard doesn't reply straight away, slowly stroking the long scar on his cheek as he thinks. It's strange, seeing him so pensive. “People talked about your father too, towards the end. Myself included,” he says slowly, “We talked about how he was out of control, borrowing money wherever he could only to lose it soon after. Some of what we said was true, some of it was baseless slander, but there was always something... definite. Accusations that could be refuted, implications that could be argued. With you, not so much.”“There is,” he continues, “The suggestion of impropriety, without anything definite being said. Any accusations are so vague that they vanish upon closer inspection, yet linger in the back of the mind.”A sickening frustration seeps through you as Master Teilhard's words sink in. “Rumours and insinuation!” you sneer, “How am I supposed to defend myself against such things?”Perhaps you're not. Perhaps that's the point.[1/2]
>>6138877“Master Teilhard, please,” Elle pleads, “Is there really nothing definite that you've heard?”“There have been... comments on the company you keep. Foreigners and the Tomoe are not the expected company for a young gentleman,” Master Teilhard answers, “And then, your own actions. Some say that the unnatural follows closely in your wake, Master Pale.”“The former... I suppose I can't entirely deny that,” you admit with an irritated shrug, “But the latter point is ridiculous, they've got it completely backwards! If I've had encounters with the unnatural, it's because I've got cause to investigate such things. You might as well suggest the magistrates are all guilty, because their job revolves around crime!”“I've used that exact same argument with associates of mine,” the old soldier agrees, giving you a solemn nod, “I've explained your actions to them, and seen them nod their heads in understanding and admit their error. Yet only a few short days later, I'll hear them repeat the exact same gossip. It's the most galling thing.”Saying nothing, you look down at the heavy book in your lap and your hands atop it, clenched into trembling fists. It almost would have been better if Master Teilhard hadn't said anything at all, you think to yourself. People might still be talking behind your back, but at least you wouldn't need to know about it.“That explains Master Seidel's friend,” Elle muses, her voice seeming to come from a vast distance away, “It's awful. It's... petty, pointless cruelty!”“Let them talk,” Ariel says, although she sounds less than certain, “I mean, it's just stupid gossip.”>Enough. I didn't come her to talk about gossip. I've got something to show you>Is there anything I can do about this gossip, Master Teilhard?>Rumours have to start somewhere. Have you any idea where this talk comes from?>I want to ask... (Write in)>Other
>>6138878>If some rumours about my character are all I have to suffer to find my sister, it's a small price.>Besides, what I have to show you is far more important than any one man.Time to give the Gift of War
>>6138878>Rumours have to start somewhere. Have you any idea where this talk comes from?I’ll show them unnatural and improper company
“Rumours have to start somewhere, Master Teilhard,” you announce, a familiar coldness seeping into your voice, “Have you any idea where this talk comes from?”Master Teilhard is silent for a moment, his hesitation leaving space for Elle to speak up instead. “It may be House Tomoe themselves,” she suggests cautiously, “Spreading misinformation and slander is exactly the sort of thing that they would do. As for why... they might be seeking to isolate you from polite society, to better drive you into their arms.”“Miss Legrasse presents a compelling theory, and one that I have considered myself,” Master Teilhard replies, “However, I could never quite bring myself to believe it. These rumours seem to carry a hint of moral outrage about them, and that is one thing that the Tomoe cannot fake. I will stress that I know nothing for certain, and this is purely a hunch, but I believe these rumours originated within House Silvera.”“No!” Elle cries, “That's not... I can't believe that they would do such a thing!”“Many families look to House Silvera for moral guidance, and to better understand their place within the natural order. Though they offer wise counsel, it would be foolish of me to dismiss House Silvera's role in shaping public opinion,” he explains, “I am not accusing the entire house, Miss Legrasse, but perhaps a single malicious actor within the family-”“Enough of this,” you interrupt, cutting Elle's retort off before she can even speak it aloud. “If some rumours about the nature of my character are all that I have to suffer in order to get my sister back, that's a price I'll happily accept,” you continue, “And besides, what I have to show you is far more important than any one man. Come and see.”It doesn't escape your notice that Master Teilhard is vaguely relieved when you change the subject, curiosity lighting up his eyes as you set the heavy tome down in front of him. At your gesture, he starts flicking through the pages. “Where did you find this?” he asks after a moment, looking up with attentive eyes.“We recovered it from the Mire of Phalaris,” you answer vaguely. Technically, you're not lying.“You'll forgive me, Master Pale, but I find that hard to believe,” the soldier replies, “There's nothing in the Mire. There's nothing left.”“With respect, sir...” Elle says softly, “Have you ever tried looking?”There is a short silent, and then he lets out a curt laugh. “Good point,” he tells her, “We've always believed that the desolation was so complete, so total, that nothing could survive – but to think, this has been under our noses this whole time!”“To be fair, it was well hidden,” you reply, giving him a humourless smile, “Very well hidden indeed. But we've found it now, and I thought you might be interested.”“Very much so,” Master Teilhard muses, studying the pages once more with a hungry gaze.[1]
>>6138900Time crawls by as Master Teilhard pours through Yulia's notes, occasionally jotting down a few words or a page number in his own notepad. Every so often he mutters something to himself, the words too hushed for you to hear. There's a part of you that wants to get up and leave, your work here having concluded, but you stay seated just in case. Instead, you think about these dire rumours swirling around you.The worst part about them, you suppose, is how close to the truth they really are, yet how monstrously distorted they've become. You have connections to the Galseans and contacts with House Tomoe, true, but you've only ever used those connections for good reasons. Mostly good reasons.“The contents of this book will change the nature of warfare forever,” Master Teilhard announces abruptly, setting the book aside and looking you in the eye, “I confess, this is a heavy burden. There is a part of me, however small, that wants to burn these pages to ash.”“Please don't,” you reply, grimacing slightly, “We went through a lot of work to get them.”“Of course I'm not going to burn them. I would be a fool to squander this,” he shakes his head, “Yet, I shudder to think of a world where we must turn these concepts into reality. It would be a world far beyond anything we could currently recognise. Perhaps it was right and proper that the Phalaris were swallowed up by the mire...”You say nothing to this, meeting Elle's gaze in silence. If he wants to believe that the Phalaris vanished because of some divine punishment, you're not going to change his mind.-“Ariel,” Master Teilhard says as you're getting ready to leave, “I know what you're going to say, but I feel obliged to tell you this. It may be wise for you to stay at Siegfried House for a time.”“You mean, until people stop gossiping about Isambard?” she replies, raising an eyebrow, “Thanks for the warning, but I'm okay. It's not like I've got much of a good name to lose in the first place.”“I thought as much,” he says, giving her an approving nod, “You'll always have a place here if you need it, but – and I mean this in the best possible way – I hope that you never do.”>I'm sorry about this, but I'm going to close here – I'm really not feeling it today, and I want to go into the next section with a clear head. I'll be starting back up next Saturday, I should be more active then>Thanks for stopping by regardless
>>6138942Thanks for running!
>>6138942Thanks for running!So the Teilhards owe us for that book of innovation, right? They also need an opponent to test all those new weapons on, while we'd like House Silvera to stop spreading nasty rumors. It seems we share a common interest.
>>6138942Isambard is going to be honorary Teilhard by the end of this quest
it's gonna be the church, isn't it?
>>6139122A world where people with black hair and black/brown eyes are foreign islanders and all the main continent nation people have anime hair and eye colors? You bet it's the church
>>6138986Not sure about declaring war on the Purity Crew.>>6138942Thanks for running!
And so, with the stench of rumour and speculation hanging around you, you prepare to leave Siegfried House. You wouldn't normally hurry away like this, but it looks as if Master Teilhard is about to start telling old war stories. If you stay for one tale, you might never get a chance to leave. Master Teilhard senses your thoughts with a wry smile, nodding curtly.“In that case, there's one last thing to discuss before you leave,” he announces, “The matter of your recompense.”“The pride of serving the nation of recompense enough,” you reply smoothly, your words causing Ariel to hastily cover her laugh with a cough.“Very amusing,” Master Teilhard drawls, “But I had something else in mind – a war banner, captured during the last Lliogor migration. I would consider it a symbol of our fruitful partnership. If it pleases you, I can arrange for the banner to be sent to your estate – I understand that you have... other duties to attend to.”“A pleasure working with you, Master Teilhard.”-From Siegfried House, you return to your carriage and continue north to the Demesne. The conversation falters and fails as the landscape grows whiter and whiter, fine dust rattling against the carriage windows with each gust of wind. Ariel dozes softly, slumped against the side of the carriage, but Elle remains wide awake. She hides it well, but whenever she thinks you're not looking her expression grows troubled. She may not say it aloud, but right now nothing would please her more than to see the carriage turn around and return home.It's not hard to understand her apprehension. You know Gratia almost like you know your own mind, but there's one area that remains unknown – you can't predict how well she'll work with your other companions. Yours had been a fiercely solitary childhood, with only each other to rely upon. You've changed since then, but has she?The question remains, but you've come too far to turn back now.-“Oh!” Elle gasps softly as you enter the ancient palace, her gaze immediately drawn to the dark figure sitting in the entrance hall. “Master Sakhalin, Marius. What are you doing here?” she asks, hurrying towards him, “We're not disturbing you, are we?”“I am called here on a small errand,” Sakhalin answers, carefully closing his book and setting it aside, “Please, do not let me distract you – I am sure that you did not come here hoping to find me, of all people.”No matter what the circumstances there's always a weighty sense of sadness hanging over Sakhalin, as if he has taken all the world's sorrows onto his broad shoulders. Today, that impression is stronger than ever.“An errand?” Elle repeats, “Is there something... wrong?”“Please, do not concern yourself with me,” he insists, shaking his head, “We can talk when your business here is over. I will wait.”“Are you sure?” you ask him, raising an eyebrow, “We might be some time.”“I will wait.”[1/2]
>>6142487Leaving Sakhalin with his book, you lead Elle and Ariel deeper into the palace until you spot the entrance to the Demesne. Immediately, you sense that something is wrong. Normally there are only a few soldiers loitering about, lazily defending the most sacred place in the kingdom. Now, there is almost a dozen men placed near the entrance, and all are armed – some have short, light rifles held in a low ready, while others have revolvers and stout wooden batons.“Are you expecting important guests?” you ask as Captain Milgrim slowly approaches you, “Aside from ourselves, of course.”“I'll have to ask you to wait here, Master Pale,” the soldier replies, gesturing for you to stay where you are. He retreats again, talking to a small group of his men in a hushed voice. The other guards fidget nervously, toying with their weapons like children huddling around a campfire. When Milgrim returns, his expression is a strange mixture of resignation and resolve. “I'm sorry, Master Pale,” he announces, “But I can't allow you to go any further.”The whole world seems to freeze, to become totally still and silent as the bottom falls out of your stomach in a sickening lurch. You stand frozen in place for what seems like an eternity, though it could only be a few seconds. “Why?” you ask at last, your voice strangled and low.“I'm just following my orders, Master Pale,” Milgrim answers, giving you his best attempt at a friendly smile, “They don't tell me much either.”“Whose orders?” you press, taking a step forwards. The guards flanking Milgrim tense up, reaching for their weapons until a gesture from the officer causes them to pause. “I want to know who gave you those orders, Milgrim,” you continue, “There's been some kind of mistake. We need to... we need to get this cleared up. I don't cause any trouble, do I? I've never spilled blood in the Demesne or-”“Master Pale, please. Don't make this difficult – for either of us,” the soldier pleads, “I can't help you. You need to leave.”“I think he's right,” Elle whispers, lightly grabbing your arm, “I think he's serious, Isambard.”You say nothing, glaring at the assembled soldiers. After everything you've gone through to get here, it comes down to a dozen armed men standing between you and Gratia. Ariel holds her tongue too, although you see her hand hovering indecisively by the revolver holstered at her hip. The conflict is plain to see on her face – she wants to fight against the injustice of it all, but these aren't beasts or monsters. These are her own people.>This battle is a lost cause. You've got no choice but to leave>These men won't stop you. You'll fight if you have to>Sakhalin knew this would happen. You'll get your answers from him>Other
>>6142490>Sakhalin knew this would happen. You'll get your answers from himIf not him then the King
>>6142490>These men won't stop you. You'll fight if you have toWe don't have time for this. This is clearly a delaying tactic, Gratia needs us.
>>6142490>"I assume the authority of these orders supercedes the King's?"Isambard could really give them a verbal thrashing if he wanted.>Sakhalin knew this would happen. You'll get your answers from himI'm guessing this has to do with the Strix.I'm contemplating trying to get in during the night.
You stay silent for a long time, as motionless as a stone statue even as Elle tugs gently at your arm. The guards seem to grow more unnerved by the moment, disturbed by your unbroken silence. You have little doubt that, despite their hopes, they knew that you wouldn't just turn and walk away. Perhaps they had been expecting an argument, even a fight. But not this.“Should I assume, then, that your orders come from a higher authority than the King's?” you ask softly, finally breaking your silence, “He was, after all, the one who gave me access to the Demesne.”A ripple of confusion, of uncertainty, runs through the men. All of a sudden, you can see it in their faces – they don't even know who gave the orders, merely that they were beyond questioning. The soldiers might not know anything, but you can think of someone who might.With one last dismissive sneer, you turn and march away from the soldiers. Even without looking back, you can feel them slumping low as the tension finally leaves their bodies. Ignoring them, you hasten back to the entrance hall and storm over to Sakhalin just as the dark-skinned man is rising to his feet. The knowing look in his eye causes your hands to ball into fists, and you have to rein in your temper.“I just want you to know that I'm giving very serious consideration to punching you right in the face,” you spit, staring Sakhalin right in the eye, “You KNEW about this, didn't you?”Sakhalin holds your gaze for a long moment. “I had heard about the decision, but indirectly. I did not know it to be true, and the soldiers here would not confirm it. They would not discuss their orders with me,” he answers at last, “But now I see that it was true. You have been barred from accessing the Demesne, yes?”“Well obviously. I wouldn't be standing here if...” your words trail off here, fading to a hoarse whisper, “I am THIS close, Sakhalin. THIS close to finding my sister. Why does this have to happen NOW?”Again, Sakhalin says nothing for a while. Eventually, he nods slightly towards the entrance and starts to amble away. Even though the anger still seethes in your heart, you follow him outside. He doesn't stop at the carriages, as you suspected, but continues walking across the sea of fine white dust. With the treacherous ground slipping beneath your feet, you follow him up the shallow slope to the faded remnants of a broken castle wall. Here, he sits.“When my sources warned me of King Albrecht's decision, I neither understood nor believed it,” Sakhalin announces simply, “I know the King well. I could even consider him a friend, as much as a man in my position can be friends with a man in his. This is not a decision that he would make, I believe, without undue influence.”“Undue influence,” you repeat, giving the words a mocking tone as you throw them back in Sakhalin's face.[1]
>>6142500Sakhalin takes no offence, or at least no visible offence, at your snide remarks. “King Albrecht fully wished to uncover the truth behind your father's death, Master Pale. He wished for you to understand it too, in hopes that you might find some measure of... closure,” he continues, “This sudden change is strange. It concerns me deeply.”“Master Sakhalin, please. If you know anything else about this...” Elle asks, pleads.“I know very little. I understand that King Albrecht has deemed that any possible advantage to be gained by your investigation is now outweighed by the consequences it may invite. However, this decision was made entirely without my knowledge – another strange aspect to the case,” Sakhalin slowly shakes his head, “This is why I say that he has come under some malign influence.”“That means leverage. What kind of leverage could someone hold over a monarch?” you wonder aloud, “And who could be holding it?”Though you don't say it aloud, you have an idea about the second question. It would need to be someone capable of unearthing long-dead secrets, someone who holds a position of power and influence – and who else fits the bill, but the Choirmaster herself?“I intend to investigate this further,” Sakhalin announces, “It troubles me, this situation. Master Pale, I would ask you for a service.”You look up, startled from your thoughts, and give Sakhalin an indifferent gesture.“Please, do not cause any trouble,” he asks, giving you a frown, “This may be difficult for you, but my own investigation may be hindered if you cause too much disruption. I suggest that you lie low for a time. Should I uncover more information, I will keep you informed. Rest assured, Master Pale, I dislike this situation almost as much as you do.”Almost.“So, what? I just go back to the estate and sit around until something changes?” you mutter, scowling hard at the thought, “You don't understand, Sakhalin. My sister-”“Isambard, it's okay. It'll be okay,” Elle whispers, “I think he's right. I think we should play along for now. It won't do Gratia any good if you go and get yourself in trouble – or get yourself hurt.”Like how you might get “hurt” trying to pick a fight with a dozen armed men in order to sneak into the Demesne. The kind of hurt that you might never have a chance to recover from.>Fine. I'll play along for now, but my patience won't last forever>I can't just wait around. I've got other ideas... (Write in)>At least answer my questions... (Write in)>Other
>>6142510>I can't just wait around. I've got other ideas... (Write in)Could we fake our way in? The same way Kalthos had, by pretending to be someone else that was previously approved. Sure things might be a little more constrained, but it may yet be possible. It's not like we haven't helped out the other houses previously so our options are probably better then he was. Maybe Elle can recalls something from the Demense's "Guest book" that we could cross reference.Or House Tomoe may know more, or have other ideas or methods or be willing to trade for access.
>>6142510>>6142524This is a good ideaDress up as a Silvera
>>6142510>>6142529Actually see if we can get an audience with the King firstThe Choirmaster too
>>6142510>What does Sankhalin know about the rumours about bard?
“I can't just wait around like this,” you complain, pacing back and forth across the loose white dust, “There has to be some other way. Perhaps we could sneak in, or use someone else's identity for cover. Elle, you've seen the Demesne's guestbook, haven't you? Who else is allowed access? Do you remember?”“I... I think I can remember some...” Elle stammers, “But Isambard, don't you think they might... recognise you?”Her eyes flick up towards your hair as she says this, causing you to defensively brush a few locks back. “There has to be a way. It's been done before,” you grunt, “The Tomoe knew how to do it. I shudder to think about what they may ask in return, but they may be able to offer assistance.”These words are met with a tense silence, broken only when Sakhalin gently clears his throat. “Dealing the Tomoe,” he suggests lightly, “Is exactly the kind of trouble that I was hoping you would avoid.”“Well, I have to do something!” you shout, throwing your hands up in a furious gesture, “What else am I supposed to do, sit around and place my faith in the natural order? What good has that ever done me?”“Please, just calm down. Yes, I agree that we should do something. I really do. But we shouldn't do anything rash,” Elle insists, taking your hand and squeezing it tightly, “If we rush into anything, it might do more harm than good.”“She's right, man,” Ariel agrees, grimacing slightly, “You're talking about some kind of... heist stunt. We'd only have one shot at that – if we got it wrong, they would double down on the security. So we take our time, plan it out, then go. Measure twice, cut once.”Drawing in a deep breath, you purge the anger from your mind and look at your situation with a cold, objective eye – the cutting Insight that your family is so known for. They are, of course, correct. Getting angry and causing a scene might even give your unseen enemies more ammunition to use against you. Better to slow down and act only when the time is right.“Sakhalin,” you announce, your voice hushed but cold as steel, “Can you get me an audience with the King? With the Choirmaster, too? And don't give me that talk about causing trouble – considering what King Albrecht has ordered, it would be more suspicious if I DIDN'T try to speak with him about it. So, get me an audience.”“I will try,” Sakhalin answers, “But it may be difficult, Master Pale.”“Because of my... reputation,” you agree, nodding slowly, “What have you heard?”“People say that you are a dangerous man to know, Master Pale,” he says bluntly, with no concern for sparing your feelings, “They shun you as if you carried a plague, all while laughing at their own superstitions. Men said similar things about your father – they saw that he was racing towards destruction, and feared being dragged down with him.”[1]
>>6142540You let these words soak in, giving them the same careful analysis that your own plans deserve. “I see,” you reply at last, “Do try and get me that audience, Sakhalin. I'd rather hear King Albrecht out first, and perhaps even change his mind, before I'm forced to take any more... drastic action.”“As I said, I will try,” Sakhalin answers with a forlorn sigh, “Please do not do anything that will make my job any more difficult than it already is.”“I will try,” you repeat back to him, finally allowing yourself a bitter smirk.-Much of your journey home is spent in silent planning, each possibility passing through your mind and withering beneath the cold glare of scrutiny. You could, you reason, try to pass yourself off as a member of the Silvera family – there's more than a passing similarity between yourself and Cato Silvera, for example. It might be a little too much to expect the solemn young man to help you, but the possibility, no matter how faint, remains.Time passes slowly on the road, and you arrive back at the estate not long after midnight. Talking little amongst yourselves, you split up from the rest of your companions and retire to bed. Despite dozing in the carriage, the journey home left you exhausted and sleep comes quickly.The next morning, you wake with a feeling of foreboding. Hurrying downstairs, you see Alex busy with opening a large packing crate. You dimly recall seeing it when you returned home last night, but you were too tired to pay it much attention. This, you presume, is the gift Master Teilhard had arranged for you – a barbarous standard, carrying a heavy banner decorated with the image of a strange winged serpent rising above a forest of blades. No doubt it must've been a terrible sight when flying over an army of Lliogor warriors, but the banner seems faintly pathetic when seen like this.“What is that thing?” you ask, pointing to the winged beast, “Some Lliogor symbol?”“Aye. They call it a dragon, I believe,” Alex answers, “Don't ask me what it's supposed to represent, because I don't know. Maybe it's just a great big beast, and it doesn't represent anything – I can't imagine the Lliogor care much about imagery.”You grunt a vague acknowledgement, still looking at the bloated white thing. It's vaguely horrible, in ways that you can't quite describe.Glancing away from the banner at the sound of footsteps, you turn to see Elle descending the stairs. “Oh, that's horrible,” she murmurs, walking over to study the banner, “What is that thing?”“The Lliogor call it a dragon,” you explain, flashing Alex a quick smile, “Some kind of heraldic beast, I expect.”“Fascinating...” Elle muses, reaching out one hand to stroke the banner only to hesitate, drawing her hand back at the last moment.[2/3]
>>6142549“Oh, Miss Legrasse,” Alex announces, breaking the stilted silence, “I almost forgot, there was a message for you when I woke up this morning. I think it actually arrived late last night, but I was long asleep by then. Let me just fetch it for you...”Alex disappears for a moment, returning soon after with a flimsy slip of paper. He hands it across to Elle, who reads it closely. Her eyes widen with surprise as she reads the note, a sickening dread filling her whole face as she slowly reads it for a second time. “I'm sorry, Master Seidel, but could you give us a moment alone?” she asks softly, placing the note down, “I need to talk with Isambard.”“Of course. I'll go and... um, find something to do in the kitchen,” he mumbles, hurriedly leaving the room with one single backwards glance.Even after Alex has vanished, Elle doesn't say anything straight away. Folding the note sharply in half, she places it down on the nearby breakfast table. “It's from my parents,” she explains, her voice barely above a whisper, “I suppose I should've seen this coming.”“Seen what coming?” you ask cautiously, that foreboding feeling creeping up on you once more.“They've heard the rumours, of course. The rumours about you,” Elle says, picking her words with immaculate care, “They want me to come home. They say that this is our last chance at reconciliation – if I don't come home, then... then I'll be no daughter of theirs.”Those words, or rather the underlying cruelty in them, strikes you like a bucket of ice water. Looking at Elle, you can't recall ever seeing her look so lost and confused. She seems caught, pulled in two different directions and ready to split apart.“I don't... want to lose them,” she admits, her fingers toying with the folded note, “I don't want to leave your side, but I don't want to lose them either. They say they'll be sending a carriage for me. Has it already been and gone? No, Master Seidel would've seen something. Then, it might be arriving... soon. How am I supposed to decide a thing like this with so little time? That's just... too cruel...”As her voice trails off, she glances back up at you with wide, pleading eyes – eyes that plead for you to make the decision, any decision, for her.>Go back to them. This can't last forever – you can return when these rumours have been cleared up>Don't go to them. Perhaps this is selfish of me, but I can't lose you now. I need you here, with me>I can't make this choice for you, Elle. This is something you need to decide for yourself>Other
>>6142558>Go back to them. This can't last forever – you can return when these rumours have been cleared upWhat has her family ever done for her anyway thoughDon’t say that aloud
Update: I think I'm going to leave this vote open but take a pause here - I won't really have time to write to a good break point today, I think. I'll pick up for another few hours tomorrow. Until then!
>>6142558>Don't go to them. Perhaps this is selfish of me, but I can't lose you now. I need you here, with meI will vote for this. Also>>6142568>What has her family ever done for her anyway though>Don’t say that aloudI disagree. Isambard has been hit back to back since Teilhard patriarch told him the rumors exist. He needs to rightfully vent
>>6142558>Go back to them. This can't last forever – you can return when these rumours have been cleared up
>>6142558>I can't make this choice for you, Elle. This is something you need to decide for yourself
>>6142593Thank you for holding off.>>6142558>I can't make this choice for you, Elle. This is something you need to decide for yourselfBut if she leaves, I'm going full tilt Team Ariel. This is her moment of truth.
>Ariel holds her tongue too, although you see her hand hovering indecisively by the revolver holstered at her hipAbsolutely based. Ariel is truly best girl.Bard's getting vindicated for choosing to support the King in the decision on how to handle the Iron Keep.>>6142558>I can't make this choice for you, Elle. This is something you need to decide for yourself
>>6142558>>Go back to them. This can't last forever – you can return when these rumours have been cleared up>If nothing else, you'll be able to confirm how they came to know the rumours, and you'll have time for yourself. Maybe invest in some good boots, with all the walking we've had to do.
>>6142558Woo Finally caught up! Read this from the beginning. Anyone notice our first lesson book almost mirrors what was happening with Dad?Also, pretty Sure Purity is as Stagnant and wretched as Solitude, Calamity, Ingenuity and the rest. They think themselves above the wretched masses. Frankly that one man we talked to in front of the Demense last time all but shows they are starting to rot. I'm almost willing to bet the Cacophony was the Stryx showing up and making people scared. It wasn't fake just misaimed.>I can't make this choice for you, Elle. This is something you need to decide for yourself
Going to close the vote here. Aiming to have the next post up in about three and a half hours, though I do have a few errands to run today so it might be a little bit late.Also, sorry for my ID pinging about - the weather here has turned, and that always screws with my internet connection
>>6143055But late, shame I would’ve voted for:>I can't make this choice for you, Elle. This is something you need to decide for yourself>>6142615Agree with this anon about venting though Maybe we just need to go shoot or stab something…or go get drunk
You wonder, briefly, about the strange pains that family can cause. Her family cruelly rejected her, and now they're trying to drag her back. For what? For the selfish, grasping urge to possess her? For some misguided idea of her best interests? Perhaps it would be better if she was to cut ties completely, if only she had the courage to do so.But are you really any better? Even long dead, your father still has a hold over you that you can't shake off. You're the same in that regard, both crushed beneath the weight of a legacy that you never asked for, and she's still looking to you for advice.“I can't make this choice for you, Elle,” you tell her slowly, quietly, “This is something you need to decide for yourself.”She doesn't react for a long moment, as if your words were swallowed up by some deep pit within her. “Excuse me,” she says at last, stiffly rising to her feet and turning away, “I need some time alone. I need to think this over.”You nod, barely moving your head, as she turns to flee from the room.-Sitting upstairs by a grand window overlooking the road leading up to the estate, you spot a white shape drawing near. As it approaches, you see that the shape is a carriage – a beautiful, elegant thing, displaying the insignia of a faded blue flower. It eventually stops at the outermost edge of the estate grounds, as if unwilling to even enter your lands, and a tall, lithe man in a grey uniform gets out to wait. You feel a spiteful sense of hostility just looking at the man, but the soft sound of footsteps snatches you from your hateful thoughts.Leaping to your feet, you race down to the entrance hall just in time to see Elle opening the front door. She flinches at the sound of your approach, freezing in place before slowly, reluctantly, turning to face you. Her face is distraught, filled with the pain of leaving and the shame of trying to sneak away. You stare at her for what seems like an eternity, struggling for something, anything, to say.“What about your luggage?” you ask eventually, gesturing to the small bag she carries over one shoulder.Elle's eyes widen in confusion, as if she can't quite believe your words. “I thought... I should just leave it here,” she answers at last, her soft voice barely reaching you, “I won't be gone forever, Isambard. I'll come back. I just... I need to do this. I have to face my parents – I have to tell them that they're wrong about you. Maybe they'll listen, maybe they'll just cast me out. I don't know, but I have to try. They deserve that much.”“What have they ever done for you?” you spit, the bitter question taking you by surprise, “What have they done to deserve a second chance?”“They made me the woman I am today,” Elle answers sadly, “For good, and for ill. I can't take that away from them.”[1/2]
>>6143093Dropping her bag, Elle tentatively approaches and sinks into a lingering embrace. You can feel her tremble as she presses her body against yours, her nerves tortured by stress and fear. Heedless of the carriage waiting outside, she clings to you with an almost childish desperation. “I don't know if I can do this,” she murmurs, her voice muffled by your chest, “I'm not strong enough. I'm not as strong as you.”“Then don't do this,” you want to say, but you hold the words back. You told her to make a choice, and this is what she has chosen. You're not going to make this any harder for her than it already is.After a long moment, Elle pulls back and wipes her eyes. “I'll be back soon,” she tells you, though with more hope than certainty, “I'll get these... these nasty rumours cleared up, and then I'll come right back. I promise.”“...Sure. I know,” you reply.Stepping back, Elle tries to smile before turning, hurriedly snatching up her back and fleeing through the front door. You watch as she walks, almost staggers, away from the manor for a few minutes before numbly closing the door. Pushing it back into place, you lean heavily against it and draw in a long, tense breath of air.Silence falls, but it doesn't last.“Oh shit,” a low voice murmurs from far behind you. You turn, seeing Ariel standing at the top of the stairs with a stunned look on her face. She slowly descends the stairs to join you, running a hand through her tousled hair. “She actually did it,” Ariel murmurs, “I didn't think she'd actually do it.”“You knew about this?” you ask, the question coming out sharper than you really intended.“She came to talk to me. Get my opinion, for whatever it was worth,” Ariel explains, shaking her head, “I mean, I told her to STAY. I told her that we really needed her here.”A long pause.“I told her that... you... really needed her,” she adds, her voice lowering to an uncertain murmur.>She'd already made up her mind. But thank you for trying>We don't need her. We have to keep moving forwards regardless>I was her choice. Maybe this is all for the best>I... (Write in)>Other
>>6143094>"I do. I do need her.">"But I told her she had to decide for herself, that this isn't something I could do in her place. I'm held by my own family's legacy." (Gesture around at the manor.)>"...What about you? After your own family rejected you, would you decide to go back to them if they wanted their selfish hands back on you?"
>>6143114Our edgelord protagonist feeling the pain that comes with parting from close friends
>>6143094>It was her choice. Maybe this is all for the bestTime to call up Juno again
Looking at Ariel, you let out a low sigh as you struggle to find the right words. Your first instinct is to turn the suggestion aside, to dismiss it with a sneer and a jibe. But this time...“I do. I do need her,” you admit, cautiously lowering your guard for a moment, “But I told her that this was something she had to decide for herself. I can't exactly complain about the decision she made after that, can I?”“No, I think you can,” Ariel argues, forcing a humourless little smile, “I think we've both earned the right to complain about basically anything and everything by now.”“Well, in that case...” you agree, somehow managing to match her smile before you shake your head. “No, I... I can't blame her. I'm bound by this legacy, and she's bound by hers,” you continue, gesturing around you, “What about you? If your family reached out, after everything they've done to reject you, would you go back to them?”Ariel's eyes widen. “Hmm, let me think about that,” she remarks, “I'd say it's somewhere between “no” and “shit no” to that one. Elle asked me that exact same question, you know. I told her that exact same answer... for all the good it did us.”“It was her decision to make, like I said. Maybe it's for the best, maybe some good can come of it,” you conclude, dismissing the subject as best as you can with a curt wave, “Who knows, maybe her family holds the key to all this? These vile rumours, this malicious slander... it all comes from somewhere, and her family might know where.”Stranger things have happened.-With all the drama, it takes you by surprise when you realise that it's still early in the day – not even halfway through the morning. Faced with the horror of a blank, empty day, you collapse into an overstuffed armchair and search for something to do. You should reach out to Juno, you decide vaguely, just in case you need an oracle for anything. Later, though – right now, you can't stomach the thought of her smug smirk.You can tell that Alex is avoiding you, and while you're sure that he means well, you just find that all the more irritating. He's probably realised that something is wrong by now, but he won't just come out and ask what. Making up your mind, you hop up from the armchair and stalk off to find him. You need to vent your anger, your frustration, and he's the best man for the job – no doubt he endured the exact same thing from your father.Stalking through the halls of the estate, you eventually find Alex in a discrete smoking room hidden away in a forgotten corner of the estate. Judging by the dust, it's been a very long time since anyone set foot in the room. Alex jolts around in surprise at the sound of the door closing behind you, letting out a faint sigh of relief when he sees that it's you – as if it could've been anyone else.[1]
>>6143135“Funny, isn't it?” he begins awkwardly, “We couldn't find the keys for this door for the longest time, but I finally found them wedged down the back of the kitchen-”“Elle's gone,” you interrupt bluntly, “Gone back to her family. You were wondering what had happened, weren't you?”“...I was, yes. I didn't want to pry, in case it was a... personal matter,” Alex pauses, a faint grimace twisting his features as he chooses his next words with care, “Is it?”“I don't even know what you're suggesting,” you snap, brushing past Alex and looking around the room. At some point in the distant past, your long-dead ancestors might have crowed into this room to laugh and joke, cigars in hand and liquor at the ready. Shoving open a cabinet, you study the ancient bottles waiting within. Even through the thick layer of dust, you can see that most of them are untouched. “People are spreading rumours about us, Alex,” you explain, glancing briefly over your shoulders, “Very unpleasant rumours. I suspect that's why your “old friend” was giving you the cold shoulder. Elle's family heard these rumours too, and they demanded that she returns home.”Alex's eyes widen as he takes this in. “And she... did as they asked?” he asks.“Evidently,” you sneer, taking out one of the bottles and stripping off the wax seal. The rich smell of burnt sugar hits your nostrils as you open the bottle, pouring a measure of the amber liquid out into a dusty glass. Before you can take the first sip, though, you hear a distant knock at the door. Sudden hope explodes in your heart – perhaps Elle had second thoughts.“Shit,” you hiss, setting the glass down by Alex, “Clean that up, would you?”“Certainly,” Alex agrees, giving you a wary look, “It's too early for that kind of drinking anyway.”So he says.-Hurrying through to the manor entrance, you yank the door open just as another knock rings out. Your hopes are immediately dashed as you see who it is, the dismay settling over your face like a theatre mask.“I'm sorry,” Cato says, reeling back a little when he sees the look on your face, “Is this a bad time?”You very much want to slam the door in his face, but you find yourself shaking your head instead. “As good a time as any,” you tell him with a ghoulish, humourless smile, “Shit, you might as well come in. Better than talking right there on the front step.”“Indeed,” he agrees cautiously.“I'm surprised you'd come and visit a troublemaker like me,” you continue, leading Cato into a side room and waving in the general direction of an armchair, “Don't you know that I've got a terrible reputation?”“Actually, that's why I'm here,” Cato answers, setting aside his sheathed sword and sitting down, “I've heard the rumours about you. I find them, frankly, grotesque – a cruel misrepresentation of your character. I've come here to try and help you.”[2]
>>6143150It would be an understatement to say that you're suspicious, but you gesture for Cato to continue regardless. At this point, what have you got to lose?“I came to offer you a chance for us to work together,” Cato explains, leaning forwards ever so slightly, “There's a small project underway in the Silvera lands, excavating and examining the ruins of a very ancient chapel – we suspect that it dates back to the very earliest days of the church. I'll be taking part, although – if I can be quite honest – I'll mostly just be there to observe. I'd like you to join me.”You weigh up his words, searching for some hidden meaning in them. “I must've missed something,” you reply at last, “How does this help me?”“Your problem, Master Pale, largely stems from the kind of work that you've been doing. I have no doubt that you're doing good work, and doing it for good reasons, but it often has a sinister character about it. I heard about your work with Professor Hodgson, although I feel the facts have been... distorted,” Cato grimaces, “I've heard many people drawing a link between you and the professor's... death? Disappearance?”“That's absurd,” you snarl, “He was gone long before I ever arrived!”“I know, I know,” the young man assures you, gesturing for calm, “As I said, the facts have become distorted. Which brings me back to my original point – a piece of honest work, sanctioned by the church, may help to remedy your reputation. It would give the world a chance to see a better side of you.”Still scowling, you shake your head. “Even if your people could be persuaded to work with me, I'm struggling to see how I could help,” you point out, “I certainly hope you're not asking me to dig the ditches.”“Your role would be very much the same as mine – to offer your insight when possible, but mostly to observe,” Cato pauses, then continues in a hushed voice, “My uncle is leading the project, and he asked me to join him because, ah...”“Because it'll make you look good?”“I wouldn't put it quite like that...” he mutters, “But, yes, that is a part of it. It's less that my reputation needs improvement, more... well, you know how it is. Make contacts, deepen friendships, that sort of thing.”It makes you feel dirty just thinking about it.>Fine, I'll join you. I've got nothing better to do>No thanks, I'm not suited for this kind of work>I've got some questions for you... (Write in)>Other
>>6143158>Fine, I'll join you. I've got nothing better to doIf it really is the Silvera house spreading rumors, they'll have to stop once we get involved in their projects.Hopefully this isn't a pretext to imprison or assassinate us.
>>6143158>I've got some questions for you... (Write in)"I've heard some rumors myself, I'm not entirely without people willing to talk with me after all. And no not the Tomoe, who would likely be cackling about all this like the card-carrying deviants they are. The sources I have believe that the source of the rumors starts, well, frankly, from Silvera mouths. Furthermore the king who commissioned me to delve into the Demense to recover my Father's body and locate my sister has rescinded such from undue pressure. One that only the Church, which is the domain of the Silvera can provide easily. Now a Silvera comes asking for me to work on a project away from the general populace. In the heart of their power, over a vague project that they barely define and frame it wholly as a favor to me. One doesn't need to be a Pale to see how... convenient that all lines up to be, do they? Now I'm not accusing you of bad faith, you've always dealt fairly and honestly with me. But every house has bad apples. Are you certain this is not a pretext for toruble?>Fine, I'll join you. I've got nothing better to do>But set up various safeguards so if/when something DOES go wrong people will know the score. Just in case. The Teilhard, Galseans would love to hear about this, and should a letter reach the Tomoe, well, that's surely just them absconding with things not theirs and making off with it to cause Calamity.
>>6143158>I've got some questions for you... (Write in)>Do you know where these rumors about my reputation came from?>Associating with me isn't going to cause problems with your uncle, will it?Also supporting this >>6143161Guilt by association and all that.Cato does have the pretense to show up now, but with how House Silvera is possibly the source of the rumors, it's suspicious. Though the way he mentioned his uncle might support it being a genuine offer a little.
>>6143167>Adding to this, Also the new head branch of Martense. Jan's a bro.
It's strange to think that the Silvera family might be spreading vile rumours about you, but also offering you a solution to the problem. Two possibilities present themselves – that this could be a trick, an opportunity to harm you even more, or that the family is far from united. A family like the Silvera is more than large enough to have a number of squabbling factions within it. Cato, in this theory, hopefully belongs to a relatively friendly faction.Hopefully.“You're taking a bit of a risk, aren't you?” you remark, forcing a smirk, “I mean, associating with the likes of me won't cause trouble with your uncle, will it?”“I'd like to think that he trusts my judgement more than a few rumours,” Cato answers smoothly, “I already mentioned your name to him, just to test the waters. He asked if I was sure, of course, but he didn't seem especially concerned.”That rarest of things, a reasonable Silvera.“Speaking of rumours, though. I don't suppose you know where they come from, do you?” you ask, leaning back and trying to sound casual, unconcerned. Cato thinks back, then gives you the slightest of shrugs. “I can't claim to know their original source, but I first heard them from a cousin of mine. She came back from the Choir recently and, as is her habit, shared all the latest gossip – your name included,” he pauses for a moment, “She'll be joining the expedition too, if you want to ask her about them yourself.”“You're really twisting my arm now, aren't you?” you sigh, fighting back the urge to roll your eyes, “Well, fine. I'll join you – I've not got anything better to do with my time anyway. But there's one thing I'd like to get out of the way first.”Cato nods, gesturing for you to continue.“I've heard a few rumours myself. I may not be a gossip like your cousin, but I have my sources. Not the Tomoe, before you ask. But these source suggest that the rumours originated within the Silvera family itself,” you suggest, watching Cato's reaction carefully, “Your thoughts, Master Silvera?”Reaching up, the young man brushes a lock of hair away from his face with one gloved hand. “It's possible,” he concedes, “While my father has done much to moderate our family's worst instincts, there are still a rare few branches of the family who hold the world to high standards. A man like yourself, if you'll forgive me, is just as bad as the Tomoe themselves in their eyes. Although, I will admit, spreading rumours isn't their normal approach to a problem.”“You make it sound like these people are on the fringe, far from power and influence,” you continue, your verbal sparring feeling more and more like a duel with each passing comment, “But recently, just recently, my access to the Demesne has been revoked. The King, I'm told, has been put under undue pressure. The King – consider that, Master Silvera. Who could pressure the King into doing a thing like that?”[1]
>>6143201“The church, of course,” you declare, answering your own question before Cato has a chance to speak, “And the church is the domain of House Silvera.”“I can promise you this, Master Pale. My father has nothing to do with this. For one thing, he's far too busy to find the time to spread rumours,” Cato insists. Despite his calm voice, you can see a wounded caution in his eyes. Rumours were one thing, but now you're making veiled accusations about his family. “You've obviously investigated this far more than I have,” he says after a long pause, “I'm afraid there's very little that I could tell you that you don't already know – or think you know.”“Fine. Please excuse me, Master Silvera. As you can imagine, this has all been very hard on me,” you sneer, waving the topic away with an indifferent gesture, “And I certainly didn't mean to accuse you personally. You've always dealt with me in good faith, and honesty. So, I'll ask you openly. Is this expedition a pretence for further trouble?”Cato bows his head slightly, as if assuring you that no offence was taken. “This was all my idea, and I certainly mean no trouble for you,” he answers, gesturing to the knife sheathed at your hip, “Would you like me to swear on that with blood?”“There's no need for that,” you assure him, “But I'll be taking some safeguards of my own. I'd like to make sure that my friends, my associates, understand this situation and exactly what you're asking me. Just a few letters, you understand. Just to set the record straight, in case anything... unexpected does happen.”“Of course. That is your right,” he agrees, bowing his head again, “I'll even sign them myself, if you wish.”“That would be very useful,” you reply, giving Cato a mocking smile, “I'm looking forwards to working with you already.”>It's early, but I'm going to pause here – I've got some plans for next session, but I want to do some extra prep before going ahead. I'll be running again from next Saturday, and I might be able to squeeze in an extra day>Thank you for reading along today!
>>6143211Thanks for running!Dang, we came off pretty paranoid there. If Cato was genuinely on our side he might be reconsidering now.
>>6143216If he really was innocent, we can always apologize profusely after
>>6143211It's either the Silvera, or Choir screwing with us. Frankly I'm still not sure the Cacophony wasn't an actual thing, but it was the strix vanguard corrupting people instead of rogue oracles. After all corrupted entities might well have a fear effect on them.>>6143216Look we're playing Ic and we at least alid out why it's all sus. We also lost our family entire recently and just got barred from fixing the issue, which anyone competent would realize leaves us in a bad place.
>>6143211Thanks for running!It could be a combo of both House Silvera and the Choir working together to cockblock us from Gratia. Cato's uncle is still suspicious since he was the one that had first told us to drop the investigation, and the Choir has already meddled with us before with the missing prophecies thing. I don't think Sakhalin has updated us on that again even though he said they would try to follow up on that matter with the Choirmaster.
My theory right now is that Gratia is their designated "Wounded Woman", which makes Isambard an extremely....Inconvenient Existence.
>>6143216properly paranoid, and he DID catch us in a and way.>>6143211Thanks for running!>>6143375Hmm... Intriguing possibility.
The task of distributing your letters falls to Ariel, and for two main reasons. First of all, you've got no doubts that she'll follow your instructions to the letter – she is, if anything, a little bit too eager to make herself useful. Second was Cato's painstakingly polite suggestion that she isn't invited to this little expedition. If she's going to stay behind, she might as well do something productive with her time.She watches closely, with curious eyes, as you write down a careful testimony. You explain Cato's proposal before adding, at Cato's own urging, his promise to accept any blame should anything go wrong. As he dutifully signs each letter, you start to wonder if you were too harsh on the earnest young man. Certainly, he's gone out of his way to indulge your paranoia. Would a guilty man do that?Unless that's just what he WANTS you to think.“Right, that all looks good. I'll make sure these get delivered,” Ariel assures you, gathering up the letters, “In fact, I'll deliver them all personally!”“While I can't fault your enthusiasm, that might be a little too far,” you point out.“I mean, do you really want to trust these with a messenger at a time when the natural order is apt to kick you while you're down?” she counters, steering you a few paces away from Cato and lowering her voice, “Besides, I want to see what people are saying. Get a feel for how things are on the ground, you know?”You give her a non-committal grumble, reluctant to admit that she might have the right idea. “Just be careful,” you warn her, “Playing spy is all well and good, until you get in trouble.”“Worry about yourself, not me,” Ariel replies, casting a quick glance across to Cato, “And watch that one. Watch him closely.”-First by train, then by carriage, then finally by an open cart pulled by a sullen mule, you travel northwards with Cato. You watch him, as Ariel suggested, but the young man remains inscrutable. He spends most of the journey reading, but you occasionally look around at him just in time to see him looking away, as if he had been watching you just as carefully as you're watching him. Yet, you don't get the feeling of mistrust so much as curiosity.At one point, Cato takes out a rough map to show you – approximately – where you're headed. You're travelling into the northernmost reaches of the Silvera lands, where dense forests nestle up against high, craggy mountains, with the great sea of dust just beyond. The air is very still, with barely a breeze to stir the branches. You spot the occasional bird perched high up in the trees, always watching you with wide, cautious eyes. Their gaze seems to say that your presence here is tolerated, for now, but not welcomed.[1/2]
>>6146067“When we arrive at the site, I'll introduce you to everyone,” Cato says softly, as if unwilling to raise his voice in the hushed forest, “Uncle Lucian is leading the expedition, but I'm sure he can spare a few moments to speak with you, should you wish. He explored the Demesne in his youth, I'm told, although he doesn't talk to me about those days. Perhaps you might have more luck.”“Anyone else I should be aware of?” you ask, reaching for your gun as you hear a rustle in the undergrowth nearby. A moment later, a deer pokes its head through the trees before flinching away and fleeing. Sitting back and holstering your revolver, you gesture for Cato to continue.“Well, I know my cousin will be there,” he answers, “I believe I mentioned her, the-”“The gossip?”Cato grimaces. “That's not quite what I was going to say, but yes,” he admits, “Her name is Misty. Not her birth name, I should say, but one she chose for herself. She's a little... eccentric. Try to be patient with her – she means well.”Or at least, that's what he tells himself.“And I've never met the man, but there's a gentleman by the name of Steiner involved with the project. He's in charge of the logistics, organising labour and such. Local talent, you could say,” Cato pauses, frowns, “I hope he's reliable. We're quite isolated here – I'm afraid living conditions might not be up to your usual standard.”“It's fine,” you answer coolly, thinking back to the Mire of Phalaris, “I've camped out in worse places.”Cato looks curious about this, but holds back his questions. Faced with the sudden silence that falls, you search for some other way to make conversation.>Cato, have you done much field work like this before?>How come this site hasn't been discovered sooner? It's not THAT far from civilisation>You said this was an ancient church. How significant could this discovery be?>I've got something to ask you... (Write in)>Other
>>6146068>Cato, have you ever been somewhere similar to the Demense?I suspect we're going to jump into a new one out here.>What is House Silvera's attitude towards articles tainted with Calamity? I've had the displeasure of destroying one before, and it didn't quite feel scalable, and somehow I doubt the wisdom in donating them to the Tomoes.>Have you ever heard of a method to purify them somehow?
>>6146068>How come this site hasn't been discovered sooner? It's not THAT far from civilisationSilvera time, here we goooooooo
>>6146068>How come this site hasn't been discovered sooner? It's not THAT far from civilisation>>6146071I, too, wonde rif we might find another Demense-like space, like whatever the Phalarises had going on.
“Got a question for you, Cato,” you start after a moment, breaking the silence, “How come this site of yours hasn't been discovered sooner? I mean, it's not THAT far from civilisation.”“That's a bit of a long story,” Cato answers warily. He pauses, but you gesture around at the forest. It might be a long story, your gesture seems to say, but you've got time. “Well. Our lands are not as well-explored as you might expect,” he explains, “Many of our maps were lost when, ah, our family split from House Teilhard.”“The whole “civil war” thing.”“Yes. That,” he agrees awkwardly, clearing his throat and glancing around as if searching for help. Unfortunately for him, it's just the two of you and a mule here, and you don't think the mule is going to answer for him. “As I said, a great many of our maps were lost in the struggle, and we were generally... discouraged from exploring the forests too much,” Cato continues eventually, “There were always bad omens. We stuck to the well-trodden paths, and our family grew powerful. I suppose nobody ever wanted to jeopardise that.”“But something changed,” you point out, “Or else we wouldn't be here.”“Yes, something did change. Misty's mother, herself an oracle, was given guidance that led us to this place,” the young man concludes with a nod, “She is, unfortunately, too ill to travel herself, so Misty was sent in her stead. We presume that the time is right for this place to be discovered – or rather, rediscovered.”All this time, they haven't explored their own backyard because their oracles told them not to. A scornful smirk starts to form on your lips, but then you realise that you're not much different. You've not explored the grounds of your own estate, purely because your father forbade you to all those years ago.“Second question,” you decide, trying to shake off your own thoughts, “Have you ever been somewhere similar to the Demesne?”Cato considers this for a moment. “Something like the Demesne, but not actually the Demesne itself, you mean?” he wonders, frowning a little as he thinks, “I don't... think so.”“You don't sound so sure.”“I'm just not sure if I understand your question,” he admits, shaking his head, “The Demesne is a sacred place. It is, so far as I'm aware, unique.”“But you could be wrong about that.”Cato laughs. “Of course I could!” he agrees, “This world is truly vast, with a great many secrets and hidden things. I can't pretend to have seen any more than a tiny fraction of them. I've never read about a second Demesne or anything of that sort, but if it DID exist... well, I imagine that it would be a closely guarded secret.”A silence falls here. You hold your tongue, waiting for Cato to ask why you asked.But he never does.[1]
>>6146079“What's the House Silvera position on items tainted with Calamity?” you ask after a while, when it becomes clear that Cato isn't going to speak, “I've had the unfortunate task of trying to destroy one of them once, but it wasn't easy – certainly not the sort of thing that could be done at scale. I'm sure the Tomoe would be happy to take them, but I rather doubt the wisdom of handing them over.”“I don't think we have an, ah, “official” position. Some of us will, as you have done, try our best to destroy these things. But mostly, we try to seal them away where they can't do any harm,” Cato answers, “There's often a certain... reluctance to destroy them. These items are touched by Godhead and the Emanations, they still possess a lingering remnant of that grace. There is a hope that these items might, someday, be redeemed.”“Purified, you mean. Cleansed of their Calamity,” you muse, “Is there such a method?”“Not as far as I'm aware,” Cato says with a sad smile, “Not yet.”-The site is busier than you expected, with more than a dozen workers hurrying about with their tools and papers. A few more of them work a short distance away, digging trenches in the soil and sifting through the loose dirt. A cluster of tents have been set up a short distance away from the dig site, while a ruined structure of white stone looms nearby.“Oh look, there it is,” you remark, pointing to the structure, “You can stop digging now, I found your missing church. Do I get a prize?”“Unfortunately, Master Pale, our work here has only just begun,” a tall man announces, strolling over to you with an unhurried pace, “The church is fascinating, without a doubt, and we intend to study it at length. However, we've also unearthed suggestions of an even older structure here. Something long buried. If you can find THAT for us, I'll definitely find some sort of reward for you.”“Lucian Silvera, by the way,” he adds as an afterthought, “Young Cato was quite keen to bring you here. I'm eager to see if you'll live up to his expectations. But if you'll excuse me, I think I feel a headache coming on.”Having said this, Lucian swiftly moves to leave as a young woman hurries over and stares at you through her owlish glasses. With her stylishly cut grey hair and neat dress, the young woman makes for a strange contrast with the dense forest around her. “You must be the troublemaker! Hmm... you're very handsome,” she declares, looking aside to Cato, “Is that why you wanted him here?”“Cousin!” Cato groans, “You can't say-”“Oh, I'm not JUDGING. If anything, I should compliment you on your excellent taste,” she teases, turning back to you and giving you a small curtsey, “Misty Silvera-Quail, at your service!”[2/3]
>>6146090Did she just do that? Compliment Isambard to his face? Out of nowhere? Well, I never!
>>6146090Just from a short snippet of conversation, you already feel as if you've been run over by a carriage. “Quail?” you repeat, at loss for what else to say.“From my mother's side of the family,” Misty explains, “Don't you think it's simply beastly, how we're supposed to just ignore one side of our family because they married into a “better” family? Consider your own family – wouldn't you say that your mother deserves just as much recognition as your father?”“That's not actually any of your business,” you answer coldly, fixing her with a glare. Misty says nothing for a moment, studying you with curious eyes.“You're right, actually. It's not. Forget I asked, then,” she decides with a shrug, “We'll stick to business, shall we?”“I think that would be best,” you agree, pausing before adding, “Where am I supposed to start?”Saying this, you glance aside to Cato but he doesn't seem to have any more ideas than you. “I suppose I'll go and check out the dig site,” he offers at last, “I'll see if there's any way I can make myself useful. I expect Master Steiner is going to be watching over his men too – I'd like to introduce myself to him, since we'll be working together.”“That's certainly a possibility,” you agree, “Although I have a terrible suspicion that I might end up with a shovel in my hand if I do that.”“Why not go and ask Lucian for other duties, then?” Misty suggests, “Or you could help me. I'm completely allergic to manual labour, so he asked me to catalogue the church. It's totally boring work, but there's absolutely no need for a shovel!”She makes a convincing argument.>You'll accompany Cato to the dig site, even if you are risking hard work>You'll see what kind of work Lucian Silvera can scavenge up for you>You'll help Misty with her work cataloguing the church. Whatever that means>Other
>>6146098>You'll accompany Cato to the dig site, even if you are risking hard workIf we stumble into another hidden passage, it'll be there or directly under the church ruins
>>6146098>You'll accompany Cato to the dig site, even if you are risking hard workMisty has clearly intuited the truth somehow, she needs to die ASAP.
>>6146098>Hmm... you're very handsomeNo wonder we’re so popular despite our personality >You'll accompany Cato to the dig site, even if you are risking hard workWe’re gonna out swim Dan fair and square one day
“You were kind enough to invite me here, Cato,” you decide, “It would be remiss of me to leave you to handle all the hard work alone. I'll come with you.”“You don't have to do that,” Cato insists, although he doesn't try very hard to change your mind. With a slight shrug, he leads you across to the open trenches. Aside from the crunch of shovels biting into soil, a reverent silence hangs over the entire area. Looking around, you spot a few pieces of white stone emerging from the soil here and there – these, you assume, are the signs that something else is buried here. Before you can study them any further, you catch a whiff of burning tobacco on the air and glance around.Your first thought, upon seeing Master Steiner, is to wonder how often he gets mistaken for a Galsean. It's not just his thick black hair, although that certainly helps, but the vague sense of savagery about him. This is a man fully at ease within the heart of a forest, you realise.“Hey,” he calls out, his voice low and gruff, “Careful where you put your feet. If you fall and break your neck, it'll be a whole lot of trouble for me.”“We'll be careful,” Cato assures him, “Master Steiner, I presume?”“Easy there, kid. I'm not the master of anything,” Steiner corrects him, shaking his head, “But yeah, you've got the right man. Are you here to lend a hand? I've got plenty of men, but I'll never turn down an extra pair of hands. Or... a pair of pair of hands in this case.”He glances at you as he says this last part, measuring you up with his eyes. Whether he approves of what he sees or not remains a mystery for now, a secret locked away behind his dark eyes.-Stripping down to your undershirt, you take one of the shovels and follow to where Steiner indicates a half-finished trench. Apparently seeing no need to explain what he expects from you, Steiner wanders away to go check on the work elsewhere. Taking off his white cloak and nearly folding it, Cato studies the trench like a duellist weighing up his opponent.“Well?” you remark, giving him a crooked smile, “What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?”Forcing a laugh, Cato shifts his grip on his shovel and starts to dig. “I'm not quite sure what to make of Master Steiner,” he admits, keeping his voice low, “Though, I'll admit, I didn't really know what to expect.”“It's just Steiner, remember?” you point out, “He's not some high society gentleman, that's for sure. Is that going to be a problem for you?”Cato hesitates. “Of course not,” he answers after a pause, “Every man has their own set of skills, but they all have a place in the natural order regardless.”“Even the Tomoe?” you taunt. You're not sure why, but you suddenly want to push Cato, to see him get angry. But this time, you're disappointed.[1]
>>6146095Also outed her cousin >>6146120BECAUSE of our personality. We're a silver-haired bishounen swordsman with dark secrets and a biting wit, hiding a wounded heart. Chicks (and Cato) dig that shit.>>6146122Speaking of mysterious prettyboys...
>>6146122>>6146124Very Indiana Jones-esque guy here
>>6146122“Even the Tomoe,” Cato agrees evenly, “They have their place in the natural order, of course, whether they like it or not. Their problem is that they fight against that purpose, no matter how futile the struggle may be.”“Hmm,” you muse, stabbing your shovel into the ground and giving Cato a smirk, “While that may be a fascinating way of looking at things, I can't help but notice that you're not digging.”With a startled frown, Cato snatches up his shovel and gets back to work. You do the same, hacking at the packed soil and heaving great loads of soil back up onto the surface. The work is hard, soon causing the muscles in your arms to burn but also emptying your mind of unnecessary thoughts. Losing track of time, you only stop digging when Cato slaps you on the shoulder.“Let's take a break. You'll hurt yourself if you keep this up,” he tells you, rising above the lip of the trench and letting out a shrill whistle. A few moment later, a boy hurries over with a jug of water. Hauling yourself up and taking a cup, you sit down on the edge of the trench. “We've done good work,” Cato says, “At least, I think we have. I haven't dug many trenches before.”“I don't think it's that complicated,” you assure him, “Besides, I did most of the real digging. You just neatened it up around the edges.”“I'll have you know that I did just as much work as you did!” Cato insists, only to awkwardly correct himself after a moment, “...Almost as much work as you did!”“It's fine, it's the thought that counts,” you remark, still grinning, “Do you think I've paid off my debts to society yet?”You were joking, but Cato actually seems to give this some serious thought. He's still thinking when Steiner wanders over and examines your handiwork. “Good work guys,” he announces, “Except you dug it the wrong way.”“The... wrong way,” Cato repeats, his face falling.“Hey, don't worry about it. Just fill it in again and start digging the other-” Steiner stops halfway through his sentence, letting out a curt snort of laughter. “I'm kidding, I'm just kidding,” he quickly adds, “You're doing good work, no complaints here. Did you find anything?”“I wasn't aware that we were supposed to be looking,” you point out, “But aside from a whole bunch of soil, I didn't see anything.”“Damn. Well, not your fault,” Steiner sighs, gesturing around the area, “We're working in a grid, trying to cover this whole area with as little effort as possible. If anyone finds something, shards of rock or pottery or whatever, we'll focus our efforts there. Not that I'm in a hurry or anything – I'm getting paid by the day, so...”“I'll make sure to work extra slowly, just for you,” you tell him with a sneer.“Thanks kid.”[2/3]
>>6146132When Steiner leaves to harass someone else, Cato lets out a low sigh. “I should apologise,” he admits.“About Steiner?”“About Misty,” he clarifies, “She can be a little... intense. She doesn't seem to realise that other people have, um, boundaries. I could tell that she was making you uncomfortable.”You wave his concern away with a casual gesture.“Also, I fear that she grossly mischaracterised my reasons for bringing you here,” Cato continues stiffly, “I hope you didn't get the wrong idea.”“I don't know what you're talking about,” you lie, raising an eyebrow. It's not quite as good as getting him angry, but this is still amusing enough for now. Just as you're wondering where the conversation is going to go next, a shrill scream splits the air and sends you leaping to your feet. Dragging Cato upright, you join the sudden flood of workers rushing towards the source of the scream. It's coming from one of the nearby trenches, and you have to push through the crowd to see what's going on.At first, you see... nothing. A worker sits in the trench, looking shocked but increasingly embarrassed as more and more people join him. Then you see what shocked him so much – emerging from the dirt is a white hand, the fingers extended as if reaching out for him.“A statue,” Cato says, just in case anyone hadn't figured that out already.The crowd parts as Lucian strides forwards, his long coat flapping behind him like a pair of wings. He stares down into the trench for what seems like an eternity, the severe expression never leaving his face. “Here,” he announces, “Steiner. Have your people dig here, this whole area. We've found-”“Wait!” Misty interrupts, pushing her way past a pair of gawping workers, “Don't. Don't dig it up. It's... this isn't what you're looking for. I'm serious!”Lucian studies her for a moment, his eyes glinting with a cold gleam, but he says nothing.“I just... I just think we should focus on the church. You know, the actual thing we came here to find?” Misty continues, nervously fiddling with her glasses, “Then we could finish up and leave... like, as soon as possible?”>Hold your tongue. This isn't your decision to make>Speak up in Misty's support. She's the oracle here, she might be onto something>Take Lucian's side. This is obviously a significant find. You need to dig>Other
>>6146139>Hold your tongue. This isn't your decision to make
You watch cautiously, holding your tongue for now. You're not the one calling the shots here - as much as you'd like to start marching about and shouting orders, this is neither the time nor the place. You wait instead, waiting to see what Lucian has planned. The old man doesn't keep you waiting long, gesturing to a pair of the lingering workers.“You, and you,” he orders, “Put those shovels away and find something more delicate. I don't want to risk damaging that statue at all.”“But-” Misty protests, only for Lucian to interrupt her.“You don't want to be here. I know,” he snaps, “You want to be away from this place as soon as possible. I know. But this is an important find. I will NOT leave this buried just to placate your selfish wishes. I will ask you this just once – in your capacity as an oracle, have you been granted guidance warning against this statue?”Silence falls as Misty fidgets in place. “No...” she admits eventually, “I don't know, I mean-”“No,” Lucian states bluntly, turning away from her and looking back to his two chosen workers, “Work carefully please. I expect the utmost care from you both.”And that, apparently, settles the matter.-Later, when the sun dips low enough that work has to stop for the day, you all gather at a long table to share a meal. The food is nothing special, but a hearty meal is just what you needed after a day of hard work. You've been working on expanding the trenches around the buried statue, clearing space so that Lucian's chosen workers can do their thing. Most of the other workers keep their distance from the buried statue, either from an abundance of caution or a vague sense of uneasiness.“Thanks for backing me up, you ass,” Misty announces, throwing down a bowl of stew as she sits opposite you.“Excuse me,” you answer, “Was that directed at me or Cato?”“Both of you,” she decides, scowling between the two of you, “I wasn't expecting you to wrestle old Lucian to the ground and take charge, but you could've said something!”Her words are met with an uneasy silence. “Don't look at me, I'm just the hired help,” you tell her after a moment, shrugging off her anger.“And you've got to admit, you didn't actually have a good reason for leaving that statue buried,” Cato points out, “Do you really just want to go home?”“No! Well, yes, but that's not the only reason I don't like that thing,” Misty pouts, “It's creepy, don't you think?”“It's just a statue,” her cousin reminds her, trying to calm her down, “There's a statue in the church, isn't there? What, if I might ask, is the difference?”Misty doesn't answer this, merely seething in silence instead. Letting out a low sigh, Cato goes back to his meal.[1]
>>6146176If she wanted backup she should have given an actual reason
>>6146179She seems a bit loopy and bad at communication. "A touch of tism," as they say on sites such as this. She may or may not be wrong, thkugh. We, better than most, know some things should stay buried...But hey, maybe we'll get a lesson out of this?
>>6146176Finishing off his stew, Cato gets up to take his bowl away. As soon as he's out of earshot, Misty reaches across and takes hold of your wrist. “Hey, you're the expert in weird stuff, right?” she whispers, “You know what I'm talking about, don't you?”“I don't know what you're talking about, no,” you counter, “And I'm not the “expert in weird stuff”. You shouldn't believe all the gossip you hear.”“Hey, I didn't mean it in a BAD way!” Misty insists, shaking her head, “I think it's very respectable, to have such specialist knowledge and to use that knowledge to help people. I've heard that you're a big fan of helping people, especially cute girls. So, how about helping this cute girl out?”You look at Misty for a long moment, then let out a sigh. “What do you want?” you ask simply, “What are you actually asking me?”“I don't know yet, but I'll know when it happens,” she answers, forcing a carefree smile, “Let's just keep an eye on things for now, okay? We'll see what happens, and when the time is right...”She leaves her sentence hanging – presuming, you suppose, that you'll know what she's talking about.-After dropping off your dishes, you take a wander back to the main trench. The two men are still working by the light of a gas lantern, even after all their colleagues have finished for the day. One of them briefly glances up at the sound of your footsteps, then goes back to his duties. They've made good process, revealing much of the statue's raised arm. Judging by the angle, you'd guess that the statue is lying at an awkward angle, as if sunken deep into the soil.Looking at the outstretched arm, you suddenly know what Misty meant. There's something very eerie about the idea of the statue waiting beneath the soil for countless decades, even centuries. It wouldn't be nearly so bad if it was a statue of a beast, or some inanimate object, but it's not. It's a statue of a person – a woman, judging by the slender, delicate limb.A sudden surge of activity runs through the workers, causing them to crowd around the statue and claw at the soil. For a long moment, you can't see anything save for the occasional fleeting glimpse of white stone. Then, at long last, the workers step back to admire what they've just uncovered.The stone face of a beautiful woman, carved with long flowing hair... and a curved horn emerging from her skull.>I'm going to pause here for today. Current plan will be to continue tomorrow, and maybe squeeze in a shorter session on Monday if plans come together>Thank you for playing along today!
>>6146191Thanks for running!Can't believe we didn't hit Misty with "Yes I do love helping cute girls, let me know if you see any"
>>6146195Let's do that next time
>>6146195One always thinks of the best comebacks after the fact.>>6146191Hey, speaking of our mom: look, a statue of her!Thanks for running!
By morning, more of the statue has been uncovered. A small crowd has already gathered by the time you wake up, while the two men brush loose soil away from the statue with slow, sluggish motions. Judging by the gaunt, shadowed look on their faces, they've been working through the night. Looking at what they've uncovered, you can understand why.For something so ancient, the statue has been made with astonishing skill and attention to detail, the end results more akin to living flesh than anything carved from stone. You see a beautiful face with long flowing hair and curved horns, with a slender neck leading down to a shapely body. The full breasts are shamelessly bared, but the dirt blocks your gaze before your eyes can travel much lower.With a vague spasm of guilt, you pull your gaze away from the statue and glance around at the rest of the crowd. You see Cato, his expression caught between revulsion and fascination, then you spot Misty a few paces away. She meets your gaze and pulls an exaggerated grimace, silently mouthing the word “Ick” to you before turning and skulking off in the direction of the church. Just as you're wondering if you should follow her, you hear a low murmur of voices as Lucian arrives on the scene.Silence falls as the crowd of workers parts before him, backing away from the tall old man. He studies the statue with a cold, clinical eye before nodding in apparent approval. “Good work. You two, get some rest,” he orders, pointing to the exhausted workers, “I'll need some men to take over.”He has no shortage of volunteers.-Later, as if united by some unspoken agreement, you meet with Cato and Misty in the ancient church. From the outside, the church seemed relatively untouched by time but the interior tells another story. The stone tiles underfoot are cracked and broken, with grass and vegetation pushing up between the gaps. Moss clings to much of the walls, save for a few small sections that Misty must have scraped clean. Another statue dominates the church as a whole, albeit one that is carved in a far more acceptable style. No horns, for one thing. Plus, it's sculpted to be wearing clothes.“Nice place you've got here,” you remark, casting an idle look around the old church, “But you should do something about the moss.”“Well I've been TRYING, but there's only so much I can do on my own. I'll have you know that I've already ruined my nails. What more do you want me to sacrifice?” Misty snipes back, “But, impossible as it may seem, we do actually have more important problems than just my poor victimised fingernails. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?”“Of course,” you assure her with a smirk, “I think I hurt my back with all that digging yesterday...”“You're the absolute worst,” she mutters at you.[1/2]
>>6146645“I presume you mean the statue out there,” Cato suggests, stepping in to defuse the argument before it can begin, “It's strange, yes, but I think you're getting a little carried away. What, exactly, are you so worried about?”“For one thing, it's making me feel inadequate,” Misty complains, flapping a hand towards her somewhat modest chest, “And it's just... it's weird and gross and I hate it.”“That isn't very exact,” the silver-haired young man points out with a sigh, “I'm in no position to make an expert judgement, but I would guess that it's a relic from some old, pre-unification religion. It has no business being on church land, I'll give you that much, but I don't see any reason to panic. Master Pale. Isambard. What do you think?”You're not sure if you like the implication here, that you're the one who should know. “Lucian didn't seem especially surprised to see it,” you suggest after a moment's thought, “Interpret that however you wish.”“Are you suggesting...” Cato begins, only to pause and reconsider his words, “What ARE you suggesting?”“I'm not suggesting anything. Like I said, interpret that however you wish. You should know the man better than I do, is this the sort of way he might normally act?”This question hangs, frozen, in the air for a moment. “Lucian has a lot of papers in his tent, but he hasn't let anyone else see them,” Cato suggests slowly, as if unsure of his own words, “I can't believe I'm suggesting this, but if we were to keep him distracted elsewhere...”“I might be able to sneak in and take a look,” you agree, “It's a possibility. What else do we have?”“I saw him arguing with Steiner this morning,” Misty offers, “I don't know what it was about, I'm not that good at eavesdropping, but they both looked pretty annoyed by the end of it. We could try and find Steiner, see what it was all about – I rather expect that he'll be more willing to talk than Lucian.”“I don't think...” Cato begins, only to hesitate once more, “I don't think it's fair, being so suspicious. Need I remind you that Uncle Lucian hasn't done anything wrong? Interfering with the project is only going to make his job harder, and our lives more difficult. So far, I don't see any reason to step in and cause trouble.”>But we don't know for certain. If you keep him busy, I'll sneak a look at Lucian's papers>We need to understand what's going on here. This argument might be part of it, and Steiner can tell us what happened>I think Cato's right. We're all getting a little too paranoid. Let's just wait and see for now>I've got an idea... (Write in)>Other
>>6146646>We need to understand what's going on here. This argument might be part of it, and Steiner can tell us what happenedTalking to Steiner still falls within the bounds of "trying to help">Are any of these workers Galsean? This'll be a different thing entirely if someone recognizes this horned woman as galsean....or even llioger
>>6146645oh no, she IS pretty>>6146646>I think Cato's right. We're all getting a little too paranoid. Let's just wait and see for nowbut afterwards...>Sneak off alone to ask Steiner about the argument
>>6146646>>I've got an idea... (Write in)Contact the Major, we've got another Galsean Idol we need "burried" or at least advice on.
>>6146648+1Is this thing even Galsean? Let's make sure before we consider >>6146654
>>6146646>We need to understand what's going on here. This argument might be part of it, and Steiner can tell us what happened>>6146654Is this even possible to do time effectively? The only way I remember contacting him is face to face. Don't think he has his own telegraph or anything equivalent.
>>6146657>Is this even possible to do time effectively? Yeah... I don't know about the viability of reaching Major effectively from this Silvera dig-site, with him living in a tent city in the slums of a distant city.
“We need to understand what's going on here. This argument might be part of it, so we need to hear what it's about. Like you said, Steiner seems more likely to talk than anyone else,” you decide, nodding slightly to Misty, “Maybe we're just getting a little too paranoid, but I don't want to risk it. I'm concerned that the statue we uncovered might be Galsean.”“Galsean? Here?” Cato repeats, his eyes widening, “That seems... unlikely to say the least.”“Maybe so, but I want to get a second opinion,” you insist, “I've got a friend I can contact. Maybe Steiner will let us borrow one of his men to carry a message...”Cato doesn't look fully convinced, but you don't need him to be. Leaving him to brood in the ancient church, you set off to find Steiner with Misty haunting your steps. As you search through the camp, you take the time to examine the hired workers. So far as you can tell, none of them look like Galseans. They're all local men by the looks of them, fair-haired and familiar. As you're looking, though, you notice that a few workers are missing – there seems to be fewer of them than there was when you first arrived.“You know, I poke fun at him, but I'm actually glad to see Cato making a friend,” Misty says to you as you search the camp, “He could really use one. Lately, he's been so... troubled.”“Troubled?” you repeat, feigning interest.“Yeah. I mean, he's never been cheerful or anything like that, but these last few months... I don't know,” she shrugs, “Has he said anything to you?”“We're not exactly close friends, you know,” you point out, spotting the black-haired man lingering at the very edge of the camp. As you're approaching him, a thought occurred. “Oh right, Cato did mention something about the Demesne. He said he'd run into some kind of beast, and he wasn't brave enough to confront it. Something like that, at least,” you recall, “If I had to guess, I'd say he was beating himself up about it.”Misty considers this in an unusually thoughtful silence before shrugging again. She lets the matter lie as you raise a hand to greet Steiner. He returns your hail with a faintly mocking salute, lighting a fresh cigarette as you approach. “Slacking off?” he asks, looking between you and Misty, “There's a little clearing just south of here, about a twenty minute walk. Nice little place for a bit of privacy.”“That's... good to know, but that's not why we're here,” you tell him, “I heard you had an argument with Lucian.”Steiner raises an eyebrow. “Even if I did, what's it to you?” he asks, in a not unfriendly voice.“We're just trying to smooth things over, make sure there's no issues that might cause problems for the dig,” you lie, “So, this argument...”“A gentlemen shouldn't discuss private matters,” Steiner remarks, only to crack a grin, “But I'm no gentleman.”[1]
>>6146666“I'm warning you now, though, this might not be as interesting as you're expecting,” Steiner continues, “I told him about the statue, and... well, I suggested a few things that we could do with it. Namely, selling it. I know a few people who might be interested, and I told old Lucian that I could handle all the negotiations – all for a very reasonable cut of the profits.”“Shall I assume that this went down badly?” Misty asks.“Went down like a cup of cold sick, as my mother used to say. Which is to say, yeah, badly. That old boy was furious!” Steiner chuckles, “He actually threatened to chase me off this site if I suggested that one more time. Now, I'm fairly sure that was an empty threat, but I don't want to push my luck. From now on, I'm keeping my opinions to myself.”Steiner was right – that wasn't as interesting as you had been expecting. Perhaps he notices your annoyance, because he laughs and continues talking.“Hey, I'm just giving you the short version. Lucian said a whole bunch of stuff, mostly about how important this discovery could be. One thing really stuck with me,” the black-haired man recalls, “He said that this was a discovery worth any sacrifice.”“Oh,” Misty says, pausing a moment before adding, “That's... concerning.”“Deeply concerning,” you agree. You've seen far too many sacrifices already. “Steiner, I need to send a message to a colleague of mine,” you tell him, “Can I borrow one of your people?”“That depends. Where is this colleague of yours?”“Portsmaw,” you admit, watching as a grimace passes across Steiner's face. “I know, I know. It's a long way. But, I think I've got an idea. If your man can take a message to the nearest telegram station, he can wire a message to the Portsmaw museum. I've got a contact there who should be able to help us. Does that sound any better?”He considers this, then shrugs. “Sure, I guess, so long as you're paying for the telegram,” he decides, “I can spare a man for a few days, long enough for him to send your message and come back.”Borrowing paper and pen, you write down a careful description of the horned statue. It would be easier to send a sketch, but that would require a messenger to deliver it by hand. As you're handing the message over to Steiner, Misty grabs your sleeve and drags you a few paces away.“So, um, about this whole “sacrifice” thing...” she begins, “I'm almost entirely certain that Lucian was just being, you know, figurative about it, but... do you think we should say something to him?”“Confront him, you mean?”“I was hoping for something a little less... confrontational,” Misty admits, “More of a friendly chat, maybe?”>It's a good idea. We should see what he has to say for himself>Better to leave it for now. Let's get back to Cato, see what he thinks>I've got a few more questions for Steiner... (Write in)>Other
>>6146681>It's a good idea. We should see what he has to say for himselfWe're ultimately still going to need to help him dig it up. Unless Misty and Cato have greater influence among the Silvera, there's no point levying accusations until someone actually gets hurt. Or worse.
>>6146681>Let's try the sneak into his tent plan first, before we do anything that might alert him to us snooping.
>>6146681>Before we do anything get Misty and CAto read in on the Magna Mater. That some Tomoe agents were worshipping her ostensibly as a way to manipulate people, that Galseans fear her, and that a cult of hers was responsible for human sacrifice for the Galsean Tomoe equivalent. Oh, also that the Galseans are scared shitless of harming her stuff. Just don't tell them of our suspicions of our parentage.
>>6146681>Better to leave it for now. Let's get back to Cato, see what he thinksWe can explain what we found at the Red Hook Trading Co. it should at least preempt needing to wait to get Cato on side.
>>6146681>Better to leave it for now. Let's get back to Cato, see what he thinks>Are your men okay? I've noticed that some were missing.We've already had bad experiences with finding ancient white stone and statues with the Albershot Lodge and the Ivory Shoulder.
>>6146681>It's a good idea. We should see what he has to say for himself
>>6146692>>6146693+1Also>Are your men okay? I've noticed that some were missing.Good question. Ask Steiner this before we return to Cato.>>6146681
“Better that we leave it for now,” you tell Misty, “I want to see what Cato has to say about all this. There's something I need to tell you all about. Better that we don't do anything hasty just yet.”“You know, I'm so glad you said that,” Misty admits, “I really didn't want to get in another argument with Lucian, so-”“But before we go, there's something I need to ask our friend over there,” you interrupt, nodding back to Steiner. Misty shrugs, letting go of your sleeve and allowing you to walk back over to him. “How are your people holding up, Steiner?” you ask him, with a vague gesture back towards the dig site, “I couldn't help but notice that we're missing a few.”“Ah, that's the problem with getting ignorant peasants. They handle manual labour well, and they come cheap, but they can be awfully suspicious,” he answers, waving the subject away with a casual flick of his hand, “I reckon that a few of them took one look at that statue and sneaked out on us. It's fine – now that we know where to dig, we don't need quite so many men.”“I see,” you pause, “And it doesn't strike you as strange that they disappear like this while Lucian is talking about sacrifice?”Steiner's eyes widen. “Hey, hey. Let's not jump to conclusions!” he insists, lowering his voice, “They haven't, ah, disappeared. I know exactly where they are. Nothing to worry about, kid. Better that you don't know where they went.”You don't answer this, merely fixing him with a cold glare.“Okay, so you want to know where they went. You're not going to cut me any slack, are you?” Steiner sighs, “I sent them to talk business with a few of my contacts, see what this statue might be worth. Just as a precaution, you know?”You let out a sigh of your own. It's certainly better than the alternative, but you don't like this idea much either. It's all too easy to imagine some wealthy trader sending his thugs to try and take by force what Lucian won't sell them.-When you return to the dig site, you see that the rest of the statue has been uncovered. The workers have pulled it upright with ropes, allowing the statue to stand upright for the first time in uncountable years. They seem fascinated, but just looking at it causes your stomach to churn with unease. One of the statue's arms is raised towards the sky, but your eyes are immediately drawn to the other hand, held coquettishly over her navel.“Ugh,” Misty mutters, “Maybe we should cover it up with a sheet or something.”“You could suggest it, sure,” you joke, forcing a smirk, “But I think you'll be outvoted.”“Ugh,” she repeats, turning away and hurrying up towards the church. You start to follow, only to glance back as you see Lucian out of the corner of your eye. He stares at the statue with a cold intensity, his face almost as hard and impassive as that of the statue himself. With a faint shudder, you turn and follow Misty to the church.[1]
>>6146715“What do you know of the Magna Mater?” you begin, sitting down in the ancient church with Cato and Misty. Not much, judging by their blank looks. “The Magna Mater is one of the Galsean's gods – and before either of you starts, we're not having a debate about whether they're real gods or not,” you continue, giving them a scowl of warning, “The Magna Mater is a god of blood and beasts, supposedly capable of twisting men into different shapes. She's often represented as a horned woman. Do you see where I'm going with this?”“When you said it might be Galsean, you meant that that statue may be an icon of this... entity,” Cato deduces, pronouncing the word with no small amount of distaste.“Exactly. The Galseans, for the most part, fear the Magna Mater. Drawing her attention is said to be a grave error. But, there are some who worship her – the Black Wanderers are one such cult, but I don't doubt that there are more,” you explain, “In Portsmaw, they carried out hideous sacrifices in the hope of attracting the Magna Mater's gaze. I worry that a similar thing may happen here. Lucian said that this statue was a discovery worthy of any sacrifice.”A cold silence falls. “A figure of speech,” Cato suggest, but with a hint of hesitation.“Maybe,” you reply, “I hope so.”“I've never really know Lucian to, frankly, care about Galsean history or whatever you want to call it,” Misty says slowly, a thoughtful look crossing her face, “Does anyone really care about that stuff here?”“The Tomoe do. Or, at least, they see the Magna Mater as a way to spread subversion and Calamity,” you answer, your words causing Cato's eyes to narrow. “Then, perhaps this statue should be destroyed,” he suggests. His voice is hard, but brittle. Looking at him now, listening to him speak, you know that he doesn't quite believe his own words. It's like he was saying earlier – this too may be part of the Godhead's design, this too may be somehow redeemed.“I wouldn't recommend it,” you urge, “The Galseans believe that destroying an icon of the Magna Mater is an ill omen too. Maybe that's just superstition, but I'd rather not put it to the test if I can help it. If my contact was here, I think he'd tell us to bury that thing – to bury it deep.”“Hmm,” Misty murmurs, “If only someone had been saying that we shouldn't dig-”“Cousin,” Cato interrupts sternly, “This isn't the time. You can be smug later.”“But I want to be smug now!” she whines.These idiots are going to be the death of you.>It's a bit early, but I'm going to pause here. I don't think I'll be able to run a session tomorrow – real life isn't being cooperative at the moment. So, I'll take some time for prep and then continue on Saturday.>Thanks for sticking around!
>>6146715>HornedChild1Intriguing...>>6146730Thanks for finding time in your apparently quite hectic schedule to tell this awesome story. I'm enjoying it a lot. See you next weekend!
>>6146730Thanks for running!It was buried too shallow, we dug it up so we could properly rebury it deeper
>>6146730Thanks for running!Both Cato and Misty have been fun to hang out with so far.
Testing, testing.I've recently got a new computer, just making sure everything still works as it shouldLive in five minutes or so assuming everything is okay.
Save for the harsh sound of Misty scraping moss from the stone church walls, silence descends over your little shelter. Outside, you can hear the distant sounds of men at work as they attack the soil with their picks and shovels. You wonder about the fury that drives them. What else is there to find out there, what fresh mysteries are waiting to be discovered?But then, perhaps you’re not better. After all, Misty is still scraping away at the moss as if all the secrets of the universe might be hidden beneath. Leaving her to her work, you move out to the doorway and sit beside Cato on a low, broken wall. He flinches a little as you approach, his hand automatically reaching for the long dagger sheathed at his hip. When he realises this, he draws his hand back and attempts a thin, humourless smile.“...I think I owe you an apology,” Cato says after a long silence.“For what?” you ask, glancing around in surprise before letting out a bitter laugh. “For this?” you continue, gesturing back towards the dig site, “This is nothing, Cato.”“Really?” he murmurs, studying you closely. “Consider yourself forgiven,” you assure him, although with a trace of uneasiness. There’s a feverish light in his eyes, almost a kind of desperation. Whether it’s born of guilt or insecurity or whatever else, your words soothe it somewhat. “Anyway, that’s not important now,” you add, hoping to move the conversation along, “Right now, we need to… good grief, that noise is annoying. Misty!”“What?” she shouts back, “I’m WORKING.”Marching back into the ruined church’s main chamber, you gesture furiously at the mossy walls. While you will admit that there are some elegant engravings there, they don’t show anything beyond decorative swirls.“You never know,” Misty answers your unspoken question, a pout on her face, “All the secrets of the universe might be hidden beneath that! Yes, the odds of that are fairly low, but-”“Wait,” Cato interrupts, moving to join you and holding up a hand. Miraculously, Misty does actually fall silent and listen. Outside, you can hear raised voices coming from the dig site – and even without making out the exact words, there’s no mistaking the fury and anger in them.-The sudden storm of violence has already passed by the time you arrive back at the dig site. The workers mill about in a sullen crowd, a few of them nursing bloodied noses or bruised faces. Steiner stands at a careful distance, looking exasperated by the display. You glance around, but Lucian is nowhere to be seen. “What happened here?” you ask, fixing Steiner with a firm look.“Just a little spot of trouble, nothing to worry yourself with,” the older man replies, “Your boss wanted a few volunteers to help move the statue, and some of the men got a little… enthusiastic. That’s all.”[1/2]
>>6149990“Enthusiastic,” you repeat dryly, looking back at the wounded men, “Hopefully that’s the end of it. The last thing we need is for them to start tearing each other apart with their bare hands because they got overexcited. Keep them under control, will you? And what about Lucian?”“He’s back in his tent. Said he had a headache, so he left me to supervise,” Steiner shrugs, “Your man Lucian, does he get these headaches often?”“Not really,” Cato answers, at the exact same moment that Misty says, “Yeah, kinda often.”They both pause, looking at each other in confusion. “Well, he always seems to get headaches when I’m around!” Misty insists, a defensive tone in her voice.“No, that makes sense,” Cato sighs, shaking his head.Leaving them to bicker, you cross over to the pit where the statue still waits. You’re not sure why Lucian wants it moved, but the work hasn’t begun yet. A cluster of workers surround the statue, holding ropes and glaring at you with territorial menace in their eyes, but they move away as you approach. You have the sudden feeling that if it was anyone else, they really might attack. But, perhaps drawing some curious comparison between the flawless white stone and your pale skin, they hang back.Kneeling down beside the statue, you wonder about the things its lifeless stone eyes might have seen. What kind of sacrifices were offered to it, what orgiastic rites were held before the watching gaze?A tiny spot of red blood stains the base of the statue, perhaps shed during the brief, savage brawl. Reaching out, you touch the blood and feel a shiver running down your spine. There’s a power slumbering here, perhaps roused by the taste of fresh blood. A Lesson, for those bold enough to accept it.>Embrace this Lesson, and see what tales the statue has to tell>Reject this Lesson. This knowledge, this power, should stay buried>Other
>>6149992>Embrace this Lesson, and see what tales the statue has to tellFor Gratia, if nothing else. We need all the knowledge we can acquire.
>>6149992>“Well, he always seems to get headaches when I’m around!” Misty insists, a defensive tone in her voice.>“No, that makes sense,” Cato sighs, shaking his head.lmao>>6149992>>Other>Grab someone else to take the Lesson.I'm thinking Lucien, but if he won't move, Cato. Lucien hasn't been particularly handsy with the thing despite finding it so important. Misty might be safer, but I don't think Cato would be happy with the outcome.
>>6150015What? Why give it to someone else?
>>6149992>Reject this Lesson. This knowledge, this power, should stay buriedI think we've seen a lesson about how an unchecked lust for power is bad
>>6150018Because I think it's either a trap or tinged in Calamity.We all get the hibbie jibbies from it, but Lucien insists on its importance to the point of sacrifice. That reads to me like he wants someone to bear the burden of something from the statue, and oh look! It's offering power!
>>6149992>Embrace this Lesson, and see what tales the statue has to tellYou guys are so scared. Surely Mom wouldn’t hurt us
>>6150021Well yeah, look who she chose as the father
You hesitate, your fingers hovering close to the bloodstain. There’s a power to this statue, something that may already have started to seep into the workers here – and perhaps even Lucian himself. Yet, you feel certain that you have nothing to fear. These other men are of weak moral character, and that is why they’re vulnerable, but you’re made of sterner stuff.And besides, there’s something special about this Lesson, something that calls out to you – or perhaps there’s something within you that resonates with it, like the sound of your own voice echoing back to your ears. Others may fall and fail, but you can master this power.With your mind made up, you press your hand against the white stone and open your mind to-THE TALE OF THE STONE GODDESS.It is the long night, the long dark. Your people have lived in this haunted land for generations, never truly knowing peace or comfort. By day, you wage war over scraps of land and scavenge enough food to last through the night. By night, your dreams are stalked by the cries of night owls, ancestral terrors drawn from the depths of race-memory.Giants walked this land once, but no more. The ancient remnants of their great cities of white stone still dot the land, although men know to avoid them, and their other secrets are well buried.But sometimes, something is unearthed.-It was Bleddyn who first found the statue. Bleddyn the Wolf, one of the best warriors in your clan. Bleddyn, who so recently led your clan to victory in one of the frequent skirmishes with the neighbouring clans. And so, when Bleddyn announced that he owed his victory to the unearthed goddess, his words were met with caution. Your people have always worshipped the beauty of the full moon, the vastness and terror of the night sky. Why risk drawing their ire with the worship of strange new gods?But slowly, insidiously, Bleddyn extends his reach over the rest of the clan. With each victory you claim, more and more of the young warriors join in with his ecstatic rituals and celebrations. Even some of the priestesses are swayed, sensing some kinship with the moon in the statue’s unearthly white stone. Even those who lacked faith were drawn to the results, swept up in the thrill of victory and seduced by the decadent rites held each and every night. Soon, barely anyone remains who remembers the old ways and honours the full moon.Yet despite the victorious battles and the promise of pleasure, you remained aloof. You sensed something sinister in the rites, sensed that your people were becoming something animalistic and inhuman. When Bleddyn defined a virgin priestess, using her maiden’s blood to anoint the statue in preparation for some grand rite, you decided that something must be done.[1/2]
>>6150033Together with your sister, herself a respected priestess, you started to draw your plans against him. Bleddyn’s influence has spread to warriors and priestesses alike, but that may be his undoing. Should his cult be divided, they could fall into infighting and chaos. Any rite Bleddyn has planned would be foiled, his hold over your clan shattered.Such is your sister’s approach, but your instincts cry out for a more direct attack. Bleddyn’s orgiastic rites are exhausting, often sending him slinking into his tent to rest and recover. You could set upon him there, when he’s weak, and end his life. Even a great warrior such as him can be brought low during a moment of weakness.Yet for all your plans, there remains an unspoken question – why bother? If your clan are willing to shackle themselves to a madman and his goddess, why risk yourselves to save them? Your people have always been nomads, it would be no hardship to break away from the clan and retreat into exile.>You’ll catch Bleddyn in his tent, recovering from his excesses, and you’ll end him yourself>You’ll sow division within his cult, the priestesses and warriors he has swayed to his side>You’ll go into exile. Your clan may have fallen from grace, but you refuse to be dragged down with them
>>6150034>You’ll go into exile. Your clan may have fallen from grace, but you refuse to be dragged down with them
>>6150034>>You’ll go into exile. Your clan may have fallen from grace, but you refuse to be dragged down with them
>>6150034>You’ll sow division within his cult, the priestesses and warriors he has swayed to his sideA taste of their own medicine
You spend long hours talking with your sister – your other half, the only one you can trust. Whenever your anger threatens to boil over into open conflict and bloodshed, her coldness is there to soothe your temper. Like the full moon itself, she casts an icy white light over your plans and schemes. Ruthlessly stripping away all hope and delusion, all fantasies, she leaves you with one last option.Not one of them can be saved. Your clan has fallen, casting off the grace of the old gods, and there can be no redemption. Bleddyn is a sickness, but his madness would not have taken root if not for your clan’s weakness.“Not one of them is worth saving,” she murmurs to you, her arms draped languidly around your shoulders.“Not one.”“So be it,” she whispers, “We have each other. We don’t need them.”With your minds made up, you start to prepare for the dangerous journey ahead. Gathering supplies where you can, you feel the blank, glassy eyes of Bleddyn’s followers upon you. Whispers follow you wherever you tread, and you sense a conspiracy forming. What if Bleddyn doesn’t mean to let you leave? He has offered blood to his goddess already, what if his grand rite requires a greater sacrifice?Night falls, and you return to your sister with your purloined supplies. Donning your cloak, you stand by as she adorns herself in the sacred silver jewellery that her former colleagues have cast off. Sheathing a long dagger at your hip, you take her by the hand and guide her towards the edge of your camp. Even before you reach the treeline, you know that your escape into exile will not be so easily. Lit by the light of burning torches, Bleddyn’s followers await you.Draped in ragged furs and masked with animal skulls, the cultists flaunt their degenerate savagery beneath the faintest guise of humanity. You draw your dagger and ready yourself for a fight, but the cultists make no move to attack. They simply part, allowing Bleddyn himself to approach with a mocking swagger.“You’ll miss the festivities,” he sneers, pulling aside his bone mask to reveal a face distorted by ritual scars and a lustful fangs. You say nothing, unwilling to grant him the honour of hearing your voice.“You have no idea,” Bleddyn continues, his voice dropping low, “The things I’ve seen, the things I’ve been shown. The Great Mother will grant us bodies anew. Not this gross matter, but the bodies we were always meant to have. I wish you could see it, old friend. But… it is not to be. Go, if you must. But you will always regret what you have abandoned.”“No, Bleddyn the Wolf,” your sister declares, her voice as sharp and cold as the dagger in your hand, “It is you who will know regret.”[1]
>>6150074“Your grand aspirations will turn to dust in your hands, and leave you with nothing,” she continues, “You will be granted a new form, yes, but it will be a form better suiting your true nature. Perhaps you think you know what this will be. You are wrong, Bleddyn the Wolf. You will be destroyed, as men such as you always are, and nothing will be left of you.“Even your goddess will be forgotten,” the priestess hisses, “buried deep to slumber beneath the soil for one hundred generations.”And then you leave, but not before see the terror in Bleddyn’s eyes. He casts his gaze up towards the sky in search of the moon, that he might ask for forgiveness, but it is futile. The moon has turned its face away from him. For him, there is only the Eclipse.-You jolt back with a shudder, pulling your hand away from the statue. A sickly feeling churns in the base of your stomach, but a few deep breathes help to settle your nerves. The Lesson has left you shaken, but also with a faint sense of… disappointment. It’s the feeling of a story left without an ending, the true meaning of the tale left in obscurity. You’re missing something, but what?[Solitude Attunement increased by 1]A dull thud rings out as Cato drops down into the pit beside you. “Are you okay?” he asks, brushing loose dust from his uniform, “You were lost in thought.”“This statue destroyed the last set of people who worshipped it,” you answer bluntly, still shaking off the last remnants of your nausea. Cato stares at you in disbelief, and you feel a sudden pang of pity for the earnest young man. He wouldn’t understand, no matter how you tried to explain it to him. He may have plumbed the depths of the Demesne like you, but his Lessons are not like yours. His come from a purer place, an orderly world laid out in holy scriptures. Yours are…Different.“I think we should get you out of here,” he says, touching you lightly on the arm. You’re not sure if he means out of the pit, the dig site, or the Silvera territories as a whole.-Not entirely willingly, you let Cato lead you back out from the pit and back towards your impromptu base in the church. Misty buzzes around you like a fly, cooing with questions and vague suggestions of concern, but you do your best to ignore her. Despite Cato treating you like a cripple, you can walk perfectly fine by yourself. You stumble only once, when you glance back towards the statue. Just for a moment, the sunlight pouring down upon the white stone makes it seem as if her hands are soaked with blood. The illusion is gone a moment later as a cloud passes across the sky, dampening the red-gold light and washing the blood away.[2]
>>6150092When you arrive back at the church, you see an unexpected figure awaiting you. Lucian Silvera sits on the low, broken wall, fiddling with a pocket watch as he waits. His brow is creased with the distant echo of pain, his mouth set in a hard white line. “Misty,” he begins, only barely glancing up from the watch, “Leave us, please.”“What?” Misty protests, “Why?”“Because you irritate me. Go,” Lucian answers bluntly, jerking his head back towards the dig site. She hesitates for a moment more, then turns and stomps off. Cato half turns to watch her leave, as if caught between the duty to go after her and the relief at being apart from her.“Cato,” the old man says after a further pause, “Do you know why I brought you here?”The question seems to take Cato by surprise. “I… assumed it was so I could get some field experience,” he answers cautiously, “Was that… not the case?”“That is true, to an extent. You have spent much of your life in your father’s shadow, Cato. You’ve followed the path that he has laid out for you, as a dutiful son should, but you know so very little about the wider world. The world outside your cloistered upbringing. You’ve spent too long chasing dreams in the Demesne,” Lucian explains, his tone and words both as dry as old wood, “I brought you out here so you could, metaphorically speaking, get your hands dirty.”“I have more than enough dirt on my hands already,” Cato whispers, his voice so low that you can just barely hear it.“The world is nowhere near as neat and tidy as the church would have you believe,” the old man concludes with a gesture towards you, “You know this, Master Pale. You’ve seen this. The Godhead’s light is like a great lantern, casting a brilliant light around us… but just beyond that light lies an ocean of darkness, and that ocean is not lifeless.”“Tell me, Master Pale,” Lucian continues, his weary eyes turning to you, “You saw something today, didn’t you?”Cato turns to look at you too, his own gaze hazy with confusion and uncertainty.>Tell the truth about your Lesson>Lie, and claim that you saw nothing>Lie, and tell them a fake version of the Lesson>Other
>Going to stick a pin in this here and check back tomorrow - I feel weirdly out of practice with writing, so things have been taking longer than I usually like. Working from a new keyboard sucks - so many typos.>Thank you for reading, and I'll be back tomorrow!
>>6150097>OtherDoes it matter? We didn't need to see anything new, or some miraculous flash of insight to be able to tell him that the statue is not a good thing to have around but he won't listen so there is no point arguing. Things are already going to end poorly, the least he could do is explain why he needs to do this.
>>6150097>Tell the truth about your Lesson
>>6150097>Tell the truth about your LessonCan’t see a reason to keep it secret, especially if it’s gonna draw the camp into performing blood rituals
>>6150097>Tell the truth about your LessonWe just sent Misty outside with the statue that convinces people to sacrifice people to it.Alone.This can’t possibly end badly.
>>6150097>Tell the truth about your LessonDisaster waiting to happen here.
>>6150113+1 to this.>>6150111I feel that. Some days be like that, QM. Thanks for running.
You’ve always felt an understandable degree of reluctance to discuss the Lessons you’ve learned. It’s only natural – many of the things you’ve seen are hardly suitable for polite conversation. But beyond that, your initial instinct is to jealously hoard this knowledge for yourself. Your first thoughts are no different here, but something in Lucian’s eyes gives you pause. There’s no madness in his eyes, no sign of an unbalanced mind. He just looks… tired.“What does it matter?” you ask wearily, spreading your hands wide, “What difference does it make? No matter what I’ve seen, it won’t change that this statue is bad news. I’d like to think that you’re no fool, Master Silvera. Not the kind of fool who would seek out knowledge of blood sacrifice and degenerate rituals.”“It matters, Master Pale, because we are more than just men. We are a continuation of history. We deserve to know what we have inherited,” Lucian answers, “Think about it. It cannot be a coincidence that this church, perhaps the first church raised in Delphinia’s name, was founded here. This was a sacred place long before the Unification Wars. I presume you’re familiar with Professor Hodgson’s work, yes?”“I won’t claim to be an expert,” you admit, hesitating a little when you recognise the name, “He believed that we share a common origin with the Galseans – or, at least, our faiths do.”“We’re both groping blindly towards the same primordial truth,” the old man agrees, a grim smile forming on his lips, “It may be that that truth will destroy us, but we search nonetheless.”Cato steps forth, raising a hand as if pleading for silence. “Uncle, please think about what you’re proposing,” he asks, his gaze darting between Lucian and you, “If what you’re saying is true, it could shake the very foundations of the church, perhaps even our family too!”“I am a scholar above all else, Cato. My loyalty lies with the truth, not the church,” Lucian counters, “If those foundations are built on a falsehood, perhaps they should be shaken. Let them fall to ruins, that something stronger might rise in their place.”“I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you, Master Silvera,” you interrupt, before Cato can launch into a rebuttal, “My Lesson will be of little use to you. I saw nothing that might prove your theory, or link this statue with your church. I saw barbarians, squabbling over power and influence. This statue was there, yes, but I saw no Godhead. They worshipped the moon, until this stone goddess swayed them. Their rites were bloody and decadent, but ultimately futile. They learned no greater truth and, in the end, they too fell to ruin. This statue is their only legacy.”And what a sorry legacy that is.[1/2]
>>6150631Lucian hesitates, a confused mixture of emotions passing across his face – you see irritation and suspicion, as if he doubts your honesty, then finally disbelief as the truth sinks in. Whatever he had been expecting you to say, this wasn’t it. “This alone proves nothing,” he decides, a dark scowl crossing his face, “There may yet be more evidence here. We may need to go further back. It may need-”“It may need a sacrifice?” you finish, giving Lucian a cold stare, “Is that what you were going to say?”“Of course not,” the old man states, “This discovery may be important, vitally important, but spilling blood would achieve nothing. This project, like any task of value, will require hard work and dedication. Great discoveries are not made overnight. We shall depart, for now, and seek further information. Perhaps I will return later, when-”“Wait!” a shrill voice calls out, and you turn just in time to see Misty racing into the church. She clutches a crumpled bundle of papers in one hand, and a tiny pocket revolver in the other. “Get away from him, you two,” she adds, waving the revolver in Lucian's general direction, “Don’t move, put your hands up!”Her words are met by a puzzled silence. “Which one is it?” Lucian asks after a pause, “If I put my hands up, will you shoot me for moving?”“Just… ugh!” Misty protests, “Stop playing innocent, I know what you’re REALLY up to! Just look at what I found in his tent!”Lucian’s face tightens with irritation, and a trace of carefully controlled panic, as Misty flings the bundle of papers down in front of you. You snatch one up, smoothing it out and glancing it over. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the flamboyant signature at the bottom of the letter – a signature spelling out the name “Janus Tomoe.”“What is it?” Cato asks sharply, his hand hovering over the long sword sheathed at his hip.“He’s been in contact with the Tomoe,” you answer, reading some more of the letter, “They’re the ones who told him about this statue, not Misty’s mother. They’re the ones who led us out here!”With a ring of steel, Cato draws his sword and points it towards Lucian. His face remains impassive, but you can see his hand trembling with a suppressed rage. “And you called yourself an ally of the truth,” he spits, an ugly streak of contempt darkening his words, “I see only two possibilities – either you’re woefully misguided, or you’re a traitor to this family. Which one is it?”“Don’t be ridiculous, put that sword down. And you, stop waving that gun about!” Lucian hisses, scowling at Misty, “Someone could get hurt.”Someone is about to.>Hold back. Let the Silvera take care of their own business>Try to talk Cato down. There might be a rational explanation for all this>This isn't the time for talking. Tackle Cato down before he does anything rash>Other
>>6150633>OtherAsk Misty to put the gun down, draw our own and Assist Cato. We can take it from here.It's probably safer if the people that probably know what they are doing take charge.And we can always tap our own Tomoe contact(s) to see what's going on though back channels, considering its probably far less of an issue for us to be doing the wrong thing
>>6150633>Try to talk Cato down. There might be a rational explanation for all this>This is just the usual Tomoe tricks, Cato. Figure out what someone wants, then point them in the completely wrong direction with plausible deniability. Your suspicions of Sir Lucian aside, harming him will not do anything to hinder the Tomoe.
>>6150633This really does nothing to assuage the rumors about us, doesn't it?Seconding >>6150637
>>6150633>>6150636>>6150637These two. They combine readily enough.
Drawing your own gun, but not pointing it at anyone just yet, you hold out your empty hand to Misty. “I think we’d all feel a lot more comfortable if you gave the gun to me, Misty,” you announce, the calmness in your voice causing all eyes to turn your way, “You’ve never fired a gun before, have you?”“I…” Misty hesitates, “I’ve seen people firing them, and that’s basically the same thing, right?”“Wrong,” you reply, looking away from Lucian and Cato for a moment to give her a stern frown, “Very wrong. You’ve never been more wrong, in fact.”Misty pouts, but slaps the revolver down into your outstretched palm regardless. You’re not sure how much harm she could really do with such a tiny piece, but you’d prefer not to learn the answer. Dropping the revolver into your pocket, you turn your own gun towards Lucian. “Don’t do anything rash, Cato. Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” you warn him, “These could just be the usual Tomoe tricks, trying to turn us against each other.”For a moment, you feel certain that Cato is going to run Lucian through regardless, but then the young man lowers his blade. “These are letters from the head of the Tomoe family himself,” he breathes, “That seems like more than just a trick.”“Misdirection. No doubt they knew what Lucian wanted, and sent him chasing after some false lead – or a truth that they knew would destroy him,” you explain, “Regardless of your suspicions, punishing Lucian would do nothing to the Tomoe, save perhaps amuse them.”With a last sigh, Cato sheathes his blade. Lucian's shoulders sag slightly, and the dim cloud of violence that had seemed to imminent starts to dissipate. “Explain yourself, uncle,” he orders, “Omit nothing.”Lucian smoothes down his long coat, massaging his temples with one gloved hand. “I was aware of the risks, of course,” he begins, “I made no particular secret of my research, and I expect that’s how House Tomoe learned of my aims. They provided me with this site, knowing that our own oracles would never break the taboo against exploring such forgotten places. But, of course, I knew that I would never get support to act, based on the word of a Tomoe.”“So you blamed this all on my mother?” Misty yelps, “If this gets me into any trouble-”“Yes, I claimed that your mother received this guidance. With her illness, I knew that she would not be lucid enough to dispute my account,” Lucian grimaces, “If I had known that the family would insist that I bring you along, I would have chosen differently.”“Rude,” she mutters to herself.“But why trust their word at all?” Cato demands, “You’re not that foolish, uncle. You know what the Tomoe are capable of!”“Yes, of course. I knew that they could not be trusted entirely, and that their motivations would be impure,” Lucian raises his arms in a tiny shrug, “As I said, I was aware of the risks.”[1]
>>6150655“You’re young, Cato, and you’re idealistic. You see the world differently to men such as I. Perhaps you’ll understand when you’re older, but the world is not so black and white. Do we not say that even the Tomoe are a part of the Godhead's design?” Lucian continues, his face drooping with fatigue, “I had been planning to tell you, when the time was right… but perhaps there will never be a right time.”Cato says nothing, looking away from the old man. You can see the anger simmering in his eyes, the hurt and betrayal.“Cato,” Lucian asks softly, “Would you have done it? Would you have run me through with your blade, spilled my blood in this sacred place?”The young man turns around sharply, raising his hand as if to point an accusing finger, or even strike the old man, but then slowly lowering it. “I don’t know,” he admits, his words curiously flat and toneless, “I really don’t.”-It feels strange, allowing Lucian to retreat into the solitude of his tent, but there’s nothing else you can really do without anywhere more secure to lock him up. Besides, you’re not particularly concerned about him escaping – where would he go, in a place as remote as this? So you leave him to brood, while Cato does much the same. He seems to be taking this hard, harder than you really expected.“Gosh, it sure was lucky that I was here!” Misty says to you, following close behind you as you march through the dig site. The workers have mostly stopped digging now, sensing the confusion in the camp and falling still. You spot Steiner lingering nearby, clearly having abandoned any attempt at enforcing discipline. He offers a respectful nod as you pass him by, which you return.“Don’t you think? Didn’t I do a good job?” the oracle continues, tugging at your sleeve, “Hey now, are you listening to me?”“Fine, fine. You did a good job. Very quick thinking,” you admit with a sigh, “Is that good enough?”“Well, it’s a good start,” she pouts, “What’s going to happen now, do you think?”“I’d like to wait until I hear back from my Galsean contacts. In all likelihood, they’ll just tell me to bury that damn statue again. But I want to make sure. That means waiting around for my message to get back, unfortunately,” you explain, “I hope you can endure a few more days of waiting.”“I’ll be fine. Like, totally fine. I’m actually starting to like this “great outdoors” stuff!” Misty answers, although her lie is far from convincing, “I’m actually more worried about Cato. I don’t think he should be sulking on his own so much, but he yelled at me when I tried to check on him. Can you imagine?”It’s probably better if you don’t answer that.>You should check on Cato, though, if he’ll allow it>It wouldn’t kill you to spend some more time with Misty>You could always try having a private talk with Lucian>Other
>>6150664>You could always try having a private talk with LucianLets tell him about other things that the Tomoe have sent us after, things really don't end well We need to convince him to stop looking for related artifacts, cold.Cato needs time to himself, we can always follow up afterwards
>>6150664>You could always try having a private talk with Luciandepending on what he shares, we can divulge some hints about other demenses
>>6150664>You could always try having a private talk with Lucian
>>6150669+1We're no stranger to dealing with the Tomoe and we have the Lessons to prove it
>>6150664>It wouldn’t kill you to spend some more time with MistyShe's growing on me.
>>6150664>You should check on Cato, though, if he’ll allow itHe seems like a bro
“I just remembered something incredibly important that I have to do,” you announce, brushing Misty’s hand off your sleeve, “Keep an eye on the place for me, will you? Since you just saved the day, I’m sure you’ll have no trouble keeping the rest of these ruffians out of trouble.”“Wait, what?” Misty yelps, her eyes widening as you turn and march away towards Lucian’s tent. There were obvious limits to what you were able to tell him in front of Cato, but if you can have a “private” conversation with the man…Brushing aside the canvas flap, you duck your head low and step into the dimly lit tent. Lucian sits in a folding chair, a flimsy table loaded with scattered papers propped up before him. He glances up as you enter, brows furrowing into a frown. “Master Pale,” he begins, “I’m afraid I won’t be able to offer you a seat.”“That’s fine,” you assure him, “I’ll stand.”“Mm, of course. You’re young and healthy,” Lucian says, lapsing into a brooding silence for a while. “You’ll have to forgive me for being curt, but I really don’t welcome the interruption,” he continues eventually, “I was busy putting my affairs in order. It’s a strangely liberating feeling, to know that your days are numbered. It focuses the mind.”“Oh don’t be so dramatic,” you scold, fighting the urge to roll your eyes, “You’ll get a slap on the wrist at worst. It’s not as if you’ve actually harmed anyone.”“I commend your optimism, misplaced though it may be,” Lucian sighs, “No, I’m not wallowing in self-pity, if that’s what you think. This too is a risk that I accepted. I have been a scholar for a long time, Master Pale, and I know that the search for knowledge is one that leaves few survivors. You would be hard pressed to find anyone to admit it, but the best scholars all yearn for the same self-destructive fate. That is the price we pay for encroaching on the hidden world.”These words flow around you like an ocean wave, their melancholy tone hinting at a deeper sadness.“I see,” you murmur, pausing a moment before adding, “Are you sure you’re not wallowing in self-pity?”Lucian laughs, although there’s no humour in it. “Think of me what you will. Deep down, I think you’re no different. Let’s not pretend that I’m the only one here who consorts with the Tomoe,” the old man’s lips tighten into a thin, bloodless smile, “What promises have they made to you, Master Pale?”“You’re correct, I’ve worked with the Tomoe before – and it’s almost always ended badly. Their reputation for spreading madness and death is not unwarranted,” you tell him with an indifferent shrug, “Maybe you’re into that, but I’d still suggest you decline any future offers of collaboration they make to you. Let this hidden world of yours stay hidden.”[1]
>>6150697“Forgive me for saying this, Master Pale, but your advice rings hollow,” Lucian counters, a faint note of contempt creeping into his voice, “Like young Cato, you seek out the Demesne. What would you call that, if not another hidden world?”“That’s different. It’s a SACRED hidden world,” you shoot back, “Don’t you know your own propaganda?”Lucian laughs again, and there’s no warmth now than the last time. “An apt word to use, Master Pale. I’m no stranger to the Demesne either. I spent many years exploring its depths. Do you know what I learned?” he asks, “I learned that it was a distraction. A meaningless dream for men to chase, blinding them to the true mysteries outside. Perhaps THAT is why the Godhead gave it to us.”“Maybe so,” you suggest, offering the old man a coy smile, “Maybe the Godhead hid the real thing.”“Is that so? A fascinating theory,” Lucian hesitates for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to speak, before he relents and continues, “Master Tomoe suggested very much the same thing.”“Really?”“Don’t misunderstand me, Master Pale. If you’ve ever met Master Tomoe, you’ll know that he is a man who suggests a great many things. He provokes, incites and slanders, all without saying a single definite statement,” he grimaces, “You could call that a gift, I suppose, although certainly not one that he puts to good use. He offers the suggestion of a hint of a halt-truth, and somehow convinces men to lay down their lives for more.”That sounds like him.Lucian lets out a low sigh. “I still believe that a greater truth is out there, whatever form it may take, though I may never see it with my own two eyes,” he admits, “But you might.”“I’m flattered,” you remark, trying not to sneer, “But can I ask why?”“Because nothing is sacred to you,” Lucian answers simply, with neither congratulations nor condemnations in his voice.You’re not sure what to say to that.>I’m done here. I’m leaving>There’s something else… (Write in)>Other
>>6150725>I’m done here. I’m leavingWow, rudePossibly true but still rude
>>6150726+1>>6150725
>>6150726+1Blow this popsicle stand
The silence draws out, longer and longer with each passing second. In some strange way, it would have been better if Lucian had been trying to insult you. That way, you could’ve written it off as spite and thought nothing more of it. But this…“Okay, I’m done here. I’m leaving,” you decide, scowling at Lucian one last time, “Good luck with writing your last will and testament, or whatever it is you plan on doing.”Not the best parting words you’ve ever come up with, but they’ll have to do under the circumstances.-You’re still not sure what to think, what to feel, as you leave Lucian’s tent. Your thoughts keep coming back to the strange urge for self-destruction he mentioned. The more you think about it, the more it seems to make sense. You think of Professor Hodgson, swept away to some dire fate in the course of his research. Then you think of your father, staining his soul with bloody, foreign rites in search of something greater than himself. Death and madness may be the price for intruding upon the divine, but it’s a price that many seem willing to pay.“Hey!” Misty calls out, waving to you from the edge of the dig site, “Heeeeeeey!”Against your better judgement, you find yourself approaching to sit beside her. You don’t say anything for a while, and neither does she. You just gaze at the white stone statue instead. It seems somehow diminished now, an object of sadness rather than dread. You’ll still be much happier once it’s underground again, but it feels like less of a pressing priority.“What a day, huh?” Misty remarks after a while. Her voice is softer than normal, or at least not nearly so grating.“I’ve had worse,” you reply, feigning an indifferent shrug, “This isn’t even in my top five.”“Not that you’re bragging or anything,” she agrees, stretching out and covering up a yawn, “You’ve got to remember, Isambard, that not everyone lives such an exciting life. Back when I was at the Choir, the only excitement we had was from gossiping about each other.”“Call me naive, but I never thought you’d have much interesting gossip in the Choir,” you wonder aloud, “I thought it would all be very peaceful and boring.”Misty laughs. “Oh, you are SO wrong!” she jeers, “Take a bunch of teenage girls, and lock them up in a school for a few years with nothing to distract them. It gets WILD. Some of the stories I could tell you… Well, I’m not sure if I really should. I don’t want to ruin your innocent little mind.”“Damn,” you drawl, “And I was just getting curious too.”She laughs again, but it doesn’t last long. “I’m glad you were here,” she admits after a lingering silence, “I think… I think things might have gone awfully wrong if you hadn’t been here.”“Maybe they went wrong because I WAS here,” you point out, “You know, considering my reputation.”[1]
>>6150748>picOk no repeated ventures into the woodsPolitely turn down any face revealsWe should be ok
>>6150755Father Pale was her partner. We are merely the issue.
>>6150748Misty has the good graces to look slightly embarrassed by this, no doubt considering her own role to play in the rumours. You’ll have to ask her about those later, when you’ve got a clear head. She might even be willing to spread a few favourable rumours about you when you all return home, although you shudder to imagine what kind of price she might ask in return.Leaving her to her thoughts, you return to the old church to check on Cato. He’s probably had his fill of solitude by now, you reason. There’s an old saying comparing solitude with a fine wine – a little bit of it is a medicine, but too much is a poison. You’ve certainly seen what an excess of Solitude can do to a man.You find Cato in an unusually vulnerable position, stripped down to his undershirt as he works through a series of sword exercises. He’s so focussed that he doesn’t hear you approach, allowing you to study his form from afar. There’s no doubt that he has both talent and ruthless discipline, his movements carefully measured and controlled. Wielding his long sword as if it weighed nothing more than a feather, he flows through a series of fluid motions before finishing with a few short, hard cuts.“You don’t move like a duellist,” you remark, the sound of your voice causing Cato to jolt around. He quickly sheathes his sword and reaches for his uniform jacket, as if you had caught him completely undressed rather than just in his undershirt.“I find duelling somewhat vulgar, actually,” Cato admits as he buttons up his jacket, “It feels like… vanity.”“Probably because of how vain most duellists are,” you suggest with a shrug, “How are you feeling?”If Cato was the sort of man who could tell comforting little lies, he would do so now. Instead, he shakes his head. “I’m angry,” he confesses, “I’m angry with my uncle, and how he still sees me as a naive child. I’m angry with the Tomoe, for… for corrupting everything they touch. I know that I should control myself better, but-”“You’re allowed to be angry,” you tell him, pretending for one single moment that you’re even remotely qualified to give him advice.“Am I?” Cato asks aloud, “I’m not even sure where I should direct my anger. My uncle? The Tomoe? Deep down, I know that they’re just distractions. However sinful it may be, I’m angry with the whole world.”“Things…” he murmurs to himself, “Things weren’t supposed to be this way.”>I’m going to pause here for today. I’ve got some time off booked, so I’ll be running again next Friday>Thank you for playing!
>>6150764Thanks for running!Cato may be angry now, but he should be grateful - most forays into ancient religions go much worse than this has
>>6150764Cato seems to be ready to get pipelined into a radical political movement or a self-destructive cult.
>>6150764I feel that, Cato.Thanks for running, QM!
