An uneasy feeling creeps over you as you spent long hours sitting at Barbeau’s bedside, slowly settling in until it becomes inescapable. It takes you a while to realise just what the feeling is. Looking at Barbeau’s face – haggard and worn, brought to the edge of destruction by what he experienced here – feels somehow like a premonition, a glimpse at your own future. Still, you endure the grim feeling for the sake of learning what Barbeau knows, what he’s able to tell you in his rare moments of lucidity.Time passes, hours turning into days, but you pay little attention as it creeps by – until, that is, your patience finally hits its limit.Walking on stiff, aching limbs, you skulk back to the company dormitory and all but slam the door behind you. A few eyes turn your way, disinterested employees glancing up at the sudden sound. Ignoring them, you march towards one of the bedrooms at the rear. As you walk, your foot clips against a footlocker carelessly left jutting out into the open. It doesn’t hurt at all, considering your heavy hiking boots, but it’s enough for your temper to flare. With a snarl, you kick the container across the room with a loud bang, scattering the meagre contents across the dorm.“Isambard!” Alex scolds, looking up from his book. He sees something in your face, then, and the sharpness fades from his eyes. Quickly rising from his chair, he grabs your arm and pulls you away from the staring eyes. Ushering you into one of the bedrooms and firmly shutting the door behind him, he looks you up and down. “What’s wrong?” he asks, before sighing, “Isambard… when was the last time you ate anything? Or slept?”“I’ve slept enough,” you lie, waving away his concerns.“What is it, then?” Alex continues, concern darkening his face, “Did Adrian say something?”“Adrian didn’t say a damn thing!” you spit, “He doesn’t know anything about the Stryx, about anything. This whole trip was a waste of time.”“Oh come on, lad! Adrian and his wife are alive because of us,” he retorts with a frown, “Two lives saved. I’d hardly call that a waste of time.”“Two lives saved, but how many people died because of us? Because of me?” you hiss, lowering your voice to a whisper. Ossian’s words surface in the dark waters of your mind as Alex falls silent. For all their sins, the real trouble only started when you arrived. “Madness and death follow wherever I go, Alex,” you continue, “Will I be swallowed up by it too, one day? Will any of you?”[1/3]
>>6266786Previous: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=MolochWith no answer to offer, Alex silently withdraws. He knows you well enough to know when to retreat, to leave you alone with your thoughts. Yet, you don’t have much time to brood – a short moment after Alex leaves, you hear another knock at the door. Preparing yourself for an argument, you open the door only to see Galt’s bruised face waiting for you.“I just, um, wanted to thank you. For everything,” Galt begins, “I’ll admit, I really thought that Adrian was lost. I thought that I was just doing this for closure, so I could know what happened to him. Of course, I was no help at all… ahem. Well, um, are you all packed?”“All packed for what?” you ask. The rest of Galt’s words passed you by like a meaningless buzz, but those last words stayed with you.“The train,” Galt explains, a faint confusion in his voice, “The train back home, remember? It leaves later today.”Has it really been that long? You must’ve wasted more time than you thought at Adrian’s bedside, listening to his inane mumblings in the rare moments that he was conscious.Galt’s eyes widen as you let out a soft curse, as if he was expecting a completely different reaction. “I thought you’d be happy to leave this place,” he remarks, “Was there something else you needed?”Maybe. Maybe not. Young Master Waller’s death has left you with a vague sense of dissatisfaction, a sense that some precious knowledge may have died with him. You might just have enough time to search through his manor before leaving, assuming Evelyn allows it, but then what of Ossian? The priest’s last words to you, his knowing smugness, also feels like an unanswered question. Staying in Walpurgis for even longer is out of the question, but there’s still so much unfinished business…“Um…” Galt hesitates, “I’ll leave you to get ready, so… oh, Miss Heather!”You glance up, seeing the frail, ghostly woman standing in the doorway. Her gaze, unfocussed, looks straight past Galt as if she sees something that no human eye can see. He mumbles something else, a vague apology perhaps, and hurriedly slips past her. Clutching something to her chest, she enters the bedroom and sits down in one of the vacant chairs.“Is there something I can do for you?” you ask after a long silence, in the hopes of prompting her to speak.“There’s something I have to give you,” Miss Heather replies in a soft, low voice.“Something you HAVE to give me,” you repeat, sensing something in her tone, “But not something you WANT to give me.”“Yes,” she agrees, “Perhaps it’s a curse, an ill omen. But I felt very strongly that you should have it.”[2/3]
>>6266790Gently taking your hand, Miss Heather places something cool and firm into your grasp. You hold the delicate object for a moment, half expecting to feel the sudden rush of power that accompanied so many of the other trinkets you’ve accumulated in recent days. But you feel nothing, just a vague sense of foreboding. Opening your hand, you look down at the tiny object – a bleached bird skull, marred by several black stains.“I spent a long time wandering the forests. I don’t remember much of it, where I went or what I did, but I do remember…” Miss Heather hesitates, “I remember wanting to leave the world behind, to flee from it all and find some secret place. A place where nobody could find me, a place where only the night owls would know my name.”“I think…” another pause, “I think I found that place. And I brought that thing back with me.”You wonder if Magdalene might know of this secret place. She’s the only person you can think of who might know the dark corners of this town and the surrounding woods – provided you can actually find her.“I’m sorry,” Miss Heather gasps suddenly, blindly groping for the skull, “I never should have brought this to you. I don’t know why I-”“Leave it with me,” you interrupt, drawing the skull back away from her trembling hands. She flinches back a little, then rises to her feet with a jerky motion. Bowing her head for a moment, she slips away and vanishes from the room. The stillness that follows in her wake is so complete, so sudden, that if not for the bird skull in your hand you’d think that you’d imagined the whole encounter.You look down at the tiny skull, and you wonder.>This “secret place” warrants further investigation. Magdalene might be able to help>You’ve still got unanswered questions about Theo and his death>This might be your last chance to talk with Ossian, and learn more about his cult>There’s no point in looking for trouble when you’re this close to leaving. You should just take it easy>Other
>>6266792>This “secret place” warrants further investigation. Magdalene might be able to helpThe most direct lead we have. Maybe this is our purpose in coming here?Welcome back, QM!
>>6266796Supporting
>>6266796+1I do wonder about Theo though. Ossian is simple enough, no use speaking with him
The bird skull is such a fragile little thing, so delicate that merely closing your fist around it would be enough to reduce it to dust. You could destroy it here and now, and put all Heather’s talk of curses and ill omens behind you. But, of course, you don’t. Rummaging in your modest luggage for a moment, you take out a spare boot lace and loop it through the skull. With the tiny totem dangling from around your neck, you get up and start to leave.“Isambard?” Alex ask, hurriedly glancing up as you brush past him, “Are you-”“I’m going out for a bit,” you answer curtly, “Don’t worry. I’ll be back in time for the train home.”“...Alone?”“Alone,” you nod, “I’ll travel faster on my own.”You leave before he can muster up a counterargument.-You don’t dwell too long on the task of finding Magdalene, simply setting off into the forest in full confidence that she’ll find you. If she doesn’t want to be found here, in her home territory, you won’t find her, and no amount of searching will change that. So you walk on, following the partial trail until it leads you to Barbeau’s cabin. There, of course, Magdalene sits waiting for you on the front step.“I thought you’d be getting ready to leave,” she remarks, although there’s little surprise on her face or in her voice.“Soon. I’ve got time to tie up one last loose end,” you reply, lifting the bird skull from around your neck and tossing it across to Magdalene. She catches it deftly, studying it with a solemn eye. “Miss Heather found that somewhere in the forest. Some secret place, she said,” you explain, “It might be a curse or an ill omen, but she wanted me to have it regardless.”“Did you do something to offend her?” Magdalene glances up, one corner of her mouth twisted by a faint smirk.“Not that I’m aware of.”Not that you’d really care if you did.“These forests are full of secret places, places that have never been touched by man. Some, perhaps, that have never even seen the sun,” Magdalene thinks for a moment, “Come on then, follow me. Let’s see if we can find this secret place of yours. One thing, though – do you know what you’ll do when you find it?”Not “if” you find it, but “when”.“I’ll decide that at the time,” you shrug, “If I was to do something especially malicious, would you try to stop me?”“Hm,” Magdalene tilts her head to the side, “I’d decide that at the time.”You’d expect nothing less. Without another word, she gets to her feet and starts off into the forest. There’s no attempt at searching for a trail, for any sign of disturbed ground or human activity. She simply picks a direction and starts walking. Without a second thought, you follow after her. Soon, as the trees close behind you, you lose all sight of the cabin. Your sense of direction fades soon after, but there’s no fear.If the forest swallows you up, then so be it.[1]
>>6266808It doesn’t take you long to realise that you’re not just wandering at random. While there are no easy footprints to follow, there IS a trail – an ephemeral thing, sensed only as a tingle feeling at the very edge of your perception. Once you notice it, the feeling grows more acute. Any sane man would turn and flee from the feeling, even with no knowledge of what it meant. You allow it to guide you onwards.When the ground beneath your feet starts to slope downwards, you know that you’re close. Some terrible act of subsidence happened here, something that caused the earth to collapse inwards like a deep crater. The trees surrounding the crater list and lean inwards, their branches having grown into a thick tangled dome above your head. It’s not quite one of those sunless places Magdalene mentioned, but it’s very close.Magdalene grabs your arm before you can venture too far down the uneven slope, silently gesturing around you. Countless animal skulls litter the slope, carefully turned so their blind, empty eye sockets face inwards. The very centre of the crater is filled with a thick black fluid, the surface occasionally rippling as a large bubble sluggishly makes its way to the top.You’ve seen that fluid before, you realise. It’s the same cantankerous slime that had tainted some of the lowest sections of the Demesne. Somehow, impossibly, it’s here too.“Be careful,” Magdalene warns, though it seems as if she’s talking to herself more than you. Waving her away with a gesture, you continue a little further down the slope. There’s a slight rocky outcrop just before the bottom, just stable enough for you to balance without touching the inky black liquid. Slowly, cautiously, you squat down on the makeshift platform. At the urging of some diabolical instinct, you tentatively reach out a hand.The pool reacts, but not in any way that liquid ought to react. It trembles, a drop of the liquid impossibly rising up and out of the main pool. It hovers there, the shape shifting from a perfect sphere to something lined with dull spikes, as if awaiting your touch.You can sense power here, a formless power that you could twist into a shape of your own design, but also a terrible corruption.>You need every drop of strength that you can get. Claim this power for yourself>This power holds a deep and ancient corruption. Reject this tainted power>Other
>>6266830>Unveil your frozen moonlight, see it for what it really is.Insight and understanding grants us far more use than raw unthinking power. Do not make the mistake our Father made, of grasping for power at any price, then finding out how much it actually cost.
>>6266838+1
>>6266830You gaze into the perfect darkness of the pool for what seems like an eternity, all thoughts of the train home forgotten. The longer you look, the more you start to make out images within the inky blackness. Even as the surface of the pool ripples and stirs, you see hard edges and straight lines deep – impossibly deep – within the liquid. It suddenly reminds you of sitting on the banks of Lake Hali with Gratia at your side, listening as she whispered a story to you – a story about a great sunken city, swallowed in a single night by the wake of its sins.The idea causes a new clarity to cut through you like a knife. What would a child know of sins? You feel yourself drawing back from the black sphere, even as it pulses with the rhythm of your heartbeat. Obeying your better instincts, your reason and rationality, you reach deep into your pocket, closing your fist around the reassuring chill of the frozen shard of moonlight. Drawing it free, you cast the pure white light across the surface of the black liquid and-With a hoarse, strangled cry, you blindly throw the shard of moonlight aside and seek refuge in the darkness that descends. You caught only a glimpse of what lay within the pool, simultaneously not enough and far too much. You saw a city of ancient grey stone, the squat pyramids and great ziggurats drowning beneath an ocean of blackness. More blackness dotted the roofs and balconies of the dead city, each one representing a nightmarish bird.“A whole city devoured by the Stryx,” a soft voice begins, “And that city was just a small part of a whole world.”You look up, gazing into the pure black eyes of the spirit sitting across from you. She draws her languid fingers across the surface of the black lake, but she leaves no trail.“I thought you’d have gone by now,” you reply quietly, “The Stryx has left, hasn’t it?”“It has,” the Gratia-thing answers, “But some stains aren’t so easily washed away. They linger. But you needn’t fear – so long as this place is left alone, the people beyond the forest are in no danger. They won’t come here. But YOU did.”“Foolishly, perhaps.”“Then why did you come here?”“Perhaps I was looking for a place to disappear.”“There are a great many places in this world, and beyond it, that could grant that wish. But I think you had something else in mind,” she muses, “You came seeking strength. Here, take it. This is the strength of your forefathers, a power that saw them blaze a trail across countless worlds. You could do the same, if you wished.”“That same power destroyed them,” you point out.“Then you can learn from their mistakes, and succeed where they failed,” she urges, “Take it. Embolden your sickly spirit.”>You’ll bear any curse, if that’s what it takes. Accept this power>You won’t be a party to your own destruction. Refuse the power>Perhaps you could talk a little instead… (Write in)>Other
>>6266864>You’ll bear any curse, if that’s what it takes. Accept this power>Perhaps you could talk a little instead… (Write in)"Tell me... With this power, can I save not just my world, but my sister? The one whose face you're wearing?"
>>6266864>You won’t be a party to your own destruction. Refuse the powerJust imagine us turning into our father. Ugh.
>>6266864>>Perhaps you could talk a little instead… (Write in)So who or what are you to try and tempt me so to take it? And how would this embolden my spirit? What does that even mean?
>>6266879+1Isambard has every reason to be hesitant here. He's SEEN what this kind of shit does
>>6266864>You won’t be a party to your own destruction. Refuse the power>>6266878Makes a good point. Folly to save our world for now but make ourselves into its eventual destroyer by doing so
>>6266864>you blindly throw the shard of moonlight asideRecover it NOW
>>6266864I'm >>6266898I'm backing this too>You won’t be a party to your own destruction. Refuse the powerThis is clearly bait, folly incarnate. No way we can let ourselves take this. Just ask the questions, retrieve the Moonlight Shard >>6266906 then fuck off back to the train
“Tell me something,” you say slowly, forcing yourself to stare into the black eyes opposite you, “With this power that you speak of, could I not just save the world, but the one whose face you now wear? Could I save my sister too?”“Do you really believe that she needs saving?” the Gratia-thing replies, not with the coy mockery that her words suggest but with what seems like genuine curiosity in her voice. “Men have always been haunted by questions of sin and salvation, good and evil. Your sister has been granted great power but, deeming that power to be “unclean”, you seek to strip it from her. Would she thank you, if you did?”“You won’t answer my question,” you breath, turning your gaze away from the apparition. All of a sudden, gazing into that familiar face seemed far too painful.“Then I will answer a different question. Could this power separate your sister from the Stryx that now shares her mind? The answer is no,” the apparition whispers, her voice suddenly coming from close beside you, “There is no separation, no “her” and “it”. They are one.”You’re not sure how you’re supposed to feel about that. You just feel numb, hollow. But not surprised.“And who are you?” you ask quietly, shuddering as you feel the gentle weight of the creature resting her head on your shoulder. Gratia would do that too, back in another lifetime. “You wear a familiar face and whisper sweet promises, but what do you hide behind that mask?” you continue, “Will you answer THAT question? Can you?”“I am…” the spirit pauses, and not just for dramatic effect. You feel a genuine hesitation, uncertainty stilling her tongue. “I’m the other half of her,” she whispers at last, “She has become a part of the Stryx, but that river flows in both directions. A single drop of blood may fall into an ocean of ink and become invisible, but it will always remains there. Some stains-”“They linger.”“They linger,” she murmurs in agreement.“And this stain would…” you pause, recalling her words, “Embolden my sickly spirit?”“Just as your forefathers wove threads of gold into their souls, seeking to mend whatever deficiencies they had. They sought to become something greater than what they were, though they were foolishly branded heretics for their actions,” the Gratia-thing continues, “So fell the House of Megistus. But the House of Pale need not fall.”Cold fingers brush against your cheek as the apparition gently turns your face towards hers. With the inky black fluid slowly dripping down her fingers, she offers her hand out to you as Gratia once did.“I don’t want it to fall,” she whispers.[1]
>>6266916It takes a heroic convulsion of will just to make the slightest motion, just to pull your head back as the apparition raises her stained fingers to your lips. A ripple of emotion runs across her face, surprise turning to a poisonous cocktail of pain and anger before emotion drops away entirely. In its place is something far colder, far more ancient, and utterly removed from all humanity. The face remains unchanged, but all illusion has been stripped away. There can be no mistaking the thing that lurks behind those ink black eyes.With the sound of a great rustling of feathers, the apparition lunges at you, but you’re faster. In a frantic burst of energy, you throw yourself away from the grasping, groping fingers that reach for you. Scrabbling up the steep slope, you thrust one hand out and close your fist around the familiar chill of the frozen moonlight. Clinging tightly to it as if it was your lifeline, you twist around and thrust it out towards-Magdalene?“Hey!” the scarred woman snaps, starting to reach for you before thinking better of it, “What happened?”You don’t answer that, simply slumping back as all the tension bleeds from your body. With no easy answer to give, you instead say the first thing that comes to mind.“I think I’ve got a train to catch.”-Though Magdalene is oddly reluctant to talk, you manage to get her to explain her version of events. It would be an understatement to say that they were different to yours. To hear Magdalene tell it, the encounter only lasted a few brief seconds. You had been studying the black liquid when you took out your “glowing thing” – to use her words. Almost immediately, you had recoiled in the same horrified state that Magdalene found you in. No long conversation, no alluring apparition. Nothing.You’re not lucky enough to believe that it was all in your imagination. The conversation was real, as was the danger associated with it. The question, then, is not one of reality. The conversation was REAL, but how much of it was TRUE?If you wished to destroy someone, would you tell them sweet lies or the remorseless truth?It doesn’t even occur to you until much later that the bird skull totem that Miss Heather gave you is gone. Good riddance.-There’s a part of you that expected a last minute disaster to rear its head, even up to the moment that the ancient locomotive crawls into view. You stand back, silent and sullen, as Alex haggles with the confused train driver for your passage. It’s a freight train, after all, with no room for human cargo. An argument about rules and regulations swirls around you, barely noticed, until the time comes to finally board. Taking your seat atop a wooden crate, you stare down at your boots – a small black stain clings to one toe.You’ll have to burn those boots when you get back home.[2/3]
>>6266928With a heavy creak of wood, Alex sits down beside you. This is hardly the place for a heart to heart conversation, given the uncomfortable “seats” and the rattling din of the engine, but this is the moment he’s chosen.“Adrian and Miss Heather will need to rest a little longer before they can travel, but they should be able to catch the next train. Master Galt volunteered to look after them,” Alex explains, “You remember them, don’t you lad? Adrian Barbeau and his lovely wife. Master Galt too – from what I’ve heard, he might have lost his head if not for you.”“I could have done nothing, and they could all have died,” you muse, “But the arc of the world would carry on without interruption.”“The arc of the world would carry on without interruption,” Alex repeats, quietly marvelling at your words, “You know, that sounds like something your father would have said at your age. Even among his little clique of Coral House libertines, he was considered pretentious.”“I’m not pretentious!” you snap.“Well, maybe you should stop acting like it,” Alex scolds lightly, “At least Gideon would take a break from the philosophising to drink and chase women. When was the last time you did any of that, eh?”“When I finish clearing up the last of his mess, that’s the first thing I’ll do,” you mutter, scowling down at your sullied boots, “And I really did not want to imagine my father indulging his more… base appetites, thank you.”Although you will admit, it does provide a distraction from the impending doom. Not the most welcome distraction, but beggars can’t be choosers.“You’re welcome,” Alex remarks with a smile.>I’m going to pause here for today. I’ll be continuing tomorrow, starting at the same approximate time>Thank for your playing today, I’m glad to be back and writing again!
>>6266937We made the right choice. Isambard lives another day and so does his group.>“I’m not pretentious!” you snap.Bro where's your My Chemical Romance? Where's your Linkin Park? Where's your classic early 2000s emo edgecore, you gloomy white-haired prettyboy with a tragic past and a shitty dad?
>>6266937Thanks for running!>“Well, maybe you should stop acting like it,” Alex scolds lightly, “At least Gideon would take a break from the philosophising to drink and chase women. When was the last time you did any of that, eh?”What? We flirt with Juno constantly!
>>6266952Kek>>6266937Thanks for running. it's good to have this quest back!
>>6266937>At least Gideon would take a break from the philosophising to drink and chase women. When was the last time you did any of that, eh?”We do need to have a good drinking sesh with Juno… Thanks for running QM>>6266952God, Bard would listen to the angstiest early 2000’s music. Bullet for my valentine for sure
So one possible ending is to stain the Styx enough that they stop holding any particular interest in destroying worlds, likely sacrificing at least Gratia and Isambard, possibly even the harem too.If we were to coat our weapons with the effluvium they'd be insane weapons but also taint the Stryx with the anger and wrath of whoever we kill with it. Teaching fear to Stryx is a huge gamble, and just as likely to destroy us all.Staining puppets made by Phalris might be an angle, if she can figure out how to imbue them with singular aspects after failing whole people.
>>6267241>giving fear and terror and blood>to the eldritch shadow bird race that feeds on fear and terror and bloodCould this actually be a good thing?
Your visit to the town of Walpurgis, while not exactly an unmitigated disaster, certainly seemed close to one. Despite Alex’s best attempts at cheering you up, it feels as if you’ve gained nothing but lost some intangible thing. Even if someone was to put a gun to your head, you’re not sure if you could put a name to that ephemeral feeling, but you know that something has changed. Can something exist only as an absence?Perhaps it’s Gratia. Despite your best attempts at convincing yourself that the apparition had spoken only lies, the doubt remains. If Gratia truly was no more, consumed by the Stryx and inseparably merged with them, how could you prove it? If the new being had inherited her personality, all of her memories, even it might think itself to be her.All the way home, you wrestle with the idea. You feel torn between two opposites – to hurry out into the forest and visit Gratia within the depths of the Demesne, or to shy away from seeing her again. You can’t avoid her forever, of course, but you can always make it tomorrow’s problem. Given enough distractions, it might ALWAYS be tomorrow’s problem.-The estate feels cold and hostile when you return back home, sheets of cold rain crashing down against the barren soil. Raising the collar of your coat in a puny attempt at warding off the foul weather, you hurry up to the front door and jab your key into the lock like a dagger. It’s drier inside, but the bitter chill remains. Alex hurries off into the depths of the house to start a fire, while you take a slow, aimless wander as if reminding yourself of the place. It feels as if you’ve been gone for far longer than you really have.In the main dining room, you find the package. It’s not hidden at all, in fact laid out in such a way as to ensure that it catches your attention. A simple thing really, loosely wrapped in crumpled newspaper. Slowly opening it, you find a broken fragment of stone nestled within the wrapping. A short letter accompanies the package, and you waste no time in reading it over.[Axis Mundi Fragment – Solitude: +1 Solitude Attunement.]“Dear brother,” the note begins, “I found this within the depths of the labyrinth. There are other fragments down there, I’m sure of it. Come back soon, and we can look for them together. I confess, I’ve been missing you terribly. I dream of you when I sleep, but my dreams are troubled – in them, I see you sinking beneath a great black ocean. They concern me greatly, these dreams.”And the note, of course, is signed with Gratia’s name.[1/2]
>>6267352Later, much later, you sit the dim light of your bedroom and listlessly move around the pair of stone fragments. There’s no doubt that they form a single piece, an ancient work of craftsmanship carved with a pattern denoting… what? You have theories, but they’re all impossible to prove without gathering more of the stone fragments. Even if you had them all, however many there may be, your theories might still be impossible to prove.A welcome distraction comes in the form of a gentle knock at the door. The door opens a moment later, and Elle pokes her head around the edge. Without waiting for an invitation, she enters the room and, in the absence of a spare chair, sits down on the edge of your bed. “I know that we’ve only recently returned from a long journey, and I’ll understand if you have no wish to discuss further travels,” the oracle begins, “But there was something I thought of.”In truth, you’re not really in the mood to travel. Then again, you’re not in the mood to stay and rest either. So, you gesture for her to continue.“I’ve been thinking a lot about the Nicean prophecies lately. I can’t shake the feeling that they might be important,” Elle explains, “So… I’d like to visit Amaryllis.”“Amaryllis,” you repeat.“Mm. It’s a holy place in the Silvera lands. Larger than a town, smaller than a city. Supposedly, it’s where Saint Nicea is buried. You’ve always got to be at least a little sceptical about these things, of course, but this one always felt… real to me,” she remarks with a faintly embarrassed smile, “I’m telling myself that I want to go and pray there, in the hopes of receiving some guidance from the Emanations, but really-”“You just want to go and see it for yourself.”“Yes, exactly,” Elle nods, “I’m sure the weather would be better than it is here, and it’s almost the complete opposite of Walpurgis. Would you… care to accompany me?”There’s something unspoken in her offer, something about as subtle as a slap across the face even when left unsaid.>That sounds like an excellent idea. We can go, just the two of us>I like your thinking. Let me tell the others, and we can all go together>You should go, if that’s what you want. I’ve got commitments here>Other
>>6267354>That sounds like an excellent idea. We can go, just the two of us
>>6267352>my dreams are troubled – in them, I see you sinking beneath a great black ocean.But we dodged this outcome
>>6267354>I fear if I go there I'm going to find some excuse to dig up the grave>We should figure out how to deal with the black gunk, if it fills the demense.I'm guessing there's no grappling hooks, and wooden boards will only get us so far. I expect shovels will be a futile effort. Actually, hold on.>Maybe it's time to visit Cato. We'll split up if needed.
>>6267352>If the new being had inherited her personality, all of her memories, even it might think itself to be her.If it inherited all her memories to the point it believes itself to be her, then what difference is there? It might truly be her.>I dream of you when I sleep, but my dreams are troubled – in them, I see you sinking beneath a great black ocean. They concern me greatly, these dreams.”Good thing we didn't drink the goo, phew>That sounds like an excellent idea. We can go, just the two of usTime to find out in what horrifying ways old Saint Nicea has fallen to corruption
“You’re making this sound like a nice, relaxing holiday,” you point out, “But let’s be realistic, we both know that it won’t end that way.”“It might!” Elle insists, an unusually stubborn tone entering her voice.“It might, but it won’t. How about this, why don’t we make it a bet?” you continue, “If we go, and we DON’T have to go about digging up graves or crawling through some miserable catacombs, I’ll…”Your voice trails off here as you try to think of some suitable consequence – nothing too annoying or inconvenient, naturally.“I’ll graciously concede that you were correct,” you finish, rather weakly, “How does that sound?”“Hmm…” Elle takes her time to think it over, “Fine, I’ll take that bet. Does that mean you were planning on coming with me?”You shrug. “I suppose it does. It might be nice to get some time away, just the two of us,” you suggest, “I can’t imagine Ariel would be very interested, and it would be too much hassle to try and make arrangements with anyone else, so-”“Great!” Elle leaps to her feet, “I’ll go and pack some things, then we can leave tomorrow morning!”Well, you did want a distraction.-“What’s that?” Elle asks, leaning over to peer at the dark sketches filling up the notebook laid before you. You start to self-consciously close the notebook, then relent and show her your amateurish sketches. Elle takes the book and studies it for a long moment, her silent broken only by the faint clatter of the train’s engine. “Okay, I admit defeat,” she admits at last, “What is it?”“A little engineering project, though I am in no way an engineer,” you explain, “I’ve been thinking about that awful black sludge at the bottom of the Demesne. What if it continued to fill up the place? It could bar our passage completely, and then we’d really be in trouble. With enough ropes and pulleys I’m sure you could work up something, but… well, I’ll admit, I’m out of my depths.”“Hm,” Elle murmurs, “I can think of someone who might relish that challenge, but-”“But I’d rather take my chances with the effluvium.”Elle giggles, handing you back the sketchpad and leaning back to look out the window. The Silvera lands feel completely disconnected from everything you’ve known in recent days. The sun shines brightly, and the air carries a scent of flowers. Even the settlements you pass look clean and pretty, without the smoke of heavy industry to blacken the skies. You allow yourself to wonder what your life might have been like if you’d grown up here, instead of your ancestral lands. It’s hard to imagine what kind of man you’d become. A man like Cato, perhaps.It’s been a long time since you’ve seen Cato. Maybe you should try and visit him while you’re here, especially if the church business ends up being more boring than you’re expecting.[1]
>>6267364>what difference is there? The underlying nature. Instincts, urges, purposes beyond the superficial.>>6267354>You should go, if that’s what you want. I’ve got commitments hereI vote to continue the angsty brooding arc, and to sort out our sister's situation.
>>6267374“Oh!” Elle gasps, sitting upright and pressing her face closer to the window, “That’s Amaryllis there, you see? And those flags… there must be something important going on, they only raise those flags during a festival. Though, I didn’t think there were any festivals for a month or so. I wonder what’s going on?”“Trouble?” you suggest, smirking a little as an idea occurs to you, “You know, we haven’t agreed on what you’d do if I win our wager.”“That’s fine, I wasn’t planning on losing,” she replies, meeting your smirk with a sweet smile.-It feels very strange to walk the streets of a city – something slightly smaller than a city, actually, from what Elle said – and see smiles on the faces of the people you see. It shouldn’t be strange, but it is. A festive atmosphere hangs over Amaryllis, from the bright and colourful flags fluttering from atop every building to the frequent bursts of music you hear on the wind. Faith is not a solemn affair here, it seems, especially now when they have something to celebrate.A saint, the people whisper excitedly to one another, a saint is about to be proclaimed.With so many pilgrims packed into the not-city, it’s hard to get rooms at a local hotel. Hard, but fortunately not impossible. With your bags safely stowed away, you return to the hotel lobby to plan out the rest of your day with Elle. There’s a bright excitement on the oracle’s face, and you occasionally have to check and make sure that she’s still listening to you.“This is wonderful, isn’t it?” she remarks, halfway though your sentence, “Arriving here, just in time for a saint to be announced! Maybe this was meant to be, maybe THIS was the guidance I was hoping for.”“I’ll have to ask the Godhead to consult on my holidays plans too, next time,” you drawl, “Though, I’d prefer it if things weren’t so busy around here. I don’t really want to elbow my way through a crowd just to get anywhere.”“Oh, just try and enjoy something for once in your life,” Elle scolds, lightly kicking you under the table, “Where do you want to start? The main cathedral is supposedly built over Saint Nicea’s burial site, but there are a lot of other shrines dotted throughout the city.”“I thought it wasn’t a city.”“So we could always visit some of the first. I’m sure they’ll be a bit quieter,” she continues, tactfully pretending not to hear your snide remark, “Or if that’s all too religious for you, we could take a walk through the rest of the, um, town? Settlement?”>I can handle a few crowds. Let’s go the main cathedral>I could do with a break. Let’s find one of these lesser shrines>I want to take in the mood here. Let’s take a walk together>Other
>>6267393>I can handle a few crowds. Let’s go the main cathedralWell, at least Elle is cute. I wonder who the new saint is?
>>6267393>I can handle a few crowds. Let’s go the main cathedral
>>6267393>I can handle a few crowds. Let’s go the main cathedral>Let's send a short letter to Cato. Who knows, maybe he's this supposed saint
You consider the options laid out before you for a moment, at least until your concentration is broken by a chorus of raised voices outside. You look up sharply, craning your head to peer out a window. From the shrill screams you heard you were expecting to see an explosion of riotous violence, the same outbursts that have been afflicting cities all across the land. Instead, you’re met with the tacky sight of a great puppet crafted in the shape of a hideous monster. Children scream and laugh as the run from it, the crude shape guided by a team of bearers underneath.Elle’s soft laugh causes you to glance back around. “I feel a little bad for dragging you out here now,” she admits, “If it really bothers you that much-”“I can handle a few crowds!” you insist, “In fact, I was just going to say that we should visit the main cathedral. It’s only going to get busier as time goes on.”“True, true,” Elle nods, “Shall we?”You allow her to guide you from the hotel, stepping into the crowds outside like a man braving a raging river. Your hotel is on the far outskirts of Amaryllis, which leaves you with a short walk. At least, it SHOULD be a short walk. In reality, you have to take a long, winding route through the dense streets to avoid the worst of the crowds. Perhaps it’s your natural paranoia, but it all seems a little… much. There’s a desperation to the celebrations that you don’t like, as if the pilgrims were trying to convince themselves of their happiness.Or maybe you’re just reading too much into it.To your surprise, the main cathedral seems quieter than the streets outside. It’s a grand building, far larger than the small settlement would otherwise demand, with windows of brilliantly coloured glass and rich golden sandstone steps outside. It’s here, once again, that you feel a pang of unease tug at you. The cathedral is surrounded by soldiers – men in rich ceremonial uniforms, but soldiers nonetheless. You saw a few more of the armed men on the way here, but never so many in one place.“Hey,” you whisper to Elle, “Do you see-”“The soldiers,” she finishes for you, “I see them. I suppose it’s only natural that the saint would be kept protected, but even so. This seems a little… much.”“There’s something going on here,” you mutter, “We should find a telegraphy office. I want to send a message to Cato, see if he knows what’s going on. The hotel might have one, but…”“Let’s see if they have one here,” Elle suggests, clutching to your arm and gently tugging you towards the cathedral, “It’ll be an awful waste to come all this way, only to turn back.”That’s true. The idea of walking back through the bustling streets under this blazing sun is far from a welcome one. By contrast, the cool darkness of the cathedral invites you in.No choice at all, really.[1]
>>6267431While you’re able to enter the cathedral without incident, it soon becomes clear that you won’t be allowed to move deeper into the building. Soldiers block each door leading from the atrium, their faces as closed and impassive as the doors they stand before. Aside from the soldiers, a few servants sweep away non-existent dust from the floors and an older woman lingers by the far wall. Your gaze is immediately drawn to her, purely from how out of place she seems. By contrast with the celebrants gathered outside, she seems dressed for mourning.“Excuse me,” you begin, pitching your voice low as you approach the woman, “Are you… with the church?”“I am,” she answers, “I’m afraid we can’t let you inside just yet, the preparations are still underway.”“No, of course. I was just wondering if you’ve got a way to send a message to an acquaintance of mine. Master Cato Silvera,” you explain, hoping that dropping his name might open a few doors, “It’s a matter of some importance.”It’s not, really, but she doesn’t need to know that.The woman considers this before beckoning one of the servants over and whispering something in the young man’s ear. He hastens away, and the woman gives you a faint hint of a smile. “He will be here as soon as he can,” she tells you, “If you could just wait here, please.”“He’s… here?” you remark, trying not to sound surprised and failing.“He is here. Where else would he be?” the woman replies. She thinks for a moment more before nodding her head towards one of the sealed doors. The soldier stands aside at her gesture, allowing her to lead you into a discrete side room. The candles are a little brighter here, allowing you a better look at her. Her hair, which you originally took to be brown, is a dark red. It’s hard to guess her age – her face still looks youthful, but her eyes carry a heavy weight. “Forgive me, my name is Justine,” she adds, “I am but a humble assistant, but I will serve you however I can.”“Have you met the new saint yet, Miss Justine?” Elle asks. You might be the only person in the world who could notice it, but you sense an edge of tension to her question.“I have,” Justine confirms, “But only briefly. I worry for her.”“You… worry for her?” you repeat.Justine’s face grows very still. Her eyes sharpen, as if reevaluating you in some nameless way. Why such an innocent question would provoke such a strong reaction, you couldn’t say.“She’s very young, and I fear that she will be under a great deal of pressure. A saint must be infallible, in the eyes of the masses,” Justine answers after a moment, bowing her head, “We will all do our best to support her, of course, but we can only do so much. The role of saint can be a very lonesome one.”[2]
>>6267435I swear if it's that cousin lmao
>>6267435“Forgive me for only asking this now, but may I ask your names?” Justine asks, lowering her head once more.“Isambard Pale,” you reply, “And this is Elspeth Legrasse.”“Elle is fine, though,” Elle adds, pausing a little before adding, “You recognise my name, don’t you?”“The Legrasse family is well known in these lands. It is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance. I realise now that you, better than most, will understand my words,” Justine offers Elle a faint hint of a smile, “This must be a very peculiar experience for you, coming here at a time like this.”“Yes, well, I don’t mean to make this about me. I’m just here to pay my respects, just like all those pilgrims out there,” Elle insists, that hard edge creeping back into her voice. She glances briefly aside to you, letting out a silent sigh of relief when a knock at the door interrupts the conversation. Justine moves to the door, silently leaving as Cato enters.“Isambard,” he begins, stiff and formal, “I was surprised to hear that you were in Amaryllis.”“You know me,” you reply with a smirk, “Whenever there’s trouble, I’m never far away.”Your words are a calculated gambit, one that pays off. Cato’s eyes widen slightly, his mouth forming a tight line. Just from his unspoken reaction, you see that your hunch was right – there IS trouble here.“I didn’t realise that word had spread,” Cato mutters, “This could be very dangerous for us.”“Please excuse him, Master Silvera,” Elle urges, “He was just joking. But… could it be that you’re worried about something?”“I am indeed worried about something, Miss Legrasse. You’ll have to excuse me, I haven’t had much of a sense of humour these past few days. I’m here on business, you see,” he explains, stopping himself before he says anything more. He thinks for a long time, all the while struggling to meet your gaze. Eventually, he comes to some decision.“There are some fairly strict limits to what I’m able to tell you, Isambard,” he continues, “By all rights, I should end this conversation here and big you a good day – unless, that is, you were prepared to offer your assistance.”“My assistance with what?” you ask, giving Elle a quick, victorious glance. It’s starting to feel a lot like you just won your bet.“I can’t answer that,” Cato replies, a grim, apologetic smile on his face, “Now, perhaps, you see the conundrum I’m in.”It has to be something to do with the saint, that much is obvious. Something dangerous, too, or they wouldn’t have so many soldiers around. A plot on her life, perhaps?>I think it’s best if we don’t get involved. Good luck with your business, Cato>I’m willing to help out. Just tell me what you need me to do>Other
>>6267457>I’m willing to help out. Just tell me what you need me to do>I also wanted to inquire if you know of the effluvium. Or is it something that only appeared recently.
>>6267457>(sigh) It's about this saint, isn't it.>I’m willing to help out. Just tell me what you need me to doAlso backing >>6267461Showing the sketches might be worth it?
>>6267457>I’m willing to help out. Just tell me what you need me to doCato's always been cool with usAsk what's up with the effluvium in the Demesne too yea
>>6267457>Let me guess, the new saint has locked herself in her room and refuses to come out, or has escaped entirely>I’m willing to help out. Just tell me what you need me to do
>>6267465+1>>6267476>Cato's always been cool with usApart from when he tried to murder our sister, and maybe us?
>>6267489But we were on that statue excavation with him and not!Indiana Jones and his uncle and his hot glasses girl cousin. We're cool now
>>6267489Speaking of Gratia, when will she finally approve of Elle to "I like you. You can come over to our estate and fuck my brother anytime." levels?
>>6267489>Apart from when he tried to murder our sister, and maybe us?He never tried to murder usIn fact I'm pretty sure he failed to kill Gratia because he didn't want to get us tooAs for trying to kill Gratia, well, she is kinda merged with a spirit of darkness and evil.
“I’m willing to help out,” you tell Cato, looking the young man in the eye, “Just tell me what you need me to do.”“Excellent. Isambard, you cannot imagine how glad I am to hear that,” Cato breathes, “For now, I ask only for your discretion. As you have no doubt realised by now, this whole operation has been kept to the highest degree of secrecy.”“It has something to do with the saint, doesn’t it?” you ask, “Someone intends to kill her.”“Isambard,” Cato replies, a pained look passing across his face, “If you are going to continue to guess, I would ask that you stop being so right. It makes it seem as if you know things you shouldn’t.”“In fairness, Master Silvera, that wasn’t hard to guess,” Elle points out, “What else would warrant such secrecy?”“It’s either that, or she’s locked herself in her room and refuses to come out,” you add, “I suspect the former.”Cato spreads his hands wide, admitting defeat. “Very well, I concede the argument,” he sighs, “We received a warning about a threat to the saint’s life. Despite our best efforts, we’ve not been able to find out who sent us the letter. It came from a courier, who claimed to receive it from another courier and so on. The letter claimed that an exiled faction of the Tomoe intends to kill the saint.”All three of you fall silent for a moment.“An exiled faction of the Tomoe?” you repeat at last.“So claimed the letter. I confess, I don’t know what it means either. I’ve tasked an assistant to looking into our old family records, to find anything they can on factions within the Tomoe,” Cato shakes his head, “There’s a part of me that fears this may all be a jest on their part, a ploy to waste our time and manpower while their true designs unfold elsewhere. Yet, we must take it seriously, despite the challenges it poses. Take the pilgrims, for example. With so many of the flocking to this city, there’s no way to monitor them all. If an assassin was hiding amongst them...”“The proverbial needle in the haystack,” you finish for him.“Exactly so,” Cato clears his throat, “I apologise, Miss Legrasse, but would you be so kind as to find Justine and bring her here. She’s been assisting us with some of the preparations.”“Of course,” Elle says, getting up to leave, “I’ll be right back.”Cato waits until she’s gone before speaking up again. “It’s good to see you again, Isambard,” he murmurs, “I’m… a little surprised that you can sit there, offering your assistance as if nothing has happened between us.”“Ancient history now, Cato,” you remark, waving away his words, “You haven’t been in the Demesne lately, have you?”“No, I haven’t,” Cato says quietly, “I feel as though that door has been closed to me.”He says that with something very close to relief.[1]
>>6267502Silence, for only a brief moment.“Why do you ask?” Cato wonders, “Forgive me, Isambard, but the Demesne would be the last thing on my mind at a time like this.”“I’ve been searching, and I’ve found some strange… substance. A thick black fluid, something that behaves like no liquid should behave. Effluvium, I’ve taken to calling it. It’s a sickly, corrupt thing. It shouldn’t belong in a place like the Demesne,” you explain, “Have you ever heard of such a thing? Have you seen it with your own eyes?”“No. I’ve neither seen nor heard of it,” he answers, shaking his head, “May I ask where you saw this?”“All over the fifth level. You can’t miss it.”Cato shakes his head again. “Then you have ventured deeper than I ever will,” the young man replies, “After the fourth layer. After… your father… I knew I could go no further. I’m sorry, Isambard, but I don’t know. Though… I’ve studied the Demesne somewhat, and this effluvium you describe does not appear in what few historical records exist. It may be that it is a recent development.”Another long pause.“Not a development for the better, I would assume,” Cato adds with a sigh.He doesn’t know how right he really is.>Okay, I’m going to take a pause here for today. The wagecage looms, but I’ll be continuing next Saturday>Thank you for playing today!
>>6267511Hm, so maybe the Stryx have brought this corruption with them, or provoked it somehow? Then again, perhaps it's not a bad thing entirely, even if it seems like it at first. Many people do want the Godhead to change in some way, to become more human. This is transformation of some sort. It just needs direction.Thanks for running!
>>6267511Thanks for running!Dang no more broing it up with Cato in the Demesne I guess.
>>6267518I don't know if it's worth the time or effort of taking samples of Effulvium all the way to that Phalaris skank. Could be an option?>>6267529What if we simply pull him to the fifth layer with us? We pulled Elle in through the barriers, we can do this again
Interesting. Seems like we need something to get rid of the Effluvium. Anyone up for a search for some Pale Fire?
Cast in the lurid glow of sunlight pouring through the stained glass windows, you idly listen to the muffled voices passing by the cathedral. You have a good view out into the street from the atrium, good enough for you to watch the constant flow of pilgrims passing by. The fact that a would-be assassin might be amongst them is not lost on you, but it would be a poor assassin to announce their presence so openly.After a while, you grow tired of watching the crowds and look back to the colourful windows. Each one depicts a scene taken from the Nicean Prophecies, the figure of a bleeding woman appearing more than anything else. Cato and Elle are absent, locked in some private conversation, but you suddenly realise that you’re not alone. Justine, the churchwoman, has silently approached.“Do you believe in all this stuff?” you ask nonchalantly, waving a hand up towards the stained glass windows before letting out a low laugh. “Stupid question,” you add, “Of course you do.”“I do believe,” she answers coolly, taking no obvious offence at your crass question, “I believe that the Godhead will one day give way to a kind and caring God, and that God will lead the way to a new world – a world of gold, where men can live virtuous lives.”“Very admirable,” you muse, “But sometimes I wonder. Would there be a place for people like me in this golden world?”“There will be a place for everyone,” Justine offers you a faint hint of a smile, “Even someone like me.”Just as you’re wondering what THAT was supposed to mean, you hear the sharp click of footsteps as a soldier hurries into the cathedral. He enters a small side room, emerging a moment later with Cato and Elle. With the messenger retreating back where he came from, Cato quickly moves over to join you. “Thank you for waiting, Isambard,” he begins, “I apologise for taking up so much of your companion’s time.”“That’s fine,” you reply, glancing briefly aside as Justine backs away, “So long as you weren’t talking about me behind my back, that is.”“No, of course not. I was asking for advice, actually,” Cato pauses for a moment, looking faintly embarrassed, “I was asking how I might comfort the saint, to reassure her. Though we have tried not to worry her unnecessarily, she clearly realises that not everything is well.”“And she’s received a prophecy,” Elle adds in a low voice, “A beast with three faces approaches. One wears a familiar mask and speaks in a cacophonous voice, one hides like a wolf amongst the flock, and the last will come with the moonlight.”“The second “face” in the prophecy likely confirms what I’ve suspected, that an assassin will try to hide amongst the pilgrims,” Cato grimaces, “The rest of it, however…”[1/2]
>>6270112“Let’s start with the first face, then,” you suggest, “One wears a familiar mask. That could mean someone already known to us. How much do you trust the soldiers around here?”“I brought a number of them with me, men and women that I’ve known for many years. I’d trust them with my life. The rest of the soldiers are local men, enlisted to make up the numbers. They are all servants of the church, and the Silvera family, but I don’t know them personally,” Cato shakes his head, “Even so, they wouldn’t raise their hand against the saint!”“What about the second part?” Elle asks quietly, “They speak in a cacophonous voice. That sounds like-”“The Cacophony,” you finish for her.“The Cacophony isn’t real. They were never real,” Cato points out, “At most, they were an evil rumour concocted by the Tomoe as a means to sow distrust.”You shrug, leaving the possibility hanging in the air.“In either case, I’ve asked an associate to contact the Choir and bring all the prophecies that might relate to the saint. That messenger just now was telling me that she’s arrived. She brought a significant number of papers with her, however,” a grimace passes across the young man’s face, “If you were willing to assist her, it might hasten her search.”He’s putting a lot of faith in these old records. Considering how unreliable prophecies can become once the corruptive power of Calamity is involved, you don’t exactly share his faith.“Is there anything else you need?” you ask.“I was going to go out on patrol later, and you would be welcome to join me. If there was any trouble lurking beyond these walls, I’m sure that your keen senses would be able to sniff it out,” Cato suggests, “I can also see if the saint wishes to meet with you. It may do her good to speak with someone else, someone with a little more distance.”“I would very much like to speak with her, Master Silvera,” Elle decides, “Please make the arrangements.”There’s a rare note of command in her voice, enough that even Cato raises an eyebrow in surprise. Still, he nods in agreement.>You’ll help search through the Choir’s records. There might be useful information hidden within the prophecies>You’ll join Cato on a patrol of the city. Your habit for finding trouble might come in handy here>You’ll meet the saint with Elle. Getting to know her a little better may lead to new revelations>Other
>>6270113>You’ll join Cato on a patrol of the city. Your habit for finding trouble might come in handy hereMaybe we shouldn’t meet her, the third face might be us
>>6270113>>You’ll meet the saint with Elle. Getting to know her a little better may lead to new revelations>>6270118First face might be Cato, after all he's familiar and he professes faith while killing those who may yet be a threat, saying one thing yet doing another. That's more or less the problem with prophecies, they are vague and can be interpreted vastly differently depending on said vagueness and people trying to force them to fit.
>>6270118+1
>>6270120>First face might be Cato, after all he's familiar and he professes faith while killing those who may yet be a threat, saying one thing yet doing another.Bro let it go
“I’ll join you on patrol. I’ve got an uncanny talent for finding trouble, and it might actually come in handy for once,” you tell Cato, “Did you have a route planned out?”“I was thinking of taking a look around the outskirts,” he answers, nodding for you to follow him, “The outermost regions of the city have been neglected for a very long time. I hesitate to call them “slums” exactly, but they’re close. If our enemies were hiding out somewhere, I would expect they would make their lair in the outskirts.”“I see,” you pause, “So why haven’t you swept them out before now?”Cato has the good graces to look embarrassed. “My priority was securing the interior,” he replies, “Now that the main perimeter has been established, we can start looking further out.”“Well, whatever,” you decide with a shrug, “Lead the way.”-It’s clear that there’s something on Cato’s mind, something he doesn’t feel comfortable talking about. That seems to be normal for him, which is hardly surprising considering all the secrets shared between you. This time, though, you have a good idea of what’s bothering him. “You’re still thinking about that familiar face, aren’t you?” you ask quietly, “Still wondering who it might be.”“I am,” he admits, “The Godhead tells us exactly what we need to know, but something I wish these prophecies could be a little more… specific. A familiar face could be someone I saw once and still faintly remember, or it could be a sworn companion of many years.”“It could even be me,” you remark, offering him an ironic smile.“It could even be you,” Cato agrees, “Although I certainly hope it isn’t. Seeing you again, only for us to meet as enemies once more… that would be too cruel.”It’s times like these when you sense something womanly about Cato. Maybe it’s “compassion” or “empathy” or something equally foolish. “What about Justine?” you suggest, “Do you know her well?”“No, I’ve only recently met her. As I understand it, she’s served the church here for ten years or so. A reliable character, by all accounts. That’s why I was recommended to liaise with her,” he shakes his head, “Why her?”“She said…” you pause, then correct yourself, “She implied that she’d led a, ah, less than virtuous life before arriving here.”“Hm,” a frown darkens Cato’s face, “She hasn’t said anything like that to me. Try to talk with her some more, if the opportunity arises. Somehow, I feel as if she’ll be more open with you. House Silvera has the reputation for being… judgemental. But you-”“House Pale is already as low as it gets,” you joke, “So there’s no shame in discussing such things with us. Is that what you meant to say?”Cato frowns again, but he certainly doesn’t disagree with you. He just walks on in silence, directing his scrutiny outwards as you approach the edge of town.[1]
>>6270131Three figures are waiting for you at the edge of town, where the new and renovated buildings give way to older, crumbling homes. You certainly wouldn’t call the outskirts a slum, but you’ve seen places like Walpurgis or the Galsean compound in Portsmaw. This place might be shabby, but it still maintains a sense of stubborn pride.“Captain Renoir,” Cato begins, his voice jolting you from your thoughts. He’s addressing a tall man, a man with the sort of rugged good looks that belong on an army recruitment poster. He wears the same dark brown uniform as his two companions, although the red cape slung over one shoulder marks him out as a senior officer. Ceremonial uniforms, you note, although the soldiers all looks professional enough. Lethal enough, if it comes to that.“Master Silvera. We’ve scouted ahead a little,” Renoir replies, offering a salute, “The outskirts are a busy place at the moment. Just about every family is renting their rooms to the visiting pilgrims. Even if we knew who we were looking for, searching the area would be near enough impossible.”“I feared as much,” Cato sighs, “Oh, this is Master Pale. He’s going to be assisting with the security efforts. Isambard, this is Captain Renoir. He’s with our house security. I’ve known him for several years, actually.”“What he means is, he used to watch me practice my swordplay when he was just a little boy,” Renoir lets out a hard laugh, “I’d like to say that I taught him everything I know, but that would be a lie. He’s far surpassed me by now.”“Good to meet you,” you tell him, before the older man can launch into any more nostalgia, “I assume these two are with you?”“They are. Mira and Jericho, two of my best,” he nods to the other two soldiers, “They’re got brains and brawn, just what we need for a job like this.”“Wish you hadn’t said that, Captain,” one of the soldiers – Mira – complains, “Now he’s going to be expecting us to do a good job!”-The chatter dies away as you enter the old town, the streets narrowing down and the buildings growing denser. Despite what Renoir said about the outskirts being busy, they don’t feel that way. Either the pilgrims have flocked into the centre of town, or they’re hiding indoors and staying quiet. Either way, the outskirts feel oddly deserted. With your hand never far from your holstered gun, you slowly creep through the winding streets.“Wait,” you murmur, holding up a hand. The others pause, turning to look your way. Following some nameless instinct, you backtrack a few paces before taking a corner, squeezing down a particularly narrow path. It soon opens up into a makeshift shrine, faded tiles set into a mosaic depicting the bleeding woman from the Nicean Prophecies.But this shrine has been defaced, paint smeared across the woman’s head in a clumsy suggestion of horns.[2]
>>6270130Let what go? I'm not angry about it, just pointing out that such prophecies can often play fast and loose with wording and symbology. That's rather the problem with them,
>>6270149I don't care if Cato is sorry has a crush on us, I'm still mad he tried to assassinate our evil space-bird sister.
>>6270140Nobody says anything for a long time as you stare up at the defaced mural. Signs of faith had been ever-present as you walked through the old town, ranging from simple shrines placed in the middle of junctions to humble offerings left in discrete places. Thinking back on them now, those little totems and tokens seem to suggest an older kind of faith, something that was ancient when the Godhead was young.“Captain Renoir,” Cato says softly, “Please arrange for that to be cleaned off.”“Of course,” Renoir replies, “I’ll instruct the priests to-”The sudden crack of a rock hitting the ground interrupts him, and you all whirl around to see a young boy – barely a teenager, if that – ducking out of sight from the rooftops. “Go home!” he shrieks, cackling with glee as he runs off across the flat rooftops above you.“After him!” Cato snaps. Renoir obeys without question, although his two lackeys are a little less confident. Even if you did catch the boy, they seem to think, what then?-Perhaps unsurprisingly, you quickly lose the boy’s trail. This is his territory, after all, and the swift young lad was able to leap across rooftops while you struggled through narrow streets. You can see relief on the faces of the two younger soldiers, while Cato frowns with frustration. “Forget about him,” you tell the silver haired young man, “He was just a boy. Not the hardened assassin that we’re looking for.”“Regardless, Master Silvera, I think you should head back,” Renoir suggests, “For now, I would consider this place to be hostile territory.”“Just a little bit longer,” Cato instructs, “Keep watch and follow me.”Renoir obeys without complaint, stepping aside so Cato can lead the way. You’re not walking long before the narrow streets widen out into what seems to be a burial ground. Stepping out into the open space feels like a mixed blessing – while you’re glad to be free from the maze of streets, you feel frightfully exposed here. Who knows how many young children are hiding above you, just waiting to pelt you with rocks?“Was this what you were looking for?” you ask Cato quietly. He doesn’t reply, his gaze slowly panning across the ancient mausoleums as if expecting a villain to leap out from behind one at any moment. Without much else to do, you take a slow wander through the burial ground. When something catches your eye, though, you pause and approach one of the mausoleums. The metal gate remains closed, but the ground nearby is littered with flakes of rust.“Cato,” you call out, “Over here!”“This door was opened, and recently,” Cato murmurs, kneeling down to examine the flakes of rust, “Good work, Isambard.”[3/4]
>>6270162Standing, Cato gives the metal gate a careful tug. It sticks a little, but opens without too much of a struggle. Much of the mausoleum is taken up by a single stone casket, as expected, but towards the rear the floor drops away to reveal a staircase leading down into the bowels of the earth. You stare down into the darkness for a while, dimly aware of the sound of footsteps as Renoir and his men approach.“Most settlements like this are built on top of catacombs like these,” Cato remarks slowly, “The church archives might have some old maps, schematics showing how far they extend. Some of them might even reach all the way out to the cathedral itself.”“Giving our assassins a perfect route in,” you finish for him, “Right under our damn feet.”“Master Silvera, you need to go back and inform the others of this. You need to organise a thorough search of the cathedral grounds,” Renoir suggests, just barely stopping short of giving orders, “Let us handle the search here.”“Captain Renoir-”“Cato,” the older man interrupts, “Let us do our job.”>He’s right, Cato. We need to go back and check on things at the cathedral>I’ll stay and help with the search. I’m more useful here>I’ve got a suggestion… (Write in)>Other
>>6270164>I’ll stay and help with the search. I’m more useful hereIt's our special skill. We even have a shard of moonlight for the final "face" of the prophecy.
>>6270164>He’s right, Cato. We need to go back and check on things at the cathedralIf there are maps like that in the archives, we can see where they'd emerge.
>>6270164>I’ll stay and help with the search. I’m more useful hereI don't trust this Renoir very much in the light of the familiar face prophecy
>>6270164>>I’ll stay and help with the search. I’m more useful here>>6270171Agreed
>>6270171+1Maybe whisper that to Cato when we're out of earshot of this guy
“I’ll stay and help with the search,” you decide, “Cato, you go back and help out at the cathedral. Find those maps, and make sure you know if our assassins can emerge right out from under our feet. I’m more useful here – you know, putting those keen senses of mine to good use.”Renoir frowns at the idea. “I’m sorry, Master Pale, but I’d rather not send Master Silvera back alone,” he points out, “Not when we’ve already seen one sign of hostility.”You say nothing to this, simply holding Renoir’s gaze. The silence stretches out for a long moment, but eventually he relents. “Jericho, you go with Master Silvera. Make sure he gets back to the cathedral in one piece,” he orders, “That is, if Master Pale still insists on joining us?”“Master Pale does,” you answer in a cold tone, “I never pass up a chance to go crawling through some dark catacombs.”“You know, that doesn’t surprise me one bit,” Mira mutters to herself.“Isambard-” Cato protests, but you take his arm before he can say anything more than that. He falls silent as you lead him a few paces away, moving out of earshot from the others.“Listen, trust me on this one,” you whisper, “I know you trust the Captain, but I’m not sure that I do. I’m not saying that he’s the familiar face that we’re looking for, but he COULD be.”Cato scowls.“Look at it this way,” you press, “I’m trying to rule him out, take his name off the list. How about that?”With a sigh, Cato shakes his head. “It’s true that I can’t judge Captain Renoir with unbiased eyes,” he says softly, “I just hope that your suspicious prove false.”-Renoir and Mira light up voltaic lamps as they prepare to descend down the stairs, but you take out your shard of moonlight. As you do, though, you feel a faint chill run through you. The words of the prophecy come echoing through your mind – the third face, the third assassin, will come with the moonlight. It’s as vague as prophecies always are, but somehow it feels like the words were meant for you.The strange talisman draws curious eyes from the pair of soldiers, and you casually show it to them – conveniently allowing the cold light to wash over their faces. There’s no change, no terrible truth revealed as their masks and glamours fall away. They’re two normal soldiers, the same as they always were.“Is this a bad time to mention that I don’t like tight spaces?” Mira remarks, an odd lilt in her wavering voice as she tries to make light of the situation.“You seemed fine with the streets up there,” you point out, jerking a thumb back towards the surface.“Yeah, because I could see the sky,” she complains, “Down here, it’s like being buried alive.”[1]
>>6270184Renoir hushes her, giving you both a hard scowl. He seems harsher now that Cato is absent, a layer of warmth stripped away to reveal a core as hard as iron. Holding your tongue, you continue down the steps until they level out. You examine the walls, almost expecting to see the white stone of the Demesne, but your eyes are met with coarse grey granite instead. You’re probably not deep enough to be in the Demesne – not yet, at least.The chamber you’ve descended into is lined with alcoves, each one taken up by a heavy stone casket. Wiping away the dust and cobwebs, you see the same faded insignia carved into each casket. Some kind of family emblem, you assume, although not much of it remains legible. But it’s clear that the dead weren’t the only ones sleeping here – a few dirty bedrolls are laid out on the floor, while a discarded satchel contains a dry heel of bread.“I count six bedrolls, boss,” Mira whispers, “I thought we were only looking for three targets?”“They could be hiding amongst a group. Don’t let down your guard,” Renoir warns, “This way, the tunnel goes further in.”“That leads back into the city,” you point out, “Back towards the cathedral.”Renoir seems to hesitate. “Are you sure?” he asks after a moment.“I’ve got a pretty good sense of direction, you know.”Mira shrugs, not committing to doubt or support. With a sharp jerk of his hand, Renoir orders you both to follow close behind him as he stalks into the tunnels. They’re especially narrow here, so tight that you have to walk one after the other, and you can barely walk a dozen paces before turning another corner. Each junction you pass spirals off into yet more branching tunnels, and it isn’t long before your head is spinning. Even at its worst, the Demesne isn’t this bad – at least the Demesne has enough light for you to see the path ahead. Here, even the bright white voltaic lights seem to be swallowed up without effect.Renoir stops suddenly, holding up a clenched fist as he tilts his head to listen. You follow suit, straining your ears to heard what might be a faint scratching sound from up ahead. Possibly rats. Possibly the kind of rats that walk on two legs.Without warning, Renoir breaks into a sudden sprint forwards. Mira lets out a cry of alarm and starts to hurry after him, pushing past you and running towards the next junction. Cursing, you start to chase after her when something slams into you from the side, knocking both you and Mira to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Her light immediately goes dark as it hits the ground and shatters, plunging you all into near-total darkness. Only your moonlight shard keeps the blackness from becoming absolute, but for once the light only serves to obscure the truth – the mad dance of shadows that it creates reveals nothing.[2]
>>6270194Something, a writhing human figure, pulls back from you and lurches upright before fleeing down the tunnel. Staggering to your feet, you give chase without a second thought. Following the echoing clatter of footsteps as you run, you feel a sudden sense of disorientation wash over you. This whole situation seems vaguely familiar, as if you’ve lived these moments before – or, perhaps, will experience them again at some unknown point in the future.It occurs to you, then, that the footsteps have fallen silent. Either your quarry has fled so far that he’s out of earshot, or he’s stopped moving. Slowing your own pace, you creep forwards and listen for any signs of life – whether they come from your unseen attacker, or from your lost companions. After a long, slow stalk, you eventually hear the sound of rasping breaths. Following the sound to its source, you soon find a bedraggled man cowering against the wall.Grabbing the man by the scruff of his collar, you drag him upright and shove him back against the wall. An unwashed man with a straggly beard, he looks more like a lunatic hermit than an assassin, but you know that that proves nothing. Could he be the wolf that moves amongst the flock?One way or another, you’re going to have to find out.-Only in retrospect do you realise that you should have marked your path somehow, leaving yourself directions to follow back to the starting catacomb. Something to remember for the next time you get stuck in a shitty situation like this. As it is, you have only your instincts to guide you back along your path. You trust your fate to them, and they don’t disappoint.Dragging the shabbily dressed man into the crypt, you let him drop to the floor and crouch down beside him. “We’re going to have a little talk, you and I,” you tell him coldly, “You can start by telling us what you’re doing down here.”“By all means,” a hard voice agrees, “Tell us.”You turn to see Renoir standing in the doorway, his revolver drawn and cocked – not exactly aimed at you, not exactly aimed at your captive. His uniform looks dusty and creased, while his face is marked by a smear of blood. You meet his gaze, idly wondering how to draw your own gun without his notice. Before you can put your plan into action, he carefully lowers the hammer on his weapon and holsters it.“Captain Renoir,” you say quietly, “Where’s Mira?”“I was hoping she’d be with you,” he replies, shaking his head, “We can’t leave her behind. I can watch the suspect if you were able to search for her. Or you can stay, and I’ll search. Either way, I’m wary of splitting up again.”You nod slowly. Either way, you’d be letting Renoir out of your sight.>You’ll watch over the prison, he can search for Mira>You’re better at searching. Leave the prisoner with Renoir>You shouldn’t split up. Search together, and bring the prisoner with you>Other
>>6270198>You shouldn’t split up. Search together, and bring the prisoner with youMost sus.
>>6270198>You’re better at searching. Leave the prisoner with RenoirNot sure we'd get anything out of himGod damn spelunking manI hate caves now
>>6270198>You shouldn’t split up. Search together, and bring the prisoner with you
“With all due respect, Captain Renoir, I think splitting up should be the last thing we do,” you argue, “It’s better for everyone if we stick together and search for Mira that way. We can take the prisoner with us, if that’s what it takes.”Renoir grimaces a little, although he doesn’t shoot your suggestion down straight away. “He wasn’t the only one out there, you know. He has friends,” the soldier points out, “We’d be an easy target for an ambush if we’re concentrating on keeping him under control.”“That’s fine. They can ambush us if they want,” you reply with a shrug, “They’ll all die.”“You’ve got the wrong idea…” the bedraggled man mumbles, “I don’t even know who you are. I’m not… I’m not going to hurt anyone.”“You’ll forgive me if I don’t immediately trust you,” Renoir mutters, giving the bearded man a particularly sour frown, “Very well, Master Pale. We’ll do it your way. I’ll confess, there’s a part of me that’s very glad of that.”-You try to coax a few answers out of the unwashed man as you creep through the tunnels, but he’s too scared – or too smart – to tell you much. From what little he does say, you’re able to put together a rough picture. He claims to be a common pilgrim, and a particularly penniless one at that. Together with his little group, they were able to gather enough money to make the journey to Amaryllis but that was it. With no spare cash for lodgings, they broke into the catacombs purely for somewhere to sleep. The group panicked when you arrived, fearing arrest or worse. He might have pushed you over, purely by accident, and another member of his group may have inadvertently given Renoir a bloody nose. Such things can happen in the dark.His story makes sense on the surface, but something about his words feels particularly hollow to you. They feel like words read from a script, something learned by rote memorisation. If you found another member of his group, you suspect that he would tell you the exact same story – identical, even down to the word. It might take a serious interrogation to prise the truth out of him, and even then-“Wait,” the unwashed man hisses, “What was that?”You all stop and listen, straining your ears for a moment. When you don’t hear anything, Renoir cups his hands over his mouth and calls out Mira’s name. His booming voice echoes down the tunnel, but something else echoes back to you. Just as you’re listening for the answer, the pilgrim takes his chance to strike. Twisting out of your slackening grip, he spins on his heel and sprints out into the darkness. You start to follow before stopping yourself with a snarled curse. Chasing ghosts in the darkness is how you all got separated in the first place. You’re in no hurry to repeat the process.“The next time we take a prisoner, I’m going to break their leg so they can’t run,” Renoir mutters.No arguments there.[1]
>>6270209A sullen mood hangs over the pair of you as you trudge through the tunnels, occasionally pausing to call out Mira’s name. You’re definitely getting a response, her echoing voice growing louder and clearer with each shout. When you finally catch up with her, the moment is so anticlimactic that it almost feels unreal. You turn one corner and practically walk straight into the young woman. Her mouth drops open in a silent gasp of surprise, her eyes widening with disbelief.“Boss?” she squeaks, “And, um, Master Pale?”“Yes, that’s us, and you’re Mira,” you reply, “Now that we all know who we are, how about we get out of here?”“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Mira agrees, eagerly nodding her head.-None of you relaxes even a little bit until you reach the top of the stairs and see sunlight again. It’s only then, as you let your guard down a little, that you notice the filthy, stained satchel that Mira has slung over one shoulder. “What’s with the bag?” you ask, gesturing to it. She glances down as if surprised to see the bag, then lets out a small laugh. “I don’t know, actually. I tripped over it in the dark. When I got up, I took it with me. I mean, I didn’t even think about it,” she answers, taking it off her shoulder and setting it down. Fumbling with the clasps for a moment, she opens it and empties out the contents. Jingling purses, heavy gold jewellery and gilded holy icons spill out onto the dry grass, all gleaming sensuously in the fading sunlight.“Well, look at that,” Renoir remarks, “Penniless pilgrims my ass.”>I’m going to pause here for today. I’ll be continuing this tomorrow, same kind of starting time>Thank you for playing today!
>>6270222Thanks for running!Dang we can't even find the assassins we're looking for because of all these thieves in the catacombs. Need a brute squad to clear them out.
>>6270227How will all the others react to this twist?>sorry we couldn't find your saint's assassin in the catacombs>we were busy running into all your city's thieves infesting the place>(dumps gold and riches and loot onto the table)>unless riches enough to hire an assassin willing to kill a saint counts?
>>6270112>“A beast with three faces approaches. One wears a familiar mask and speaks in a cacophonous voice, one hides like a wolf amongst the flock, and the last will come with the moonlight.”I don't think the beast as a whole is an assassin.The familiar face could introduce doubt.The wolf presents physical danger, said assassinWhile the last is the stryx, a terrible foe lying in waitAll this combined to make the saint lose faith, giving up the fight, rather than her life specifically.
You always had the impression that dinner amongst a gaggle of priests and holy men would be dull, austere food served in a pious silence. Maybe that’s true in some places, but certainly not here. Joining Cato and his companions for dinner, you’re served duck with a rich, complex sauce. There’s wine too, although nobody is foolish enough to overindulge. Hunting assassins is bad enough without adding a hangover into the mix.“I found some old maps of the catacombs,” Cato says, leaning across the table and lowering his voice, “Originally they spread across the whole settlement, including the cathedral itself. Some time ago, though, the priests here built walls to separate the cathedral catacombs from the rest of the network. Concerns about thieves, I suppose.”“I feel like I’m stating the obvious here, but walls can be broken down,” you point out.“Of course. We still have to consider this as a potential weakness. Fortunately, there’s only a single entrance that opens out into the cathedral, and I’ve ordered it to be sealed off,” the young man nods, “We’ve blocked off the entrance with some old furniture. It won’t deter a truly determined attacker, but it means they won’t be able to enter quickly or quietly.”“Good enough.”“What about…” Cato lowers his voice, “Renoir?”You pause for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know. He’s neither confirmed his guilt nor proven his innocence.”Cato sighs, his face darkening.“What about you?” you ask, quickly changing the subject, “Has your associate found any useful leads in the prophecies?”A strange look passes across Cato’s face, mingling amusement and pain, as he glances away from you. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?” he suggests, nodding over to the entrance to the dining room. You follow his gaze, your eyes widening with disbelief when you see who he was talking about.”“Cato,” you say slowly, “Please correct me if I’ve got the wrong idea, but I thought this whole operations was supposed to be secret, something to be handled with discretion.”“It was,” he replies with a wince, “I mean, it is.”“Then why exactly is MISTY here?” you hiss.“A secret is best shared between as few people as possible. Misty happened to be present when we learned about the plot on the saint’s life, and she has access to the Choir’s records. I didn’t want to get anyone else involved, so-” Cato pauses, falling silent as he notices Misty approach your table with a spring in her step.“Hello boys,” Misty begins, helping herself to a seat at your table, “You weren’t talking about me, were you?”“I was just telling Isambard about your good work,” Cato answers hastily, “We appreciate the hard work.”“Oh, you know me,” Misty remarks with a wink, “Duty above all else.”[1/2]
>>6270590“Did you learn anything useful?” Cato asks, “What about that… other thing I asked about?”“The prophecy, you mean? The familiar face one?” Misty replies, remembering to lower her voice at the last moment, “I’ve had a few thoughts, and I think I’ve got a theory. I think you’re too focussed on the first part, you’re missing the second. Your assassin “speaks with a cacophonous voice”. Well, what do we know about the Cacophony?”“That they don’t exist?” the young man suggests.“Okay, Mister No Fun Allowed,” Misty pouts, “Pretend for a minute that they DID exist. How did they operate? They infiltrated the church and the Choir, getting into positions of influence so they could spread their lies and falsehoods. They worked for years and years before they were found out. So, I think you’re looking for someone like that.”Silence falls. “Justine?” you suggest in a whisper.Misty shrugs, but says nothing. “I asked a few discrete questions while I was searching for those catacomb maps,” Cato murmurs, “Nobody knows about Justine’s life before joining the church. Who she was before coming here, what kind of life she’s led. She’s a very private person, by all accounts.”That doesn’t necessarily prove her guilt, but it certainly doesn’t help. In the absence of any solid information, speculation will soon fill the void. The silence returns, growing thick and heavy as you consider the situation.“Well, I don’t have a solid answer for you yet, but we can always talk it over a little more after dinner,” Misty suggests after a while, trying to shrug off the whole conversation, “But I’m warning you now, I could talk for hours about the prophecies I read. They’re pretty interesting, actually! It’s like all these long-dead oracles were gossiping about each other.”No wonder she was willing to work so hard. Before you can say anything more, you notice Elle entering the dining room. She approaches as you give her a wave, a weary smile forming on her face. “Isambard, hello. I’m glad to see you’re okay,” she begins, “I was just going to head back to the hotel. I’m awfully tired.”She looks like it, although you’re tactful enough not to say that aloud.“Good idea,” Misty chirps, “You look like it.”“Did you get a chance to meet the saint?” you ask, quickly changing the subject once more.“I did,” Elle answers, her voice flat and low, “Master Silvera. Miss Silvera-Quail. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”Strange.>It’s odd for Elle to be so curt. You should catch up with her and see what’s wrong>You should take some time to discuss the prophecies, and gossip, with Misty>Justine is a possible suspect. You should try and learn more about her>You’ve got plans… (Write in)>Other
>>6270591>Justine is a possible suspect. You should try and learn more about herLmao Misty
>>6270591>Clarify how confident they are about the prophecy being assassins in the first place. There's more than one way to get a saint to quit. Maybe each head is a different form.>>It’s odd for Elle to be so curt. You should catch up with her and see what’s wrong
>>6270461That makes a lot of sense. Good thinking, anon!>>6270590>freckles and glassesMira 2 cute.>>6270591>>6270597 +1
You watch with wide, surprised eyes as Elle turns and marches away from the dining room table. It’s not like her to be so curt, so abrupt, especially not in polite company like this. There’s something wrong, something beyond the admittedly very long list of things that are already very wrong. Something to do with the saint, you suspect. You ought to catch up and check on her, but there’s one little thing you need to do first.“Misty, since you’ve discovered the joys of research, I want you to look into something for me,” you begin, “We’ve been assuming that-”“Oh hold on, let me get a pen,” Misty interrupts, “And let me tell you about my hourly rates…”“Cousin,” Cato warns, fixing her with a cold scowl.“Cato, please. I was just kidding. I’m not the sort of girl who charges by the hour,” Misty pauses, “Wait, that wasn’t supposed to sound so-”“Focus, please,” you plead. Misty covers up a giggle, but waves for you to continue. “We’ve been assuming that assassins are coming after the saint, but how certain are we about that?” you explain through gritted teeth, “Perhaps they just want her to fail, one way or another.”A thoughtful look passes across Cato’s face as he considers this possibility. “That’s a good point,” he admits, “Misty, we sent you a copy of the original warning. Do you have it?”Misty opens her handbag and pulls out a crumpled sheet of paper. “They seek the saint’s life,” she read aloud, “That doesn’t actually say they plan to kill her, technically speaking.”“Talk it over, see what you can find out,” you urge, “I’ve got something to take care of.”“Someone to take care of?” Misty teases, but you’re already hurrying away before you can deliver a suitably devastating retort.-You catch up with Elle in the streets outside the cathedral. Even at this late hour, with the sun’s light fading around you, the streets are far from empty. Weaving your way around a group of swaying drunkards, you reach out and touch her arm. She flinches, then turn to you with a stilted smile. “Isambard?” the oracle asks, “What’s wrong?”“I feel like I should be the one asking you that question,” you reply, “Are you okay? It’s not like you to be so… short.”“Oh, I’m fine. Really, I’m fine,” she insists, “You shouldn’t worry about me. You’ve got more important things to worry about.”“They can wait until later. Allow me to be selfish, just this once.”Elle signs, her smile softening into something more natural. “I suppose it can’t hurt to talk about it,” she murmurs, “But not here. Somewhere with a little more privacy, please.”Linking her arm with yours, she allows you to guide her through the city streets until you arrive back at your hotel. A few of the lingering pilgrims follow you with their eyes as you head upstairs together, but you pay them no mind. They can think what they like.[1]
>>6270613The lock closes with a heavy click, the sound finally announcing the peace and quiet that you’ve been craving for hours. The sounds of the revelry outside are still present, but hushed and muted. That’s good enough for you. You gesture to one of the waiting armchairs, then sit down opposite Elle. She says nothing for a few moments, struggling to find the right words, the right place to begin. “The saint…” she says at last, “I know her. Knew her, rather, from when I was younger.”“Oh,” you reply, immediately wincing at your feeble response.“What I mean is… oh, this is so frustrating!” Elle groans, “When I was born, there were certain… signs and omens. Good omens, actually. My parents really thought I had the potential to be a saint myself. All the signs were there. Except… I blew it. You know what Justine said – a saint has to be beyond reproach, above every little human flaw and foible. I couldn’t do it.”“So they found someone else.”“They “reinterpreted the omens”, actually,” Elle says, quoting the words with a soft hiss of anger. Abruptly, she stands up and walks across to the window. Leaning heavily against the wall, she stares out at the crowds celebrating below. “I never actually wanted to be a saint, you know,” she continues, “But seeing that girl living what could have been my life, I just felt so-”She cuts herself short, falling into a fitful silence. You cautiously approach, standing beside her by the window. This close, you can feel the slight tremor of her body through the thin lace of her gown.“Have you ever been so confused about something that you don’t even know if it’s good or bad?” she asks softly.“I have,” you reply, “It feels as if your stomach is churning. You almost want to shout out, to push your fingers into your eyes, anything to get away from the feeling. Even pain would be better – at least pain is understandable.”Elle turns around, her eyes widening as if surprised at how close you are. “That’s it,” she whispers, “I feel as if the last threads connecting me to my family, to my old life, have finally been severed. Should I feel gladdened by this, or should I be mourning what I’ve lost? I feel like such a fool. Nothing’s really changed, not really, yet I feel as if I’ve been cast adrift.”Her words trail off here as she tilts her head up to meet your eyes. Though it could only last a few seconds, the moment seems to draw out for an eternity. You can sense the desperate yearning within her, radiating from her heart like iron fresh from the forge.>This is the moment. Kiss her>This isn’t right. Step back>Other
>>6270633>This is the moment. Kiss hereh, she's been growing on me. Minus points for the thing with Gloria, but she banked a lot of positives
>>6270633Oh. OH.Elle is the actual saint. “They seek the saint’s life” is a prophecy about her replacement.Ooor maybe it's about Elle seeking the life denied to her. One of the two. >This is the moment. Kiss herI hope we're good at sensing consent
>>6270633>This isn’t right. Step back.Sorry Elle, I see you as more of a friend really
>>6270633>This is the moment. Kiss her
>>6270633>This isn’t right. Step back
>>6270633>This isn’t right. Step back.Elle's great, but there's no time for love right now! Why not?>Other>>Time to blurt out a sudden realization: WE ARE THE DANGER.“A beast with three faces approaches. One wears a familiar mask and speaks in a cacophonous voice, one hides like a wolf amongst the flock, and the last will come with the moonlight.”Elle is the familiar mask with a cacophonous voice: an oracle going against Choir consensus.Cato is a wolf amongst the flock, being a Church assassin.Isambard came with moonlight.>>6270648I think you're right, and we're her to reveal this and ruin the false saint's life. Maybe kill her if she's Tomoe or Stryx or something.
>>6270633>This is the moment. Kiss herThis is it lads. And the best thing is she isn't first girl winning because that'd be Juno. We can still invite Juno to have "fun" with Elle, right? They're friends from the Choir; it's perfectly okay, right?
Took a break to get something to eat, but I see four votes for kissing and three for stepping back. I'd tag each vote, but the system thinks I'm spam. Doesn't matter, I'm pretty confident with my basic math.Writing now, please wait warmly
Reaching out, you place a hand on Elle’s back and pull her close against your body. She offers no resistance, her body smoothly following your lead even as you tip your head down and brush your lips against hers. The warmth of her body seems that much greater up close, and she returns the kiss with a feverish intensity. Even so, there’s a part of your mind, your heart and soul, that remains cold and still. You can feel her yearning, but so too can you feel her vulnerability. Your life has been a destructive whirlpool from the moment you first met, and she’s finally succumbed to its pull.“Isambard?” Elle whispers as you draw back from her, “What’s wrong?”“I’m just…” you hesitate, even as her hands stroke gently across your chest. She’s not quite clinging to you, but she’s close. “I’m not sure if we should be doing this,” you admit after a moment, “Here, of all places.”“I really don’t think the Godhead cares what we do,” she replies, a flicker of pain darting across her face for a moment, “And neither of us knows what tomorrow might bring. So… let’s not let this moment go to waste, okay?”You nod, your glib tongue suddenly failing you. Taking her hands, you guide Elle across towards the bed and allow her to sit. She crawls back and lies against the stack of pillows, then sits sharply back upright and starts to fumble clumsily at her shoes. “Sorry. I feel awfully silly wearing shoes in bed,” she remarks with a shaky laugh, “I really have no idea what I’m doing, do I?”“It’s not as if I know any better,” you admit.“Oh well,” Elle says, forcing a bright smile, “They say that the best way to learn is by doing.”-Later, as you’re lying in bed, you feel Elle stir against you. With one sluggish arm, she brushes back a sheet of hair and looks up. She wears a warm smile, but this one is unlike any you’ve ever seen. The entire shape of her face seems to have changed in some subtle way. Before, it had been the face of a girl. Now, she has the face of a woman. And what of you? How has your face changed?“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Elle murmurs, “I’ve spent so long, not even admitting it to myself. I always thought there would be someone else. Ariel, perhaps. You share so many secrets with her. Or Juno, or...”You say nothing, simply allowing your hand to stroke across her bare back. She crawls forwards, leaning closer to whisper into your ear.“But even if our paths may one day diverge, I’m happy that it was me,” she breathes, “I’ll walk by your side for as long as I can, and keep these memories close if we should ever be parted.”That won’t happen, you think to yourself.“Shh,” she whispers, as if sensing your thoughts, “Neither of us knows what tomorrow may bring, remember?”[1]
>>6270695You wish you could say that you woke feeling like a changed man, like a great weight had been lifted from your shoulders, but that would be a lie. Everything has changed, but somehow nothing has changed. The more you think about it, the more your night together starts to seem like an act of desperation – two lost souls clinging to each other amidst a great storm, two injured dogs licking each others wounds.Or maybe you’re just a heartless wretch, a real bastard, to be thinking like that at a time like this.Leaving Elle to sleep, you quietly dress and lean out the open window. For once, you feel as if you’re seeing the city in a moment of calm. The streets outside are empty, the celebrations finally having ceased. Gazing out across the city, you allow your mind to wander and indulge your most morbid thoughts. What if you’re ALL the beast of the saint’s prophecy? Elle, the familiar face drawn from a forgotten past. Cato, the killer hiding behind a mask of virtue as he moves through the flock. And you, the one who brings moonlight wherever he goes. Where there is a moon, there could also be an eclipse – and all who behold that terrible light are fated to die.You jolt back to reality, the strange thought slipping away like water running through your fingers. It seems to have come from some place outside of yourself, a waking dream of sorts. Even after the thought has faded, it leaves a chill in your heart. Stepping back and closing the window, you quickly check on Elle. She sleeps soundly, a contented smile fixed on her peaceful face.That feeling of unease stays with you as you move through the hotel room. Just as you’re sitting at the small dining table, you notice something that gives new cause to your nameless fear – a neat envelope sits on the table, carefully propped up against a drinking glass. With an unsteady hand, you reach out and take the envelope. The heavy click of the lock repeats in your memory, over and over again. The door was locked, yet someone – something – got inside to leave you this letter.Though your first, spiteful instinct tells you to burn it, to destroy the letter without even so much as opening the envelope, your rational thoughts win out. It may yet be important.It’s not a long letter, barely a note really, but you take a long time to read and reread each word.“The saint must dieMen must see that their gods and saints will not protect themOnly then can they learn to stand on their own two feet.”This note could have been sent to anyone, but they left it for you. They could have cut your throat while you slept, but they chose to leave a letter instead.They’re sending you a message.>Bit of an early finish, but I’m going to pause here for today. Next session will be next week, starting Saturday>Thank you for playing today!
>>6270714>Bit of an early finish, but I’m going to pause here for today.I guess you could say you ended with a bangThanks for running!
>>6270714Thanks for running!Agghghgh Elle won fuckMaybe it's just a one night fling, right guys? Guys?
>>6270714Thanks for running!I wish we could have went with the Ariel route, but I suppose Elle's still fun. As amusing as it'd be for a moment, at least it wasn't Gratia.
>>6270746>Ariel route/qst/ wasn't ready for femboy supremacy.>GratiaDemonic albino wincest will have its day!>>6270738Anon... It's over. No way will we vote to be a cad.
>>6270750Agreed. Harem autism ruins quests
>>6270715goddamn it carlos
>>6270695Can’t believe that I missed the relationship vote! We route-locked to Elle now?Poor best girl Juno…wasn’t meant to be.>>6270714>Only then can they learn to stand on their own two feet.”Is it wrong that I kinda agree with this sentiment
>>6270832>Is it wrong that I kinda agree with this sentimentlook dude, I'm all for self-improvement, but you don't need to kill someone for it.....err, rpg exp systems aside.
Dammit, I was really holding out hope for Juno...Oh well, just have to get Elle killed and then we can be free again.
>>6270896If Elle dies due to screwy player decisions, I'll double down on Gratia.>>6270885"Killing" may be more metaphorical here, like Nietzsche "killing God." We just need to prove them fallible.
The mysterious letter sits in your pocket like a poisoned dagger, something to be drawn at the opportune moment. You’ve been waiting for an opportunity to show it to Cato in private, but his duties have kept him too busy for that. You haven’t shown it to Elle at all, though you’re not sure why. To avoid worrying her, perhaps. It’s strange, how your perception of her has changed overnight.Touching a hand to your pocket, as if reminding yourself that the letter is still there, you take a long look around the grand cathedral. A high dais has been set up on the far end of the cavernous room, piled with so many cushions that it looks more like a raised bed surrounded by gauzy curtains. Later today, when the sun reaches its peak, Saint Lucille will ascend that platform and address the waiting crowds. Until then, she sits amidst a surging retinue of servants attending to her every need. The first time you saw her, you were struck by how much she reminded you of Elle. If not for her hair, arrow straight instead of wavy, you might have taken them for sisters. That aside, she looks like you suppose a saint ought to. Her face is usually set in a serious, solemn mask, apart from a few brief moments – when she thinks that nobody is looking – when traces of a smug smile tug at her mouth. Perhaps it’s only natural to be smug when you have so many servants waiting on you.The main doors creak as Captain Renoir’s minions, Mira and Jericho, hurry inside with armloads of junk. You approach as they set them down with matching groans, idly sifting through the haul. You see bunches of flowers, already starting to wilt in the remorseless heat, as well as pieces of cheap costume jewellery. Most of them depict the same thing – a blazing sun with a stern, serene face. “What’s all this?” you ask, waving a hand at the pile.“Offerings. Gifts for the saint,” Mira shrugs, “We tried telling people not to bring anything, but they didn’t listen to me. We’ve been standing out there all morning, handling the stuff. I tell you, every time some pilgrim approaches me and sticks his hand in my pocket, I piss myself a little. I keep expecting to see them pull a gun on us.”“It’s a disaster just waiting to happen,” Jericho adds glumly, “And to think, we were excited when Captain Renoir picked us for this job. How foolish…”“Why a sun, though?” you wonder, holding up a particularly gaudy medallion.Mira coughs, covering up a dirty laugh. “You haven’t been reading your scripture, have you? It’s okay, me neither,” she shakes her head, “Apparently the prophecies compare the coming God to a blazing sun. So it’s like a holy symbol, you know?”“I’m already sick of the sight of it,” Jericho mutters to himself, glancing over his shoulder to make sure there aren’t any priests listening in.[1/3]
>>6273807Jericho seems on the verge of saying something more, but abruptly bites back his words. A moment later you realise why he silenced himself, as Justine brushes past you to examine the pile of trinkets. She examines a few before her slender fingers brush over a drooping flower, the sight of the plant causing her eyes to sharpen.“These are Mourning Lilies. A symbol of death,” she announces, her voice tight and low, “Who brought these?”“I don’t… just a guy, you know?” Mira stammers, “A pilgrim. I’ve seen so many that I wasn’t even paying attention.”For a moment, you wonder if Justine might actually slap the younger woman across the face. She certainly seems to be considering it, fixing the soldier with a hard glare. It’s only when her companion speaks up that the tension starts to fade. “I don’t recall his face, but I remember what he was wearing. A white prayer shawl, with black script on it,” Jericho says, “I remember trying to read what it said, but the letters were too small.”Justine lets out a long hiss of breath as she forces herself to calm. “Pay more attention in future,” she orders Mira, before turning on her heel and marching away.-If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Barely a moment after Justine stalks off, you see Cato hurrying over with a grim look on his face. “Isambard, I need to talk to you,” he begins, skipping any hint of pleasantries before glancing at the two soldiers, “In private.”Mira and Jericho waste no time in hurrying away, looking faintly relieved, and Cato gestures for you to follow him. He guides you into the privacy of a secluded prayer room, gesturing towards a seat. Misty sits at the same table, trying her best to look cheerful. “Okay, so what’s this about?” you ask, looking between them both.“We just got a telegram from the Choir. It’s, uh, not good news,” Misty answers, fiddling with a piece of folded paper, “Their people have been seeing omens lately, omens signifying defeat, failure and, um, death.”A silence falls as you take this in. Cato’s face is ashen, though this can’t be the first time he’s hearing this. As the silence draws out, Misty grows more and more restless.“But like, it not mean US,” she adds hastily, “Maybe it means the bad guys are going to lose?”“I’m not willing to take that chance,” Cato says bluntly, “The Saint’s proclamation shouldn’t go ahead today. Unfortunately, it’s not my decision to make. The Saint herself is unlikely to change her mind, but I have to try. Isambard, will you come with me?”“I’m not sure if there’s anything I can add,” you point out, “Maybe I could provide some moral support?”“That’s enough for me,” Cato replies with a nod.[2/3]
>>6273809A small tray of pink sweets sits before Saint Lucille, the delicate scent of roses rising up. She picks up one of the sweets with two graceful fingers and studies it for a moment before popping it in her mouth. She chews and swallows, letting out a soft sigh of satisfaction, and then she finally deigns to notice you. “Oh, hello Cato!” she chirps, “And you’re Ellie’s friend, aren’t you?”You glance aside to Elle, waiting nearby with a notepad and pen. She meets your gaze and, while she doesn’t exactly roll her eyes, she certainly gives the impression of doing so.“Your Grace,” Cato replies, bowing his head, “There’s something of grave importance that I need to discuss with you. Threats have been made against your life, and the omens are warning of dire consequences. I believe it would be in everyone’s best interests if we postponed today’s ceremony until-”“No no, that won’t do,” Lucille shakes her head, “The people are expecting to see me today. If I run and hide, what will they think? I’m supposed to be giving hope to the people. How can I do that if I’m hiding away?”“But-”“This isn’t a debate, Cato,” the saint interrupts, her voice hardening, “I have full confidence in your security arrangements. Are you telling me that you’re not capable of doing the job?”You shoot Cato a quick look, to see if he wants you to step in, but he shakes his head. There wouldn’t be any point – there isn’t a single thing in this whole world you could say right now that would change her mind. The cathedral could be burning and collapsing around her, and she would insist on going ahead.“The ceremony will proceed as planned,” Cato says softly, turning to you, “Isambard, I haven’t yet decided your role in all this. I thought you might be well suited to watching the crowds. The cathedral has high balconies that would allow you a good view over the whole area. You might have a better chance of spotting any trouble, but you might not have a chance to intervene directly.”“Or, you could join the crowd itself,” he continues, “That way, you’d be far closer to any possible threat. We’re expecting the crowd to be dense, however. You may not be able to spot something unless it’s very close by.”“Oh, I have an idea!” Lucille adds, her eyes widening with a pleasant surprise, “You could stay by my side instead. You’ll have pride of place on the stage, and you wouldn’t need to rub shoulders with the masses. It’s the perfect place for you!”>I’ll take position in the balcony and watch the crowds from above>I’ll take position within the crowd and deal with any troublemakers>I’ll stay by the saint’s side and protect her directly>I’ll let you decide, Cato. This is your operation, after all>Other
>>6273811>I’ll stay by the saint’s side and protect her directlyOr ensure her death, if it comes down to it and proves necessary...
>>6273811>I’ll stay by the saint’s side and protect her directlyWe can wave to the crowd, and get visibility of House Pale with a Saint>>6273818Bro wtf
>>6273822There's always a chance that a snooty saint like her turns out to be outright evil,e specially when someone passes us a secret note saying she needs to die for the sake of humanity.
“As you wish,” you say to Lucille, bowing your head slightly, “I’ll stay by your side and protect you directly.”“Excellent!” she announces, clapping her hands together with giddy glee, “From the moment I first set eyes on you, I knew that you had the makings of a perfect bodyguard. Cato, please let the others know that Master Pale will be joining me today. Have them prepare suitable attire. Hmm… maybe a haircut too, since we’ve got the time…”“Your Grace, you may be asking a little too much,” Cato suggests delicately. You pretend not to have heard anything, meeting Elle’s eyes again. She looks like she’s suffering from an acute migraine, though you know that’s not the real reason for the pained look on her face. Murmuring an excuse, you touch Elle’s arm and lead her from the room.As soon as the door is closed behind you, Elle lets out a weary sigh. “Don’t ask,” she mutters, “Just don’t.”“Ellie?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow.“Lucy… I mean, Saint Lucille thinks I should call myself that. It’s “cute”, apparently,” she shakes her head, “I’m starting to think this visit was a terrible idea.”Aren’t they always?-Fortunately, the “suitable attire” that Lucille spoke of is nothing too excessive. A simple dark uniform with a long coat, the sort of outfit that easily blends into the background. You just wish it wasn’t so warm – the sweat is already starting to gather on the back of your neck, and it’s only going to get worse as time goes on.It’s not yet time for the pilgrims to enter, but you can already hear the low rumble of their voices outside. Taking your position flanking the Saint’s dais, you glance up at the balconies above. Cato and Elle peer down at you, and you take some comfort from the sight. If Cato spots anything, he’ll send Elle down with a warning. That’s the plan, at least – you’ll see what happens when it clashes against reality.“Whatever happens, Master Pale, you are to stay by my side,” Lucille warns from atop her platform, her gaze fixed on the sealed doors, “You are to be my last line of defence.”It makes your head spin, how quickly she can switch from stiff formality to girlish excitement. You wonder which one is the act, and which one is her true face.“Your Grace,” a servant whispers, “It’s almost time.”“Oh God,” Lucille groans, “I’m not ready, I’ve forgotten the speech. I’ve-”“The script, Your Grace,” the servant reminds her gently, pointing to a neatly printed sheet of paper laid out before her. “The script, of course. Thank you… er,” she hesitates, fumbling to try and remember the servant’s name, “Thank you. That will be all.”The standards for saints these days must really be slipping.[1]
>>6273836The doors open with a bang, unleashing a tide of humanity like water flowing from a sundered dam. The soldiers at the doors do their best to slow the tide, to check over as many of the pilgrims as possible for any signs of trouble, but it’s just too much. With so many bodies pressing up against the crowd, the soldiers soon have to stand aside or risk a stampede. Streaming forth, the pilgrims start to fill the cathedral with frightful speed.As the cavernous room fills up with bodies, you do your best to judge the threat. A heavy fence of wrought iron holds back the crowd, and the Saint’s dais is raised up enough to keep her well out of reach, though even those defences might not be enough against a sufficiently determined attacker – or one with a gun.Silence falls, save for the occasional cough or shuffling of feet, as the sea of pilgrims waits for the Saint to speak. She stares out across the sea of faces, blind animal panic causing her eyes to widen until you see nothing but white.“My friends…” she begins, her voice cracking a little as she forces out the words. She pauses, swallows, then continues in a firmer tone. “My friends, it warms my heart to see so many of you here to listen to the words of this humble child of God,” another pause, “I am truly not worthy of your devotion. A lifetime of service would not be enough to repay your kindness.”You glance up towards the balcony, just as Cato points down into the crowd and whispers something to Elle. She vanishes, appearing a few moments later to pass a message to Captain Renoir. He, in turn, gives a hushed order to one of his waiting men. Looking back to the crowd, you try to see what the problem is. You can see some faint signs of movement towards the rear, but the crowd is too dense to reveal much. After a few moments, you spot a pilgrim being dragged from the mass of bodies and roughly frisked down. When the soldiers find that he’s carrying nothing more dangerous than a holy amulet, he’s shoved back into the crowd.So it goes, as Lucille drones on and on. It doesn’t take long before you tune out her voice entirely, focusing on the ebb and flow of the crowd. Even this starts to grow monotonous after a while. Aside from the occasional moment when a pilgrim gets a little too excited and tries to push forwards, the crowd is perfectly sedate. Perhaps it’s the heat, but you start to feel vaguely sickened by it all. You could excuse the pilgrims for their rapt attention if Lucille had been saying anything meaningful, but her speech feels hollow, somehow indifferent. She talks of hope for the future, truths that will be revealed, and a path ahead for all the nation, but she knows nothing.You know what the future holds, and it’s far from the golden new dawn that she promises.[2/3]
>>6273860Just as you’re starting to wonder how much longer the speech is going to last, you feel a sudden pang of unease. Lucille seems to feel it too, stumbling over a word and hesitating to find her place again. You glance around, trying to figure out what’s wrong, but nothing seems amiss. Then you spot Cato in the high balcony, his face taut with alarm. Elle is nowhere to be seen, which means she must be delivering a message. Another rowdy pilgrim?“I know…” Lucille continues, nervously speaking up once more, “I know that the future can seem like a great black ocean, an endless night that swallows all hopes, but I believe… we should ALL believe that the sun will rise again.”A ripple passes through the crowd as a pair of soldiers start to push their way into the dense mass of bodies. As the pilgrims sway and waver, you see a flash of white within the crowd – a white scarf or shawl, lined with black markings. The pilgrim moves forwards through the crowd, slipping around his fellow worshippers with an uncanny ease as he draws closer and closer to the dais. Yet, a moment later he seems to have vanished completely, blending in with the crowd.A twitch runs through your body, instinct guiding your hand to the revolver at your belt, but you pull away at the last moment. A gunshot here could cause a panic, the stampede that the soldiers had tried to hard to prevent. Worse still, any other villains hiding in the crowd might take advantage of the panic to strike. Your sword is just as useless – not enough room to swing it in the crowded hall. Your dagger, then?Thoughts and possibilities whirl through your head. All the while, the soldiers close in around the suspect as he creeps towards the Saint.>Stay by the Saint and keep her safe. The soldiers have this under control>Take a shot with your revolver when the suspect shows themselves. You’ll have to take the risk of panic>Descend into the crowd and take out the suspect yourself. You can’t leave this to chance>Other
>>6273865>Stay by the Saint and keep her safe. The soldiers have this under controlStick to the plan
>>6273865I feel like pulling out the moonlight here will be effective AND cause the most panic of them all.>Call for everyone to applaud the Saint, make it harder to blend in while moving.
>>6273865>>Call for everyone to applaud the Saint, make it harder to blend in while moving.
>>6273870+1
When this day started, you’re sure that Lucille had a very nice idea of how things would go. She wake up early and be pampered by her devoted servants, then eat sweet treats until the ceremony begun. Then she would go up on stage and give a wonderful speech, something that would touch the hearts of all those who heard it. All the while, she would bask in the adoring attention of the crowd.Needless to say, things aren’t going to plan. Even without knowing exactly what’s going on, she can see that trouble is looming on the horizon. Her voice falters again, the familiar look of panic swallowing up the whole of her face. A murmur of confusion, dismay, ripples through the crowd as the pilgrims start to whisper to one another. They’re all waiting for something, without knowing what.You do the first thing that comes to mind. You start to applaud, as if Lucille had brought her speech to a glorious end instead of stopping in the middle of a sentence. A few of the pilgrims mindlessly follow along when you shoot a dark glare into the crowd, the applause soon spreading like a plague. The noise is almost deafening, but it makes it far easier to spot your suspect. While the rest of the crowd are clapping their hands together, he’s the only one still pushing forwards. You whistle for attention and point towards the man, guiding the soldiers forwards. They press through the unresisting crowd with renewed vigour, one of them reaching close enough to lunge forwards and grab at the cloaked man. He doesn’t quite reach, but his wild grab pulls away the trailing white shawl.Time slows to a crawl as the suspect stumbles forwards, the loss of their shawl revealing their deadly surprise. In the space of what could only be a few heartbeats, you see so many things. You see the soldier losing his balance and falling against the crowd, still clutching desperately to the discarded white shawl. You see a wave of fear spread out through the crowd, some still applauding even as their eyes widen with horror. You see Mira, frozen in place halfway through reaching out to the suspect, her arm still outstretched to claw at the thin air.You see the heavy mass of metal worn around the pilgrim’s chest, perhaps twelve standard military pattern grenades laced together. Candlelight glints off the loose pins as the pilgrim clumsily rips them free and throws them aside. Nothing seems to happen, the moment drawing out for so long that you start to wonder if the explosives have failed. But deep in your heart, you know they won’t fail.Forcing your body to move, you twist around and throw yourself on top of Lucille. She starts to say something, but her words are blown away by the sudden force of the explosion.[1]
>>6273877a suicide bomber? they ain't fookin around.
>>6273877Nothing, for the longest time. Then, finally, a shrill ringing in your ears. If not for that painful noise, you would have carried on thinking that you were dead. More pain blossoms through a hundred different places in your body as you roll off of Lucille, slumping down to the ground and retching. A hideous abattoir smell fills the cathedral, the air feeling hot and wet in your lungs. Blindly groping for something to hold onto, you pull yourself upright on unsteady legs. The scene before you wavers in and out of focus, which seems like something close to mercy. Despite the desperate urging in the back of your mind, the shrill voice urging you to close your eyes, you force yourself to look out across the cathedral.Bloodied bodies, and parts of bodies, are strewn everywhere, but the bodies aren’t the worst part. Here and there, you see shimmering black shapes perched atop the bodies. They shudder and warp, their movements unlike those of any living things, as they feast on the dead and they dying. They cast no shadows, those nightmarish things. They ARE shadows.Then, you’re granted the mercy that you denied yourself. You faint, consciousness eagerly fleeing the monstrous scene before you.-You couldn’t say how long it is before you wake, a warm beam of sunlight falling across your face. You raise an arm to shield your eyes, seeing a white length of bandage wound around the limb. As if roused by the sight of that bandage, pain awakens throughout your entire body. That’s fine, you think to yourself, pain just means that you’re still alive.Even without looking around, you sense someone waiting by your bedside. You cast a glance across, expecting to see Elle’s familiar face, but a black phantom greets you instead.“Master Pale,” Justine murmurs, “I’m told that you shielded the Saint with your own body. It may be that she still lives because of your quick thinking.”“Not quick enough,” you mutter, “How many did we lose?”“Shh…” the priestess whispers, “Do not concern yourself with that now. Your wounds are not serious, but there is still a risk of contagion. Rest. Focus on your own recovery.”With a low groan, you slump back in the bed. “Where’s Elle?” you ask after a moment, “Was she-”“She is fine. Unharmed,” Justine shakes her head, “She’s been helping to tend to the wounded, out in the main hall.”“I need to see her.”“I wouldn’t advise that, Master Pale.”“I need to see her.”[2/3]
>>6273883You can walk, fortunately, although Justine gives you a stout wooden staff to help your balance. Leaning heavily on it, you limp out into the main cathedral hall. While you’ve been unconscious, it’s been converted into a makeshift infirmary. Countless bedrolls are spread out across the floor, each one with a wounded man resting upon it. A few curtains have been set up around what you assume to be the worst cases, keeping their suffering away from prying eyes. The curtains can’t do anything about the sound, however – a constant groaning that rises and falls like the tides, countless voices all sharing the same pain.Priests scurry about with armfuls of bloodied bandages or fresh supplies, while the soldiers do what they can to help out. Saint Lucille still sits upon her dais, staring out at the scene unfolding before her with wide, unblinking eyes. She seems almost catatonic, the lively young woman reduced to an empty shell.Before you can worry too much about the Saint, you spot Elle staggering away from one of the curtains. Her hands are red with blood, the delicate lace sleeves of her dress stained beyond saving. Seeing you, she slowly approaches and wordlessly slumps into your waiting arms.“I couldn’t save him,” she mumbles, her words muffled by your chest.“Who?” you ask, fearing the worst.“...I don’t know,” she answers, shuddering as a sob runs through her body, “I didn’t know his name.”You say nothing, merely holding Elle as she cries. Right now, that’s the only thing she needs. Yet, there seems to be no end to her tears. A convulsion runs through her body, and she weakly beats a fist against your chest.“Who are these people? Who could do a thing like… like this?” the oracle gasps, “And why… why do they hate us so much?”>I’m going to have to pause things here for today. We’re in the middle of a heatwave at the moment, and it’s really killing me. I’d like to continue tomorrow, even if it’s just a shorter update, but I can’t confirm that yet. I’ll post an update later when I know>Thank you for reading today!
>>6273895Stay cool, stay safe, and thank you for running.
>>6273895So the moonlight would've been a supernatural fear on top of physical fear.staying in the crowd would've needed some insane plans to stop a suicide bomber when you didn't know they were one. Maybe Juno could've pulled it off.
>>6273895Thanks for running!Damn they really wanted to kill LucilleHeat wave is bringing me suffering too :(I wish I was waiting warmly but I’m waiting hotly
>>6273895>“Who are these people? Who could do a thing like… like this?” the oracle gasps, “And why… why do they hate us so much?”They're evil cultists Elle. The end goal of all cults is to turn their members into this in service of their master.
Schedule update: I've not slept much, and I've had no luck with prepping an update. I'm going to push the next post ahead to next Saturday. Conditions are supposed to be a little better then, hopefully.To hell with the sun
>>6274214Don't let the Sun King hear that talk, kek.See you next week!
>>6274214>To hell with the sunWoah woah woah, careful! You don't want to end up like this!
>>6274214>Makes super powerful sun gods and MCs>Hates the sunwhat did he mean by this
>>6274464He hates it but also respects its power
Even after a full day of rest, it still doesn’t get any easier to process the previous day’s attack. You feel as if you’re walking through a dream, as if every illusion of safety was shattered in a single devastating moment. It’s strange. You’ve seen terrible things, things that no man should ever see, yet it’s this one deed that strikes you to the core. Perhaps it’s because it was an act of man, human malice given form.As you walk out into the main body of the cathedral, you can see that, for some, the shock is starting to wear off. Faces that were previously numb and lifeless now wear dark scowls, and hushed voices whisper of vengeance, of repercussions. Yet, repercussions against who? You’re fighting a war against the shadows, against an enemy that is forever out of reach.You glance back at the dais as you walk, but the Saint is nowhere to be seen. In her place, a sea of gifts and tributes has been left at the foot of the dais. You examine a few of the notes and letters, each one wishing the Saint well. She walked away without a scratch, but some of the pilgrims are acting as if she’s fighting for her life.Turning away in disgust, you spot a pair of familiar faces across the hall. Steeling yourself for what may be a very unpleasant conversation, you reluctantly approach the pair of soldiers.“Master Pale,” Jericho begins, his face dark. Mira nods up at you from her sickbed, her face drawn with pain despite her attempts at a brave face.“Do you need anything?” you ask quietly, “I can get one of the priests to-”“It’s fine. I’m fine. We saw Miss Justine not that long ago, actually. She sat with me for a while and held my hand,” Mira hesitates, then lets out a faltering laugh, “I just wish it had been the hand that was still attached to my body.”“Stop making those stupid jokes,” Jericho growls as your eyes flick down to the neatly bandaged stump of her right arm, “They’re not funny.”“Not everyone can be as stoic as you, pal,” she shoots back, “With me, it’s either laugh or cry.”Nobody says anything for a while. Eventually you clear your throat, trying to move on from the difficult subject. “And how is Miss Justine holding up?” you wonder aloud, “I hope she’s not pushing herself too hard.”Jericho and Mira trade an uneasy glance. “She seemed-” he begins, only to fall silent before he can finish his sentence. You automatically glance behind you, just in case the priestess has appeared out of nowhere, but she’s nowhere to be seen. Looking back, you gesture for the pair to continue. Jericho thinks for a moment, then helplessly shakes his head. Lost for words, he gives his comrade a pleading look.“She looked pretty unhappy. I mean, of course she was,” Mira says quietly, “But she didn’t seem… surprised.”[1/2]
>>6277034You consider Mira’s words for a long moment. Justine’s heart is a sealed vault, you have no doubt about that, but what secrets lie within it? Perhaps she was simply putting on a brave face for the sake of the wounded. Or perhaps she knew what was coming. Your thoughts are interrupted as Jericho jolts to his feet, snapping a quick salute.“There’s no need for that,” Cato tells the soldier, waving a hand at him, “I’m not your commanding officer. Today, I’m just a man like any other.”“Yes sir,” Jericho replies, “Understood, sir.”Cato sighs, then nods to you and gestures towards the far end of the hall. Returning his nod with one of your own, you follow him across to the relative privacy. “What’s the situation?” you ask quietly, “Any new developments?”“Maybe. Captain Renoir thinks we may have identified the attacker. We don’t have a name, but we’ve interviewed some pilgrims who claim to have recognised him. He was part of a small group that took up lodgings in the outskirts,” Cato explains quickly, his voice low and precise. If not for the slight waver in his words, you’d think that he was completely unaffected by the bloodshed. “Captain Renoir intends to investigate further, though I don’t know what he expects to find,” Cato shakes his head, “Another cold trail, perhaps. But it’s better than doing nothing at all.”“Unless he gets himself killed,” you point out, “Our enemies are ruthless, and clearly not afraid of death.”“Then perhaps we should follow their example,” Cato muses, “If this is a declaration of war, then we must respond in kind.”“Careful, Cato,” you warn, “That might be exactly what they want. Even if they were all to die, they might still consider that a victory if they can drag you down with them.”Cato thinks on this for a moment, then nods. “You speak wisely, Isambard. Though, I confess, it feels strange to come to you for moral guidance,” he allows himself a humourless smile, “That aside, I have another favour to ask of you. I’m concerned about the Saint. She’s withdrawn to her chambers since yesterday and refuses to speak with me. If you have an opportunity, would you try to speak with her?”“What makes you think she’ll speak with me?”“She chose you to be her bodyguard. When the attack came, you shielded her with your own body,” the silver haired young man shrugs, “If she’ll speak with anyone, it’ll be you.”You’re not sure if you should treat that as an honour.>You should join Captain Renoir on his investigations>You need to talk with Justine, to see whose side she’s really on>You’ll try and check on the Saint while you’re here>Other
>>6277035>You’ll try and check on the Saint while you’re hereSorry Justine and Renoir, we only talk to people that matter
>>6277035>You’ll try and check on the Saint while you’re herewondering if Elle is up to talking to Justine. If anyone would be able to connect on the point of doubts of the current system, it'd be her.
>>6277035>>You’ll try and check on the Saint while you’re here
>>6277035>You need to talk with Justine, to see whose side she’s really on
“I understand. I’ll try and talk with her, assuming she’ll see me,” you tell Cato, “You’re putting a lot of faith in me, you know. That’s normally a bad idea.”“We all have to put our faith in something, Isambard,” he answers, offering you a faint smile, “I feel that the Saint may appreciate talking with someone outside the church – and I know you won’t be afraid to speak your mind, if necessary.”You give Cato a nod, leaving him to hurry off on whatever duties he has planned. As you’re heading towards the Saint’s private quarters, you notice Elle sitting slumped on a bench. Deciding that the Saint can wait a few minutes more, you sit next to Elle and put a light hand on her shoulder. She stiffens up a little, then forces a smile. “I’m sorry, Isambard, I didn’t see you coming over,” she murmurs, “We’ve barely had a moment to talk, haven’t we? I was just taking a moment to rest now, before I go back to the wounded. We aren’t nearly so overwhelmed now, thankfully.”Most of the lightly wounded patients have been moved out of the cathedral by now. The most severely wounded, by contrast, have almost all passed. All that’s left are a few of the most stubborn cases, men and women caught between life and death.“Could you do something for me?” you ask in a low voice, “Keep an eye on Justine, if you’re going to be working together. See if you can strike up a conversation, when circumstances allow.”“I’ll try,” Elle promises, giving you a nod, “I think she trusts me. At least, a little.”“Good,” you reply. You try not to think about how you’re asking her to abuse that trust.-One of the priests gives you an evil glare as you knock at the Saint’s door, but he makes no attempt to stop you. There’s no response at first, or even after your second knock. The priest’s scowl starts to turn into a look of vicious satisfaction as the silence draws out. Feeling his eyes on you, you clear your throat. “Your Grace?” you ask, recalling what Cato called her, “It’s Isambard. May I come in?”Another long silence, then.“If you must!” the muffled, girlish voice replies. It has a strange tone in it – a nervous excitement, crushed beneath a deliberate attempt at reluctance. She’s been waiting for you, you realise, even if circumstances won’t allow her to show it. Giving the priest a smirk, you show yourself inside. The room is dimly lit, and a heavy smell of perfume hangs in the air. The Saint awaits further inside, a shimmering silhouette behind gauzy curtains.“Please sit,” Lucille offers, her shadowy form gesturing vaguely towards a low couch. You take her up on her offer, and the Saint soon appears. Without all of her finery, she seems like a completely different person – smaller, somehow diminished. Before, she wore the ceremonial garb like armour and revelled in the sense of invulnerability. That illusion has been thoroughly shattered now.[1]
>>6277069“Cato asked me to check up on you,” you begin as the Saint sits down beside you, “He was worried. He said that you haven’t allowed anyone else to see you.”“He’s correct,” Saint Lucille pauses, gestures vaguely towards herself, “They shouldn’t see me like this, should they?”“Like a normal girl, you mean?”She nods, as if pleased that you understood. “I know you think that I’m just some silly little girl, and maybe you’re right, but I understand a few things,” she muses, “I understand that I’m not allowed to look scared or weak, no matter how I feel. I am a symbol of the church, the soul of the nation. I must be someone that the people can look up to. In a way, we’re not so different. You are… excuse my ignorance, Master Pale, but you are the sole representative of your family, are you not?”“Something like that,” you answer. You’re not even going to try and mention Gratia here.“Then, you are solely responsible for countless generations of lineage and legacy. You ARE House Pale,” Lucille explains, “And I am the church.”“No pressure, then.”Lucille forces a laugh. “It’s quite a lot of pressure, actually,” she remarks, “It was a lot of pressure before, and now…”Her voice trails off, a new seriousness darkening her features. “Master Pale, there is something I must ask of you,” she adds, the stilted formality in her voice giving hard edges to her words, “Two things, actually. First – I have a question for you, but it must be held in perfect confidence. You can’t… speak of this with anyone else.”“Understandable,” you nod, “Ask away.”“Out there in the cathedral, after the… attack,” she pauses, bites her lip, “Did you… see anything?”Shimmering black shapes perched atop corpses, gorging themselves on shredded flesh and spilled blood. Nightmarish apparitions, otherworldly beings that were ancient when your race was still young. A grim premonition of-“See anything?” you repeat in a casual voice, even as you feel a cold sweat trickle down the back of your neck, “Like what?”“I can’t say,” Lucille shakes her head, “Because then I might prejudice your answer.”You don’t say anything for a moment. For the Saint to be asking you a question like this, it can only mean that she saw the same thing that you did – but while you know what that frightful vision implied, she is entirely ignorant. Perhaps it would be better for her to stay that way.>Tell her what you saw, and what you know of the Stryx>Tell her what you saw, but plead ignorance of what it meant>Lie, and tell her you saw nothing. Trauma can do strange things>Other
>>6277086>Tell her what you saw, and what you know of the StryxIf the church trusts her, I trust her
>>6277089You trust the church that much?>>6277086>Tell her what you saw, but plead ignorance of what it meantThis is for us to handle, and those in our confidence.
>>6277089+1You need to wake the fuck up to the real danger threatening our world if you intend on being a saint and an icon of the people's hope
>>6277086>>Tell her what you saw, and what you know of the Stryx
“I saw something too,” you admit, lowering your voice a little, “I can’t say if we saw the same thing, but I saw something. I saw black shapes, shapes that moved like no living thing. They were like shadows that moved, or something that drained the light out of everything they passed near. I saw them settle upon the fallen, the dead and the dying, and they…”Your voice trails off as you watch the blood drain from Lucille’s face. It seems to take all her strength of will, but she forces herself to speak. “They were feeding,” she whispers, “We saw the same thing, you and I. But… what does it mean? What WERE those-”“Those things are called the Stryx. They come from… well, some place other than this. The scent of blood and fear draws them to feed,” you explain slowly. Your words are like pebbles thrown into a deep dark well, swallowed up with no reaction. “What you saw, what WE saw, was just a tiny fraction of their true number. If the Stryx turned their full gaze upon our world, they could scour it of all life and we would have no means to stop them,” you continue, “This… isn’t my first encounter with them.”Lucille swallows heavily, licking her lips as she tries to speak. “What…” she croaks at last, forcing out the word, “What can we do?”“I don’t know,” you admit, “Maybe there’s nothing we CAN do. But I’m not ready to give up just yet.”Another long silence falls. You wonder if Lucille really understands what you’re telling her, or if she’s simply seen too much death to be frightened. “Fear,” she says at last, as if sensing your thoughts, “You say that these things are drawn by… fear?”“Among other things, yes.”“Then we mustn’t allow ourself the luxury of fear,” Lucille announces, leaping up from the couch. With a new energy in her step, she hurries over to a dressing table and starts to dust powder onto her face. “I’m going to go out there,” she continues, “I have to be seen, to be strong for the people. No matter what these villains do, I mustn’t allow them to get the better of me. I’m going to be the best damn Saint that this land has ever seen!”You just sit, watching her with dull surprise. Her entire mood changed so quickly that you’re struggling to catch up. Still, you’re not sure if you should complain. Cato wanted you to talk with her, to try and lift her spirits, and it seems like you’ve succeeded.But the good cheer doesn’t last. Just as Lucille is carefully applying a thin line of black around her eyes, you hear the rumble of a distant explosion. You both jolt around, the paintbrush leaving a long streak of black across Lucille’s face. “What was that?” she asks, eyes widening with shock.“More bad news,” you reply grimly, “Get ready. We’re both going to have a lot of work to do.”[1]
>>6277125The armed soldiers step aside as you exit the cathedral, squinting your eyes against the bright sunshine as you peer across the horizon. A pillar of dark smoke rises up from the outskirts, and the city echoes with the sound of distant shouting. Time seems to slip away from you as you watch the smoke thin and fade, your full attention only returning when you see some of Captain Renoir’s men rushing out from the streets. They carry a stretcher between them, the captain himself thrashing upon it.“Stand aside!” one of them yells, waving his free hand. You urgently move aside so they can enter the cathedral, glancing down at the wounded man as he passes by. Captain Renoir has his hands clasped tightly around his throat, blood seeping through his trembling fingers. Then he’s gone, ushered inside away from prying eyes. Another two stretchers pass you by, though the soldiers lying on those are perfectly still and cold.“Cato!” you call out, catching a glimpse of silver hair, “What happened?”“It was a trap,” Cato spits, wiping sweat and grime from his face, “A bomb, a tripwire, I…”“Master Silvera, please don’t push yourself,” Lucille orders, in a sharp voice unlike any you’ve heard from her before. “You have fought bravely, but you must rest too,” she adds, taking him by the hand and pulling him inside. Numbly, Cato allows himself to be guided inside. The Saint’s behaviour seems more shocking to him than the violence itself.-With a mug of hot tea untouched in his hands, Cato draws in a long, shuddering breath. “We didn’t encounter any trouble on the way to the suspect’s house,” he explains, “There were a lot of locals about, but they stayed out of our way. Smart. Captain Renoir would have shot anyone who tried to stop us.”“The house was empty when we arrived. Even the owner was gone. Scared off, maybe, or bribed. We swept through, but when we were checking upstairs…” Cato pauses, finally taking a sip of his drink, “It was dark. The windows had been blocked up. We didn’t see that someone had strung a wire across the doorway. Marco was the first one through. He died straight away, I think. Reinhard was next. I… I thought he was going to make it, but he must’ve lost more blood than I thought.”“They think Captain Renoir is going to pull through,” you tell him, “They managed to stop the bleeding, at least.”Cato nods slowly, though this bit of good news barely seems to register.“I should’ve been there,” you mutter, leaning back in your chair, “Me and my sharp eyes…”“You can’t be everywhere at once, Isambard,” Cato replies, reaching over and placing a hand on your shoulder, “You can’t blame yourself. We’ll find the ones responsible for all this, and they WILL be judged accordingly.”[2/3]
>>6277135Why is EVERYBODY so incompetent? Can't these side characters ever do something useful offscreen? Can't they have a single easy win for once? For fuck's sake! We are only one man! We cannot be everywhere all at once!
>>6277135“You said something to her, didn’t you?” Elle whispers as she watches Saint Lucille shake hands with some of the wounded soldiers.“I may have told her a few harsh truths,” you confess, “Though, I’ll admit that I wasn’t expecting her to take them so well.”“Hm,” Elle muses, “I’m not sure I should feel jealous or not.”You both fall silent, pretending that you’re not eavesdropping as the Saint talks with the soldiers. Her expression is perfect – solemn, but also warm and encouraging. She’s wasted on large crowds, you realise, this is where she really shines. For every man she meets, she has something to say. Not once do you hear her repeat herself. Your appreciation for her talents is interrupted as Cato hurries over. This time, a look of cold triumph is alight on his face.“I’ve got news,” he announces, taking you by the arm and leading you away from the crowd. “When the men were injured, we split up. I left some of the men behind to sweep through the rubble while I brought the wounded here. They found someone.”“In the rubble?” you ask, “A corpse isn’t going to be very helpful.”“No, outside. The rest of the civilians fled when they heard the explosion, but this man was just standing outside and watching us. I didn’t even notice him, but one of the men caught him. He didn’t even try to struggle, apparently,” Cato explains, “They’ve brought him here now. There’s a basement chamber that will serve as a prison cell for now.”“Hm,” you muse, “Anything else?”“Maybe. We found this in the house,” Cato takes out a gold pendant and offers it out. You take it, feeling a tingle of power in your fingertips. It’s a normal sort of holy icon, though you notice a thin seam running down it. You’ve seen these sorts of things before – they usually have a small portrait within, sometimes an image of a Saint or the wearer’s beloved. Working a fingernail into the seam, you pop the pendant open. There’s no portrait inside, just the crude image of a centipede gouged into the metal.“Take it, if you want,” Cato says, “I know you’re a collector of such things. It’ll just end up locked away in some church vault if you don’t want it.”You gaze down into the crude markings. There is power here, as you first thought, but also the familiar sting of Calamity. Something else too, something you don’t have a name for.>Take the pendant [+1 Sovereignty, +1 Calamity]>Turn down the pendant
>>6277146>>Turn down the pendant>"Melt it down, this Pendant is tainted. Let fire purify and allow something new to be created."
>>6277138Perhaps our enemies are simply MORE competent.>>6277146>Take the pendant [+1 Sovereignty, +1 Calamity]
>>6277156+1I am curious about the "something else"
>>6277146>Take the pendant [+1 Sovereignty, +1 Calamity]Centipedes are coolAlso good thing we let Lucille in on matters, she really stepped the fuck up. Earning that Sainthood
You study the pendant for what seems like a very long time, then snap the hinges closed. “I’ll take it,” you tell Cato, “Consider it payment for services rendered.”“By all means. You’ve more than earned it, thus far,” Cato answers, “If you should happen to learn more about it, please tell us. It may shed some light on these degenerate cultists.”“Maybe,” you reply vaguely, dropping the trinket into your pocket.>[+1 Sovereignty Attunement, +1 Calamity Attunement]As you’re thinking about your next move, a uniformed soldier hurries over to Cato and whispers something in his ear. Cato listens carefully, then sends the soldier away with a nod. “He’s here,” the silver-haired young man tells you, “They’ve got the suspect down in the basement now – and don’t worry, we’ve checked him for any weapons. He’s clean.”“I certainly hope so,” you remark dryly, “Let’s just hope he hasn’t swallowed a grenade too.”Cato’s eyes widen with alarm before he realises that you’re joking. Mostly joking.-Cato leads you down into the cathedral catacombs, where a heavy door awaits you. You start to wonder why a church would need such a sturdy door that locks from the outside, then realise that you really don’t want to know. You pause for a moment, glancing aside to Elle. She waits for your lead, clutching her notepad and pen tightly to her chest. Her face is calm, but her white knuckles reveal the anxiety inside her.“Well, here goes,” Cato says to nobody in particular, opening the door and gesturing ahead. You enter with Elle, and Cato hauls the door shut behind him.The prisoner is a tall man, with greying hair and a curiously bland face. It’s the sort of face that you forget almost as soon as you’ve looked away. Just to test the theory, you close your eyes for a moment and try to picture the man in your mind. You see the clothes he’s wearing, a creased white shirt and formal trousers, and you see the thinning hair, but his face is just… a blur.“Sit down please,” Cato says, gesturing towards a chair.“I’d rather stand,” the man answers, his voice almost completely flat and lifeless.“I don’t care about your preferences. Sit, or I’ll have the soldiers outside break your legs,” Cato warns, though his bluster seems fake and forced. The prisoner seems to think so to, because what might be a smirk quickly passes across his face. Still, he sits. “That’s good,” Cato mutters, “Name?”“It really doesn’t matter what my name is,” the prisoner replies, “I’m nothing really, in the grand scheme of things. Just a humble facilitator, nothing more than that.”Silence, save for the quiet scratching of Elle’s pen.[1]
>>6277195“Recently, there was an attack on the grand cathedral. At current count, twenty eight people were killed. The attacker was traced back to a residence located in the Amaryllis outskirts,” Cato recites, “There, another trap killed two soldiers and severely wounded a third. You were apprehended in the vicinity, watching the explosion.”“Are you asking me a question?” the Facilitator asks.You watch with a vague interest as the muscles in Cato’s jaw clench. He says nothing for a moment, angrily shuffling some of the papers he brought. “I don’t think you realise how much trouble you’re in,” he says at last.“I think I do. In fact, I highly suspect that I won’t survive to see tomorrow,” the Facilitator replies with perfect disinterest, “Would you care to make a wager on that?”Again, Cato falls silent. You can see the anger and frustration on his face, his usual composure threatening to break down at any moment. Abruptly, he rises to his feet and bangs a fist against the cell door. One of the soldiers outside opens it, quickly closing it as soon as Cato has left. The prisoner watches him leave with neither satisfaction nor curiosity. He merely turns his gaze to you.“Master Pale, is it not?” he asks softly, “If I may say so, you seem to be a man of intelligence. A man of will and purpose. May I ask you a question?”You’d quite happily cut the man’s tongue out and shove it down his throat. Still, you gesture for him to speak.“As I said, you seem to be a man of strong character. Why, then, do you allow yourself to be bound by another’s will?” the Facilitator muses, “I don’t mean that foolish man out there. No, I refer to a greater will.”“The Godhead,” Elle says softly, glancing up from her notebook.“Yes!” the prisoner declares, “The so-called grand design, the natural order, that men so piously cling to. It should shame you, to allow yourself to be guided by this distant, uncaring thing. Those beasts up there, flocking to worship at the feet of their new Saint, they won’t be shamed. They are beneath such things. But you, Master Pale, are not.”“I see. I understand now,” you reply, nodding slowly, “You can’t fight against the Godhead, so you wanted to do the next best thing – to try and kill a Saint.”“The fate of humanity, back in the hands of men,” the Facilitator counters, “Is that really such a bad thing to wish for?”“Forgive me, sir, but I sense a contradiction in your words and deeds,” Elle points out, “You talk as if you love humanity, wishing to grant us all a great boon, but you also seem to view us as beasts to be slaughtered. For all your grand words, I think you’re nothing more than a child who doesn’t like being told to behave, a child now throwing a temper tantrum.”This time, the irritation flashes across HIS face.[2/3]
>>6277221You barely have time to feel a sense of satisfaction before the anger on the Facilitator’s face is gone. He looks away from Elle, turning his colourless eyes back to you. “I can see that there’s no sense in talking with her,” he remarks, “You and I might be able to reach an understanding. Not her.”“There is no “understand” between us, and there never will be,” you counter, trying to drag the conversation back onto familiar ground, “Are you acting alone, or do you have more allies waiting to strike? Allies within the church, even?”“Oh, we have allies everywhere,” the Facilitator says with a shrug, “What if I did give you a name? Would you have them taken out and shot? Thrown in a cell like me? Ah, but I know a lot of names – more than you have cells, perhaps.”A smirk passes across his face as something occurs to him.“Why ask me all these questions?” he wonders aloud, “Why not ask your God for the answers? Ask it to whisper a name into your ear as you sleep.”It’s clear that you’re getting nowhere with this scum. You’re about to follow Cato’s lead and storm out when you get one last idea. Taking the pendant out of your pocket, you open it up and slide it across the table. “You recognise this, don’t you?” you suggest, “What does this symbol mean?”“This is the symbol of our philosophy, and yours too,” the Facilitator answers, turning the pendant over in his hands, “You are the ones who struggle and strive under the blazing sun. We are the ones who thrive in the darkness, the unseen places. Ask yourself, Master Pale, where you really belong.”>I’m going to pause here for today. I should be able to run again tomorrow, even if the session is a bit shorter than today.>Thank you for playing today!
>>6277231Thanks for running!>I can see that there’s no sense in talking with her,” he remarks, “You and I might be able to reach an understanding. Not her.She’s right thoughIn trying to free yourselves from the Godhead you’ve merely made yourselves slaves to Calamity and other darker forces.>Ah, but I know a lot of names – more than you have cells, perhaps.Not more than we have bullets
>>6277231Good session, QM.>>6277248They may be among those holding the guns and firing the bullets.
>>6277231Thanks for running!Based Elle calling out Calamityfags yet again.
>>6277191>good thing we let Lucille in on matters, she really stepped the fuck upWe traded off going with the search party and preventing deaths in addition to seizing more evidence/leads and capturing cultists... and instead told somebody else of real power and influence the full truth, and had them emboldened by it. I get the feeling Lucille's efforts will have more impact than we assume. We won't hear much of it because of it being in the background, but there's a high chance this decision will pay off later
>>6277269I'm actually glad we haven't played full Calamity edgelord. Our current style feels better
>>6277248>In trying to free yourselves from the Godhead you’ve merely made yourselves slaves to Calamity and other darker forces.I like saying this to him - and saying that by allying with the Stryx he has killed humanity Make sure we shoot him once the discussion is over. There is no escaping, and nobody else will get info from him
>>6277377
>>6277355I still don't trust the church much, either, thoguh. We've proven their leadership corrupt and misguided a few times, and the Godhead seems indifferent to humanity's upcoming extinction.
>>6277377+1
“He’s clearly guilty,” you remark, over the clink of cutlery that fills the dining hall, “If he was innocent, he would say as much. He would plead for clemency, offer excuses for his actions. He wouldn’t gloat, wouldn’t mock us like this.”“Of course he’s guilty. It’s only a matter of determining the depths of his crimes, and I fear that may be a hopeless endeavour. He won’t tell us anything that he doesn’t want to,” Cato pauses, hesitates, “It worries me. Our enemies have been running rings around us thus far, and I fear that this man is no different. He allowed us to capture him. Why?”“I don’t know,” you admit, “But I think he’s too great of a risk to leave alive. Better that we get rid of him as soon as possible.”A cold silence meets these words. You lean back, looking around the table and meeting the eyes gazing back at you. Elle looks fretful, but she makes to attempt to disagree. Justine is utterly impassive, silently considering your words. At the head of the table, the Saint herself fidgets and shifts in her seat. She’s the first one to break the silence, carefully clearing her throat.“Before you do, I’d like to speak with this man,” she says carefully.“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Cato warns.“Your objections are noted,” Lucille replies, “Let me rephrase that. I’m going to speak with him.”Though she carries no formal authority, her words allow no dissent.-“It’s getting very crowded in here all of a sudden,” the Facilitator muses, looking at the many bodies in his cell. With a smirk on the vague suggestion of his face, he lifts a cigarette to his lips.“Who gave him that?” Cato demands, “He’s not supposed to-”“You wanted to kill me,” Lucille interrupts in a low, soft voice, gazing directly at the prisoner, “May I ask why?”The Facilitator turns his disinterested eyes on the Saint. “It’s nothing personal. You seem like a very nice young lady,” he answers, “I wish to kill all that you represent. That’s all.”“Better men than you have tried,” Justine mutters from the rear of the room, where she leans back against the wall with arms stubbornly folded.“As you well know,” the Facilitator replies, giving the older woman a long look. Justine’s lips start to draw back in a silent snarl, but then she recovers her composure. Looking away with a faint air of amusement, the Facilitator allows his gaze to pan across the room. “It bothers you, doesn’t it?” he asks nobody in particular, “No matter how hard you try, no matter how much you search, there will always be people like me. There will always people to try to strike back at you, who resist with the very depths of our souls. You seek complete dominion over mankind, but that goal will always be out of your reach. You want it all, but you will end up with nothing.”[1/2]
>>6277704The Saint’s chair lets out a loud groan as she pushes it back and abruptly stands. “I’ve heard enough,” she decides.The Facilitator’s eyebrow raises in surprise. At least, you think it does. “Excuse me?” he asks.“I’ve heard enough,” Lucille repeats, “I came here to try and understand you a little better, to get to know the man who wished for my death. I see now that you have nothing of value to say. Hollow proclamations and empty mockery. Nothing more.”“Then I’ll tell you something of substance,” the Facilitator replies coldly, nodding across to you, “But only to him.”The others glance at you, but thankfully without suspicion or accusations in their eyes. “Very well,” Cato says in a mild tone, getting up to leave alongside the others, “Let me know when you’re finished.”The door closes with a heavy thud as the rest of the group files out, leaving you alone with the gaunt, scrawny prisoner. “I’d like to make a confession,” he announces, “I confess, I procured the explosives used in the cathedral attack, bought – at a shamefully low price, I might add – from a corrupt quartermaster. I confess, I provided those explosives to a fellow traveller, in full knowledge of what he intended to do with them.”“May I ask why you’re telling me all this now?”“So that when you execute me, you can do so with a clean conscience.”“Thank you,” you pause for a moment, “Was there anything else you’d like to confess?”“This is only just beginning. There will be more attacks,” the Facilitator promises, “The tides of history cannot be held back forever. The day will come when they wash away the remains of the old order, and all those who defend it. Then we will rise, to build a world free from the Godhead’s oppressive designs.”“It’s funny. You talk of freedom, but in trying to free yourselves from the Godhead all you’ve done is shackle yourselves to the darker powers, to Calamity,” you counter, “You’re not free. You’ve just chosen a different master.”“Is it really so hard to imagine a world outside of these prison bars?” he snaps, “Gods, spirits, these are all powers that men can master, can bend to their will, yet you would bow before them! You-”The Facilitator pauses suddenly, and his ire is slowly replaced by a sickly smile. “I see now that there can be no understanding between us,” he declares, “Let’s not waste any more words. It’s time to end this farce.”>I’m finished with you. Make your peace>What connection do you have with the Tomoe?>Are you saying that YOU can bend the gods to your will?>I still have questions for you… (Write in)>Other
>>6277705>these are all powers that men can master, can bend to their willI’ve seen that same arrogance and pride in others, in my own father. He also thought he could bend great cosmic powers to his whim - but he overestimated himself, as all humans do.Now he is dead, just like you.
>>6277705>All you worship is fear and hate. Blind fool that you are, you only seek to throw yourself and all of mankind into their gullet, to be consumed as the Giants of yore were when they attempted the same idiocy. Beseeching the Magna Mater, following Kalthos's teachings? They aren't to make a better world. It's to make a world you control for control's sake. I've seen where such ambitions lead. I've seen what my bastard of a father wrought to try and save his own sorry hide from his own mistakes, damning me and my sister for his ambition and folly. I've seen the Labyrinth of Phalaris and how all that is in it is empty and hollow, bereft of meaning until the creeping rot of ages corrupts into monstrosity. I've even witnessed the release of the Strix which your hated and hubris draw ever closer to reality, to consume us all. I've seen where your mad hateful ambition leads, annihilation.
>>6277705>What connection do you have with the Tomoe?
>>6277705> I’m finished with you. Make your peaceRest in pepperoni
>>6277705>Hey. Did they look like they were bowing to the Godhead? You saw that saint, not 2 days ago she was innocent buffoon. And yet she's so quickly taking charge, controlling the peace, bending, as you say, powers to her will.>Destruction is not the only way to come to true power. I daresay it's one of the worst ones.
“Yes, it is. It’s time to end these foolish delusions of yours,” you spit, “You sit there and talk with boundless arrogance, misplaced pride, as if all of this is beneath you. You worship fear and hatred, thinking that they will bring you the power to bend great forces to your will. I’ve seen your kind before, and you always underestimate what you’re up against. Time and time again, it always ends the same way – swallowed up and destroyed by that which you called up.”“I’ve seen where your ambitions lead,” you continue, brandishing the defiled pendant, “Whether it’s calling out to the Magna Mater or following these corrupt teachings, it’s all to make a world that YOU control. It’s a hollow ambition, an emptiness waiting to be filled by the rot of ages. It is annihilation.”“And what of your path? Where does that lead?” the Facilitator snarls back, his composure wavering, “Do you really think that your Godhead will save you? Oblivion looms, and your god is silent. You all bow your heads and say your prayers, but you’re no better than a beast awaiting the butcher’s blade!”“Is that really what you think? You saw the Saint just now. Just two days ago, she was little more than a foolish child. Now, she has an authority that would command armies. She is the one bending powers to her will, not you,” you hiss, jabbing a finger at the scrawny man, “Destruction is a poor way to claim power. You still have a lot to learn – it’s just a shame that you won’t ever get the chance.”With a snarl of animalistic anger, the Facilitator lunges across the table and grabs for your throat. You’re quicker than him, jabbing one fist forwards in a quick punch that sends him reeling back, blood seeping from his nose. Before he can recover, you grab the side of his head and slam it down against the heavy wooden table. He slumps to the ground, collapsing so suddenly that you wonder for a moment if you’ve killed him. Then, unbelievably, he lets out a slow laugh.“We could have argued philosophy for hours, days even…” he rasps, “But it ends up like this. Are you satisfied?”“Almost,” you tell him, hauling him upright and shoving him back down into the chair, “Just a few more routine questions. No philosophy this time – I want straight, simple answers.”The bloodied man says nothing, merely letting out another hollow laugh.“Are you, or have you ever been, a member of House Tomoe?” you ask, reaching across the table and lightly slapping the prisoner when he doesn’t answer, “Yes or no, that’s all you need to say.”“The Tomoe? Those so-called revolutionaries? Any bonds I once held with those cowards were severed long ago,” he spits, “They are nothing but hypocrites and liars. They thrive within the same system they claim to oppose, playing at pantomime villainy. I spit on the Tomoe!”“I’ll take that as a “no” then,” you muse.[1]
>>6277741“Next-” you begin, only to be silenced by the sound of the door grinding open. You give the Facilitator a humourless smile, then leave the cold cell. Once the door slams shut behind you, you let out a long breath. “He’s insufferable,” you announce, “We’re definitely executing him after this, right?”“We are,” Cato agrees, before wincing and looking aside to Saint Lucille, “Forgive me, Your Grace. You shouldn’t have to listen to this.”“No no, it’s interesting,” she replies, only to pause for thought, “If I asked you to show mercy, to spare his life, would you?”“I…” he hesitates, “I would be obliged to-”“I wouldn’t,” you interrupt, “I certainly hope you weren’t planning on sparing him.”“Oh no, of course not,” Lucille shakes her head, “I suppose I really ought to take the moral high ground in a situation like this, but… well, I don’t want to. Let him pay for his crimes.”Good to see that you’re all in agreement. Before you can say anything else, you hear Justine’s brisk footsteps approach. Her face is set in a cold, solemn mask, and she carries a length of knotted cord in her hands. “There are still patients resting upstairs,” she says softly, “I would prefer that they were not disturbed by the sound of a gunshot. In the early days of the church, wicked men were put to death by strangulation. Their executions would be silent, unseen events. I would see the same thing here.”You stare at the cord in her hands. You’re no stranger to death by this point, but even this seems a little too-“I’ll do it,” Cato announces, glancing aside to you, “That is, unless you…”“Be my guest,” you tell him, quickly shaking your head, “Do it for Renoir and all the others.”Cato nods, taking the cord from Justine and brushing past you. She follows him into the cell, closing the door behind her. The door is thick, and the stone walls even thicker, but you move a short distance away. You’d rather not overhear anything that goes on inside. Saint Lucille bows to you before hurrying away upstairs. Then it’s just you and Elle, the oracle lurking over by the far wall as she pretends to examine one of the many bodies laid out on the stone slabs.“They should be buried,” you remark as you approach, “Don’t you think?”“Mm. But we need to wait and see if their families will claim them. The cold air down here helps to slow the decay, apparently,” Elle answers with a tiny shrug, “I think it’s all a bit morbid, but... I, um… Isambard?”“Yes?”“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, “I never should have asked you to come out here with me.”“Imagine how worse it might have been if we weren’t here,” you point out, “Don’t apologise. I think this is exactly where we need to be.”Elle thinks for a moment, then nudges you with her elbow. “You’re just saying that because Lucy has a crush on you,” she teases.[2/3]
>>6277753> You’re just saying that because Lucy has a crush on you,” she teases.Elle pleaseAll women have crushes on meI’ve long since grown accustomed to it
>>6277753“Never mind Lucy. I mean Saint Lucille,” you reply quickly, “I wanted to talk about Justine.”“Oh, you prefer older women?” Elle counters, giving you a sly smile.As forced as it is, you appreciate her attempts at humour – just not enough to keep the joke going. “Did you have a chance to talk with her at all?” you press, making sure that your voice is low, “Did you learn anything about her?”The smile slowly fades from Elle’s face. “She doesn’t talk much. We were busy with some of the wounded, of course, but not so busy that we couldn’t spare a moment. When we did talk, she spoke of the church or other people in town – never herself,” she shakes her head, “I don’t understand her. All the time I’ve worked with her, she’s tried very hard to save every patient she can… yet she never seems to care whether they live or die.”“As an oracle, I sometimes get a “feeling” about people. It’s usually not a full prophecy, guidance from the Emanations, but more of an instinct. That woman, though… I feel nothing from her,” Elle continues, gazing at one of the cold corpses, “These bodies feel more full of life than her.”Before she can say anything else, the cell door opens. Justine marches out, her gaze set straight forwards, while Cato lags behind. His face is pale and sweaty, as if he was suffering from some kind of terrible fever. “I suggest you take some time to rest. That goes for you two as well,” Justine announces, first to Cato and then directing her words towards you and Elle, “One of our enemies will reveal themselves at night, under the moonlight. Best that we are ready for them.”With that, she heads up the stairs. Elle watches her leave with uneasy eyes, then lets out a sigh. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind a chance to rest,” she admits, “I’m going back to the hotel. I think… I think I’m a little sick of this place.”>You should head back to the hotel with Elle. This isn’t a good time to be alone>You should check up on Cato. The execution seems to have been a difficult one>You should go after Justine. This might be a good chance to speak with her>Other
>>6277759Kek, true. Magna Mater protagonist powers are too stronk. our sister was the same way at her Yuri Girl Academy.>>6277760>You should go after Justine. This might be a good chance to speak with herIs SHE the familiar face that will betray us?
>>6277760>You should go after Justine. This might be a good chance to speak with herI assume she has a heretical past from what the Facilitator said to her. Perhaps she has some unique insights on how this group will operate Also rare for our enemies to move under moonlight. I guess they are just misled humans.
>>6277760>You should go after Justine. This might be a good chance to speak with her
>>6277760>You should go after Justine. This might be a good chance to speak with herMoonlight Shard is our ace, our signature item (outside of Wave Sword)
>>6277760>>You should go after Justine. This might be a good chance to speak with herit sounds like she's had enough Calamity go through her to render her relatively hidden from the godhead. That sounds like something useful to know for later.
“Stay safe,” you tell Elle, brushing your hand against her cheek, “I’m going to try and find Justine. This might be a good chance to speak with her – assuming nothing else explodes for a few hours.”“Good luck,” Elle replies, briefly leaning into your touch before pulling back as the sound of footsteps echo down to you. A pair of soldiers enter the catacombs, walking past without sparing a glance your way. They enter the prison cell, leaving a moment later with a limp body held between them. You watch with a gruesome fascination as they carry the body across to one of the many stone slabs and lay it out. “Excuse me,” you call out, “You’re keeping HIM here?”“Orders from above,” one of them answers with a grunt, “We’re hoping someone might be able to identify him. Won’t be able to do that if we burn the body to ash.”“Even as ash, that worm would be smug,” you mutter, before shrugging and leaving the men to their work. It’s doomed for failure, but isn’t everything?-With most of the wounded having left the cathedral, some of the long pews have been returned to their normal spots. Justine sits in one of them, gazing up at the stained glass windows as if lost in thought. She doesn’t look around when you sit beside her, although you can see her face tighten up. Just once, you’d like to see her with her guard completely lowered.“We must endure. No matter what ordeals we are faced with, we must overcome them. We must strain the sinews of our bodies in a righteous effort and defeat all that is laid out before us,” she quotes after a moment, “Those were the words of Saint Miriam. The “Warrior Saint”, she was called in her day. Though I have sworn a vow to Nicea, I often find myself turning to Miriam instead.”“Sounds like she had it tough,” you remark dryly.“Do you know how she died?” Justine finally looks around at you, the dull red of her eyes piercing through you.You just shrug.“She was assassinated. A great many of our Saints met the same fate – and now, it seems, powers unknown wish to see Saint Lucille follow their example,” Justine thinks aloud, “Nicea was assassinated too, if you believe the stories. She revealed her famous prophecies when she was young, only to retire in solitude as she grew older. It was only with her dying breath that she spoke another prophecy – the key, some say, to understanding her earlier words.”“It’s a nice story, but it doesn’t feel right to me. The only one who would be able to hear that prophecy would have been the assassin themselves,” you point out, “Who were they, in this story of yours?”“Nobody knows. Perhaps a faction within the church itself, seeking to destroy the woman who threatened to upend their faith,” the older woman suggests, “Or perhaps, as you say, it is all a lie.”[1]
>>6277790“I didn’t say it was a lie. I’m just not fully convinced,” you insist, before deciding to change the subject, “Lucille will be fine, you know. We’ll protect her.”“I’m sure that you will,” Justine replies, one corner of her mouth twitching into something that might be a cynical smile, “Will you devote the rest of your life to protecting her? Never straying from her side, watching every shadow for the death that stalks her footsteps?”Silence.“No, you won’t,” she shakes her head, “I mean no offence by that, Master Pale. You have your own life to live. You, of all people, cannot be tied down to a life of guardianship. There will be others who can fill that role.”“What do you mean, “me of all people”?” you ask sharply, wincing as you spot a few heads briefly turn your way.“I’ve done my research, Master Pale. I know that you carry a heavy burden, though the precise details – I am glad to say – elude me,” she says, that faint smile showing itself once more, “You have lived a very unusual life.”“As have you, I suspect.”Justine tenses up, her brow dipping in a frown. By catching her off-guard, you’ve finally gained a glimpse at her true self. It’s gone almost as soon as it arrives, smoothed over and hidden behind an anonymous mask. “You are almost correct, Master Pale,” she replies softly, lowering her voice until it’s barely above a whisper, “I’ve left a very unusual life behind. Even… even the parts of it that I wish I could have kept. Is that what you wished to hear? Is that why you tasked your friend with following my every footstep earlier today?”This time, you’re the one to hesitate.“Ah, so my theory was correct,” Justine smirks slightly, “Your face betrays you, Master Pale. Worry not, I take no offence by it. It’s understandable that you would be cautious, given Saint Lucille’s prophecy. Even a familiar face may hide venomous fangs, but allow me to say this – I have no intention of harming that girl.”“That’s exactly what you’d say if you WERE an assassin,” you point out.“I suppose so. And then, if I was an assassin, I’d seek to eliminate you at the earliest convenience,” her smile deepens, “You know too much, after all.”The way that Justine is toying with you, you sense that she’s been deprived of a pleasure like this for a very long time. Dancing around each other and trading barbs like this feels familiar, though the exact nature of that familiarity drifts just out of reach. “Let me ask you a hypothetical question, then,” you say after a long silence, “With all the experience of your unusual life, what do you think our enemies will do next?”“They will likely come tonight, while they still hold the momentum,” she answers slowly, “And they will attack us in a way that is unlike anything we have seen thus far.”[2/3]
>>6277790>It’s doomed for failure, but isn’t everything?Ah, our Bard is such a doomer, isn't he?
>>6277818You consider Justine’s words for a long moment. They hardly narrow it down. Perhaps you can safely rule out another lunatic with a vest full of explosives, but that still leaves a lot of possibilities. Maybe she’s being deliberately vague, you wonder, as a way of telling you to prepare for anything.“Miss Justine,” you ask simply, “Are YOU the familiar face that the prophecy warned us about?”You had been hoping to catch her by surprise again, to catch another glimpse behind the mask. No such luck, this time. “As I said, Master Pale, I have no intention of harming the Saint,” she replies coolly, with no sense of outrage or offence, “Can you say the same? You are, after all, one who carries the moonlight with you wherever you go. Perhaps you should shine that light upon me, to see what truths it reveals.”You hesitate for a moment, then take her advice. Drawing out the shard of moonlight, you allow the cold white light to flow across Justine. Her face doesn’t change, save for the wild shadows cast by your wavering hand.“You see?” she says, “I am exactly what I seem to be.”She is exactly that – a mystery, an enigma, a stranger with an “unusual” past.>I’m going to take a pause here for today. I’ll be continuing this next Saturday, unless anything really disastrous happens over the week>Thank you for coming out today!
>>6277846Thanks for running!Huh, were the effects of moonlight common knowledge? The mysteries of Justine grow ever deeper.
>>6277863House Pale is known for their moonlight, and bard kinda flashes that thing everywhere for those who look into his current activities
>>6277864We were showing it of to the other people on the investigation team earlier.>>6277846Thanks for running!
Nightfall draws near, and the final preparations are being made. You’re just not sure what you’re preparing for. The worst, perhaps. An enemy “unlike anything you have seen”, to use Justine’s words. Anticipating the long night ahead, you managed to take a short nap in one of the cathedral’s back rooms. Your dreams had been strange, filled with vague, formless threats. Waking up felt like a relief, a small victory.The long pews, only so recently brought back from storage, are being taken away again. In the event of a pitched battle, you’ll want as much space to move freely as possible. You take a long look around the cavernous room before spotting Cato, hurrying across to join the young man. He looks like he’s slept even less than you have, fatigue etching deep scars in his face. Still, there’s a light in his eyes – a sense of purpose, of determination. Anger too, perhaps, directed out towards your unknown enemies and inwards, towards his own perceived failures.“How are the preparations going?” you ask, nodding to the soldiers Cato was talking with.“We’re doing everything we can. When night falls, I’ll have soldiers guarding every entrance to the cathedral. All but the main doors will be locked and sealed. If our enemies do come, they’ll have to come straight for us,” Cato explains, his voice hushed and low, “There’s going to be a curfew tonight. After sundown, anyone outside of the security forces is to remain indoors. Those who break the curfew are to be considered enemy agents.”“Hm,” you mutter, “How has that gone down with the people?”“Better than I had been expecting,” Cato pauses, “They seem to accept any hardship, any restriction, so long as it’s for the sake of peace and security. In truth, I almost wish they had resisted a little. I feel ill at ease with keeping such a tight grip on the populace, even more so with how readily they accept our commands.”“The masses look to us for guidance, as they always have done,” Justine announces, her voice causing you both to jolt around in surprise. She bows her head low, but not before you catch the slightest flicker of amusement in her eyes. “Master Pale,” she adds, “Would you come with me for a moment?”Cato nods a farewell to you, then hurries away to attend to some other duty. You follow Justine across to the main altar, the glint of steel catching your eye. A long, almost delicate sword lies across the velvet cloth, a few droplets of water still glistening on the blade. “I have been carrying out blessings,” Justine explains, “Your sword please, Master Pale.”Drawing the weapon, you pass it across to Justine. She takes it, weighing it up in her hands for a brief moment. She holds the blade with an easy familiarity, as if reunited with an old friend.[1/3]
>>6280608“A fine weapon,” she says after a moment, “Your father commissioned this sword for you, did he not?”“He did,” you answer, “You seem to know a great many things about me, Miss Justine.”“I make it my business to know such things,” the priestess replies with a slight shrug, “And people talk – idle gossip, malicious rumours, envious whispers and even, occasionally, a fragment of truth.”“I’m well acquainted with those first two, but I find it hard to believe that anyone is envious of my position.”“Really? It is known that Isambard Pale often speaks with the King, or his loyal right hand,” Justine turns, giving you an ambiguous smile, “Many would see that as something to envy.”You hold Justine’s gaze but stay silent, waiting to see where she’s going with this. Yet, she leaves her thoughts unspoken, instead turning to lay your sword across the altar. “Such beautiful inscriptions,” she murmurs, caressing the blade, “There is a language to such things, you know. Waves like this, flowing water, have long been associated with purification. Of all the designs he could have chosen, your father picked this one. I wonder why?”“Perhaps he hoped that I would fix his mistakes,” you suggest, immediately wondering if you’ve said too much. Justine may know a great deal about you, but what about your father?“Perhaps,” she pauses for a moment, sprinkling a few drops of holy water across the blade, “But crashing waves will wash away the good and the ill alike. Even the greatest of man’s works will be unmade, swallowed up by the raging tides.”Again, you hold your tongue. Justine doesn’t seem to mind – bowing her head, she clasps her hands together and whispers a few words of prayer. With her ritual done, she opens her eyes once more and passes the sword back to you. As she does, she nods towards the other blade. “That is Master Silvera’s weapon,” she mentions, “What does the language of THIS sword say about him, do you think?”You pick up the blade, turning it over in your hands as you study it. It’s a good deal longer than your sword, with only the thinness of the blade stopping it from becoming unwieldy. “He’s compensating for something?” you suggest with a wan smile.“Very amusing, Master Pale, but no,” Justine takes the weapon from you, “The blade is utterly unmarked. It reveals nothing at all – and, in doing so, says much about the wielder. He hides his heart well.”“And you carry no sword at all,” you point out, “Does that mean you hide your heart even more than he does?”“It does,” she replies, giving you a smile not unlike a teacher congratulating her favourite pupil, “An excellent deduction, Master Pale.”[2/3]
>>6280609The sharp click of footsteps cuts the rest of your conversation short. Turning, you see the Saint hurrying over to you with Cato nervously following behind. She wears her full ceremonial garb, regardless of how impractical it must be – a dress of gleaming white lace and gold thread, a heavy headdress of the same, and a great deal of gold jewellery. The platform heels of her shoes give her a few extra inches of height, much needed, at the cost of reducing her walk to an unsteady waver.“Isambard, where’s Ellie?” the Saint calls out, “This is an emergency, she needs to be here!”“She’s back at the hotel,” you answer, “What’s the emergency?”“She needs to be here,” Lucille repeats, “She’s agreed to be my official biographer, and she can’t miss tonight!”“Your Grace-” Cato begins, attempting to get a word in.“She’s agreed to that, has she?” you ask, “When was that?”“Well, she hasn’t actually agreed YET, but I know she will,” the Saint pouts, a trace of her old girlish excitement surfacing once again, “Will you go and fetch her for me?”You heave a heavy sigh. “I can see if she’s able to come, but on one condition,” you hold up a finger, “What are you planning?”A brief silence. “Too many people have gotten hurt, have died, because of me,” Lucille answers, “I want this to end. Tonight, I will take to my dais and await my enemies. Let them come and face me directly.”“Your Grace, I strongly advise against this,” Cato insists, “We all want this to be over, I agree with you there, but to use yourself as bait…”“I will not hide away, while everyone else struggles for my sake. I have to stand up and show that I’m not afraid to…” she pauses, her voice wavering slightly, “To die. But it won’t come to that, will it?”You glance aside to Justine. She meets your eyes, but just shrugs with calculated indifference.>I think the Saint is right. We need to end this, tonight>The risk is too great. Your Grace, you must take shelter until day comes>The choice is yours to make, Your Grace. Do what you will>Other
>>6280610>If you are set on it, I hope my suggestion for a change in attire would not be irreverent.Gold and height displays an image of invincibility, but that's not appropriate when fear is so close. A more humble outfit fits closer to a theme of courage, just a little encouragement for the masses to feel that they need to protect this young lady as well.Plus we can hide some armor underneath the robes.Whatever is coming, fear will be part of the end component. What else can we do....prepare a dozen extra voltaic lamps, that aren't connected to the main lighting system? Blinding someone buys a LOT of time. And it'll work on the masses if the threat is the entire mob as possessed attackers
>>6280617+1
>>6280617This and also lose the platform shoes in case she has to run
>>6280617+1. This girl may be being rather silly, but she's silly in a brave and admirable way, and we can use it. Not like we can guarantee her safety in a private place, either. We of all people know that folks die in secret and hidden places all the time.
“If your heart is set on it, then I see no reason to try and change your mind,” you tell Lucille, “But, at the risk of stepping out of line, may I suggest a change of attire? Something a little more practical, perhaps?”“This is practical!” Lucille insists, “You should have seen some of my OTHER dresses!”“I understand, I really do. You want to seem invulnerable, that’s what all this gold and these high shoes are all about. It’s a potent image, but will be the people really be able to relate to that?” you point out, “Better for you to wear something humble. That way, the dress won’t overshadow your courageous acts. As for the shoes, well, if the worst should come to be…”“I have no intention of running,” the Saint mutters, her confidence withering a little, “But I suppose I have even less intention of dying.”“I shall help you to choose your new attire,” Justine announces, placing a hand on Lucille’s shoulder. The Saint pales a little, but allows the older woman to lead her away without a squeak of complaint.Cato watches the pair of women leave, then heaves a heavy sigh. “I almost wish she was more of a coward,” he admits, “She is finally growing into her role, which I can’t fault, but she was far easier to protect before. Whatever happens, I’ll stay by her side. I know that I’ll be able to rely on you too, Isambard. Any last ideas?”“See if you can string up some extra lighting. Any voltaic lamps you can find,” you suggest, gesturing to the edge of the room, “A blind enemy is a helpless one, at least for a time.”“I’ll see what we’ve got in storage,” Cato agrees with a nod, “You’d better hurry. We don’t have long.”-Stepping out from the cathedral, you realise that Cato was right - nightfall is closer than you realised. The sun is already low in the sky, painting a wide swathe of the sky blood red. A small crowd still lingers at the base of the cathedral steps, kept under the uneasy watch of the waiting soldiers. They don’t seem like they’re planning trouble, but that doesn’t mean much. You might be paranoid, but sometimes your enemies really are everywhere.The crowd parts as you approach, allowing you to hurry through without incident. You keep up the pace on the way back to the hotel, but you never fully let down your guard. There’s an uneasy calm in the air, combined with a sense of anticipation. Thanks to the curfew announcement, everyone in the city knows that something is happening tonight even if they don’t know what. But your darkest fears – scenes of panic and disorder – remain unrealised. The worst you see is a good natured argument between a minor priest and some soldiers, quibbling over the exact moment of “nightfall”.How lucky they are, for that to be their greatest worry.[1]
>>6280627When you arrive at the hotel, you’re a little surprised to see Misty sitting with Elle. Neither of them looks particularly happy about the arrangement, but that’s hardly surprising under the circumstances. Elle abruptly stands at your arrival, a nervous smile breaking out across her face. “Isambard. What’s… going on?” she asks, “Is there trouble?”“Not yet, but very important people are asking for you to come to the cathedral,” you remark, “Congratulations on your new job, by the way. Official biographer to the Saint.”“Oh wow!” Misty gasps, “That’s great news!”“It is NOT,” Elle groans, “I keep telling Lucy, I can’t just drop everything and follow her around my entire life. She’s only doing this because she enjoys bossing me about, you know.”“Well, I’ll have the job if you’re not interested,” Misty suggests, adjusting her glasses and trying to look as professional as possible, “I’m something of a writer myself, you know.”You shudder to think of it.-In the short time that you were in the hotel, the last of the sunlight seems to have bled away completely. Holding Elle’s hand, you lead her through the eerily silent streets. You almost wish Misty had come with you, just to break the stillness with her inane chatter. But she opted to stay at the hotel, and it’s too late to turn back now.There’s almost no light all, save for the occasional glint of cold white when the clouds part. In those rare moments, you sometimes see shapes up on the rooftops – maybe stone ornamentation, maybe waiting figures. The light never lasts long enough for you to say for sure.As you’re rounding a corner, you feel a sudden tug on your arm as Elle freezes in place. She stumbles, letting out a soft gasp before steadying herself. “It’s coming,” she hisses, forcing the words out through gritted teeth, “I can feel it, cold as the grave… old, terribly old… one hundred lightless years…”Her premonition ends in a guttural retch, her knees almost giving out before you’re able to catch her. It’s then, as you’re lifting Elle to her feet, that the first gunshots ring out. Lifting her up onto your back, you hasten off towards the cathedral as fast as you can. She talks a little as you move, murmuring vague words about opened graves and carrion feeders, ghoulish words unlike anything she’d say in her waking moments.The gunshots have long since fallen silent by the time you arrive at the cathedral, the soldiers who had been stationed outside now nowhere to be seen. Pausing for a moment, you gently ease Elle down to the ground. She’s recovered enough that she can stand on her own now, though she still leans heavily against you as you creep through the main doors. You catch a flicker of movement out of the corner of your eye and, before you can defend yourself, a hand claps down over your mouth.[2/3]
>>6280639You freeze for a moment, then slowly turn your head to the side. Justine meets your gaze with her hard eyes, then slowly raises a finger to her lips to mime silence. A smear of blood paints a dark line across her face, though she doesn’t seem to notice – or care. Only when you nod to show understanding does she release you, taking her hand from your mouth. Taking care to make as little noise as possible, you follow her through the atrium and stare into the main cathedral hall.Saint Lucille sits on her far dais, unharmed but frozen with fear. Here and there you see soldiers lying sprawled out on the stone tiles. Some move a little, staying silent despite their wounds, but others are completely still. Cato is the only one left standing, his blade held at the ready even as his chest heaves with exertion. Yet, for all the carnage, you don’t see any sign of an attacker. No armed men, no deranged cultists.But it wasn’t a man that did this.With a soft slithering sound, the white worm drags itself into view. Perhaps twice the length of a man, with a single angular arm about half that, the monstrous thing is no product of nature. That much is obvious. Here and there, you see blackened scars marking the glistening hide where gunshot wounds were received and healed over. Only a long slash from Cato’s blade remains open, colourless blood seeping slowly from the wound.You realise, then, why Justine ordered you to silence. The thing is eyeless, hunting only by sound. The only feature at all on its blunt head is a gaping maw, a sucker mouth lined by needle-like fangs. From her place atop the dais, Lucille meets your eyes and forces a shaky smile. Then she touches her mouth, opening her hand wide before gesturing to you and Cato.Translation: “I’ll distract it, you two strike.”Cato reads the same thing you do, fervently shaking his head. Stubbornly, he jabs a finger at his own chest – “I’ll distract it.”Frustrated, you reach into your pocket and pull out a handful of coins. Being careful not to rattle them too much, you draw your arm back and mime throwing them. But, judging by the wince that passes across Cato’s face, he had that idea already. Shaking his head, he tape a finger against his temple.“It can think.”Of course it can.>Lucille knows what she’s doing. Let her distract the beast, so you and Cato can strike>Let Cato distract the beast. The Saint can stay safe that way>You’ll distract the beast yourself. Cato just needs a good opportunity to strike>Other
>>6280649>You’ll distract the beast yourself. Cato just needs a good opportunity to strikeBut our distraction will come in the form of a shot to its head. And our blessed sword will be at the ready to defend
>>6280649fookin lamps don't work>>6280649>Let Cato distract the beast. The Saint can stay safe that way
>>6280649>You’ll distract the beast yourself. Cato just needs a good opportunity to strike
>>6280649>You’ll distract the beast yourself. Cato just needs a good opportunity to strikeMust protect the Saint
>>6280639>DeadBringForth.png Oh shit.>>6280649>You’ll distract the beast yourself. Cato just needs a good opportunity to strike
As you desperately sign words and ideas at each other, the white worm continues its slow, writhing patrol around the cathedral. Though it seems sluggish enough now, you have the feeling that it won’t always be so slow. It’s just saving its strength for now, waiting for the moment to strike. When that moment comes, you have little doubt that it will unleash all its power in a ferocious attack.A rueful smile crosses your face as you look up at the high balcony running around the room. A good number of heavy voltaic lights have been strung up there, their connecting wires looping and trailing from the improvised brackets. They cast a cold white light down upon the whole cathedral, and for what? So the eyeless creature before you can writhe and flop in full view. Was this all just bad luck, or did your enemies anticipate even this?No time for doubts now. You push the dark thoughts aside, and raise your blade. Meeting the Saint’s eyes once more, you firmly shake your head and touch a hand to your heart. For a job like this, you need the one person you can really trust – yourself.Still holding her silence, Saint Lucille nods and raises her hands in a gesture of prayer. Cato nods too, taking hold of his sword in both hands as he waits for his moment.“This place is holy ground!” you shout, your voice shattering the silence like a hammer breaking through glass, “This place is not for the likes of you!”The effect is immediate. The white worm twists around, as only a boneless thing can do, and points its blunt, eyeless face directly towards you. Then, slamming its single arm into the stone tiles, it hurls itself towards you. Even though you were expecting it, the burst of speed takes you by surprise. All you can do is fire off a single shot from your revolver before lunging aside. Whether the shot hit or not barely seems to matter – the worm’s attack continues regardless.Your dodge is just barely enough to get you away from the worm’s charge. Turning rapidly, trying to keep your eyes on it, you clumsily slash out with your blade. When you raise the weapon once more, you see clear fluids glistening on it.With a heavy gasp for air, one that is only partly pretend, you stumble as if wounded. The worm might be able to think, but it still seems to take the bait. It writhes forwards again, even as you back away against a heavy stone pillar at the far edge of the cathedral. Bracing yourself against the stone, you raise your sword like a pike and meet the worm’s charge head on. It plunges straight forwards, your blade piercing straight through the pulpy white flesh and-And achieving nothing. The beast doesn’t even notice the wound.[1]>Internet connection in shambles today, bear with me
>>6280682With a vicious swipe, the worm’s single arm grabs out and closes around you like a vice. Pain bursts through your body as the worm raises you up, grip tightening until you feel your bones grind together. Despite your best efforts, a kind of animalistic panic gnaws at the back of your mind at the creature lifts you up to the yawning maw. A slippery white tendril, tipped with a long blade spike, emerges from the open mouth. Absurd as it may be, you get the impression that the creature is smelling you.“Cato!” you hiss, forcing the words out, “Do something Cato, you-”Bright steel flashes, a movement that you hear rather than see. A heartbeat later, colourless blood explodes out from the worm’s body as the fist clenched around your body convulses open. You fall heavily to the ground, but the arm – cut completely from the worm’s body by the unmatched sharpness of Cato’s blade – falls with you.The worm shrieks, a terrible keening wail that no human throat could ever hope to match. It rears back as if preparing to crush you beneath the bulk of its head, but the expected blow never lands. You have just enough time to see something heavy swinging down from the ceiling before it crashes into the worm, knocking it aside.Leaping to your feet, you jump over the sparking voltaic lamp that had fallen free from its mounting and lunge for the fallen worm. The fact that your sword is still piercing through the beast’s cut only later occurs to you. Cato strikes first, stabbing his sword forwards with such force as to pierce the stone tiles beneath the worm, pinning it down completely. Drawing your dagger, you fall upon the beast and start sawing through the pulpy flesh. It offers surprisingly little resistance, so much so that you feel a spasm of uncertainty. Even with its head cut free, the worm might very well continue fighting. How do you kill something with no organs, no obvious mechanisms of life?A heavy hand falls on your shoulder, pulling you back from the world. You almost turn to attack before realising that it’s Cato. He holds out your sword, ripped from the white worm’s body, and offers the weapon to you. Taking it, you step back from the worm and realise that your doubts were misplaced. Its struggles have weakened now, though you still couldn’t say with any confidence that it was hurt or injured. More, whatever terrible energy had animated the corrupt thing has almost expended itself.Tightening your grip on the sword, you walk around the beast and take aim. A single stroke of your blade finishes the job, decapitating the beast. With that, the remains begin to dissolve – not into pools of filthy liquid, as you might have thought, but into shimmering light. When the last of the lights fade, not a trace of the creature remains.[2]
>>6280685“Are you alright?” a voice calls out from high above you. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you turn and look up to the balcony. Lucille peers over the edge, giving you a wave. You nod, too exhausted to say the words aloud. She vanishes, only to emerge from the stairwell a few minutes later. You immediately notice her new clothes – a simple dress, light and easy to move in, with sensible flat shoes.“Your Grace,” Cato says quietly, looking down to the broken lamp, “That light…”“I know, I know. Those things are awfully expensive, aren’t they?” Lucille sighs, “Tell them to send my family the bill, we’ll take care of it. Anyway, I saw some of them struggle to put them up, so I knew how heavy they were. Good thing I didn’t hit either of you with it, huh? I mean, I didn’t really have time to aim, so…”You meet Cato’s eyes, holding back something that is either a laugh or a scream. He reaches into his pocket and takes out a crisp, folded handkerchief before mopping the sweat from his brow.“Then again, those stairs might actually have killed me if I wasn’t wearing these icky shoes…” the Saint continues, “So I suppose you were right about that one. Hey, Isambard, I’ve got a great idea! Why don’t I take you on as a full time advisor?”“I apologise, Your Grace, but I shall have to decline your generous offer,” you reply, offering her a weary smile, “Besides, it’s probably safer for you if I’m not around.”“He’s probably correct,” Cato adds.You shoot him a dark look. He wasn’t supposed to agree with you there.>I’m going to take a pause here for today. I really have no idea what’s going on with my internet connection today, but it’s been dropping in and out constantly. Things might be more stable tomorrow, but I don’t have high hopes. I’m aiming to run for a little regardless>Thank you for your patience today!
>>6280692Good luck wothbyour internet, and thanks for running! What a freaky monster. Lucy's growing on me, though.
>>6280692Thanks for running!My connection has been rough too which is weird. EU got cut off so we ought to have more bandwidth
>>6280639>“I’m something of a writer myself, you know.”https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D_oTxsHK5d8
>>6280692I seriously hope at least one of the injured and non-dead nameless jobber soldiers witnessed this monster and how it was killed. Surely one of them had his head raised and watching the whole thing while prone on the ground? We need ordinary witnesses to see these horrors laid bare and then killed with extreme heroic prejudice afterward.
“I’m going to ask the obvious question,” you begin, looking around the table, “Just what WAS that thing?”There’s no immediate answer to your question, just a sea of faces gazing back at you. Elle looks thoughtful, but in no hurry to share those thoughts. Cato, beside her, wears a deep frown. Saint Lucille herself sits at the head of the table, her eyes flicking back and forth as she studies the faces around her. In the end, it’s Justine – as unreadable as ever – who breaks the silence.“It was one of the formless ephemera,” the priestess answers quietly.“It didn’t seem very formless to me,” Cato complains, rubbing his brow with frustration.“By bringing it into this world, that man forced it to assume a fleeting form. When you defeated it, the beast returned to its original state,” Justine explains, “Such things have no place in this world, and it shall not return unless called up once more.”“Forgive me, Miss Justine, but how do you know so much about this?” Elle asks. Her voice is pleasant enough, but there’s a sharpness in her eyes.Justine meets the younger woman’s eyes, saying nothing for a moment as she weighs up her answer. “There are a great many secret things in this world, Miss Legrasse, as you well know,” she answers eventually, “I make it my business to know such things, and to judge how they fit into the church’s teachings.”“But it’s dead?” you press, “We killed it?”“You banished it back to whichever strange realm birthed it,” Justine clarifies, “Such beings, as far as I’ve learned, can never really die.”Good enough, you suppose, so long as it can’t come back.“It almost seems like a dream,” Lucille muses, resting her chin on her hand, “And, like a dream, it vanished without a trace.”“But people are already talking,” Justine says, “The wounded soldiers have been whispering of what they saw, and the rumours are starting to spread. Already, some of the faithful are quoting a line from the Nicean Prophecies – “and the great white serpent shall be rebuked”. We shall have to put out an official statement soon, before these stories spiral beyond our control.”“Hm, you’re right,” Lucille nods before turning to Cato, “Master Silvera, could you bring in your cousin?”“Misty?” Elle blurts out, “You’re not actually-”“You were obviously my first choice for the role of biographer, Ellie, but you’re right. You’ve got your own responsibilities,” the Saint offers a sympathetic smile, “Miss Silvera-Quail has volunteered her services, and I’ve decided to accept. I’ve seen some of her writing, and I rather like it.”“I feel as if I’m going to regret asking, but what does she write about?” you ask.“Oh, she writes about you actually. You and Master Silvera,” Lucille pauses, her cheeks darkening slightly, “She’s very, er, imaginative.”You definitely regret asking.[1/2]
>>6281022After the discussion turns to the exact details of the Saint’s statement, you and Elle decide to take your leave. Returning to the cathedral’s main hall, you wander a little before ending up in front of the raised dais. You’re not sure if you’ll still be around when Saint Lucille delivers her speech, but you’re not worried about her. She’s grown into her role now. It only took a little bit of trauma to get her there.“It’s funny, isn’t it?” Elle murmurs, “I came here hoping to get some guidance for the future, but I ended up looking back on my past instead. When I learned that Lucy… I mean, Saint Lucille had replaced me, taking what might have been my role in life, I wasn’t sure how to feel. But now, I feel as though a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I’ve finally cut loose the shackles of my old life.”“That couldn’t have been easy,” you remark, although you’re really thinking about yourself. Could you ever say the same thing, that you’re free from the weight of your past?“I… it was, actually,” she smiles softly, “I just had to realise what I really wanted.”You put an arm around her shoulders, holding her close for a moment. Though peaceful, the moment is all too brief – before long, you feel a chill down the back of your spine. Drawing back, you look around to see Justine lurking a short distance behind. With a slow, unhurried pace, she approaches and gives you a nod of greeting. “Miss Legrasse,” the priestess begins, “I apologise for interrupting, but there was something I needed to discuss with Master Pale.”“Go on,” you tell Elle, watching Justine closely, “This won’t take long.”Elle flashes you a nervous look before hurrying away, With her hands clasped behind her back, Justine walks up to stand beside you in silence. “Well?” she asks after a moment, “There’s a question you’ve been meaning to ask me, isn’t there?”She doesn’t miss a thing. “There is,” you admit, “Before, I asked if you were one of the assassins the prophecy warned of.”“I remember,” the priestess answers, “And I said that I had no intention of harming the Saint.”“Mm. But that wasn’t the question I asked. So I’ll ask you again – are you the “familiar face” that we were looking for?”Justine doesn’t say anything for a while, her gaze fixed on the empty dais. “There are circumstances when a beloved martyr is more useful than a Saint of middling quality,” she answers slowly, carefully, “But, it seems to be, those circumstances would not apply here.”That certainly sounds like something an assassin might say, though it’s far short of anything like proof.>I’ll keep your secret Justine. This conversation never happened>You can’t stay here. Leave, or I’ll have to tell Lucille about this>I can’t just let this go. I’m taking you into custody>Other
>>6281024>I'd really prefer not to have people killed as a primary strategy. Rather barbaric, if you ask me.>Have you been "inspired" enough to share any further information that might catch these assassins? Don't write Cato off just yet, he can be calculating with his methods when needed. Maybe someday he'll even figure you out without you telling him.
>>6281024>Good. Tearing things down, destroying things. It's a zero-sum game. Everyone loses eventually. The Giants found that out the hard way in the end. Barbarity that birthed their Ruin and our coming apocalypse. If anything happens to her, the repercussions will be severe. If you're even halfway familiar with the monster who called himself my father? Know that he's a rank amateur, don't give me cause to let go.>Warn Cato to keep both eyes open, and one of them on Justine, discretely. After all "There might be circumstances where a saint of middling Quality is less useful than a beloved martyr."
>>6281024>OtherDoes she see her opinion ever changing on the usefulness of the Saint?
>>6281024>Right, well, that was then and this is now... And noe, I've gotten rather attached to the new Saint. If I hear anythnig's happened to her, know that I will be coming back, and it won't be for a pleasant chat.
“Tell me something, Miss Justine,” you muse, “Do you ever imagine your options regarding the Saint changing? Can you envision a time when she would no longer be “useful” to you?”Justine considers this for a moment, then shakes her head. “The Saint has proven herself,” she decides, “These past few days have emboldened her will and strengthened her resolve. The foolish girl you first met is gone, a new woman stands in her place. Please, Master Pale, do not misunderstand me – this is the outcome I had wished for. I never wanted to see her fail.”“Me neither. Though, I wouldn’t have resorted to murder as a first option if she had faltered,” you point out, “Everyone loses, that way. The weak – if you wish to call them that – are culled, and the strong become monsters. The world has more than enough of them already.”“You speak like a man well acquainted with monsters.”“Yes, well, there’s a good reason for that. The way I see it, our history is one long lineage of monsters – from the giants of our distant past all the way down to my bastard father,” you give the priestess a cold look, “Some days, I wonder if I’m the same as all of them. Please, don’t give me a reason to prove it. I’ve grown rather attached to the new Saint, believe it or not.”“Then we’re more alike than you might have thought, Master Pale,” Justine bows her head, “I intend to remain by the Saint’s side for as long as she needs me. This has only been one battle in a very long war.”“It doesn’t need to be,” you shake your head, “Do you feel “inspired” to share your knowledge, and help us catch these fiends?”“And if I did, would you be willing to devote your life to this pursuit?”You hesitate a little, the pause causing Justine’s smile to deepen slightly. “Not I,” you admit, “My duties lie elsewhere. But Master Silvera will serve in my place, I think. You shouldn’t underestimate him, you know. There may come a day when he sees what I’ve seen, and realises what you really are.”“So be it,” the priestess replies, with the slightest hint of a shrug. With that, she turns and starts to walk away. You briefly consider stopping her, but what good would it do? She stops herself after a moment anyway, turning back to you and reaching into her pocket. You tense up, but it isn’t a weapon she takes out – just an old metal charm.“I think you should have this,” she announces, tossing it across to you, “Someone gave this to me once, many years ago. Even then, I knew that I too would pass it to someone else. You’ll do the same, I think.”You catch the charm, the tarnished gold making a tiny weight in your hand even as a tingle of power runs up your arm.When you look back up, Justine is gone.[1]
>>6281068Feeling vaguely dazed by the whole conversation, you wander back to the meeting room and spot Cato. The young man is staring intently at a folded note, but glances up as he senses your gaze. You both try to speak at the same time, talking over one another until you both fall abruptly silent. “You first,” Cato says quickly, gesturing for you to speak.“Need to talk with you about something,” you tell him, sitting down at the long table and glancing over your shoulder, “It’s a private conversation. Are you expecting company?”“No. Misty and Saint Lucille are busy discussing the biography. We shouldn’t need to worry about them,” he replies, “What’s this about?”“Justine. I don’t think I’ll be sticking around here for much longer, but I want you to keep an eye on her for as long as possible,” you lean forwards a little, “I think she’s more interested in protecting the church than protecting the Saint, if you understand me. For now, those two interests intersect. It might not always be that way.”Cato frowns a little as he considers this. “The fact that you’re telling me this, Isambard, suggests that you believe I’m different. What if I also put the church before any one single person?” he asks.“Then I’ll have made a very foolish mistake,” you shrug, “But I don’t think that I have.”He thinks for a moment more, then sighs. “I don’t think you have either,” he concedes, “I hope the day never comes when I shall have to worry about your words, but I’ll do as you ask.”“Good,” you lean back again, letting out a low breath, “What did you want to say?”“I wanted to show you this. It was left on the cathedral steps a short while ago, with the rest of the offerings,” Cato explains, passing a note across to you, “A message from our enemies, perhaps.”“Fleeting though it is, this victory is yours. This game continues without end,” you read aloud, squinting at the flamboyant script, “May the victor be crowned in gold.”“I see two possibilities. Either our enemies are admitting defeat – at least, for now – or they’re playing another trick on us,” he shakes his head, “Either way, I don’t plan on letting them walk free. Ever since that day when we… met in the Demesne, I’ve been searching for a new purpose. Now, I think I’ve found it.”“I’m glad to hear it,” you agree, reaching across the table and shaking his hand, “Good hunting, Master Silvera.”>I’m going to take an early pause here – not really feeling it today. Barring any unexpected issues, I’ll aim to continue next weekend as normal>Thanks for reading today
>>6281073Thanks for running!Nice to get a bloodless victory against the familiar face threat. Full disclosure to Lucy paid off so well.>“Oh, she writes about you actually. You and Master Silvera,” Lucille pauses, her cheeks darkening slightly, “She’s very, er, imaginative.”Does madwoman misty seriously mail her erotic fan fiction about real life acquaintances to other people? Such bravery. I could never.
>>6281068>TrueSaintCharm.png Galatea Tomoe?>>6281073Thanks for running!>>6281081>Does madwoman misty seriously mail her erotic fan fiction about real life acquaintances to other people?About the head of a holy noble family and her own cousin, no less!
>>6281102What if Galatea was Juno's mom?>"Someone gave this to me once, many years ago. Even then, I knew that I too would pass it to someone else. You’ll do the same, I think.”Passing this onto Juno seems to be the "right" thing to do
>>6281113I think it would have to be someone on her paternal side, unless she's even more inbred than us or I'm wrong about the scratched-out surname. her dad is a Tomoe by blood, for sure.
Before leaving the bruised, bloodied city of Amaryllis, you take one last wander through the dusty streets. With the danger now passed, you allow yourself to see the city with new eyes – studying murals painted by children or the childish, tasting the scent of freshly cut flowers, and listening to the spontaneous bursts of singing that occasionally ripple through the crowds. For the first, and perhaps last, time in your life, you find yourself wishing that you could share the benign madness still gripping the pilgrims. Just once, just to see what it feels like.You spot Saint Lucille just once before you leave, and even then it’s only from a distance. This time she isn’t in the grand cathedral, but one of the smaller shrines languishing out on the far edge of the city. Surrounded by eager volunteers, and watched closely by discrete security, the Saint helps to scrub dust and grime from the ancient stone. When you first met Lucille, you never would have imagined you’d see her like this, rubbing shoulders with the common folk and getting her hands dirty.She’s going to do just fine.-After the oppressive heat and seemingly never-ending light in Amaryllis, it’s actually something of a relief to return to the dark clouds and thin rain of your ancestral lands. The estate looms out of the mists like a yawning mouth, a grinning skull, a great sprawling corpse. This late at night, of course, it’s hardly surprising to see no signs of life. Creeping in through the front door, you make your way straight to your bedroom. You and Elle both pause at the top of the stairs, unsure exactly what to do for a moment before decorum wins out, sending you both to your separate rooms.You sleep for a little while, only to wake at the darkest hour of the night. The darkness is so pure, so perfect, that it seems more than just the absence of light but the opposite of it – a heavy pall that smothers and snuffs out all light. For those first few seconds, you can’t even tell if your eyes are open or not. But, gradually, the darkness takes on depth and texture as your eyes adjust.You’ve seen this darkness before.“We have to talk, dear brother,” a soft, rich voice murmurs as you feel a weight shift on the foot of your bed. The darkness shifts and stirs as a black shape leans closer, the whiteness of the young woman’s eyes finally providing a contrast to the impenetrable gloom.“Gratia?” you mutter in response, forcing your eyes to focus. Perhaps you’re still groggy with sleep, but you can’t quite seem to make sense of things. How can Gratia be here, when she’s still lost within the Demesne?“But I’m NOT lost,” she whispers, savouring the words, “I come and go as I please. Neither cage nor prison can bind me.”[1/3]
>>6283793If not for a fortuitous gust of wind, a break in the clouds that allows a sliver of moonlight to pass through your window, the scene might have played out forever. Yet, as the silver light pours across you both, you feel strength returning to your limbs and clarity returning to your mind. Still, confusion remains – Gratia may not be lost, but why is she here now?“I wanted to see you, dear brother,” Gratia replies, answering your unspoken question, “We have much to discuss – but even if there was nothing to be said, even if all the words in the world had been used up, I still would have wanted to see you. I’ve missed you, dear brother.”With a soft groan, you slump back in your bed. “Talking can wait until morning,” you mutter, “I need to rest.”“I know. You’re injured, and you’ve travelled a long way to get home,” she frowns, “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”And if you had slept through the whole night, what then? It’s all too easy to imagine Gratia sitting at the end of your bed, watching your sleeping form until the break of day. She seems to sense your thoughts, as she always does, and smoothly rises to her feet. Smoothing down her long skirt, she gives you a nod of farewell and leaves the room.Covering your eyes with one hand, you let out another sigh. So much for sleeping peacefully.-Mere moments after you’ve sat down at the breakfast table, you feel a light punch strike your shoulder. You look around just as Ariel flops down into a seat opposite you, giving you a playful, carefree smile. You make a show of grimacing and rubbing your arm, giving her a scowl. “May I ask why you decided to assault your gracious host?” you ask, “What did I do to deserve this?”“That’s for not bringing me a souvenir,” Ariel answers simply.“How do you know that I didn’t?”“Just a hunch,” she replies, “Did you?”“...No,” you admit after a moment, shrugging off her pout, “In my defence, I was busy.”“Yeah, I heard. Sounds like it was… bad,” the smile drops from Ariel’s face, “Are you okay?”“A few bruises and scratches, nothing serious. Don’t worry about me,” you start to say something more, then pause and frown, “How did you know about that?”“We’re in the telegram age, lad. News travels fast – and bad news travels even faster,” Alex explains, emerging from the kitchen with a row of plates balanced neatly on his arm. As he’s placing one plate in front of you, he hesitates. “I know this isn’t my place to say, but you should be careful. There’s a lot of anger out there at the moment, and people are looking for someone to blame,” he warns, “No more visits out to Boleskine House. At least until things settle down a little.”“The Tomoe didn’t do this-” you begin, before realising the futility of your argument. With the Tomoe’s reputation, who would believe their innocence?[2/3]
>>6283794Alex doesn’t reply, but not because of anything you’ve said. He falls into a tense silence as Gratia walks in, nodding a greeting to the older man before sitting beside you. Though he knows nothing about the malign presence sharing Gratia’s soul, he can sense that there’s something wrong with Gratia. Considering that he’s know both of you since you were children, it would be more surprising if he didn’t notice something. Still, he sets a plate of food down in front of Gratia as if nothing was wrong.“We need to go to the Demesne,” she begins, her gleaming eyes fixed directly on your face, “Today. No more distractions. We mustn’t allow ourselves the delusion that our time is limitless. Death circles above us all.”“Well, this is a cheerful conversation,” Ariel quips, grabbing her plate and getting up, “I’m going to finish this upstairs.”“Don’t get crumbs in your bedsheets,” Alex warns as the pallid girl hurries off. With a sigh, he withdraws and leaves you alone with Gratia once more.As soon as Alex is out of the room, Gratia pushes her plate of food aside. “I found another fragment of that stone disc, but it’s still not complete. I fear that the rest of the pieces may lie further within the Demesne,” she pauses, studying you closely, “We should be ready to descend to the next layer. I suggest we go straight away.”“That would be the sixth layer, correct?” you reply, counting in your head, “And we’ve barely scratched the surface of that labyrinth on the fourth level…”“We could explore that maze for a full year, and we might never uncover all of its secrets. I fear that we do not have that kind of time,” Gratia shakes her head, “We’re so close now. We can’t allow ourselves to be distracted now.”“There’s something else,” you mention, reaching into your pocket and producing the profane charm. You open it, allowing Gratia to see the centipede engraving inside. “I wanted to show this to the old man. He might know what this symbol means,” you explain, “I know it holds some kind of power, but the exact nature eludes me. It is something unlike anything else I’ve known.”“A power not of this world...” Gratia murmurs, tracing the centipede sigil with her fingers. She seems curious, but forces herself to shake her head. “I have little patience for that decrepit old fiend and his games,” she states, “Whatever answers he may have, he will extract a terrible price for them.”She falls silent here. For a moment, the only sound you hear is the soft ticking of an unseen clock – an unsubtle reminder of your race against time.>You’re right, we should make for the next layer of the Demesne without delay>We still need more Lessons. Searching the labyrinth will reveal what we seek>I’ll pay whatever price Kalthos asks. I have to understand this power>Other
>>6283795>You’re right, we should make for the next layer of the Demesne without delayBut we still show this to the old man for clues. And pass this onto Juno next time. If it's her mom's or whoever, then she might care enough to have it
>>6283795>You’re right, we should make for the next layer of the Demesne without delaywe should do it the other way around. What is the old man willing to pay for this trinket?
>>6283793>You and Elle both pause at the top of the stairs, unsure exactly what to do for a moment before decorum wins out, sending you both to your separate rooms.Are we going to get Gratia's okay first?
>>6283795>We still need more Lessons. Searching the labyrinth will reveal what we seekDemesne scary
>>6283805Good call, him and Juno value this more than we do. We aren't Calamitymaxxing, so this works out in our favor
“You’re right,” you decide with a nod, “We should make for the next layer of the Demesne as soon as possible. Though, I do want to look for Kalthos if we have the chance.”Gratia tilts her head to the side like a curious bird. “You intend to make sure that chance arises,” she guesses.“I’m not going to spend the rest of my life searching for the old fiend if he’s determined to hide from me, but yes. I still want to speak with him, even if I can’t spare the time to indulge him,” you admit, holding up the profane charm and dangling it in the air for a moment, “Besides, you might have things the other way around. He might be the one willing to pay a price for this little thing.”She considers this, then shrugs. “As you wish, dear brother. I will follow your lead,” Gratia concludes, “You go ahead, I need to fetch something first – that fragment I mentioned.”You go your separate ways, meeting up a short moment later at the edge of the forest. “Here, as promised,” Gratia says, holding out the broken fragment of stone, “Do you see this symbol? An eye, one of the ancient symbols of our family – a good omen for our journey.”[Axis Mundi Fragment – Insight: +1 Insight Attunement]“I’ll take any good omen I can get,” you remark, closing your grip around the stone for a moment. Gratia smiles, linking her arm with yours and allowing you to lead the way through the forest. After walking in silence for a moment, a strange question occurs to you. “Have you ever seen her?” you ask quietly, “The woman in this forest, I mean. The horned woman.”“No, I’ve never seen her,” Gratia shakes her head, “But I know that she’s out there. She’s seen me, I’m sure of it, but she always stays well away.”If she takes any offence from that unspoken rejection, she doesn’t show it. Keeping her thoughts to herself, she walks on by your side until you arrive at the great hollow tree. It’s only as you’re descending the stairs that she speaks up, her words nearly causing you to slip and fall on the damp stone. “You’ve been intimate with Miss Legrasse, have you not?” she asks quietly, her voice low and level.“That’s…” you splutter for a moment, fumbling for the right words. It’s not that you’re ashamed to admit it, but the question came so suddenly that it caught you off guard. “That’s correct,” you manage eventually, your words sounding strained, “Do you… approve?”“Dear brother,” Gratia murmurs, “We share the same soul, but your heart is your own. She obviously cares a great deal about you, and you must feel the same way. You have my support.”You let out a sigh of relief before a thought occurs. “How did you know?” you ask.“You carry her scent on you,” Gratia answers simply, “And she carries yours.”You decide not to ask how she found that out.[1]
>>6283817The labyrinth, so full of secrets, is easily defeated. The fifth layer, drowning beneath thick tides of black filth, passes quickly beneath your swift, careful steps. You’ve travelled the Demesne so much now that it almost feels like a second home, a world apart from the chaos and despair of the world above. The tides of effluvium don’t seem to have rises at all since your last visit, though they haven’t retreated either. The journey is without incident, though just once you catch Gratia looking back to the deep pools of black filth as if the darkness has a hold over her.“No distractions, you said,” you tease, nudging her with your elbow.“I’m not getting distracted,” she lies, pouting back at you.You laugh, then nod your head towards the seal. Approaching together, you lay your hand on the cool stone. Gratia places her hand over yours, and you both close your eyes. There is a feeling of tension, a feeling of being pushed and pulled at the same time, but the discomfort passes quickly. When you open your eyes once more, you’re on the other side.The sixth layer is not what you had been expecting. There’s no trace of the effluvium, thankfully, and precious little trace of anything else. While nowhere near as large as the vast empty crossroads on the third level, the hall is still disorientating in its sheer size. The ceiling is high, and the far wall is distant, though the unbroken whiteness of the walls makes it hard to judge the distance. A few groups of Denizens lurk here and there, mostly slumped forwards against the walls and quivering.“We stand on the cusp of one of the Demesne’s greatest secrets,” Gratia whispers to you as you walk down the seemingly endless hall, “In times long past, the church would have guarded this secret with their lives. Now, even they have forgotten it. It will be our secret instead, dear brother, shared only between the two of us.”“Now now, don’t be so selfish,” a rasping snarl of a voice calls out from behind you. You both turn to see Kalthos standing a short distance behind you. The old man is as filthy and dishevelled as ever, though he somehow seems to have aged by a few decades since the last time you saw him. “You go on ahead. Don’t mind me,” he continues, “I’ll wait.”You start to turn back, only to catch a glimpse of the expression on Gratia’s face. It only lasts a second, if that, before a carefully composed mask covers it up, but her expression was one of fury, frustration and utter revulsion.“Well, dear brother, you got your way. We didn’t even have to go searching for him,” she says softly, “Let’s go.”Always conscious of the ancient man shuffling behind you, you finally approach the end of the hallway and the sealed exit. Closing your eyes and touching the stone, you feel words forming in your mind.[Seek the twenty first Lesson][2]
>>6283834uwot m8? 21? Out of 10+10 calamity?Game was rigged from the start, you were always going to need 2 people combined.
>>6283834“Kyeh heh heh…” Kalthos chuckles as you pull your hand back in confusion, “You see now, my young apprentice? For all their talk of purity and faith, those blinkered fools in the church were wrong about everything. Only by understanding all aspects of this world, the fair and the foul, can you descend to the lowest levels of the Demesne. Only through Calamity can this journey finally end.”You look aside to Gratia, seeking confirmation. Anger flashes through her eyes again, but she nods. “He’s correct,” she admits grudgingly, her enthusiasm for the idea bleeding away before your very eyes. She must have imagined this moment countless times, choosing her exact words with care, only to have Kalthos ruin her moment.“It doesn’t matter,” Gratia continues, stubbornly thrusting aside her disappointment, “We’re close. That’s the important thing. We’re so close now. I… excuse me.”She turns away, slinking off and sitting down in front of the seal, gazing at it as if the sheer intensity of her stare could break it down. Leaving her to sulk, you retreat a few paces with Kalthos. “You’ve known this all along,” you hiss, “And you didn’t say anything?”“I didn’t want to spoil the surprise,” the old man chuckles, “Well, no. I wanted to wait until the best moment before spoiling the surprise.”With a low sigh, you lean back against one of the walls and slowly slide down to the ground. All the fatigue of the last few days, as well as your long march to get here, seems to fall on your shoulders in an instant. The end might be close, yet it still feels so far away. No matter how tired you might be, however, sleep never comes. After just a few moments, you open your eyes once more and take a slow look around the hall. Now that you’re actually paying attention, you see that the Denizens aren’t just slumped against random parts of the wall. There are faint carvings on the wall, the Denizens blocking much of the view with their trembling bodies. You can see some of the closest mural, though, but what you do see sends a shudder running through you – the faint image of a bird in flight, its wings spread so wide that they almost fill the sky. Here, of all places, the image feels like a terrible omen.>Take a closer look at the bird mural. It has to be significant>Sit with Gratia for a while. She looks like she needs cheering up>Show the centipede charm with Kalthos. See what he’s willing to discuss>Other
>>6283861>Show the centipede charm with Kalthos. See what he’s willing to discussnow sounds like a good time to tally Bard's total stats again.
>>6283817Huh, I'm genuinely surprised she approves.>>6283858Perhaps that is, itself, a lesson?>>6283861>Show the centipede charm with Kalthos. See what he’s willing to discussWe can speak with Gratia when we have some good news, hopefully, in just a moment.
>>6283861>Take a closer look at the bird mural. It has to be significant
>>6283861>Show the centipede charm with Kalthos. See what he’s willing to discuss
>>6283861>>Show the centipede charm with Kalthos. See what he’s willing to discuss
>>6283861>Sit with Gratia for a while. She looks like she needs cheering upSis :(
>>6283861>Show the centipede charm with Kalthos. See what he’s willing to discussTime to count up our stats! Bard needs to check his character sheet and assess himself
With an uneasy feeling forming in your gut, you tear your gaze away from the mural. From what little you can see, you have little doubt that it portrays some terrible scene. You’ve had quite enough of that for now. You’ve got other horrors to focus on. Taking the charm out of your pocket, you snap it open and stare down at the centipede engraved into the dull gold. Even though you keep the charm tilted away from Kalthos, you can see that he’s trying to sneak a peak at it. You look up, only for him to hastily look away.“I’ll cut you a deal,” you tell him, “I’ll show you this, if you tell me what you know about it.”A hungry look steals through Kalthos’ eyes for a moment before he smirks. “Ah, but I might not know anything about it,” he sneers.“You do. I can tell,” you counter, tossing the charm across to the old man, “Here. Take a look. You’ll only pester me until you get your way anyway.”Snatching the charm out of the air, Kalthos takes a long look at it. “This takes me back...” he muses, before his eyes sharpen, “Where did you get this?”“A particularly unpleasant man had it in his possession,” you answer, “He was responsible for an attempt on the new Saint’s life. He failed, thankfully, but we know that he wasn’t acting alone. This charm here – it’s associated with some cult or group, something that once had links with the Tomoe.”“Well, it seems as if you don’t need me to tell you anything at all. You’ve got it all figured out,” Kalthos laughs, “Yes. A long time ago, those people were part of the Tomoe family. But, there were… disagreements. This may surprise you, but my family can be quite disagreeable at times. They believed that the Tomoe of old acted with insufficient zeal, that they had grown fat and lazy. They were all too comfortable living within a society they were meant to tear down.”“I met some of them once, before my self-imposed exile here. Unpleasant sorts. I thought they had some interesting ideas for a while, but I soon realised that I mistaken. They were as dull as all the others. They sought out mindless destruction and called themselves enlightened,” the old man continues, “When they originally split with the Tomoe, they stole certain texts and tomes – books containing knowledge that the Tomoe refused to use, including some teachings from my old master.”“Teachings that they completely misunderstood,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.“Misunderstood?”“I do not believe in destruction for its own sake, my young apprentice. Nor evil, nor suffering. None of that,” Kalthos sighs, shaking his head “I was taught to rise above morality. These young whelps sought to shatter it. It is a subtle distinction, my boy, one entirely lost on them.”[1]
>>6283858How would Cato react when we tell him the truth? That you were always meant to breach the barriers with multiple people working together + Calamity is actually mandatory
>>6283899“It’s a funny old thing, morality,” Kalthos muses, “If I said to you that I had thrown away all notions of morality, that I would live solely as I pleased, what would you think of me?”“I would think that you were a very evil man,” you answer. That’s not exactly what you believe, but it’s the answer he wants.“Exactly! Of course you would! Thank you for indulging me, by the way. Most would think that, and most would be wrong,” he holds up a gnarled finger, “A man can refuse to follow the morals of his society without immediately indulging in torture and other atrocities. He may refuse good, but also evil. It simply means that he chooses his own morality. That is what my old master taught me. Yet those awful men you met, they see his teachings as nothing more than an excuse to satisfy their base urges!”He pauses for a moment, softly panting for breath. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen him so excited, so aggravated.“I have a friend trying to hunt them down,” you tell him, “He took their little stunt personally, I think.”“He’ll fail. Or, at least, he won’t ever succeed. You can’t wipe these sorts of people out. There will always be one who wriggles away to spread their poison, and they’ll have no shortage of disgruntled madman willing to listen,” the old man sighs, “Best of luck to him, though.”Kalthos tosses back the charm. You catch it, but don’t return it to your pocket just yet. “There’s a power here. Something I don’t quite understand,” you murmur, “Is there a way to-”“Best that you don’t finish that sentence, boy,” Kalthos interrupts, “That power is nothing to play around with. It is the power of Dominion that my master cultivated – a power that defeats all rules and laws, that bends the world to his will. A power set against life, against it all. To indulge in that power is to renounce all that you know. It is the purest form of Calamity.”“Just as medicine, in its purest form, is often poison,” Gratia adds, sitting down beside you, “We don’t need it, dear brother. I wouldn’t let you destroy yourself for this.”“Could it defeat the Stryx?” you ask, your eyes focussed on Kalthos.The old man winces at the sound of that word, then shrugs. “It might defeat one or two. Bind them to your will, devour them, or whatever else. But it’s not just one or two that you’re worried about, is it?” he leers, “And you are just one man. Perhaps you would triumph, and reign over a dead world. How does that sound?”You say nothing, bitterly pondering his words. Every idea, every possibility, seems to end the same way – with futility, with failure. Perhaps destruction really is your fate, and no amount of effort can divert you from its path.A soft weight settles on you as Gratia puts her arm around you, resting her head on your shoulder. She says nothing, but she doesn’t need to.[2]
>>6283939What if you just have so many people that Calamity isn’t necessary
>>6283941Sensing that he’s not wanted, or perhaps that Gratia might destroy him if he interrupted the silence, Kalthos skulks away. Alone once more, you sit with Gratia for a long time. Occasionally, she reaches up and runs her fingers through your hair with an easy familiarity. She did the same thing when you were children – not to comfort you, but to seek comfort herself.“Don’t lose hope,” she whispers eventually, though you’re not sure if she’s talking to you or herself. “I remember those stories you told when we were younger. You always brought them to the darkest of places, and I always thought of a way for the hero to prevail. This isn’t any different,” she continues, “No matter what happens, I know that we’ll make it though. We’ll survive.”“And what of the world?” you ask in a low murmur.Gratia doesn’t answer this straight away, her hand returning to your hair. The silence draws out as she strokes your head, savouring the feeling of your body against hers.“We’ll survive,” she repeats after a long silence.>I’m going to have to pause it here, I’m running on empty. I should be able to run another session tomorrow, usual sort of time>Thanks for reading today, and a quick note about my plans. I’m possibly just being a doomer, but I feel increasingly uncertain about my future on /qst/ - law changes and all that. I was planning to shelve a few ideas I had prepared for this quest in order to finish up a little quicker, just in case the worst should happen. That’s obviously not ideal, but I’m afraid that I might not get a chance to finish at all. So, I guess I just wanted to give advance warning. Hopefully this is all a bit of fuss over nothing
>>6283949well if the visa/mastercard thing blows up, I think requiring online ID will get pushed back again.
>>6283949>but I feel increasingly uncertain about my future on /qst/ - law changes and all thatFUCK EMAND THEIR LAW
>>6283949Thanks for running!Yeah fucking UK
>>6283949Thanks for running.What are the laws around VPNs in the UK? And barring everything else, you can just buy a copy of Death Stranding and become one of the thousands of Norman Reedus’s using the internet right now.
>>6284022>What are the laws around VPNs in the UK?Not banned yet, though I wouldn't be surprised if our big brain politicians start getting some funny ideas about that. I do have backup plans to get a VPN, but I've heard that 4chan blocks access from most of them. If true, that would be another issue.It's all very stressful. I've been preparing material for the next couple of quests that I wanted to run, and I'd really be annoyed if they go to waste.But yeah. Thanks for the support, everyone
Under a heavy pall, you start your retreat from the Demesne. Whatever your deadlines, whatever doom lurks ahead in your future, you’ve had enough exploring for today. The earlier weariness you felt in your body has seeped into your soul, spreading sickness and despair. Now more than ever, you need to see the sun.As you walk, you realise that Kalthos is slowly trailing behind you. Stopping with a sigh, you turn to face the old man. “One last question,” you tell him.“Ask as many questions as you like,” he replies, “But I might not answer them.”“Why wouldn’t you teach me your master’s power?” you ask bluntly, “I always thought that you were the kind of man who would relish any opportunity to spread his corruption. Why were you so… concerned about me?”Kalthos doesn’t answer this straight away, tugging on his beard as he thinks. “Reflecting on the past is rarely pleasant, but it can be instructive,” he muses, “I’ve been thinking back on all that I’ve done – all the corruption that I’ve spread, as you put it. I ask myself, what was the point of it all? What did it achieve?”He lapses into silence for a moment before adding, “I don’t want to see you repeat my mistakes.”Before you can say anything else, Kalthos snaps his fingers. “As a way of thanking you for this lesson, my young apprentice, I’d like to do you a service. You’re looking for a certain object, aren’t you?” he asks, “I’ve seen that sister of yours, scouring the labyrinth for those little stone shards. Allow me to assist in your search.”“By all means,” you agree. With a nod of satisfaction, Kalthos approaches one of the lurking Denizens and starts to whisper something in its ear. You don’t hear what he says, but the feel of the words is enough for your stomach to clench. As soon as he finishes speaking, the Denizen turns and lurches away. “What was that?” you ask suspiciously, “What did you do?”“Oh, nothing much,” he answers with a shrug, “I forced my will upon it. Just one more blasphemy on a very long list.”-The sunlight is weak and watery, veiled behind a thin mist, but it still feels like a blessing. You take a few steps out from the Demesne before realising that Gratia isn’t following you. She stands within the doorway, one footstep away from crossing the threshold, but she goes no further.“You’re not coming?” you ask, though you already know the answer.“Maybe later,” she replies, shaking her head, “There are still some things I have to do down below. When the time is right, I’ll join you in the real world. But for now my place is down there, where the warm sun cannot reach.”[1/2]
>>6284410Ignorant to your darker thoughts, a pleasant mood hangs over the estate when you return. Elle and Ariel are sitting in one of the more comfortable lounges, the oracle sprawled out across a long couch with an open book resting on her chest. Ariel sits opposite her, gesturing furiously to illustrate whatever story she was telling before you so rudely interrupted them.“Don’t mind me,” you remark dryly as the pair turn to look your way, “I can come back later.”“No no, please stay,” Elle insists, “Ariel was just telling me a story.”“I met up with Daniel yesterday. He’s been in town, helping to train some new recruits. I guess they need everyone they can, with how quickly the army is expanding,” Ariel explains, “So they were doing close combat training, which just sounds like an excuse for a brawl to me, and Daniel claimed that he took on three guys at once. Well, he said it was five, but I know he likes to exaggerate these things.”“It’s not an exaggeration, it’s just an alternative version of the truth,” you counter, smiling slightly to yourself, “How is Daniel, anyway?”“He’s good,” Ariel nods, “He’s grown up to be a responsible, mature gentleman.”“Really?”“No,” the pallid girl laughs, “But he certainly thinks so. He said he’s going to be in the area for a few weeks, if you wanted to meet up.”“If you do, send him my best wishes,” Elle says, covering up a yawn, “I haven’t the energy to travel again just yet.”“Are you okay?” you ask, giving her a look of concern, “You didn’t sleep last night?”“No, I did. I slept quite well, I’m sure, but I just don’t feel rested. Strange dreams perhaps, or… last night, Isambard, did you-” she pauses here, absentmindedly touching her slender neck, then shakes her head, “Oh, never mind. I just need a good day of being lazy, then I’ll be back to my usual cheerful self.”You had been vaguely considering telling Elle about the Demesne, and the twenty-first lesson, but now you’re not so sure. It might only weary her further. Yet, you feel the need to talk with someone, if only to lighten the burden on your own shoulders.>Meeting up with Daniel should be a good distraction. You’ll make the arrangements>It might be bad news, but Elle has a right to know. You should tell her about the Demesne>Ariel has no involvement with the Demesne. She should be able to hear you out with a clear head>Other
>>6284411>that picDamn, Gratia and the evil bird both having influence over the whole. With a reaction like that it's so over for the wincest route bros...>It might be bad news, but Elle has a right to know. You should tell her about the DemesneLook, Elle is the one with a vested interest in reaching the bottom of the Demense to find out about God. She needs to know the truth we just found out about; she's strong and she'll handle it well, Bard knows this. I hope Elle also musters the courage to tell Isambard about what she felt last night, leading him to suspect Gratia more.>Her brother would investigate, ask questions. He might have suspicions. There might be... misunderstandings.I really want Gratia to face the consequences of her and her bird's actions now.>>6284410>“Reflecting on the past is rarely pleasant, but it can be instructive,” he muses, “I’ve been thinking back on all that I’ve done – all the corruption that I’ve spread, as you put it. I ask myself, what was the point of it all? What did it achieve?”I want to get Juno in here to meet her great-(???)-great grandfather. Old man seriously needs a hug from a relative that isn't a psycho before he dies
>>6284411>Meeting up with Daniel should be a good distraction. You’ll make the arrangementsEnough of these hoesWe need a bro
>>6284422All this laser focus Gratia has on Isambard and the waifus, she isn't even aware of how the Teilhards have "infected" him and "dulled his edge"
“Did Daniel tell you how to contact him? I’d write him a letter, but I’ll probably have lost all urge to see him by the time it reaches him,” you remark, “If only there was some way to quickly send him a message…”“Very funny. He’s at the garrison over in Castaign. You could wire him a message, one of the soldiers there should be able to pass it on,” Ariel replies, waving a hand in the vague direction of the telegraph machine, “I’m sure that a smart guy like you won’t need any help sending a message after all this time.”“Of course, of course,” you nod quickly, “How do you turn the machine on again?”Ariel, assuming that you’re joking, lets out a low snort of laughter, but Elle sits up and sets aside her book. “I’ll remind you,” she offers, waving away your attempts at stopping her, “No, don’t worry. Maybe getting up and doing something will help liven me up a little. I’m only walking down the corridor, it’s hardly mountain climbing.”“If you’re sure,” you reply, leading her out of the lounge. “There’s something I needed to talk with you about, actually,” you add, reluctantly forcing the words out, “It could be important, but… well, it might not be what you want to hear.”Elle bites her lip, perhaps assuming the worst, but says nothing for a moment. “We’ll get this over with first, then you can tell me,” she suggests, “That way, we won’t get distracted.”Sitting down in the small office, you think in silence as Elle punches out a short message on the heavy brass machine. When you’re happy with the simple message, just an invitation to meet, you send it off. With nothing to do but await a reply, you gather up your courage and forge ahead. “We’ve been making steady progress through the Demesne. You saw the fifth layer last time, and we’ve gone one layer further. Just a little more, and we’ll breach the seventh seal,” you pause, “But it’s asking for twenty one Lessons.”Your words draw hardly any reaction at all, just a confused blink. “That’s impossible,” Elle answers after a brief pause, “The teachings are quite clear. The twentieth Lesson is the highest level of attunement that a human mind can reach. If you need one more than that… it’s impossible? Men can never reach the lowest level of the Demesne?”“They can,” you tell her gently, “Twenty Lessons, and a single drop of Calamity.”Again, the stilted silence. Elle’s jaw works as if she was chewing on a lump of gristle, but it takes a tremendous effort to force the words out. “I… see,” she mutters, “I suppose… it makes a kind of sense. Three Lessons, six Lessons, nine Lessons… I feel awfully stupid for not realising it sooner. Maybe I just didn’t want to see what was right in front of me. Maybe we’ve ALL been wilfully blind.”[1]
>>6284435It's either you need Calamity, or you need multiple people working together. The latter would never work out because of the stupid rules only letting people into the Demesne one at a time and under severe restrictions, and even if it were lifted the Demense is fucking huge and who knows where people would get lost. So yeah it wouldn't be discovered soon enough
>>6284435Faith, you think to yourself, can be a double-edged sword. It provides comfort and hope during dark times, yet it brings even greater despair when broken. Is it better to live without faith, as lonesome as that may be, or place your trust in something that must inevitably be shattered? You wish you had an answer to that. More than that, you just wish you knew what to say.“The more I think about it, the more it makes sense,” Elle murmurs, thinking aloud to herself, “I keep thinking about the Saints. They had to live perfect lives, free from any hint of wrongdoing. But I wonder… can a person like that really understand the world? Those sins and foibles are an essential part of being human. Without knowing their pain, can we really call ourselves complete?”“But then…” she hesitates, “Why not just say that? The church-”“I don’t think they know,” you say softly, “This has been kept secret for so long that even those tasked with guarding the truth have forgotten it. At least, that’s what-”Your words are interrupted by the clatter of machinery as Daniel’s reply comes. With a final screech of metal, the machine spits out a thin sliver of paper with a short, simple message – “in Castaing now, can meet whenever”.Elle leans close, reading the message in your hands. Neither of you says anything for a moment, but then – incredibly – she bursts into laughter. Your eyes widen with confusion before you start laughing along with her. Something about the contrast between your weighty conversation and Daniel’s short, misspelled message strikes you as absurdly hysterical. You wonder if you might be losing your mind.“Go,” Elle urges, wiping away a tear as she gets her laughter under control, “Go on, he’ll be expecting you now. Don’t worry about me. I need some time to think about this anyway. It’s… a lot to take in. You deserve some time off too, you know.”You stare down at the slip of paper in your hands, then nod. If she’s sure.-The dim rattle of gunfire rhythmically stabs at the air as you walk through the streets of Castaign with Daniel. The new recruits are on the target range today, apparently, and they can take care of themselves. That’s good to hear, although you’re a little unsure about the combination of trainee soldiers and unsupervised firearms.“You look good, Bard,” Daniel remarks, slapping you on the shoulder, “Finally been getting some sun, eh?”You grimace, sneaking a glimpse of your reflection in a shop window. You don’t notice any difference. “I assume this is your idea of a joke, Daniel,” you counter drily.“It was meant to be a compliment, actually,” he laughs, “Don’t worry, I won’t try that again. How about I say that you look like hammered shit instead?”“Much better.”[2]
>>6284445Your wandering ends, as if occasionally did back in the good old days, in a bar. It’s not busy yet, not at this time of day, but the low murmur of voices feels vaguely soothing. You can catch the occasional snippet of conversation, and it’s always about something reassuringly mundane. “So,” you ask Daniel, “How’s the training going?”“Oh, I’m hardly training them. Just showing them some of the basics and looking after them until a real officer can take over,” Daniel answers, waving away your words before his smile fades a little, “I don’t know if I’d want the responsibility of training them. I mean, what if I got it all wrong? The boys might get slaughtered on their first battle. I’d feel terrible!”“They’d feel rather worse, I suppose,” you point out, “But sooner or later, you’re going to have to face that responsibility. You’re a Teilhard, after all, and the next head of the family. If there was a war, a REAL war, you’d be sending whole armies off to fight. You really think every one of those men would come back in one piece?”Daniel takes a deep drink from his beer, scowling at you. “Bard, were you trying to make me feel better or worse?” he asks.You just shrug.“But I know what you mean. I get it, I do. I just don’t like thinking about it,” he shakes his head, “You gloomy bastard, can’t you talk about something cheerful for once?”“Nope,” you reply in a perfectly deadpan voice, “Scientifically and philosophically impossible.”“Damn,” Daniel takes another drink, “I hope you’re not this miserable next week.”“I probably will-” you pause, “Wait, what’s happening next week?”“Uh,” the soldier hesitates for a moment, “I assumed you knew. My old man was talking about it earlier – there’s this big gathering at your estate, all the great and good are going. Did you really not know about it?”Alex’s wonderful idea to throw a party, of course. He’s always talked about it, but you never realised that he’d gone ahead and made arrangements. You suppose he had to do something to stay busy while you were dealing with suicide bombers and giant worms. You realise, a moment later, that Daniel is staring at you, waiting for a response.>Feign good cheer. You’re looking forwards to seeing everyone there>Stay non-committal. Social gatherings were never your priority anyway>Let your anger out. Alex has gone too far this time>Other
>>6284455>OtherPlay the Tsundere. The gloomy brooding Pale scion despises social gatherings if it isn't for information, or investigation, or murder, or seeing Elle in a dress. But with important people of influence and power right here? That might be a golden opportunity to make things happen against the imminent bird invasion, to gain allies and exert leverage... to see the friends we've made along the way here for us
>>6284455>Stay non-committal. Social gatherings were never your priority anyway>Myself aside, I hope Alex isn't trying to ignore Gratia's opinion.
>>6284455>Stay non-committal. Social gatherings were never your priority anywayBefore we blow up, perhaps Alex wanted it to be a surprise party and that’s why he didn’t tell us?
>>6284455>>Stay non-committal. Social gatherings were never your priority anyway
“Oh right, that,” you reply, leaning back and waving your hand in a dismissive gesture, “I don’t really care about these things, so it completely slipped my mind. I’ve had far more important things to think about lately, you see. I’m sure it’ll be terribly fun for all involved – assuming, of course, you like wasting time on frivolities.”Daniel stares at you for a long time, as if trying to understand how many layers of sarcasm and insincerity that he’s been confronted with. “So…” he says eventually, “You’re looking forwards to it too?”“It’s an opportunity to build alliances and make plans – and, possibly, see women in fancy dresses,” you tell him, “Isn’t that what really matters?”Deciding that you are, on some level, in a good mood about it, Daniel allows himself a laugh. As he goes back to his drink, you turn your sullen mood inwards and wonder about Alex’s intentions. Did he really think this would be a pleasant surprise for you? Or perhaps he thought that if he left the final decision to you, it might never happen. Something about the idea does feel vaguely offensive, like playing a fiddle as a city burned down around you, but how is he supposed to know?“Drink up, Bard,” Daniel urges, slapping you on the shoulder again, “Then you can tell me more about these pretty women…”-One drink turns into two, and you have to firmly refuse a third before practically dragging Daniel from the bar. He doesn’t seem any worse for wear for the beer he drunk, fortunately, but you decide to take the long way back to the garrison. The chilly air should help to clear his head, assuming he doesn’t wriggle out of your grasp and find a new bar to warm up in.“I’ve got a question for you, actually,” you say as you walk with Daniel, “A hypothetical.”“Oh no,” he shakes his head, “I don’t like needles.”“You… what?”“Isn’t that what they use at the doctor’s office?”“That’s a hypodermic-” you cut yourself short, giving Daniel a dark scowl. You really can’t tell if he’s making fun of you, or if he really is that dense. “A hypothetical question. It’s make-believe, not real,” you stress, “Say there was a battle coming. A big one, like that war we were talking about. The odds are stacked against you, and victory seems impossible. What would you do?”“What kind of question is that?” Daniel asks, “I’d fight.”“Even though defeat was inevitable?”“I’d just fight harder,” he shrugs, “I don’t know, Bard, what do you want me to say? Running away, abandoning all my friends and comrades just so I could live a few extra days, that’s not me. I’d find a way to win, or I’d die. But I’d stand and fight. What brought that on, anyway?”“Just… thinking,” you answer vaguely, “If a big Lliogor migration landed tomorrow, we’d have to go and fight – no matter how hopeless it was.”“That’s life, Bard.”[1]
>>6284475It says a lot about Daniel, that’s he’s all too willing to lay down his life for the nation, yet he flinches away from the thought of ordering men to do the same. If a war was to reach your shores, it’s all too easy to imagine him casting aside his rank, his status, even his family name in order to stand shoulder to shoulder with the common soldiers on the front lines. Would you do the same?Probably not. Then again, a man of your talents would be wasted on the front lines.“Say, Bard, have you spoken much with Ariel lately?” Daniel asks suddenly, the question sounding entirely too casual.“A few words here and there, but I haven’t had the chance to have a proper talk,” you answer, “Why?”“Just something we were talking about earlier. She’d been thinking about her future, what she should do with her life. She can’t just steal one of your spare rooms forever, you know,” Daniel explains, “It’s hard for her, you know. She’s not cut out for soldiering.”“She’s a damn good shot with a rifle, you know.”“Maybe so, but that’s not much use if you need to march all day before taking a shot,” he counters, “She’s got this childish idea of working for the King, doing… well, all sorts of nasty work. Secret work, if you know what I mean. Spying on people.”“Ungentlemanly behaviour,” you remark with a faint smirk. Ariel certainly has a lot of practice in that sort of thing.“I don’t know. I’m not asking you to talk her out of it, just try and have a word if you can. See how serious she really is,” Daniel frowns, “I can’t always tell when she’s being serious. She’s like you, in that way.”“Daniel,” you insist through a perfectly straight face, “I’m always serious with you.”His frown deepens.-You leave Daniel to his trainees, but not before he extracts an invitation to your so-called party from you. You offer it without regret – no doubt he’ll be a useful distraction in a social situation, someone you can rely on to speak up when you grow tired of small talk. So you’ll see him next week, assuming the world doesn’t end before then.A thought does occur to you when you return to the estate. Seeing Daniel did, amazingly, improve your mood. It was good to talk about things that were, if still morbid, morbid in a mundane way. A conversation about war and combat is somehow less grim than the idea of otherworldly horrors descending upon you all.Wandering through the estate, you eventually find Alex sitting in one of the more secluded offices with his head buried in a book. He glances up at the sound of your entrance, marking his page and setting the book aside. He starts to say something, then takes a long look at your face. “Right. The party,” he says with a sigh, “I was meaning to tell you, but then Gratia…”[2]
>>6284500“Yes, I’ve arranged it without saying anything to you. But I had a good reason,” Alex explains, “I was asked to arrange it. Orders from King Albrecht himself. I don’t quite know what’s going on, but he wants an opportunity for several important people to gather together without attracting suspicion. An official meeting at the capital would be too obvious, but it would be perfectly natural for people to get together and talk at an event like ours.”“Hm,” you murmur, “Very convenient for you.”“Well, yes,” he admits, “I knew that if I left the date to you, it would never get arranged. I want you to have some semblance of a normal life, Isambard. That means making connections, nurturing friendships…”You let him talk on. It feels as if you’ve had this conversation a dozen times before, and you’ll have it a dozen times more – perhaps even before next week comes. You’ve long since given up all hopes of a normal life, but Alex hasn’t.“It’s fine, Alex,” you say sharply, cutting off his lecture, “It’s done now. It’s arranged, as King Albrecht requested. I certainly can’t cancel it under these circumstances.”“Glad to hear it,” he replies, breaking into a smile, “But do try and have fun, won’t you?”“Don’t push your luck.”-Remembering what Daniel said, you go looking for Ariel. You find her in the library, meticulously taking notes from a heavy book on codebreaking. You didn’t even know that you had a book on codebreaking, but apparently you do. Sitting opposite her, you lean forwards and peer at her notes. They don’t make much sense, but that’s probably because you’re trying to read a code upside down.“Can I help you?” Ariel asks, without looking up from her book.“Daniel was worried about your choice of career,” you answer, “He thinks you’re going to bring all kinds of dishonour onto your family.”“He didn’t say that,” she insists, finally looking up, “Did he?”“No, but there were certain implications.”Ariel sets the book aside then shrugs. “It’s not really his problem. I’d probably have to take a fake name anyway, if I was serious about spying. I just… like it, you know? When I was going through those files Master Sakhalin had, putting together all these secrets and pieces of blackmail. It made sense to me,” she explains, “The way I see it, King Albrecht is always going to need someone to do that sneaky stuff for him.”“He’s got Sakhalin.”“Well, then Master Sakhalin will need an assistant. An apprentice, whatever you want to call it,” Ariel gives you a defiant look, “Why shouldn’t it be me?”>It should be you. I think you’d do an excellent job>Do as you please. Just don’t use any of MY secrets against me>It’s dirty, dangerous work. I don’t think you should lower yourself to it>I think… (Write in)>Other
>>6284520>It should be you. I think you’d do an excellent job>But after doing some sneaking around myself, I find myself feeling that running away quietly is more useful than being a good shot.
>>6284520>I think if you're set on it you'd do it very well. You've saved me from bad circumstances enough i can't gainsay that. >But it's going to probably be very different than what you expect, and few people will be happy for you doing it.
“No, it should be you,” you tell Ariel, “I think you’d do an excellent job. You’ve saved my hide enough times that I can say that for certain. If Sakhalin asks for a reference, I’ll be happy to provide one. There’s just one bit of advice I have to give.”“Oh?” Ariel raises an eyebrow, “Do tell.”“I’m something of an expert in sneaking about myself, you know,” you brag, “And with my vast experience, I’ve found that being able to make a quick, quiet getaway is more useful than being a good shot.”“Naturally. That’s the best thing about working for someone like the King – I’d have other people to do all the shooting for me,” she grins, “You never know. If all this saving the world stuff doesn’t work out, you could try for the job. I’d be happy to provide a reference.”“Very funny,” you remark, leaning back in your chair and putting on your serious face. “You know, it might not be what you’re expecting,” you warn, “It’ll be boring, and a lot of hard work. People will hate you for it, too. You won’t make many friends.”“I know,” she says with a quiet confidence, “I’m prepared for that.”A brief silence falls as you study her face. Your words were simple enough, but you can see that they meant the world to her. “Why now, though?” you ask as an afterthought, “What made you start thinking about the future?”“It’s just… I don’t know. I guess I just realised that I can’t spend the rest of my life doing this, running odd jobs and living off your generosity. One of these days, I’m going to have to get a real job. A normal life, even,” Ariel muses, “I’m probably not making much sense. I never really had anyone to discuss this stuff with. I mean, most people would talk to their parents about it. Or someone like Alex, someone who’s almost family.”“You’ve got family. Daniel, everyone else at Siegfried House.”“Yeah, I know. It’s complicated,” Ariel’s cheeks darken a little, “This feels kinda embarrassing to say, but ever since we first met, I’ve always seen you as like an older brother or something.”“Really?” you tease, “Never anything more than that?”“Hey, that’s… I…” she stammers for a moment before recovering her composure and kicking you under the table, “You’ve got Elle, don’t be greedy!”“She told you, then,” you laugh.Ariel nods. “Yeah, she told me. All the details, especially about your… Hey, I’m kidding. Don’t look so shocked. She was the very picture of discretion,” she grins for a moment, before her voice softens, “Seriously though, I’m happy for you. Have you got a date for the wedding?”“Let’s focus on saving the world first.”[1/2]
>>6284539You leave Ariel to her studying, though it seems like she’s more focused on gloating over your words of support. It’s certainly not the path you imagined that she’d take in life, but she seems happy. You only hope that she has the chance to see her plans take shape. These days, that never feels like a guarantee.Grim thoughts again, you think as you’re walking downstairs. It didn’t take long for you to fall back into bad habits.“Oh, Isambard. Try to remember and close the front door properly this time,” Alex calls out as you’re passing by, “I know we’re not exactly likely to have thieves strolling in and helping themselves, but it’s just good manners.”You pause, backtracking and giving him a confused frown. “Alex, I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” you tell him bluntly, “I closed the door when I came in.”At least, you’re fairly sure that you closed it. You’re not in the habit of leaving the front door open.“Maybe you just didn’t close it all the way. It was ajar when I found it. Just a little, it’s not as if the door was wide open,” the older man explains, “It’s not a big deal. I’ve closed it now, just try to remember for next time.”You turn back to the front door, staring at it for a long time as if a severe look was enough to make it reveal its secrets. After what seems like an eternity, you shrug. “Maybe I just didn’t close it all the way,” you agree, “It’s been a long day, and I’m tired. A simple mistake to make.”“Go for a lie down,” Alex urges, “Get some rest.”“I’ll try and remember to close my bedroom door,” you remark drily, before following Alex’s advice and returning to your room. As soon as you open the door, though, you sense that something isn’t right. It’s not that anything looks out of place – everything seems to be where you left it – but it’s something more subtle than that. There’s a very faint smell in the room, something that reminds you of a wild animal.Then you notice your bedsheets, crumpled and disturbed. You definitely remember smoothing them out when you got up this morning, which means…With an unsteady hand, you reach out and draw back the sheets. It’s almost an anticlimax, the sight of the little wooden totem lying on your pillow. Nothing gruesome, nothing horrific. Just a crudely carved wooden statue.It still smells like the forest.>I’m going to take a pause here for today. Current plan will be to continue next Saturday, when I’ve got enough time to sit down and write.>Thank you for playing today!
>>6284545Thanks for running!Our once great house needs to scrape together some cash and get a security guard
>>6284596Who will we hire for it? One of the people Bard knows from the Galsean settlement?>>6284545A good reminder we need to take Elle to meet Bard's mom in the woods
>>6284545Aww, that's sweet of Mom. She made us a little friend.>>6284702>A good reminder we need to take Elle to meet Bard's mom in the woodsThat sounds like maybe a bad idea. I'm curious why she doesn't like Gratia as much, though. Is it the Stryx inside her, or something else?>>6284265I wouldn't sweat it, desu. I imagine they will only cordon off the pornboards. If it comes down to it, though, there's always SB or SV.
Dark waters lap at the rocky shore of Lake Hali, driven by slow, unhurried waves. The lake was a constant presence in the background of your childhood, lurking just beyond the estate windows. You’d often sit for hours with Gratia, gazing out at the water and telling each other stories. The waters seemed like black ink by night, and the moonlight like quicksilver. As you grew older, you heard other stories about the lake, stories about how the earliest settlers here – ignorant pagans, all – would throw offerings into the lake, sacrifices wrapped in heavy iron chains so that the depths would take them.Even when you were young, you rarely left the estate to sit by the banks of Lake Hali itself. Now, years later, you find yourself marvelling at how vast the lake still seems. So much of what fascinated and terrified you as a child now seems small, diminished by the passing of time, but the lake remains. You can see the far shore, but only because the frequent mists have lifted for the day. Usually, the dark waters seem to stretch out without end.The quiet is broken by a series of crisp splashing sounds, each one ringing out as a flat stone skips across the surface of the lake. You glance around in surprise, seeing Elle studying the ripples with a look of satisfaction on her face. “What?” she asks innocently, not quite able to keep a smile from her face.“Nothing,” you reply, raising an eyebrow, “But there’s a knack to skipping stones, and…”“And you didn’t think that I had it?” she teases, her smile deepening as she senses your unspoken thoughts. “Well, it was just beginner’s luck,” she adds with a shrug, “I expect you could do a lot better.”Searching through the rocks on the lakeside, you find a good candidate and take aim. With a short, sharp flick of your wrist, you send the rock skimming out across the surface of the lake. It bounces once, twice, three times, then sinks with a hollow plop. Elle laughs, quickly throwing her next stone – four bounces this time.“That is NOT beginner’s luck!” you declare, pointing an accusing finger at her.“Guilty as charged,” the oracle admits, “There was a little pond not far from my old home. When I got sick of prayers and lessons, I would sneak away and skim stones just like this. Of course, it’s much better here – back home, you could barely get three bounces before it hit the other side of the pond. Sometimes I feel as if… as if…”The words die in her throat, cut off in a strangled gurgle as a stone drops from her convulsing hand. You reach for her, in case she falls, but she shakes her head and waves an arm towards her satchel. Realising her intentions, you rummage through the bag before emerging with a notepad and pen. Pressing them into her hands, you step back as she scrawls words across the page.[1/2]
>>6287613“Fresh horrors are yet to be revealed,One thousand roads end in failure,Yet one golden path leads to victory.”You read the prophecy over and over again, neither you nor Elle saying anything for what seems like an eternity. Eventually, the silence becomes so dire that you have to do something, anything, to break it. “One single path that leads to victory!” you remark with a scornful laugh, a mocking arrogance that doesn’t feel entirely convincing even to yourself, “It would be nice if the Godhead would tell us what that path is, wouldn’t you say?”“But there IS a chance,” Elle insists, her voice low but firm, “Even if it’s a one in a thousand chance, that’s still better than nothing.”Is it though? When the odds are that remote, is it really that much different to false hope? You’re still dwelling on that dark thought when you see a figure approaching you. It’s Gratia, her slender form cloaked in a thick woollen shawl as a guard against the cold wind – though, you find yourself wondering if she still notices things like that these days. Sitting down with you, Gratia peers at the scrawled prophecy for a moment before shrugging. Turning to Elle instead, she reaches out and straightens the oracle’s ribbon, knocked askew in her haste to write.“Now now, Miss Legrasse,” she says softly, “Just because the world’s ending, that’s no excuse to let your standards slip.”“Of course not,” Elle agrees, although her face betrays a hint of uneasiness as Gratia’s hand brushes against her neck, “What can we do for you, Gratia?”“My brother and I have some unfinished business,” Gratia answers, her eyes flicking briefly your way, “The Demesne.”Of course.“Last time we were there, we saw some markings on the wall. Some kind of mural depicting the Stryx, I think,” you explain, “I can’t say for certain, but it’s another lead to follow. We didn’t have the chance-”“It’s not just that,” Gratia interrupts, “I had another encounter with those strange intruders.”By which you assume she means the blasphemous invaders you briefly encountered once. Remembering the strange rites you witnessed in the Tomoe undercity, you shudder. “What happened?” you ask, quickly culling the unwelcome memories.“We fought. I killed one, the others fled,” Gratia leans close to whisper her next words in your ear, “They did such a good job of running and hiding that they seem to have gotten lost in the labyrinth. They won’t be going anywhere in a hurry.”That is, if they ever get the chance to leave.>Go and put them out of their misery. I’ve still got business up here>Even so, we should take them out before they escape. Let’s go now>I’ll let you handle the intruders. I want to take a look at those murals>Other
>>6287614>I’ll let you handle the intruders. I want to take a look at those murals>But first...>(Pass Gratia a stone)>It's your turn, sister
>>6287614>Even so, we should take them out before they escape. Let’s go nowNo crime deserves stranding in that wretched place.
What business do we still have up here?We've built up a comprehensive enough report on black goop that Phalaris might be able to figure something out.There should be enough time for Juno's side to have an update.
>>6287614>First...>(Pass Gratia a stone)>It's your turn, sister>Then we're all having a visit with Dear Mother. If nothing else, it's the biggest family gathering we've ever had.
>>6287614>Even so, we should take them out before they escape. Let’s go now
You think for a moment. There’s a part of you – absurd, shameful – that wants to make an excuse, any excuse, to stay away from the Demesne. Even though you don’t fully understand the urge, you can’t shake it from your heart. Perhaps it’s the thought of that unknown fate lurking at the bottom of the Demesne, the fear that you might stray onto ground from which there is no return.Or maybe it’s not the Demesne that you’re afraid of.Pushing that thought aside, you reach down to the pebbles beneath your feet and dig out another good sized stone. Even and flat, well rounded for throwing. You weigh it up in your hand for a moment, gazing thoughtfully out at the lake, then hold the stone out to Gratia. “Here,” you tell her, “Give it a try. It’s your turn.”You suspect that if anyone else had said this, Gratia might make them eat the rock. But because it’s you, she takes it and looks out across the waters. She doesn’t throw it though. Not yet. “I feel as though you’re not taking this very seriously, dear brother,” she scolds lightly, “Those filth should not be allowed to roam free.”“I know. And I agree with you, we should take them out before they can escape,” you reply with a nod, “But a minute more won’t make any difference. You said it yourself, they won’t be going anywhere in a hurry.”“Very well,” Gratia concludes, turning and hurling the stone out across the lake with a savage flick of her wrist. The stone flies out far, then hits the lake with a flat splash and sinks without a trace. You watch the ripples spreading out across the lake, then glance aside to Elle. She’s trying very hard to keep down a fit of giggles.-Though there’s no discussion, it feels perfectly natural for Elle to follow along with you. There’s danger, of course, but it seems churlish to try and stop her from accompanying you. After what you told her about the seventh seal at the base of the Demesne, it’s only natural that she might want to see for herself. So together, as a party of three – four, if you’re counting Gratia’s inhuman partner – you march through the forest in search of the Demesne.More than once, you hear a faint rustle of leaves from behind you as you walk. Each time, the noise is too deliberate to be an animal. You’re being followed by something that wants you to know that it’s there. Each time you hear the rustling sound, you feel the fleeting urge to turn back and look. Since finding that crude wooden totem in your bedroom, you’ve been feeling a faint yearning to see that horned woman again. Even reminding yourself of what hides behind her comely mask isn’t enough to still the urge.Maybe later, when your business below ground is concluded. You’d rather not tempt fate and delay any further, not while those rogues are on the loose.[1]
>>6287631There’s something horribly familiar about the scene that Gratia reveals to you. In a secluded chamber on the far edge of the fourth layer, the labyrinth, the remains of a man are splattered across the white stone walls and ceiling. Only by assumption can you say that it’s a man at all, so complete is the destruction wrought upon him. That alone would be bad enough, but you’ve seen it before – not long after you first learned about your father’s death, in poor Master Dunblane’s room.Covering her mouth, Elle ducks out of the chamber and groans. Fighting down your own wave of nausea, you carefully step into the chamber and look where Gratia is pointing. There’s a scrap of flesh stuck to the floor, more intact than the rest of the… remains, but your attention is drawn to the mark branded onto the flesh – the familiar mark of the centipede.“How many of them were there?” you ask, nodding for Gratia to lead the way, “Aside from our friend back there?”“There should be three left. Two men, one older, and a woman,” Gratia replies, “The old man couldn’t run very well. He’ll be slowing the others down.”Bold of her, to assume that your enemies wouldn’t just leave him behind. Regardless, Gratia wastes no time in picking up their trail – a trail that only she can sense, apparently, judging by the lack of any footprints or markings. She leads you to a new section of the labyrinth, one that you haven’t explored before. The corridors are narrower than you’re used to, the junctions more frequent. Immediately, you feel the hairs on the back of your neck prickle. This kind of maze is perfect for an ambush.You’re so focused on studying the maze ahead that you almost trip over the eviscerated corpse sprawled out on the ground. Elle catches your arm at the last minute, pulling you back before peering reluctantly at the body. Even with a passing glance, you can tell that it’s not human. The uncanny, almost familiar shape of the face marks it out as a Denizen.“They were cutting into this thing when I found them,” Gratia explains, “I saw them take something from it before fleeing. I think it might have been one of those stone fragments the old man said he would search for.”“Why would THEY want it?” you wonder aloud before giving Gratia a cautious look, “Let’s try and leave one of them alive, so we can ask them ourselves.”“Of course, dear brother,” she murmurs.-“He’ll come from the left,” Elle whispers, touching you lightly on the arm before stepping neatly back. You tense up, your gaze fixed on the next set of corridors. True enough, there’s another narrow path off to the left. Drawing your revolver, you carefully pull back the hammer and adjust your grip. Carrying weapons and spilling blood in the Demesne used to be unthinkable, a strict taboo.Those were different times.[2]
>>6287646You see movement out of the corner of your eye as soon as you step forth, bringing your revolver up even as you twist your body around. This close to your attacker, you barely have time to aim before you fire your first shot. This close to your attacker, you barely NEED to aim before you fire your first shot. It hits him low, in the gut, and turns his lunge into a clumsy collapse. The dagger he held tumbles from his grip and bounces across the floor, where you kick it far out of the dying man’s reach.Even through the ringing in your ears, you hear the sound of ragged breathing as you step over the fallen cultist. Rounding the next corner, you see the source of the sound – the woman Gratia mentioned, frozen halfway through scrawling a crude glyph onto the floor using the only material available to her. With her face twisted into a mask of absolute fear and desperation, she starts to make a wild grab for her dagger before you shoot her in the head.“Leave one of them alive, you said,” Gratia chides, poking you in the arm.“She was about to come at me with a knife, I didn’t have much choice,” you complain, “Anyway, there’s still one left.”“Hm,” she murmurs, bending down to examine the bloody glyph before carefully wiping the symbols away, “It’s a good thing she didn’t have time to finish this. Who knows what she might have called up?”Stepping over the body, you look around and try to orient yourself. It feels as if you’ve been walking in a rough spiral, and you’re almost at the centre. Even without Gratia’s means to hunt her prey, you can sense that you’re close.-The final cultist sits with his back against the wall in a perfectly blank white chamber, a chamber not unlike the one that your own father died in. He’s unarmed, and barely looks as if he can stand. You’re struck by how normal he looks – a shaven head, a thin stubble of gray hair clinging to his gaunt cheeks, tired brown eyes.“Is this what you wanted?” the cultist asks, holding up a sliver of broken stone, “Take it, then. I’m in no position to stop you.”“On the ground,” you order, gesturing towards the floor, “What do you want with it, anyway?”The man sighs, placing the stone fragment on the ground before pushing it towards you. “These pieces are fragments of a greater whole. Together, they bear a map that will lead us back to our lost master,” he murmurs, “We seek his guidance, that we might survive the years to come.”You’re not sure if he’s going to survive the next few minutes, let alone years.“We’ve got what we came for,” Gratia whispers to you, “Give him to me, dear brother.”>I’m finished here. He’s all yours>No. We’re taking him alive. Cato will want to speak with him>I’ve got some questions for him first… (Write in)>Other
>>6287660>I’ve got some questions for him first… (Write in)Who is his master? Big Kalthos?
>>6287660>No. We’re taking him alive. Cato will want to speak with him
>>6287676+1
“Wait,” you whisper back to Gratia, gesturing for her to stay her hand. For someone who was scolding you about sparing one earlier, she seems to have changed her mind very quickly. You kneel down a short distance away from the older man, so you can look him in the eyes. You won’t get any closer, just in case he has some kind of nasty surprise waiting for you, but you can do him this courtesy at least.“Your lost master,” you ask, “Who is he? Kalthos?”“The Great Pale Wanderer. Yes, Kalthos,” the man nods slowly, lowering his voice as he says the name, “Great Teacher Kalthos, whose lessons break the shackles imposed upon the strong. I am but the latest in a long lineage, those who have inherited his wisdom. Yet, men are forgetful. The secrets we keep today are but the faintest echoes of what he once taught us. That is why we sought him out.”That’s not exactly the straightest answer you’ve ever heard, but at least he’s cooperating. It’s strange, comparing this man with the fiend you met in Amaryllis. The Facilitator seemed spiteful, mocking, the kind of man who savours every bit of anger and frustration he spreads. This man here seems calmer, as if he’s made peace with his failure. Perhaps he’s realised that if he dies today, he won’t have to face the coming horrors. There might be some comfort in that.If he’s cooperative so far, you reason, he might be worth keeping around. You don’t want to deal with him, but you know someone who might.“We’re taking him alive,” you announce, giving Gratia a stern look, “I think Cato might want to speak with him.”“If you say so,” Gratia answers, her expression unreadable.-You make sure to pocket the broken stone fragment before you leave, dragging the old man behind you on a makeshift leash made from a belt taken off the dead man. A strip of cloth ripped from the same corpse’s garb serves as a makeshift blindfold, just so your prisoner can’t see where you’re taking him. As unwelcome as the idea seems, you might need to keep him at the estate until Cato is able to fetch him.Leading the prisoner up through the Demesne is a slow process, made worse by the cold, stilted mood amongst your companions. Normally you might be able to talk a little, perhaps even share a joke despite the solemn environment. Now, you don’t dare break the silence for fear of giving the prisoner something that he might use against you. More and more, you start to wonder if you should have just fed him to Gratia. At least that would get it over with.The stairs are the worst part, but eventually you manage to emerge above ground. A thin rain falls, pattering against the canopy of trees above, but that sound can’t quite hide a louder rustle coming from the distant undergrowth. All the while you’ve been in the Demesne, something has been out here. Waiting for you.[1]
>>6287694“Water,” the old man croaks as you lead him through the forest, “Do you have any water?”“I’ve got some,” Elle says softly, opening her satchel and taking out a small flask. She pauses, glancing across to you before moving any further. You nod, holding out your hand for the flask. Taking it, you raise it to the man’s lips and allow him to drink. “Sir,” she asks as you’re passing the flask back to her, “May I ask your name?”“I would rather not give you my true name,” he replies tersely, “But when I was initiated, I took “Adrammelech” as my secret name.”“Not much of a secret now, is it?” you remark dryly. Perhaps it’s your imagination, but the man seems to smile faintly, ruefully, at your joke. Before you can say anything else, though, you feel a chill run down your spine. It’s that same feeling you had all the while you were coming here, the feeling of being watched from afar. This time, though, it doesn’t feel nearly so far away.The temptation is too great. You turn, casting a searching gaze out into the forest. You had been expecting to see, at most, a flash of pale flesh as the horned woman ducks back into hiding. Instead, you see her in full view – standing in the open, staring straight back at you. There’s a wariness in her eyes, almost as if she’s expecting you to be the one who runs and hides. When you don’t immediately flee, she starts to slowly, cautiously approach.Even blindfolded, you can see Adrammelech trembling in fear of something that he can only sense. Elle’s eyes are wide with awe, her mouth open in a silent gasp of amazement. It’s only Gratia who stands firm, her face carefully neutral even as her eyes betray the faintest hint of hostility.Time passes in a lethargic daze, each second stretching out until it seems like hours. Finally, the horned woman draws close enough to reach out and touch your face. You know what she really is, you KNOW what the sacred moonlight would reveal, but just for a moment you allow yourself to forget. The hand on your cheek is warm and soft. That’s all that matters.After a long moment, the horned woman seems to notice Elle. Though nobody has said a word since her arrival, she seems to implicitly understand who the young oracle is. Reaching up to her hair, the horned woman unties something – a length of ragged red ribbon – before holding it out to Elle. Neither moves for a few seconds, or perhaps an eternity, and then Elle tentatively takes the ribbon. With numb, clumsy hands, she ties it around her throat like a makeshift choker.Finally, the horned woman moves to study Gratia. The two stare at each other for a long time, each seeming to wait for the other to act first – or, perhaps, to flinch.In the end, it’s the horned woman who turns and silently stalks away.[2]
>>6287707“Fortune favours us. Business has brought me close by. Can stop and visit by tomorrow. Please ensure guest is comfortable until then.”So reads Cato’s message, a curious mix of courtesy and the usual clipped phrases demanded by the telegraphy system. You’re not sure about comfortable, but your “guest” is securely locked away for now – though, you’d rather not think about why your estate has a room with a sturdy door that locks only from the outside.You show the message to Elle, who nods vaguely. She’s been quiet ever since returning to the forest, her hand constantly darting up to stroke the ribbon around her throat.“Are you okay?” you ask softly, only for Elle to answer with another nod. “I wonder where she got it,” you continue with a sigh, “That ribbon, I mean. Somehow, I doubt she went out and bought-”“I think…” Elle begins, only to hesitate for a moment, “I think your father left it for her. I can… feel it. I can feel his sadness, his yearning. He wandered the forest for hours, hoping to see her again, but he never did. He left this ribbon instead, tied around a tree, so she’d know that he’d been looking.”You forget, sometimes, what oracles can do. It’s not just the future they gaze into. Sometimes, it’s the distant past that speaks to them.“You should go and check on her,” Elle adds. There’s no need for her to say who she means. The fact that Gratia followed you back to the estate is bad enough. The fact that she’s closed herself away in her bedroom is even worse.“I’ll go,” you decide.-Compared with the ever-increasing clutter in your room, Gratia’s bedroom seems eerily empty. It almost looks as if it’s never been used, even down to the perfectly made bed. She’s sitting on the bed when you enter, staring directly ahead at a patch of bare wall. “Are you okay?” you ask, the repeated question feeling vaguely absurd on your lips.“I’m okay,” Gratia answers in a flat voice, “Why would I not be okay?”“Well, I just thought…” you pause, “Back there in the forest-”“Nothing happened,” she interrupts, turning to look you in the eyes. Without breaking her gaze away, she gestures for you to sit beside her on the bed. You approach, but grudgingly. “Perhaps you misunderstand, dear brother,” Gratia murmurs, leaning towards you, “That thing out there in the forest means nothing to me. I’ve spent my entire life without it, and I could spent the rest of my life without it. I don’t need anyone, any THING, else. The only one I need-”She stops herself from finishing that sentence. There’s no need for her to say it aloud – you know exactly what she was going to say.You share the same soul, after all.[3/4]
>>6287727You sit with Gratia for a while, though you feel no need to talk. There were times like this when you were young, times when you sat together in perfect, unbroken silence. You’d understand each other without the need for words, understand each other in a way that went deeper than just words. But now, you struggle to feel that same connection. As painful as it may be to admit it, you’ve grown apart.Perhaps it was the long years you spent apart. Perhaps it’s the malign influence of that nightmarish thing staining her soul with black. Or maybe it’s not her that changed, not really. Maybe you’re the one who changed. You’re a part of this world now, bound by the connections you’ve made – for good or for ill.Even as you think this, Gratia leans forwards and puts her arms around you. “Will you stay for a little longer?” she asks quietly, “Ten years is a long time to spend apart, and we’ve had precious little time to share together. I worry, sometimes, that we’ve grown apart.”A chill runs down your spine as she says these words. You might not be able to understand her, but she can still read you like an open book.>I’m going to have to take a pause for today, feeling pretty tired. Connection seems to be a little more stable at least, which is nice. Next run planned for tomorrow, same approx time>Thank you for playing today!
>>6287727>The only one I needIs of course Dan "The Man" Teilhard>>6287742Thanks for running!
>>6287694Hm... Could Abaris BE Kalthos, either the original (or an older disciple) or even the Tomoe one we know? He did enter the Demesne in disguise, after all... And these stones are associated in folklore with both figures, apparently.>>6287707Aww, Mom likes Elle!>>6287742I wonder if perhaps the REASON Mom likes Bard and Elle, but not Gratia, is the same reason she dislikes Gratia and refused a second "meeting" with Dad. The other members of Ho sue Pale are very distant from the world, like Bard once was and still somewhat pretends at being. Mom/Grandma don't want that, thoguh -- the Horned Woman very much wants to be a living part of this world. It's what her ideology preaches, and evident in her creation of fauns and their production with mortal men. A life of lonely isolation, looking down your noses at lesser beings, may be anathema to The Great Mother and her daughters.
>>6287754>Dan "The Man" Teilhardkek
>>6287694I wonder what will happen once we find all the disk fragments. Will they fuse and do something mega cool?>>6287707Bard's mom approves of Elle. Wonder how things would have been if he picked Juno and then he realizes both his mom and his rebellious waifu are redheads?>There’s a wariness in her eyes, almost as if she’s expecting you to be the one who runs and hides. When you don’t immediately flee, she starts to slowly, cautiously approach.I love how this is calling back to the last encounter. Bard is fully aware of her true state and what she is after the moonlight exposure, and he's still staying for her. That says a lot.>>6287727>I think your father left it for her. I can… feel it. I can feel his sadness, his yearning. He wandered the forest for hours, hoping to see her again, but he never did. He left this ribbon instead, tied around a tree, so she’d know that he’d been looking.Actual humanizing moment for Bard's dad?>>6287772>A life of lonely isolation, looking down your noses at lesser beings, may be anathema to The Great Mother and her daughters.Interesting observation. Perhaps becoming less of a shut-in gloomy edgelord is what his mom wants of him? Elle is certainly forcing him out of his dreary shell with all her efforts
In but a few days, countless people will be sitting around this dining table. The great and the good of society, all gathered in your humble estate. For now, though, you sit alone with the stone fragments scattered out before you. With a listless hand, you move the fragments about as you try to envision what the completed disc might look like. Though long faded, you can make out some familiar shapes and patterns in the lines and circles carved into the stone. Pausing suddenly, you feel an idea strike like a gift from the Godhead itself.Running upstairs, you search through your room before finding the ancient, crumbling paper map you found on the mountains near the Iron Keep. Ever since Lady Megistus led you to the map, it’s been sitting, practically untouched, in your bedroom. Now, perhaps, you might be able to make some sense of it. Glancing between the faded map and the stone fragments, you methodically compare the two designs. Though the stone disc is not complete, you grow increasingly certain that they bear the same design.You lean back, gazing down at the ancient objects. What seemed like a triumph now turns to smoke in your hands. So what, if they both bear the same map? Until you know how to follow the map, where it leads, you’re no further forwards. At best, you might not need the remaining pieces of the disc to see the complete image.You still WANT to find them, though. It’ll just annoy you, to leave the job unfinished.A knock at the door causes you to look up, gesturing for Cato to enter as he pokes his head around the door. Casting a curious glance at the stone fragments scattered across the table in front of you, Cato sits opposite you. “Well?” you begin, “How was the guest?”“Would you think me strange if I said we had a very cordial conversation?” Cato replies with a faint smile, “I found it somewhat refreshing, in a way. We clearly disagree about a great deal, but we were still able to talk as equals.”“I’m very glad to hear that, but did he actually tell you anything useful?” you ask, “I didn’t drag him all the way here just so you can discuss the weather.”“He explained a little about his organisation, though I’m not sure if that name is quite suitable. They have no singular leader, and no firm structure. Each group is a separate organism, distinct from all the others,” Cato explains, “For example, he claimed not to know anything about the men we fought in Amaryllis.”“Well we would, wouldn’t he?”“Perhaps, but I believed him,” he shakes his head, “An organisation, a movement, like his would only survive this way. If you could end it with a single strike, like cutting the head from a snake, it would have died long ago. This way, they will never die.”Cato pauses for a moment.“Which is most unfortunate for us,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.[1/2]
>>6288238“What do you plan on doing with him?” you ask casually, as you roll up the ancient paper and tuck it away out of view.“I intend to take him back to my family, so we can talk with him further. For what it’s worth, I will ask that we treat him well, fairly, for as long as he’s willing to cooperate,” Cato answers, “We could, I am sure, make a case for his execution. Association with a group contrary to the national interest, or something of that sort. Though… the idea sits uneasily with me. In my eyes, he does not hold any guilt for what happened in Amaryllis.”You study Cato carefully, trying to gauge his mood. He looks troubled, as if this mercy was ill-suited to him. His wounds from Amaryllis, mental and physical, are not yet fully healed, and no doubt he’s still looking for someone to punish. But you can see that there’s something else that’s troubling him, something not so easy to decipher.“There’s something troubling you,” you say eventually, after your curiosity wins out.“There is,” Cato admits with a rueful smile, “But I’m afraid that I can’t tell you – at least, not yet. For now, I’m sworn to secrecy.”“Ah.”“Is Miss Legrasse currently available,” he adds quickly. It’s not the most subtle attempt at changing the subject that you’ve ever seen. When you shake your head, Cato lets out a low sigh. “I see,” he murmurs, “I had been hoping to get her advice. I am aware, you see, that the church was once an important part of her life, but now… not so much.”“Having a crisis of faith?” you remark, with just enough of a smile to take the edge off your mocking words.“Not exactly. I still believe in the Godhead’s plan. I’m just not sure if I see my place in it any more,” he pauses, running a hand through his long, silver hair, “I took it upon myself to hunt these men, to be the one to punish them, but I find myself wondering if that is truly the person I wish to be. With that same righteous fury, I sought out your father with my blade. Now, I see the harm my actions have caused. Am I repeating the same mistakes?”You lean back, watching Cato carefully. You had Elle take Ariel and Gratia out to Castaign for the day, so you could talk with Cato without fear of distractions. That seems like a very wise decision now.“Misty says I should stay by the Saint’s side, like her. Part of that is because she can get me to run errands for her, of course, but I know it’s more than that,” Cato muses, “Sometimes I think she can see something in me, something she doesn’t like.”He’s probably overthinking it.>You’re the best man to hunt down these cultists. You need to stay the course>The Saint needs someone like you by her side. Keep her safe, Cato>Perhaps you should step away from the church entirely. Be your own man>Other
>>6288239If you do not wish to be a zealous blade in the dark, a shield against it so that it might not snuff out the light might well be a better vocation. Misty might see how it wears on you, while she's flighty, she's not stupid.If you tell her I said that I will deny it.
>>6288239>>6288250was a vote fyi
>>6288239>I saw how suspecting your own men wore on you. Maybe hunting people down just isn't your thing.>The saint doesn't have to be the only face reassuring the masses. Just look at the Teilhards.I can back >>6288250seems funny enough.
“If you don’t wish to be a blade in the dark, then you can still be a shield against it,” you advise, “Stay with the Saint, and protect her from those who might try to snuff out her light. Misty might be flighty – she might be many things – but I don’t think she’s stupid. If she thinks you should stay at the Saint’s side, she must have a good reason for it. Perhaps she thinks you can help share the Saint’s burden. After all, she doesn’t have to be the only one who faces the masses.”“I hope you’re not comparing me with a Saint,” Cato replies, although a hint of a smile starts to form on his face.“Well, I’d wager that Lucille looks better in all those ceremonial dresses,” you point out, waving a hand through the air as if you could wave away all his doubts like smoke. “Look at the Teilhards,” you continue, “Their family is vast, spread far and wide. They don’t just put all the responsibility on Daniel’s shoulders. The Saint will need a helping hand. Try it, see how it goes. I know how hard it was, looking upon your own people with suspicion. Hunting men just might not be your calling.”Cato nods slowly as he considers the idea. No doubt he’s run the same arguments through his head time and time again, trying to convince himself. Perhaps hearing it from your lips will give him the answers that he’s been seeking.“Then perhaps I will give it a try,” he decides, “Thank you, Isambard. I’m sure Misty would thank you too, if she was here. She’ll have her chance soon enough, though.”The party, of course.“Well, just don’t tell her what I said about her,” you laugh, “Should I expect the Saint as well?”“I would say not. I hope that’s not too much of a disappointment for you. Though, considering all that happened when you last saw her, it might be a relief instead,” Cato allows himself a rueful smile, though it’s quickly replaced by a pained look. It’s the look of a man who has bitten into something bitter, or recalled some unwelcome memory. “There was one last thing I needed to burden you with,” he says quietly, reaching into his pocket, “Could you tell me what this is?”He sets a small wooden box down on the table as he says this, sliding it across to you. Curious, you open the box only to let out a grunt and quickly look away. “It’s an icon of the Manticore,” you answer through gritted teeth, “Though the monster has an unbearably ugly face, it guards those who are pure of heart. Only they can look upon the beast without discomfort. You know this, Cato.”“I do,” he answers simply.“Then why ask, when you already know the answer? Why show it to me?” you hiss, “Are you trying to mock me?”“No,” Cato shakes his head sadly, “Because I can’t look at it either.”[1]
>>6288272>“No,” Cato shakes his head sadly, “Because I can’t look at it either.”Brutal self-admission coming from this guy
>>6288289Maybe he should hunt down those cultists after all
>>6288291It won't make him any pure of heart anymore. The best thing we can do is pat him on the shoulder and go "we know that feel bro, you're not alone" because what else can we possibly do?
>>6288272Cato leaves a short time later, with the ugly medallion hidden away in the depths of his pocket and the old cultist in chains behind him. You wonder what fate has in store for Adrammelech, or whatever his name really is. His own personal sins may not be so great, but his associations are likely enough to condemn him a dozen times over. You wouldn’t necessarily mourn his loss, but the idea hardly excites you either.Alone once more, you sit down in a low armchair and brood for a while. First Ariel decides to be a spy, now Cato is finding a new career. Everywhere you look, people are making great plans for their future – a future that may never come. Even if the looming arrival of the Stryx was to vanish overnight, you’re not sure what your future might hold. After everything you’ve seen and done, the idea of living a normal life seems… optimistic.You’ll worry about that later. Or not at all, depending how everything else plays out.-Some time later, you hear the sound of the front door shortly followed by a murmur of voices. Following the sound of conversation, you join the girls in the entranceway. They look as happy and carefree as anyone might, cheerfully oblivious to the dark matters you’ve been brooding on. Even Gratia looks like she’s been having fun, though there’s a part of you that wonders how much of it is an act.“So you remembered to come home!” you announce, pushing aside your suspicions, “Did you have a good time?”“Very much so. Just wait until you see Gratia’s new dress. It’s… striking,” Elle answers, her smile faltering just slightly before she turns and gives Ariel a joking scowl, “I was trying to get Ariel to try a few dresses too, but she wasn’t feeling cooperative. Try and talk some sense into her, will you? We’re going back tomorrow to pick up your sister’s dress, and there might still be time for Ariel-”“Leave me out of this,” Ariel interrupts, “If you want another excuse to go shopping, pick on somebody else.”“Still, you should consider it,” Gratia says, studying Ariel the way a hawk might look at a baby rabbit, “Those uniforms you always wear don’t flatter you at all. In fact, if you’ll forgive me for saying this, they rather make you look like a boy.”“Gratia!” Elle gasps, lightly slapping the other girl on the arm. Ariel just laughs nervously, her eyes flicking across to you for a moment. “Well, anyway, it’s fine. Really, it is,” the oracle continues, “Wear whatever you like, Ariel. So long as it’s clean and presentable, that is.”“Oh damn, there go my plans to slop food all down my shirt in the middle of a formal dinner,” Ariel remarks, rolling her eyes.>Sorry about this, but I’m going to have to call it early – something’s come up. I was expecting a shorter run today, but not this short. I should be back next Saturday>Thanks for playing!
>>6288304Thanks for running!>Gratia says, studying Ariel the way a hawk might look at a baby rabbitIs she making her own choice now that we decided on Elle?
>>6288250Good write-in!>>6288304Ah dang, just missed the session again. Thanks for running!
>>6288310Gratia approves of Elle deep down, despite her worsening edge thanks to being merged with a shadow murder bird from another world who feeds on blood and terror. If somehow Ariel were to fuck Gratia, then would Isambard approve of them? Would Isambard's mom approve of Ariel? What a funny twist of events.
>>6288304I have just thought that poor Ariel must've been speaking in a fake voice all this time. This can't be easy.
>>6288437I just assumed (s)he has a naturally soft or high voice to match that build. Biologically male or not, Ariel is pretty effeminate.
>>6288440Regardless of the pitch, men and women have different tone patterns (at least in English). It's actually a very interesting area.
It’s been years, even decades, since your family estate held so many people at once. Certainly, you never remember your father holding any large gatherings when you were growing up. At most, he would hold the rare gathering of a few furtive souls, men who you only remember as vague shapes hidden within the deep shadows. Somehow, you doubt that changed very much while you were away at Coral House.Until now, that is.Even though the first of the guests are yet to arrive, the estate bustles with a new influx of servants – silent, dutiful men and women wearing simple uniforms with a discrete royal insignia. Aside from a few off-limits areas, your bedroom above all else, they scurry all over cleaning away the long dust of ages. Because of how many guests are expected, you’ve opened up the main ballroom.You have no love for this part of the estate. It’s new, relatively speaking, which only really means that it was made by human hands, but that’s not why you dislike it. It’s the size that you dislike. The emptiness. Perhaps you won’t dislike it nearly so much once it’s full of people, though you’re more likely to direct your animosity towards the people instead.“How long?” Gratia asks, looking around the cavernous ballroom. She’s already dressed and ready, as if she was impatient for it all to begin – or to get it over with. Elle said that her dress was striking, and that’s certainly true. Though, you admit that the decorative black feathers that she wears are in somewhat poor taste.“The first guests should be arriving in two hours,” you answer, sneaking a glance her way, “Nervous?”“No,” she shakes her head, “I’m just imagining how surprised they’ll be when they see me here. I was under the impression that I was still missing.”“I’ve thought about that, actually. I’ll explain that I “found” you some time ago, but you’ve not been ready to return to public life – until now,” you tell her with a humourless smile, “Congratulations. This entire party is being thrown in your honour.”“Ah, so you’re thrusting your poor, traumatised sister into the spotlight. How heartless!” Gratia laughs, waving a hand through the air, “I’d had the same idea, actually. I was starting to feel like a dirty little secret, hiding away like this.”Perhaps there’s an element of truth to that. You just hope-“Don’t worry,” she assures you, sensing your thoughts, “I’ll be on my best behaviour.”-An unusual nervousness seeps through your body as the first guests start to file through the front door, each one announced by a uniformed servant. You’re not thrilled about spending an evening playing nice and making small talk, but that’s not the reason for your unease. There’s another play going on beneath the surface here, and all you can do is wait for it to unfold.[1/2]
>>6291245“What’s so funny?” you whisper, catching a faint smile on Alex’s face as you glance around.“Nothing. Just the look on your face,” he answers, wiping away his smile in an instant, “Your father always had that same sour look in situations like this.”You scowl, only to realise that you’re just making it worse. Even without a mirror, you can imagine the taut, pained expression that you must be wearing.“Relax,” Elle urges, reaching down and giving your hand a squeeze, “They’re all harmless really.”They’re harmless in the sense that they wield poisonous words rather than poisoned daggers, though you’re not sure if that’s really so much better. Leaning on the balcony, you cast a sweeping glance across the entrance hall as the crowd mingles beneath you. You spot and Ariel and Daniel talking quietly with Sakhalin, though there’s no sign of Daniel’s father yet. Not that far away, you see Cato walking through the crowd as Misty chatters away, pointing out familiar faces whenever she sees them. He looks even more weary than you feel, if such a thing is possible.Looking past Cato, a vaguely familiar face catches your eye. Melinda, you recall, one of the Galseans from Portsmaw. She stands alone, practically invisible to the noble crowd swirling around her, but that doesn’t seem to bother her. She just looks happy to be here. A short distance away, Gratia greets a seemingly never-ending line of guests and well wishers. She plays her part perfectly, painting a picture of quiet resolve. Yet, everyone she talks with leaves with the faintest look of disquiet on their faces. Though they might not be able to put their finger on it, they all sense that something isn’t right.“Come on, let’s mingle a little!” Elle whispers, tugging on your arm, “You’ve got to show your face, at least!”“Why? They seem to be having so much fun without me,” you remark with a smile, “Look at them, gossiping away without a care in the world.”“They’ll be gossiping about you if you’re not careful,” she teases, “Now come on!”Well, maybe she’s right. It’ll help pass the time, at least.>Cato and Misty seem to know what they’re doing. You’ll accompany them for a bit>Daniel and Ariel won’t mind if you join their conversation with Sakhalin. You’ll start there>It’s strange to see a Galsean out here. You’ll see what news Melinda brings from the enclave>Other
>>6291246>It’s strange to see a Galsean out here. You’ll see what news Melinda brings from the enclave
>>6291246>>It’s strange to see a Galsean out here. You’ll see what news Melinda brings from the enclaveHas Gratia ever commented on the Galseans? I'm also concerned how they'd react to her.
>>6291246>Daniel and Ariel won’t mind if you join their conversation with Sakhalin. You’ll start thereLess of a hot potatoe
>>6291246>It’s strange to see a Galsean out here. You’ll see what news Melinda brings from the enclaveI love hot potatoes
It’s strange, you muse, to see a Galsean so far from their enclave in Portsmaw. There’s a good reason for that, of course. They spent a long time as little better than prisoners, and they still can’t travel as easily as you can. That aside, you suppose that they just don’t have many reasons to roam across the land like you do. Their world is a far smaller one, save for the dreams of their lost homeland.“Okay, you win. I’m going to mingle for a little,” you tell Elle with a sigh, feigning irritation, “If I’m not back in an hour, send out a rescue party.”“I’ll keep an eye on the clock,” the oracle replies, leaning over to kiss you gently on the cheek, “Have fun!”Descending from the balcony, you weave your way through the crowd and make your way towards Melinda. You get stopped a few times by some of the other guests, men and women whose faces are forgotten as soon as they turn away, but eventually you reach your target. Melinda’s face brightens when she notices you, and she raises her glass of wine in a playful toast.“Hello there, Master Pale,” she begins, “Lovely place you’ve got here. It reminds me of the museum back home. Back in Portsmaw, I mean.”“It feels like a museum at times,” you agree with a laugh, neatly stepping out of the way as a pair of guests move past you. Gesturing towards the ballroom, you guide Melinda through to the rear of the estate. There’s more open space here, more room to loiter around without bumping into anyone. “There’s no need to be formal, by the way,” you add as you walk, “I’m certain that I’ll be sick of hearing “Master Pale” by the end of today, so I don’t need you adding to my woes.”“As you wish… Isambard,” Melinda replies, glancing briefly down at the floor as she notices a few people staring her way. “I very nearly didn’t make it here, you know. I almost lost my nerve,” she explains in a low, hushed voice, “This dress feels ridiculous. But someone needed to come and represent our people, and I was the best woman for the job – apparently.”“How are things in Portsmaw?”“Exciting times. Maybe I shouldn’t say too much, not until things are completely confirmed, but it looks like the Galsean Legion is going to be formally established. Our very own army – uniforms, weapons, officers drawn from our own people… it’s everything that Major Ionescu has wanted,” she pauses, then sighs, “Before the Lliogor, we dreamed of all sorts of things – talking with the gods, making beautiful music, even just exploring the ever-changing forest maze. Now we’re soldiers, and precious little else.”“I’m impressed,” you drawl, “I thought I’d be the one who would ruin the good mood.”“Oh sorry, am I stealing your thunder?” Melinda laughs, her giggle wiping away the dark mood, “I didn’t mean to say all that. I’ve just, well, not got many people I can talk to about stuff like this.”[1]
>>6291265“Oh! Before I forget…” Melinda lightly slaps her forehead in frustration, “Major Ionescue gave me a message. Let’s see… He sends his fond regards, and his regrets that he could not be here in person. He says that you have been a friend to our people, and the Galseans do not forget their friends. Our people have taken the first step on a long road to reclaiming the home islands, and one day he hopes that he can welcome you onto their shores.”“Very kind words, but tell me something,” you smirk, “How long did it take you to memorise all that?”“Well I… probably shouldn’t answer that question,” Melinda shakes her head, “You might think less of me if I did.”Doubtful. You’re not sure if you could remember even half of that. Then again, she could have been making it all up as she went along and you wouldn’t know the difference.“I didn’t mean to downplay what we’ve achieved, you know, about the Legion and all. It’s a big success, and the Major is really proud of it. We’re all proud of it, really. I guess I’ve just been thinking about the future, and what it might mean for us,” the Galsean muses, “Sometimes I wonder if we’re better off making the best of a bad situation. This land feels like home for me now, as much as the home islands ever did. We’ve made a place for ourselves here.”“Maybe this is your place in the Godhead’s design,” Elle suggests, appearing by your side, “Sorry for the interruption, but Master Teilhard just arrived. He’s looking for you. He’s talking with Gratia now, but…”Elle hesitates.“Well, you probably shouldn’t make him wait too long,” she adds weakly, patting you on the arm before hurrying back to the entrance hall.“Gratia. That’s your sister, right? White hair like yours, black dress with the feathers?” Melinda asks, a slight frown passing across her face, “I was speaking with her earlier. Is she… okay?”Almost as soon as the question has left her lips, Melinda winces at how rude it must sound. She starts to apologise, but you hold up a hand to stop her. “She’s been through a lot lately, and this is her first big social event. She seemed to be coping well enough when I last saw her,” you explain, the lies coming easily, “Was she feeling unwell before?”“No, I mean, she didn’t seem like she was ill,” the Galsean shakes her head, “Just… distracted, I guess. Like she wasn’t really paying attention to anything I said, or she didn’t really… care about anything. But if this is her first big thing, it might just be a little overwhelming for her. I mean, I know how that feels!”Despite everything, you let out a laugh. Melinda stares in confusion, but you offer no explanation. That’s nothing to do with the Stryx.That’s just how Gratia is.[2/3]
>>6291281You say your farewells to Melinda before Elle, who was lingering nervously behind you, feels the need to drag you away. Hurrying back to the entrance hall, you approach Master Teilhard and nod a brisk greeting. There’s an awkward mood in the air, a great cold distance between the old soldier and Gratia that persists even as you shake hands. You shudder to think of what they were talking about before you arrived. Maybe they weren’t saying anything at all.“Master Pale. I’m glad to have a chance to speak with you,” Master Teilhard begins, “I need to exchange pleasantries with a few old associates, but then we have much to discuss – in private.”“There’s a number of discrete rooms further into the estate,” Alex answers quickly, “Come and find me when you’re ready, I can show you through.”“Excellent,” the soldier dismisses Alex with a curt nod, then guides you a few paces away. “This is not how I would have liked this to unfold,” he mutters, “But we needed an opportunity to meet under a degree of secrecy.”“Quite so,” you agree, looking around at the assembled crowd, “This is very secret.”The corner of his mouth twitches in what might be a smirk, “Our meeting is no secret, but the purpose behind that meeting is,” he corrects himself, “I trust that you will be discrete about this, at least in the short term. It likely won’t be long before-”A commotion from the front door cuts him off, and you all turn to see what the fuss is all about. A new arrival stands in the doorway, though the announcer remains awkwardly silent. Two burly servants – guards in a polite disguise – linger as if waiting for orders to throw out the new arrival.“If nobody is going to introduce me, then I shall do it myself,” the new arrival announces in a clear, clipped voice, “Miss Juno Tomoe!”A suspicious murmur runs through the crowd, but nobody moves. They all just stare at her – until, finally, the stillness is broken. Brushing through the crowd, Gratia walks up to Juno before dropping into a low curtsy before her. Taking her wrist, Gratia places a delicate kiss on the back of Juno’s hand. “Miss Tomoe, I am delighted to finally meet you,” she murmurs, but loud enough for the whole hall to hear, “I welcome you to our home.”A stunned silence engulfs the whole room. Even Juno is silent, a faint blush darkening her cheeks as she stands awkwardly in place. With the ghost of a smirk on her face, Gratia rises to her feet before turning around, daring anyone in the assembled crowd to protest. They all flinch back before her stare, then return to their own conversations with deliberate, almost frantic, attempts at normality.
>>6291304“This may be an issue,” Sakhalin murmurs, joining you and Master Teilhard.“Perhaps,” the old soldier growls, “Was she invited, Master Pale?”“I invited her,” Elle announces, before you can say anything. She looks at both Sakhalin and Master Teilhard with defiance in her eyes, challenging them to argue back.A challenge that Master Teilhard is only too happy to accept. “Then you need to withdraw that invitation, Miss Legrasse,” he orders, “Tell her that it was a misunderstanding, a clerical error, a terrible lapse of judgement. I don’t care what excuse you use, but she has to leave.”“I don’t think she does,” the oracle counters, refusing to back down even an inch, “Juno Tomoe has been a friend and ally. She has every right to be here.”Perhaps so, but very important people aren’t happy to see her.>I’ll talk with Juno. I’ll get her to leave>Juno can stay. As Elle says, she’s a friend>Gentlemen, you're welcome to try and make her leave>Other
>>6291245>Gratia Pale - Formal.jpgBoys, I'm back on team wincest. not really, it's too late>>6288444>Regardless of the pitch, men and women have different tone patterns (at least in English).Speech therapy for trans women involves shifting resonance, intonation, and speech timing, to match the wider pitch range and variability of women. Assuming puberty didn't give Ariel a naturally deep voice, being raised literally from birth as a girl would probably mean picking up all the cues. Sicne we didn't go teh roamnce route and Bard is a gentleman, we don't really know if Ariel went through puberty or is some sort of castrati in service of the ruse, for that matter.>>6291307>Other"Juno can stay. She is an excellent resource in the work I am doing for The King. I'm sure if you take a moment to consider all that she has access to -- places, information -- you will understand why."
>>6291307>Are you quite certain? I believe the Master Tomoe is still convalescing. This might be a rare opportunity to interact with an "acting head" of Tomoe.>Besides, the crowd looks like they're ready to lump her in with Gratia already. May as well discuss those important matters before we lose the time to some social faux pax.
>>6291307>Juno can stay. As Elle says, she’s a friendA very dear friend
>>6291307> A Tomoe crashing a party is expected, trying to chase them out would be draw attention and suspicion. Juno actively loathes her Father and his workings, she's the least bad Tomoe we could ask for and given she's in a power struggle with her father would be a boon in picking out his agents.>While it's not what i would have done, Elle doesn't do things for no reason and i trust her judgement.
“Juno can stay,” you agree, folding your arms and giving the older men a stubborn glare, “She has proven herself to be an excellent resource in the work that I’ve been doing for King Albrecht. I’m sure that if you take a moment to think about that, the places and information that she has access to, I’m sure that you’ll see what I mean.”“That may be so, Master Pale, but this meeting was devised to avoid information leaking to… certain parties,” Sakhalin says in a low, cautious voice, “Parties that Miss Tomoe may be in contact with.”“Oh, to hell with it!” Master Tomoe snarls, “We don’t want to the Tomoe to know what we’re doing here, especially not their fiend of a patriarch. That much is hardly a secret at this point.”“As far as I’m aware, Master Tomoe is still convalescing – recovering from a particularly bad injury. I’m not sure if he’s in any position to be gathering information. On the other hand, you now have a rare opportunity to meet with the acting head of the Tomoe family,” you counter, “Especially when the acting head of the family has no particular love for that patriarch that you so detest. Whatever you’re planning, there might be some advantage here for you to exploit.”This seems to change things, a calculating curiosity passing across Sakhalin’s face. He gives Master Teilhard a look, an unspoken urge for him to be patient. Grudgingly, the soldier gestures for you to continue.“While I might not have done things in exactly the same way, I trust Elle’s judgement. She wouldn’t have done this if she didn’t have good reason to,” you continue, “Besides, that’s all irrelevant now. Gratia seems quite taken with her, and I think you’ll find it rather difficult to force her to leave without causing a scene. How “secret” would that be?”Sakhalin and Master Teilhard trade a look, frustration plain to see on both faces. You’ve got them there.“And you’re forgetting the most important thing,” you conclude, “She’s a friend, and I say that she can stay. That’s the end of it.”Both men turn away, whispering curt words to each other. Judging by the brusque hand gestures, neither one is very happy about the situation. Yet, you sense a flicker of curiosity from them too. There is potential here, they seem to be thinking. Potential for triumph and disaster both.“Very well, Master Pale. She stays,” Master Teilhard decides, “But I suggest you keep a close watch on her.”You look over to where Juno and Gratia are locked in an intense conversation, a far cry from the disinterest that Melinda mentioned. Juno still has a vaguely dazed look on her face, as if she can’t quite believe what just happened, but keenly follows along with Gratia’s words.“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” you remark.[1]
>>6291321>the waifu we reject gets snapped up by our twin sisterkek
>>6291321Master Teilhard stalks off to pay his social dues, but not before extracting a promise to meet later from you. As he commands, you’ll drop everything and run when the time comes. That might still be some time, however. Men like him have a great many friendships, and even more alliances to maintain. He probably keeps a list just to remember them all.“Dear brother,” Gratia purrs as you join her, “Why didn’t you introduce me to Miss Tomoe sooner? I’ve been missing out.”“Isambard,” Juno says, trying to sound tough, “Are you here to throw me out?”“Not at all,” you answer, shaking your head, “You can stay. Just try not to ruffle too many feathers while you’re here, will you?”“No pun intended,” Gratia adds with a sly smile, running a hand through the black feathers adorning her dress, “Although…”Elle clears her throat loudly. “Thank you for coming, Miss Tomoe. I admit, when I sent that invitation I did have some doubts as to whether you’d be able to attend or not,” she begins, “I can see that you’ve already met Gratia. Try not to tire her out, she’s had quite the ordeal. We don’t want her getting overwhelmed.”“Oh hush, I’m fine,” the silver-haired girl waves away Elle’s concern, “Actually, I’m finally starting to enjoy myself.”“If you’re not going to throw me out, Isambard, then could you give me a moment of your time?” Juno asks, her eyes flicking briefly between Elle and Gratia, “We should talk. In private.”-Returning to the balcony, you lean against the railing and gaze out across the crowds below. Juno stands beside you, looking down at the people with vague distaste. “So,” you begin, as the silence draws out, “How are things at home?”“The same as they always are,” Juno answers calmly, “Worse, actually. Something bad is going to happen.”“To you, me, or the whole world?”“All of the above,” she laughs, “At the risk of sounding like some kind of Rhyl fanatic, we’re all equal in that regard. Don’t bother asking me about it, Isambard. I don’t have much to say, and I’d rather not spoil my good mood by talking about what little I do know. The dark clouds might be gathering on the horizon, but they haven’t arrived yet.”“I’ll drink to that,” you remark, raising your glass. Juno does the same, before looking back down into the crowd. “You’re together, aren’t you?” she asks quietly, her gaze falling on Elle. You hesitate for a moment, then nod. “How inconvenient,” the redhead sighs, “Now I’m going to have to seduce one of you and spoil it all. As if I wasn’t busy enough already!”“How inconsiderate of me!” you laugh, shaking your head in amusement.“Do you know what I like about you?” Juno says with a slight smile, “The fact that you knew I was joking. Most of those people down there wouldn’t. Because that’s what WE do, isn’t it? We ruin things.”[2]
>>6291334Juno’s words hang in the air for a moment, their bitterness seeming to seep into the air. Despite what she said about not wanting to spoil the mood, Juno seems to have done that all by herself. “Speaking of seduction…” you remark, hoping to lighten the mood, “You and Gratia seem to be getting along well.”“That…” Juno hesitates, “Don’t misunderstand, it’s nothing serious. I know exactly what she’s doing.”You wait a moment, but Juno refuses to elaborate. Instead, she pushes back from the balcony and starts to walk away. “I’m sick of staring at those arrogant fools down there,” she declares, “I want some real privacy. Take me to your bedroom.”“Uh…”“Oh, don’t get any funny ideas.”-You’re not sure why Juno wants to see your bedroom, and you’re even less sure why you allow it. But you do, guiding her down the estate corridors until you arrive at your bedroom and waving her inside. She walks inside in silence, gazing around with cold, curious eyes. “Interesting,” she remarks at last, “If you died tomorrow and someone found this room, they would think you were a collector of eccentricities.”“Probably because of all the eccentricities I’ve collected,” you counter, “Your family has provided a few of them, unless you’ve forgotten.”“I remember,” she answers simply.“Now, are you going to tell me why you wanted to come here?” you ask, leaning back against the door.Juno looks around at you, a smirk tugging at one corner of her mouth. “The rest of the estate has been thoroughly cleaned, but I assumed that you wouldn’t allow the servants in here. Therefore, your bedroom would be in its natural state, untouched by anyone other than you,” she explains, “A room like that can reveal a lot about its owner.”“Oh really?” you press, “And what does this room say about me?”Your only answer is a secretive smile. Turning away from you, Juno starts to poke through some of the trinkets strewn across your desk. That’s when she freezes, stopping dead in her tracks. With a slightly unsteady hand, she holds up the gold charm you received from Justine. It glints faintly in the low light, the tiny images of death and rebirth little more than dark spots on the worn trinket.“Let me have this,” Juno says, her voice low and hard, “I mean… may I have this?”“That?” you peer at the charm, “Why?”“My family has been very generous, Isambard, now I’m asking for something in return,” she insists, staring you dead in the eye, “I’d like to have this.”It’s true that you have no real use for the charm, having learnt its Lessons, but…>Fine, take it. Call it a gift from my family to yours>I’m sorry, but I can’t let you have that. It’s not mine to give>You can have it, but only if you tell me why you want it>Other
>>6291343>You can have it, but only if you tell me why you want itWe can play games of intrigue, too.
>>6291343>You can have it, but only if you tell me why you want it
>>6291343>You can have it, but only if you tell me why you want itI’m curious
With a swift movement, you reach over and snatch the charm out of Juno’s hand. Any other time, she would have closed her fist around it before you could act, but today – with her composure already shaken – she’s too slow. Clutching at empty air, Juno turns to you with a flash of anger in her eyes. “You can have this little thing,” you tell her, “But only if you tell me why you want it.”Juno hesitates for a moment, even biting her lip as she thinks. It must be something deeply personal, or she wouldn’t be so reluctant to explain herself. The armour that she must have built up over the long, difficult years of her life isn’t so easy to remove. “I’ve seen that…” she begins, before pausing and choosing her next words very carefully, “I’ve seen a charm very much like that one before.”When she realises that you’re not going to be satisfied with just that, she slumps back in your chair. “What’s your earliest memory?” she asks.“Here, the estate,” you answer, “I’m walking, or maybe crawling, through one of the corridors here. Gratia is with me, though I can’t see her. There’s nobody else around. Not my father, not Alex, nobody. Just the two of us, and the estate itself. But I’m not frightened at all. That’s it.”“How boring. I was hoping to find some childhood trauma.”“No, I’ve repressed all of that,” you quip, “What’s your point?”“Shut up for a minute and I’ll get to that,” Juno scowls at you, “My earliest memory. I’m young, obviously. I’m lying in my crib, with the bright sunlight shining through the window. There’s a woman in the room with me. My… mother. But I can’t see her face. The light shining through the window is too bright. Then someone else, my father, enters the room. She has something in his hands, and he puts it around her neck. It’s gold, I can see it glinting in the light. I can see it so clearly, even down to the markings on it.”She pauses here, holding out her hand. You pass the charm across, gently placing it into her open palm. Still silent, she traces some of the tiny designs with one finger.“I remember my father saying something,” she continues, “He said “with this, you are one of us”. That’s when I started to cry. He left, and the woman… my mother started to pick me up. But that’s where my memory ends.”You say nothing as Juno turns over the charm, reading the defaced name on the back. “Galatea Tomoe. That must have been the name HE gave her,” she muses, “I wonder who she was before…”With a deep sigh, Juno carefully lifts the charm over her head and leaves it to rest amidst all the other delicate gold chains she wears. “Thank you, Isambard,” she murmurs, a gentle smile forming on her lips, “It’s such a little thing, but… this means a lot to me. Thank you.”[1]
>>6291383You both sit in silence for a few long minutes, both lost in your own contemplation. You think back to Justine, with her red hair and eyes, so much like the girl now sitting opposite her. If not for all the other distractions you’d been contending with, you might have put the pieces together sooner. You start to say something, but Juno senses what you’re about to say and holds up a hand to silence you.“Don’t. Please don’t,” she pleads, “I… don’t want to know. Not where you got this, not who owned it before. I don’t want to know.”“...Why?” you ask simply.“Because it’s easier to live in this world without attachments,” Juno answers, her smile turning sad, “I’ve grown used to this hole in my heart. It’s too late to change that now.”“I don’t… understand.”“That’s fine,” she murmurs, “I’m not asking you to understand.”As the silence returns, drawing out longer and longer, you find yourself leaning towards Juno. There’s a strange mood in the room, an air of secrecy and intrigue, of things left unspoken. A mood shared only between the two of you, and utterly shattered by the firm knock that rings out from the door.“Isambard, lad, are you in there?” Alex calls out, his voice muffled by the thick wood, “You’re needed downstairs.”You wince. Juno waves a hand towards the door, her expression closed off and cold once more. “I’m here, Alex,” you reply, “I’ll be down in a minute.”“I don’t think our guests will wait a-” he insists as he opens the door, only to fall silent when he sees Juno sitting opposite you. “Miss Tomoe,” he continues at last, his voice cautious, “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”“I’m sure you’re thinking all kinds of tediously predictable things, and every single one of them is wrong. Nothing was happening, and nothing was GOING to happen,” Juno rises to her feet and starts to leave, brushing past Alex in the doorway before glancing back to you, “Thank you, Isambard. I’d better go and mingle with your charming guests. They must be feeling safe and comfortable without me around, and that just won’t do, will it?”“Have fun,” you reply, offering her a sarcastic wave as she leaves.Alex waits for a few minutes, watching Juno walk away before he turns back to you. “It’s Master Teilhard and the others,” he explains in a low voice, “They’re waiting for you.”You did make a promise, you suppose.Time to see what this farce is all about.>Going to pause here for today. I’ll be continuing tomorrow, possibly for a shorter session but I’m not sure how long/short>Thank you for playing today!
>>6291401Oh man, Justine's her mom?? I wonder how she got away from them.Thanks for running!
>>6291406Probably killed the people tracking her, let's face it Janos isn't a great dude in general. There's a reason she's now a church wetwork agent instead of a saint.>>6291401Interesting, TFR Moloch!
>>6291401Thanks for running!Time to go back to Justine and tell her we found her daughter
>>6291417I think she knwos who her daughter is pretty well, and is avoiding her to avoid being recaptured.
>>6291401Can we give Juno a folded note with Justine's info and tell her to read if she ever gets tired from that hole?
>>6291334>“How inconvenient,” the redhead sighs, “Now I’m going to have to seduce one of you and spoil it all. As if I wasn’t busy enough already!”I know people like Elle and she is probably good for Bard in the long run…But man, Juno is still best girl and scenes like this prove why
>>6291326>Gratia is kind of maybe into Juno>Bard was (?) kind of maybe into ArielThat checks out
The low roar of conversation swells and grows as you return to the main part of the estate, and the tiresome crowds filling it. The party seems to have continued without change in your absence, your departure unnoticed by all save for your few close companions. You pause for a moment at the balcony, even as Alex lingers uneasily behind you, just to look out across the masses once more. You’re not sure what it is that you’re looking for, though eventually your gaze falls on an unfamiliar young man. He’s a few years younger than you are, you’d judge, but his eyes are already cold and jaded.“Who is that?” you ask Alex, discretely pointing towards the young man, “I don’t recognise him.”“He arrived with Master Teilhard. I believe the announcer said his name was Erwin,” Alex answers, “One of the bright new stars of the family. He’s quite highly spoken of.”“He doesn’t look like he’s having much fun.”“No, he doesn’t,” Alex agrees, “Do you want me to check on him?”You consider this for a moment, then shake your head. “No, leave him be,” you decide, “Anyway, we’ve left our guests waiting quite long enough.”Alex, always tactful, says nothing.-There’s a conspiratorial air in the drawing room when you arrive, an ill mood that makes you think of dark secrets and drawn daggers. Somehow, it makes the room feel much smaller than it actually is, as if you were all crammed together for space. Master Teilhard, Sakhalin, Cato and Elle sit around a low table, evidently waiting for your arrival.“My apologies for the delay, I was unavoidable detained,” you begin, taking a seat, “I’m here now, you can get started.”“Very gracious of you, Isambard,” Cato remarks, the faintest hint of a smile passing across his face.“I’ll get straight to the point,” Master Teilhard announces in a hard voice, “The attempts on Saint Lucille’s life have got the people on edge. As you all know, the mood in the nation has been unsettled for some time already, and this latest incident is like a spark on tinder. There is a fear that if something is not done, and fast, there may be greater unrest. We are making plans to move against House Tomoe.”“Hold on,” you interrupt, looking to Cato, “The Tomoe weren’t involved in Amaryllis. You know that, Cato. This is pointless.”“We have read the reports from Amaryllis, yes,” Sakhalin counters, his voice low and level, “You are basing this off the words of a prisoner, this Facilitator, and nothing more. He may very well have been covering for his true masters.”“This is just political. You’re looking for a scapegoat,” you mutter, your words growing louder and louder as you go on, “The people want blood, and you’re more than happy to give it to them. The last thing we need right now is more bloodshed. By seeking to avoid this “unrest”, you all risk dragging us into a far greater calamity!”[1/2]
>>6291899“We do not seek bloodshed,” Sakhalin says as your angry words echo through the room, “But there must be an investigation, a thorough investigation. Janus Tomoe may be innocent, but we must confirm this ourselves. If this cult, if that is truly what it is, was responsible for the attempts on Saint Lucille’s life, we must establish what the Tomoe know. If these two groups are indeed opposed to each other, the Tomoe may even be able to… assist us.”“We plan on assembling a number of soldiers and assuming temporary control over Boleskine House. It must be searched, and searched well, for any evidence that may incriminate the Tomoe or prove their innocence. Though he may be in poor health, as Miss Tomoe claims, we will need to interview Master Tomoe,” Master Teilhard explains, “Such is the reason for our secrecy. If the Tomoe are guilty, and they learn of our plans in advance, they may take steps to conceal their involvement.”“And you’re going along with this?” you ask Cato, “You’re hunting again?”A wince briefly flashes across Cato’s face. “I intend to accompany the soldiers and rein in their worst excesses,” he answers, “Many of them are angry, but I have no desire to see that anger cloud their reason.”“We would like your help,” Sakhalin says, nodding to you, “You know the Tomoe better than many of us. Your insights would be greatly appreciated.”“Though, as you said, we have another expert here,” Master Teilhard leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, “We must decide what to do about Miss Tomoe. In all likelihood, she already suspects that we’re preparing to move against her family. There is a risk that she may inform her father.”“I doubt that,” you argue, “You’ll also remember that I said there was no lost love between them.”“Maybe so, but an outside enemy has a way of uniting a troubled family,” Cato suggests, “Master Pale. We’ve been discussing our options. Do you think Miss Tomoe could be convinced to side with us?”“Possibly, but I don’t know for certain,” you admit, “What would be the alternative?”“Taking her into custody until we complete our investigation,” Master Teilhard says bluntly, “That would be the only way to prevent her from speaking with her father. But that would be unpleasant for all parties involve. I would prefer not to take such measures, especially if she might otherwise give us some leverage over her father.”“Miss Legrasse,” Sakhalin says softly, “You have been very quiet.”“I just wish…” Elle hesitates, “I just wish we could leave her alone. Let her have a normal life, even just for a little bit.”“These are not normal times,” Sakhalin gently reminds her.>We can trust Juno to help us. Let’s bring her in and talk it over>Juno doesn’t know anything yet. Just leave her be>The risk is too great. We can keep Juno here until your operation is complete>Other
>>6291900>How about I take her into the Demense? It's a long, long distance from Tomoe lands, and we can be off doing something useful instead of letting her waste time playing prisoner.This is still a raw deal for her, though. Even if we have multiple secret exits for the Demense.>I believe the greatest pain point for her would be the loss of....resources. If you have some means of guaranteeing there won't be "unofficial confiscations", I daresay she'd even give you multiple lists of people.>Cato, what did Justine have to say about this?>Oh, and if you find some strange spindly mutants in some godforsaken basement, don't assume it's dead after a single shot to the head.
>>6291900>We can trust Juno to help us. Let’s bring her in and talk it over>Why not blame the Rhyl for this if we need a scapegoat?I doubt Juno would be cooperative, but she should know about this. Offering to take her into the Demesne like the other anon suggested likely wouldn't be enough of a compromise for her, but it'd probably help slightly.There was also that Rhyl dude we were offered to assassinate. Though I'm guessing that Erwin already offed him.
>>6291906+1>>6291911But do ask about that one Rhyl guy, get a status update.>Offering to take her into the Demesne like the other anon suggested likely wouldn't be enough of a compromise for herWait till she meets her great-x-great-grandfather
>>6291900>We can trust Juno to help us. Let’s bring her in and talk it overWe did just give her that sick relic
“I think we should bring Juno in and talk this over with her. At least hear her out, see what she’s able to tell us. If you really want to keep her out of the way after that, I’ve got an idea,” you suggest, “What about the Demesne? It’s about as out of the way as you can get, and she won’t be able to interfere with your plans there. It would be kinder than locking her in some dingy prison cell somewhere, at least.”“Kindness is not our main concern, Master Pale,” Master Teilhard points out, “Regardless, the church may not approve of your idea.”“Leave that to me,” Cato says quietly, a firm edge to his voice.A brief silence falls, Sakhalin and Master Teilhard swapping an unreadable glance. Then, eventually, the old soldier lets out a heavy sigh. “Fine. So be it,” he grunts, “So long as you can keep the girl from talking with her father until we launch our operation, I don’t care where you do with her. Miss Legrasse, please bring her in. Let’s see if she’s willing to cooperate.”With a pained look on her face, Elle gets to her feet and hurries out. When she’s gone, Master Teilhard leans back in his chair and massages his temple. He looks tired, you notice, weary beyond his years. “If you’re really looking for a scapegoat, why not Rhyl?” you suggest, filling in the tense silence, “An outside enemy has a way of reuniting a troubled family, remember?”“There are certainly forces within Rhyl who may seek revenge for… certain recent actions,” Sakhalin says delicately, choosing his words with care, “An attempt on the Saint’s life would be a logical response.”“Blame Rhyl, and the people would soon clamour for war. At least with the Tomoe, we can keep this problem within our own borders,” Master Teilhard shakes his head, “No, I fear that blaming Rhyl would cause more problems than it would solve.”The logic is sound, but you’re more interested in Sakhalin’s ambiguous words. “Should I assume, then, that our friend in Rhyl is no longer in the business of agitation?” you ask, “Permanently retired, even?”“That he is,” Sakhalin bows his head, “Young Master Teilhard has recently returned from his travels in Rhyl, and he brought us this good news.”“Young Erwin holds a great deal of promise,” Master Teilhard says, a note of pride burning in his voice, “I see a bright future for that boy. You might get to work with him one day, Master Pale.”Perhaps you’re being paranoid, but there’s a lot of different ways you could interpret that – and not all of them are pleasant. You answer his remarks with an ambiguous smile, erring on the side of caution. Cato seems to sense the same thing, awkwardly clearing his throat as he searches for something to say. “It’s a shame that Justine wasn’t able to make it,” you remark, taking pity on him, “Has she said anything about this operation?”[1]
>>6291906+1
>>6291927“Lady Justine said very much the same as you did, Isambard. She believes that this operation is a waste of time, a false trail that we’re all too eager to take,” Cato recalls, his eyes narrowing slightly, “She was quite frank. Quite… open with her opinions.”“Lady Justine doesn’t have to worry about the wider political implications,” Master Teilhard snarls.There’s a part of you that wishes you could have been a part of that conversation, and a part of you that’s very glad you weren’t.-Juno wears a sullen expression on her face when Elle finally brings her to the makeshift interrogation room. Sitting down at the far end of the table, as far away from everyone else as possible, she crosses her arms and scowls. “Miss Tomoe,” Sakhalin begins, “We would like to ask you some questions.”“If this is about the silverware, then you’ve got the wrong person,” Juno replies, “I didn’t steal anything.”“What silverware?” you ask, glaring at her.“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she shoots back, “Why are you bringing up silverware all of a sudden?”You’re about to argue back when Master Teilhard smacks his fist down against the table, the harsh clatter sounding almost deafeningly loud in the small room. “Miss Tomoe. You will answer only the questions that we ask of you. Do not attempt to change the subject, do not attempt to distract us. It will not work,” he warns, “Are you aware that several attempts have recently been made on Saint Lucille’s life?”Juno’s eyes narrow to hard, vicious slits. “I may have seen some mention of that in the news,” she answers, “I don’t really care much either way. I hear that Saints are rather replaceable these days.”“We believe the men responsible may have some links with your family,” Master Teilhard continues, ignoring Juno’s flippant remarks, “Do you have anything to say about that?”“Only that you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Juno hisses, “I will happily take the blame for all that I have done, all that my family has done, but we will NOT be blamed for someone else’s crime. Maybe you should be looking for the real culprits, rather than trying to intimidate me.”You know that Juno can change her face, her mood, as easily as she changes her clothes, but her outrage seems genuine. You can feel the anger in her words, hear it in the slight tremor buried deep within her voice. There’s a part of that anger directed towards you, you realise, for your apparent complicity in all this.“We intend to speak with your father about this. We are not blaming you, or him, as you say, Miss Tomoe,” Sakhalin tells her calmly, trying to cool the mood, “But we must establish the facts. If your family attempts to conceal the truth from us, we will have no choice but to assume the worst.”“Bullshit,” Juno mutters to herself.[2]
>>6291948Damn Elle, you didn’t tell her what this was about? Just sent her in without warning? Ice cold
>>6291966If she'd told her, Juno probably would have just left.
>>6291948“I think that’s enough,” you cut in, before any more questions can be asked, “It’s just like I said before, the Tomoe weren’t involved in this. You can’t make her tell you something she doesn’t know.”“Thank you,” Juno stresses, rolling her eyes, “So, am I free to go?”“No,” Master Teilhard answers bluntly. Juno’s eyes widen, then her lips twist into a bitter snarl. Before she can blurt out something truly obscene, Elle places a hand on her shoulder. Biting her tongue, Juno slouches back in her chair and waves a hand at Master Teilhard. “Because of the risk that you’ll warn your father about our investigation, we will be leaving you in Master Pale’s care for the time being,” the old soldier explains, “I suggest you make yourself at home.”Juno scowls, but says nothing. You’re really going to get it in the neck later.“Master Pale,” Sakhalin says, “We will leave you to decide the arrangements. However, I would suggest you remain close in case we need to make contact.”“Wonderful,” you sigh, “Well, fine. Just leave it with me. Oh, but if you do marching into the Tomoe lands, do be careful of the Undercity. There are strange things living there, and I don’t think they want visitors.”“The Undercity?” Master Teilhard asks, his voice sharpening.“Get a load of these guys,” Juno snorts, “They don’t even know about the Undercity…”“A sprawling labyrinth beneath the Tomoe lands, a relic of every city that has been burned and buried there,” you explain, “I’ve explored it a little, but barely scratched the surface.”Master Teilhard and Sakhalin share another glance. “We may need more soldiers,” Sakhalin suggests quietly.-With the decision apparently made, the room slowly empties. Cato is the last to leave, glancing back and giving you an apologetic look. This hasn’t gone the way he had been expecting either, the look seems to say. When he leaves, Juno lets her head roll back and lets out a groan of frustration. “I’m going to need some clean clothes, you know,” she points out, plucking at the thin strap of her dress, “I’m not going to wear THIS for days on end.”“I’ll take care of that,” Elle assures her, “I can go into town tomorrow and pick up a few things. Until then, I’m sure I’ve got a few things that you might be able to fit into.”“Sure, whatever,” Juno mutters, glancing away and staring into the empty space before whispering a few more words to herself, “This isn’t how things were supposed to go…”Is that hope in her voice, you wonder, or fear?>I’m going to have to pause here and do some prep work – I’ve just about hit the end of my notes. I’ll be running again next Saturday, same usual schedule>Thank you for reading today!
>>6291981Thanks for running!The kingdom really likes to impose on poor fallen house Pale
>>6291989The weak suffer what we must. We need to start repopulating the house ASAP so we aren't an easy target.>>6291981Thanks for running!
>>6292000>We need to start repopulating the house ASAP so we aren't an easy target.A few wives would help with that…just sayin
>>6292220>child of the Magna Mater has children of his ownI can see no possible problems arising from this.
>>6292625>Uncle Alex will have to help deal with themHe's in for some crazy shit later
The sight of Juno Tomoe wearing nothing but an oversized white shirt borrowed – stolen – from your wardrobe is not one that you ever expected to see, but these are strange times. She pretends not to notice your surprise, yawning and slouching a little lower in her chair as you slowly sit opposite her. It’s still early, early enough that you didn’t think anyone else was awake. That, as much as her state of dress, is what surprised you.“By all means, take a good look,” Juno teases, reaching down to lift the hem of her shirt, “Do you need to check me over for any hidden weapons?”“That won’t be necessary,” you answer quickly, gesturing for her to leave her shirt be. She lets the hem drop back down, but not before you catch the slightest glimpse of neatly trimmed red hair. “Here,” you continue, dropping an envelope down on the low table beside her.Juno peers at the envelope. “What is this?” she asks, not quite reaching out for it.“Everything I know about your… about the previous owner of that charm,” you explain, pointing to the little glint of gold around her neck, “I know you said that you didn’t want to know, but think of it as an insurance policy. If something was to happen to me, and you ever felt like filling that hole in your heart…”Saying nothing, Juno picks up the envelope and starts to move it towards a candle. But she stops, her hand freezing in place a tiny distance away from the open flame. Then, with a sigh, she drops the envelope back down on the table. “Damn you,” she mutters, “You’re so annoying.”“I like to think of myself as “considerate”, actually.”“That’s why you’re so annoying.”-Alex, somewhat jaded by now, barely pauses when he sees Juno sitting at the dining table in her borrowed shirt. He just gives you a dubious look, no doubt assuming the worst, and goes on about his day. Still, it reminds you that you should at least pretend to make an effort to fix her clothing situation. “So,” you begin, gesturing vaguely towards her bare legs, “What are we going to do about-”“Miss Legrasse has already gone into town to look for some clothes,” Juno interrupts, allowing herself a wistful smile, “She knows my measurements.”“I see,” you reply, struggling to find something else to say in order to change the subject. “I’ve been thinking about your father,” you add at last, “Do you think he knows anything?”Juno raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I see how it is. They try to scare some answers out of me, while you offer a friendly face. Sorry, but that’s the oldest trick in the book,” she sneers, “You mustn’t think very highly of me, if you thought I’d fall for that.”“It looks bad, I know,” you admit with a grimace, “Would you believe me if I said it was a genuine question?”“I believe you,” Juno remarks, “If they really wanted to trick me, they’d send someone better than you.”[1/2]
>>6295002“In truth, I really don’t know what father might say if confronted. He’s rarely lucid these days. I fear that he may say something that your honourable friends will eagerly interpret as a confession of guilt,” Juno explains with a low sigh, “But I feel… fairly certain that he had nothing to do with these attempts on the Saint’s life.”“But not entirely certain.”Juno raises her hands in an exasperated shrug. That man, her gesture seems to say, is capable of anything.-“I’m sorry,” Elle says, “But this is all I was able to get for you. I was lucky to get what I did on such short notice.”“It’s fine. Just give me some warning next time you plan on kidnapping me, and I’ll pack an overnight bag,” Juno mutters, casting a suspicious look at the neatly folded clothes, “They’ll do. I was expecting more lace and frills, considering your taste in clothes.”With that, she stalks off to get changed before Elle can get a word in. The door clicks shut, and Elle lets out a low sigh. “I’m really not sure about all this,” she whispers to you, “We shouldn’t be turning on each other at a time like this. All the noble families should be working together. We may be strong on our own, but we’re even stronger when we’re united.”“Sounds like you’re reading from one of the Saint’s speeches,” you tease, “I’m telling myself that this is all just an obligation, something they’ve got to go through. Keeping up appearances.”“Unless something goes terribly wrong,” Elle murmurs, glancing briefly at the closed door, “What are we going to do with her?”“Kill the time somehow,” you shrug, “I thought she might like to see the Demesne, maybe even meet her ancestor.”A frown passes across Elle’s face. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asks, “That man… I know he may have helped you, helped us get to where we are today, but that doesn’t mean he’s our friend, or even our ally. I worry that… this is going to sound silly, but I worry that he’d be a bad influence on Juno.”“Or he might be a good influence,” you counter, “A member of her family, however distant, who isn’t complete scum.”Unless he’s even worse than Janus Tomoe, and just much better at hiding his true nature.>Maybe it’s best if we call this whole thing off, stay at the estate instead>I want to show Juno the Demesne, but you’re right. Meeting Kalthos is a bad idea>I think Juno has a right to meet her ancestor. I want to take her to meet Kalthos>Other
>>6295003>If we go into the demense with her , if Kalthos wishes to meet her he’ll find us. But I reckon she should see the hullabaloo at least once. Besides there isn’t much else for her to do here.
>>6295003>I want to show Juno the Demesne. Beyond that, that's up to Juno and Kalthos. While I couldn't hope to control that slippery old man, now, more than ever, Juno deserves the freedom to choose.I still wonder what the deal was with the poison. Does Gratia know anything about it? If it's a way to resist the Stryx, it's certainly something to keep in mind.
“I do want to show Juno the Demesne. I mean, it’s a lot more interesting than just sitting around here all day. I’m not sure if my nerves could take all that waiting around,” you muse, “As for Kalthos… well, I couldn’t hope to control that slippery old fiend. If he wants to find us, find Juno, he’ll find us. If he doesn’t want us to see him, he’ll be invisible.”“And if he does come and find us?”“Then it’s up to Juno,” you shrug, “After everything she’s been through, I think she deserves the freedom to make her own decision.”Elle thinks about this for a moment, then lets out a low sigh. “I suppose you’re right,” she concedes, “I shouldn’t be so overprotective. I’ve just got a terrible feeling about all this, and I can’t shake the feeling that…”But she doesn’t finish that thought, letting her sentence trail away to nothing as Juno returns. She wears a simple grey dress, the outfit making her seem somehow younger – more innocent, perhaps. “Do you realise how suspicious it looks when you both fall silent as soon as I enter the room?” she demands, scowling at you and Elle, “I don’t even need to ask if you were talking about me behind my back.”“Of course we were talking about you,” Elle says with a smile, “What else is there to talk about around here?”“Good answer,” Juno decides, stalking past you, “Well, let’s get on with it then. I’m curious to see if the Demesne will accept a wicked soul like me, or if it’ll spit me straight back out.”-Your trip through the forest is thankfully peaceful, with no visits from your unearthly guest. Gratia is waiting for you outside the great hollow tree, idly staring up at the morning sky. Aside from a curt nod of greeting, she doesn’t say anything before guiding you all inside. You glance back at Juno’s face as you start down the white stone steps, trying to judge her emotions. Her face is carefully blank, her true feelings hidden away.“May I ask how long you’ve had a staircase into the Demesne in your back garden?” the redhead asks as you’re descending the stairs. Though her words have a sarcastic edge to them, you sense a genuine curiosity.“I imagine it’s been here longer than the estate itself,” you reply, “I certainly didn’t dig it.”“No, that would be too much like hard work.”“Hey, I can dig!” you protest, “Just ask Cato – I spent a good few days digging trenches with him.”Juno doesn’t continue the argument, either because she can’t think of a rebuttal or doesn’t care to give one. Either way, you finish the descend in silence. Taking Juno’s hand, you force your way through the seal and step out into the cavernous hall. Even with all her attempts at composure, Juno can’t stop a quiet gasp from escaping her lips as she gazes around the unnatural space.“Juno Tomoe,” you announce, feeling an absurd pride, “Welcome to the Demesne.”[1]
>>6295018>“Hey, I can dig!” you protest, “Just ask Cato – I spent a good few days digging trenches with him.”Funny how Bard says it like he's actually proud of that. Maybe he secretly likes all this cool archaeology work despite the nasties around it constantly trying to kill him and his best (only) friends. This sort of Teilhard-esque manual labor is unlike how he would be before as the full-on edgelord of the start of the quest. I wonder what Gratia thinks about the Teilhards infecting his poor dear brother. Probably will feel the same way after she somehow drags Ariel into her pants
>>6295021>Funny how Bard says it like he's actually proud of thatAND IMMEDIATELY AFTER I TYPE THIS OUT AND POST IT I NOTICE>you announce, feeling an absurd prideThe Indiana Jones brand of adventure archaeology and ruin-diving and maze-exploring and monster-shooting has INFECTED this poor noble white-haired prettyboy. Just like his father who also went to obscure places for clues to stop the birds and unfuck his mess, except I bet his father suppressed the fuck out of it in his old age, or it didn't affect him as much with said age.
>>6295018Your pride doesn’t last, soon replaced by a creeping anxiety as you lead Juno towards the fourth layer. She hasn’t said anything yet, hasn’t taken notice of the other corridors leading away from the cavernous hall, but the worry remains. You’d prefer it if she didn’t ask, because then you’d have to find some way of lying to her. At least one of the entrances leads back up to the Tomoe Undercity, but Juno doesn’t need to know that.Fortunately, the sheer size of the room is enough to dull her sense of curiosity. The only time her attention strays from the distance exit is when she notices a small group of Denizens. They slowly turn to follow your progress with their lifeless eyes as you pass them by, but otherwise remain motionless. A slight shudder runs through Juno, but she says nothing.-There’s still no sign of Kalthos by the time you arrive at the fourth layer, the labyrinth. You’re starting to think that he’s not going to show up. Letting Gratia take the lead, you slow your pace and allow the girls to move on ahead. As you do, you hear a low chuckle. Turning, you see the old man’s familiar face leering up at you. “What a sight!” he gloats in a low, rasping whisper as he stares at Juno, “It does my spirit good, to see such beauty.”“Calm down, you old goat,” you warn, “She’s your great, great… your descendent. You’re related.”“You, of all people, to scold me for that?” Kalthos counters, “Get your mind out of the gutter, boy, my intentions were pure. I merely meant that I’m glad to see I have a descendant who isn’t a feckless wretch.”“You haven’t talked with her yet.”“Hm, true,” he admits, before raising his voice, “You there, girl!”All three turn. Gratia’s brows immediately drop in a scowl as she spots Kalthos, while Elle is more careful to hide her distaste. Juno’s eyes widen slightly, as if she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing. “You’re Ymir Tomoe,” she says at last, taking a few steps closer, “Isambard said that he’d met you, but I never quite believed it. Isambard says a lot of things.”“He does, but some of them are worth listening to,” Kalthos chuckles, “Come now, let’s get the formalities out of the way. I’ve got something for you.”Delving into his ragged robes, Kalthos emerges with a small vial. His poison, you suspect, although you have to wonder just how much of the stuff he has hidden on his person. He holds it out to Juno, who looks at him as if he had just offered her a dead rat.“Take it, girl. It’s not that bad,” the old man urges, “You don’t want the Demesne to steal that pretty face of yours, do you?”“Just drink it,” Gratia sighs, “He won’t stop pestering you until you do. It’s only a little poison, anyway.”“Why didn’t you say so?” Juno asks, taking the vial and drinking the contents in a single swallow.[2]
>>6295028Swallowing the poison with barely a shudder, Juno looks Kalthos straight in the eye. “Okay, now tell me why you just made me drink poison,” she demands, “I assume it wasn’t just for your perverse amusement.”“Call it a precaution. If you spend too long in this place, the Demesne will start to, ah, learn you. Copy you, in a way. Spend too long here, and sooner or later you’ll see one of those mindless puppets with your face – or something LIKE your face,” the old man explains with a laugh, “But the poison taints you, and the Demesne will turn a blind eye. She’s a picky bitch, this place.”“May I remind you that you’re talking about our holy site,” Elle stresses, “Please show a little more respect!”“Let me think about it,” Kalthos leers, “No. In fact-”“Let’s move on,” you hastily interrupt.-“Tell me, girl,” Kalthos muses as he guides you down to the fifth layer, “How fares my family?”“Poorly,” Juno replies bluntly, “We continue to struggle and strive with no clear plan, no vision, no hope of a better tomorrow. I fear that the other families may be conspiring against us, planning to end us once and for all.”“Oh no, they won’t do that,” the old man shakes his head, “Without being able to pin all their failures on House Tomoe, they might actually have to take responsibility for their own actions. No, they might give us a bloody nose but they would never kill the Tomoe. After all, we ARE a part of the Godhead’s plan, are we not?”You’re not sure if that was meant to make her feel better or not. It certainly doesn’t seem to brighten Juno’s mood at all. She keeps a sullen silence as you arrive at the fifth layer, the white stone still stained with great pools of black filth. A cluster of Denizens are gathered at the edge of the largest of these pools, one of them lying flat on the ground with their arms submerged in the filth.“What exactly is it doing?” you ask, gesturing at the prone Denizen.“Searching,” Kalthos answers, “It seems as if… ah!”As he speaks, the Denizen struggles to pull itself free from the cloying black slime. At Kalthos’ whistled command, the other Denizens grab their comrade and drag it away from the lake of filth. Though its arms are completely coated in the black liquid, you see the Denizen clutching tightly to something – one of the stone fragments you’ve been collecting. Before Kalthos can take the fragment, the Denizen starts to shake and convulse as the black fluid creeps up towards its face, its eyes and its mouth.“Ah, you came prepared. Thank you, my young apprentice,” Kalthos remarks, “May I have that gun?”With a grimace of distaste, you draw your revolver and offer it out. Kalthos takes it, turning and casually shooting the afflicted Denizen through the head. The convulsions soon stop, but not quite as quickly as you’d like.[3/4]
>>6295046With the shapeless rags of their own clothing, the Denizens carefully wipe the stone fragment clean of the black filth, paying no attention to the corpse of their companion as they do so. You take the revolver back from Kalthos, carefully sliding it back into its holster. Does the taboo against spilling blood in here count, if it’s a Denizen? They do seem to bleed, but not as much as you’d expect from a human.“What is that thing?” Juno asks, pointing to the stone fragment.“It’s a piece of a map,” Kalthos explains, “A map that points the way to a very… how should I put this?”“A very evil man,” Elle suggests.“A very powerful creature,” the old man decides instead, “Very very old, and very very powerful. There are a lot of men who would wish to meet such a being – and, as the young pilgrim suggests, many of those men are wicked. Better for all of us that this map stays out of their hands, and they never meet the Great Teacher.”Despite your expectations, Juno holds back from any flippant comments. She just nods, taking the old man’s words seriously.“Now, my young apprentice,” Kalthos continues, “I have a tiny request to make of you.”“Go on.”“May I have a moment alone with my descendant?” he ask, gesturing to Juno, “I’d like to have a… private family discussion with her.”>By all means. We’ll give you some privacy. Come and find us when you’re done>Juno is still my prisoner. I’m afraid that I can’t allow that>I’ve give you some distance to talk, but I can’t let Juno out of my sight>Other
>>6295051>I’ve give you some distance to talk, but I can’t let Juno out of my sightIs the excuse we’re giving, but Kalthos is the one we don’t trust here
>>6295053+1
>>6295051>I’ve give you some distance to talk, but I can’t let Juno out of my sight>>6295053damn straight
“I’ll give you some distance to talk, but I can’t let Juno out of my sight,” you tell Kalthos, “It’s a long story, but she’s not at liberty to act however she pleases.”“That’s such a polite way of saying that I’m a prisoner,” Juno remarks with a bitter laugh, “So civilised!”Kalthos absorbs this little fact without reaction, which you find more than a little concerning. In truth, you’re not very worried about leaving Juno alone. It’s more a case of who she’d be alone with. After thinking for a moment, Kalthos raises his hunched shoulders in a grand shrug. “So be it,” he decides, “But be warned, my young apprentice, I’ll curse you and all your descendants if I catch you eavesdropping on us.”“I’ll keep that in mind,” you deadpan, before walking a good distance away and letting them talk.-“They’ve been talking for an awfully long time,” Elle whispers, watching the Tomoe from afar, “What do you think they’re talking about?”“I’m not sure if I want to know,” you admit, before immediately correcting yourself, “No, I do want to know. I’m just not sure if it’s anything pleasant. I just hope they’re not talking about me.”“I think they might have more important things to discuss,” Elle teases gently, “What do you think, Gratia?”Gratia doesn’t say anything for a moment. “It’s a private matter,” she says eventually, “If Juno wants to tell us, she’ll tell us.”How unusually reasonable of her. You do wonder though. It’s hard to guess what they’re talking about, just based off the fleeting glimpses of their expressions you get when they turn your way, and the occasional gesture. Kalthos seems serious, almost solemn. He hasn’t laughed once since you left him with Juno. As for Juno herself, she seems… sad.Eventually, the pair make their final remarks and part company. Juno walks over, raising one hand in a lazy greeting. “I’m ready to head back now,” she announces, “We’ve said everything that there is to say.”“Oh. Was it…” Elle pauses, “Bad?”“No. Not exactly. Though I wouldn’t say it was good, either,” Juno answers, thinking for a moment, “We talked about… I don’t know where to begin. Family, I guess. What else is there for any of us to talk about? I’ve never wanted to be defined by my name, I’ve always struggled against that, do you know what? Even by fighting against it, I’ve been letting this cursed name determine who I am. Kalthos, that old fiend, made me realise that. He went through the exact same struggle in his youth – if you can believe that he was ever young.”“I assume he’s being relative,” you suggest, “Perhaps “not so ancient” might be a better way to put it.”“Perhaps. Though, it’s all just a distraction anyway,” Juno shakes her head in irritation, “Maybe the same could be said for everything in life.”Now she’s just being dramatic.[1]
>>6295082“So how did he solve this struggle?” Elle asks, not quite able to bring herself to say the old man’s name.“What makes you think that he did?” Juno shrugs, “He walked away. Turned his back on the whole world and devoted his life to… whatever it is that he’s doing here. Not exactly an ideal solution, is it?”Nobody says anything for a while.“I used to run away from home, you know,” Juno continues, her voice taking on a bittersweet note as she walks, “I’d steal some money, travel as far away from Boleskine House as possible and try to… I don’t know, live normally for a while. Sometimes I’d darken my hair, wear boring clothes, do everything I could to blend in, but it never, ever lasted. Eventually, someone realised who I really was and then everything would come crashing down. The few friends that I was able to make turned on me, people who had taken me in drove me out, the whole world turned against me. Even though I was just a child, they thought the worst of me – after all, why would a Tomoe be hiding her identity if not to further some wicked scheme?”“And every time I was driven out, my father was always waiting to welcome me back home,” she concludes, a hard edge entering her voice, “I can’t say exactly when it was that I realised that he was letting me go, following me wherever I went, then whispering the truth in a well-placed ear. Even knowing that, I still feel this…”“This strange sense of loyalty to him,” you finish for her, “Sometimes, I feel the same way.”“About our father,” Gratia points out, “Not yours.”“Yes, I realised that,” Juno mutters.It’s a little easier to understand Juno now, thinking about her attempts at running away from home. You can she why she’s sealed her heart with armour, why she keeps her distance and hides her true feelings. As a Pale, you’ve lived a life burdened by your father’s bad reputation, but even that was light punishment compared to Juno’s experience. As for what could be done to put it right…That might be beyond your abilities.-Under a thoughtful silence, you slowly return to the estate. No news from Sakhalin or the others, but you weren’t expecting to hear anything so soon. As you’re staring helplessly at the telegraph machine, as if willing it to spit out some information, you hear a light knock at the door. Gratia enters a moment later, sitting next to you in the small, cramped room.“I’m waiting to hear from Sakhalin,” you explain, feeling vaguely foolish.“Is that so?” Gratia raises an eyebrow, “I wasn’t expecting to hear anything so soon.”“Neither was I,” you admit, “I’m just not sure what else I should be doing right now. I almost wish I had gone along with them, just so I wasn’t sitting on my hands like this.”[2]
>>6295103“It’s better this way. Let them waste their time on this foolish errand,” Gratia gently rests her head on your shoulder, “Here, we can forget all about the world outside, all its cruelties and its vicissitudes, at least for a moment.”Maybe so, but those cruelties and vicissitudes won’t go away. The very moment that you open your front door and step outside, they’ll still be waiting for you. Problems that can’t be solved, enemies that can’t be killed, a terrible past that can’t be changed and a future that yawns open like a black abyss. One single golden path might lead to victory, but that path has never seemed further away.-The rest of the day slips away without you really noticing it, yet every hour that passes is excruciating. You spend some time by the large upstairs windows, watching a thin rain fall on the surface of Lake Hali with Gratia. You spend some time with Elle in her bedroom. You wander the corridors hoping to bump into Juno, only to find that she’s avoiding you. Slowly, bit by bit, a kind of hysteria creeps up on you. More than once, you find yourself sitting at the telegraph machine with no recollection of how you got there.When the next day starts very much the same way, you realise that something has to change. The days of your childhood, when you would spent weeks and months on end within the confines of the estate, are long gone. When Alex goes out to nearby Castaign to buy some supplies, you eagerly go with him. Juno should be safe enough, with Elle and the others to look after her.There’s a strange mood about Castaign, as if the people here all share your restlessness. Many of the houses you see have odd charms hanging from their front doors – primitive things woven from stick and adorned with scavenged feathers. By instinct alone, you recognise them as protective charms from a bygone age, though you don’t want to think about what fears dragged such ancient measure up from their collective memory.It’s odd to think that you are, at least technically, the master of these people. It’s never felt that way. There are others who manage your ancestral lands, leaving you as a distant presence in their lives, if the people notice you at all. Maybe that’s for the best, for if you really were their master, wouldn’t that mean you have a responsibility to protect them? And with what’s coming, you really don’t know if-“Isambard, lad, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Alex says quietly, as he shifts the basket of supplies from one arm to the other, “Do you have any… regrets?”“What brought that on?” you ask cautiously. Alex just shakes his head, as if confused by his own question.>No. I don’t have any regrets>Do YOU have any regrets?>I have some regrets… (Write in)>Other
>>6295117>I have some regrets…I think Bard would regret not taking Gratia and running away from all this before they got separated and everything went to shit. However...>Regretting and avoiding what came to pass won't change it, and won't save us I can only move forward, and find what happiness and hope I can.>By the Godhead, I really do sound like Dan...
>>6295117>Some, but most of them were from so long ago i doubt they'd work out as well as I imagine.
>>6295117>No. I don’t have any regretsNot in recent memory Aside from maybe not sleeping with Juno :(
>>6295126+1>>6295137In the back of his mind, there is still this. At least he's got Elle, right?
When it becomes clear that Alex isn’t going to answer your question, at least straight away, you let out a low sigh. “I suppose I do have some regrets. Though, they’re all from so long ago now. I sometimes wonder how life might have turned out if I’d taken Gratia and left this place long ago. Left all this madness behind,” you muse, “But would anything really change? It wouldn’t have changed what my father did, or what any of our ancestors did. I’m just the latest link in a chain that stretches back centuries. Regrets or no regrets, how much could I really change?”Alex says nothing, your words seemingly swallowed up by a black abyss. He’s normally an easy man to read, but not this time. “I think… we’ll always wonder what could have been,” he offers at last, “If I hadn’t gone with your father on his expedition, if I’d tried to talk him out of it…”He wouldn’t have succeeded. There wasn’t a force on this land capable of changing that man’s mind. Still, Alex’s words do leave you wondering about the different paths you might have walked down. What if you’d rejected Elle’s assistance at the very start of your journey? Would Juno have been willing to serve as your oracle, and then… perhaps more than just that?You’re not naive enough to allow yourself the fantasy of a world without pain, for you or for her. But things would have been… different.“Regrets won’t change anything,” you declare after a long, thoughtful pause, “They won’t help, either. All I can do is keep moving forwards with hope in my heart.”“That… sounds like something Daniel would say, doesn’t it?” you add after a moment, “Good grief. Now I really DO have regrets.”Alex laughs, but only a little.“Now, are you going to tell me what brought that on?” you ask, a hard edge creeping into your voice despite your best efforts.“I don’t know, lad. I suppose days like this just bring out my melancholy side,” Alex answers vaguely, gazing up towards the sky. A low bank of cloud hangs above you, and the wind carries a sparse sprinkle of rain. In other words, it’s a perfectly normal day. “I feel like the world is changing, and I don’t know if I like the way it’s going. Like those charms on the doors. I’ve been seeing more and more of them, but nobody wants to talk about them. It’s like everyone knows that something is coming, but nobody can say what,” he rambles, looking about him in confusion, “I feel like an old man, Isambard. An old man looking out at a world he no longer understands.”“So do I,” you admit. This time, Alex’s laugh feels a little more natural. His gloom seems to lift a little, and he slaps you lightly on the shoulder.“Come on,” he urges, nodding up towards the cloudy sky, “Let’s get home before that rain starts coming down.”[1]
>>6295149“Regrets?” Elle repeats, as if weighing the word in her mouth, “I suppose I have a few. I regret the way things ended up between me and my parents. I wish we could have come to an understanding, rather than… this. There’s always time for reconciliation, but I don’t see it happening. We’ve burned all our bridges. But if you’re asking if I would go back and make a different decision… no, I don’t think I would.”-“Regrets, huh?” Ariel muses, tapping a slender finger against her lips, “You know, I don’t think I do have any regrets. It sounds weird, doesn’t it? But I look at my life now, and I’m really not sure if I could have hoped for anything better. I mean sure, being locked up in a tower for who knows how long wasn’t GREAT, but look where it got me. I can’t complain too much, can I?”-“I don’t believe in regrets,” Juno insists, stubbornly shaking her head, “I’ve made mistakes in my life, I’ve made bad decisions. But you can’t let yourself be dragged down by things like that. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and keep moving. I’ve got enough of a burden as it is, without adding to it. So no, I refuse to have any regrets.”-“I do have one big regret,” Gratia says slowly, as she idly plays with a strand of her hair, “All those years when we were separated, I knew that we would one day be reunited. I waited for that day, for fear of ruining everything. I wish I had been more proactive, that I had sought you out sooner. Leaving our reunion up to fate was a terrible mistake, but I’ve learned from it. I won’t make that same mistake twice.”-You think about the conversations you’ve had as you lie in bed, staring up towards the ceiling and willing yourself to sleep. Of all the people you spoke with, not one of them regretted joining you. In spite of all the horrors you’ve seen, all the violence that has crossed your path, they wouldn’t go back and change it. You’re not sure how to feel about that. Should you take it as vindication, confirmation that your path was the right one? Somehow, it’s hard to think of it that way.Perhaps you’ve all seen too much to allow yourself regrets, the blissful fantasy of a good life. The coming horror threatens to sweep away everything, those who lived fair lives and foul alike.What good is regret, in the face of the end?>I’m going to take a pause here. I’ll be back tomorrow, with a very special episode. Same usual starting time, not sure how if it’ll be a long run or not>Thank you all very much for making it this far!
>>6295158Thanks for running!Waiting warmly for tomorrow's special episode
>>6295141>In the back of his mind, there is still this.I don’t think he’ll ever be ‘over’ her, not fully.>>6295158Great update QM, it is nice to see our not so merry band reflecting on time passed and decisions taken
>>6295158>Of all the people you spoke with, not one of them regretted joining you.Daww. Despite the ending line, that's still very sweet. Thansk for running, Moloch.>>6295290>>6295141>>6295137I still prefer their dynamic as friends.
>>6295290>I don’t think he’ll ever be ‘over’ her, not fully.The redheaded femme fatale is rarely ever completely forgotten by a man...>>6295333Yeah they have a solid dynamic going, I like that. Plus both hate their dads
Days creep by, one after the other. The pall of clouds never seems to lift, the gloom blending day and night into one. It doesn’t help your bleak mood. After a while, you feel as though you might kill for a glimpse of moonlight. You’re not the only one suffering from it. You can tell that Elle is distracted, even when you’re together her thoughts are miles away. Gratia rarely leaves the windowsill, her gaze fixed on the sky outside. Antisocial to begin with, Juno has confined herself to her room almost permanently. You tried to make a joke about her taking her role as prisoner very seriously, but nobody found it very amusing. Even Ariel, not so sensitive to such things, has taken to pacing restlessly through the estate.Something is coming.Not for the first time, you find yourself sitting in the telegraph room waiting for a message that may never come. A light knock at the door jolts you from your sluggish reverie, and you call out a hoarse reply. You’re a little surprised to see Juno standing in the doorway, her expression grave. “I have a request to make,” she announces, “But I’m warning you now. It’s a strange one.”“Go on, try me,” you reply, “How strange could it be?”You have to ask Juno to repeat herself, then slow down and explain.It’s that strange.-Neither of you says much on the long walk through the Demesne, both of you lost in your own thoughts. Kalthos wisely stays away this time, as if sensing that this is a private moment for both of you. Going off memory alone, you lead Juno through the labyrinth until you arrive at the secluded chamber that holds your father’s remains. With the natural process of decay stalled by the uncanny power of the Demesne, he still looks like a man in a deep sleep.“Can I ask why you wanted to come here?” you ask quietly, as you both look down at the corpse.“You can ask, but I don’t know if I have an answer for you,” Juno replies, “I just felt very strongly that I… that we should do this. Maybe it was for your sake, not mine.”“It’s been a long time since I came here. There just never seemed to be a reason,” you admit, “Do you think I should say a few words, now that we’re here?”“Do what you want. I don’t think he minds either way,” she remarks, nodding down towards the corpse.You follow her gaze, thinking for a long moment. “Well, father, here we are,” you say at last, “I don’t know how much time we have left. You made a lot of mistakes in your time, but you never got the chance to put them right. I don’t know if I’ll have the chance either, but I’m trying. Maybe things were always going to end this way. If it wasn’t you, it would have been someone else who called the Stryx.”“Well, Gratia seems to think you had a plan to fix all this,” you conclude with a sigh, “For all our sakes, I hope she’s right.”[1/2]
>>6295640Juno is the first one to notice the Denizen, stopping dead in her tracks with a strangled gasp of surprise. You turn, eyes widening as you take in the gathered crowd lurking a short distance away. Though more than a dozen of the lifeless puppets have gathered, only one of them is moving towards you – one that carries a long golden spear. The Denizen doesn’t seem to notice you, their dull, lightless eyes fixed solely on Juno.The Denizen approaches close enough to touch, but it makes no attempt to attack with the spear it holds. Instead, it extends an arm and offers the weapon out to Juno. With a trembling hand, she reaches out and takes it.“The golden ceremonial spear of the Tomoe,” she breathes, “A weapon prophesied to one day spill the blood of a god. But how can it be… here?”“Strange flotsam washes up on these shores,” you suggest, thinking of the many trinkets you’ve found within the Demesne, “But normally those are things that have been lost or abandoned, not something as precious as this.”“If something as precious as this was abandoned…” Juno’s voice trails off here, the rest of her thought remaining unspoken.-With the golden spear clutched tightly in her hands, Juno silently follows you back up to the surface. The armour around her heart has been raised and, more than ever, her face is a perfect cipher. Denizens turn to follow her with their hollow eyes as she passes, but she ignores them all. You wonder what might happen if one of them tried to bar her passage, but that idea remains a fantasy.Back at the estate, Juno takes a seat at the long dining table and places the spear down before her. You sit opposite her, looking her straight in the eye and waiting for her to speak. It takes a moment for her to find the words, but eventually she breaks the silence.“I won’t pretend to know the full story, but I know that your father did something terrible. Something that haunts us still,” she begins, “I have a question for you, Isambard. Would you have stopped him, if you could? Would you have stopped him, even if it meant committing a grave sin?”“You mean, would I have killed him myself?”“If you want to put it that way.”You lean back in your chair, weighing up her words. Even putting aside the obvious impossibility of it, this whole discussion seems in poor taste. But somehow, you don’t think that this conversation is really about you.>I can’t, I won’t answer that question>Even then, I don’t think I could do it. It’s too great of a sin>If I had a chance to stop this horror, I’d do it. I’d pay any price>Other
>>6295642>What he did, the ritual to summon something, was horrible even before the crazy murder fear spirits.>So while I'd certainly kill him, there's a limit to how much blood I'd spill, innocent or not.>And that all hinges on reversing something already done. This world doesn't have much time to chase for such things.
>>6295642>If I had a chance to stop this horror, I’d do it. I’d pay any priceWell, maybe not any price, but considering he may have doomed our entire world there aren't many prices I wouldn't pay.
>>6295642>My Father quite possibly loosed the End of the World upon our shores then spent the rest of his life trying to stop it. He had Gratia and I for the express purpose of furthering those goals. My Father was a bastard utter and absolute and if he ever cared for me and my sister he never showed it. If I had a chance to stop him before he, in his arrogance and pride, doomed all humanity? I would take it. But you're not talking about my father are you? What did Janus do?
“My father… his rites and rituals were horrible enough, even if they bore no fruit. But they did – they called up something out of a nightmare, some force that threatens to swallow our world whole. He did that, then spent the rest of his life trying to put things right. Sometimes I wonder if he even brought us, me and Gratia, into the world so that he’d have someone to continue his work,” you pause, shuddering a little at the thought, “He was that kind of bastard. So if you’re asking me if I’d stop him, I’d say yes. Yes I would – I’d pay any price.”“Well,” you add after a moment, “Almost any price.”“Then what price wouldn’t you pay?” Juno asks, leaning towards you with a ghoulish fascination in her eyes.There is a line, somewhere in your imagination, that you wouldn’t cross. A certain amount of innocent blood that you wouldn’t, couldn’t, bring yourself to shed. Exactly where that line lies, though…“This is all pointless anyway,” you conclude, dismissing the subject with a wave of your hand, “A lot of talk, all for a past that we can’t change. We’ve got to pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off and keep moving, remember?”Juno smirks slightly as you throw her own words back at her. “I remember,” she answers in a low voice, “And I agree. I need to keep moving forwards.”Something in her voice causes you to pause. “Juno,” you warn, “Don’t do anything stupid.”“Goodnight, Isambard.”-You wake feeling certain that you had been in the grip of a terrible nightmare, but all traces of the dream slip through your fingers as soon as you open your eyes. In its wake, you’re left with an uneasy sense of emptiness. Throwing back your bedsheets and quickly dressing, you make your way downstairs to the telegraph machine. There, your heartbeat quickens as you see a delicate sliver of paper lying in the tray.“Boleskine House is empty, the Tomoe are gone. No sign of Janus Tomoe, his kin or their servants. Search of the Undercity now in process. Will need you to get answers from Juno Tomoe – hiding places, escape plans, anything. Will await your response.”Your unease only grows as you read the message. How long ago was this sent? When was it received? Desperately scanning over the paper, you finally find a time noted in excruciatingly tiny characters on the top corner. It was sent, and thus received, a little more than an hour ago. You read it again, as if expecting some hidden mystery to reveal itself. The Tomoe are… gone?It’s doubtful how much help Juno would be willing or able to offer, but you’ve got to make the effort. Marching over to her bedroom, her prison cell, you bang a fist against the door and wait. A moment later, you knock again before throwing the door open. Somehow, the sight that awaits you is anything but a surprise.Juno Tomoe is gone.[1]
>>6295660I hope Juno's not about to retcon the entire Tomoe out of existence, including herself.
>>6295660Rain strikes you in the face as you hurry from the estate, marching into the shelter of the forest and the hollow tree that lies at its heart. Elle follows close behind you, letting out a soft gasp of surprise as she realises just how foul the weather has gotten. She starts to fumble an umbrella open, only to hesitate as Gratia hisses for her to hurry. It falls from her hand as your sister drags the oracle forwards, into the trees.There was no discussion, no sitting around a table and working out a plan. As soon as word spread through the estate, you all joined together to search the one place that Juno could have gone – the Demesne.It’s not long before your harsh pace starts to get the better of Ariel, the treacherous ground of the forest only adding to her woes. Without a word of complaint, she strives as best as she can to match your pace but you can see that she’s falling further and further behind – and this is only the beginning. When you finally arrive at the hollow tree, Ariel slumps down to her knees. You pause, offering her your hand, but she shakes her head.“I just need a minute to… to get my breath back,” the pallid girl begins, then hangs her head low, “Oh, who am I kidding? I’m only slowing you down. I’ll… I’ll go back to the estate and wait for any further telegrams, okay?”You hesitate for a moment, then nod. As cruel as it may be to admit it, she’s right. She glances up at your hand, still outstretched in assistance, then takes it. As you pull her to her feet, Ariel lurches closer and wraps her arms around you in a fierce hug. “You’d better come back, you know,” she whispers, clinging to you, “I’ll be waiting for you here, so you’d better come back. I’ll be really, really mad if you leave me waiting.”“I’ll come back,” you promise her. Ariel’s grip tightens for just a moment, and then she pulls back. With a determined nod, she turns and starts the slow limp back to the estate.-Demesne. Third level. The great cavernous hall. It’s a familiar sight to you now, even if you’ve rarely seen it this crowded with Denizens. The lifeless puppets are all on their knees, twitching and convulsing in uncanny unison. You watch them carefully for a while, then abandon caution in favour of haste when they pay you no heed. So long as they don’t slow you down, you’ll leave them to their insane debasements.Demesne. Fourth level. The labyrinth. No Denizens here, thankfully, where the narrow corridors and tight corners would make avoiding them almost impossible. The route to the next level is engraved on your memory by now, so much so that you barely notice the twists and turns.“Juno…” Elle whispers as you hurry onwards, “Do you think she-”“I don’t know,” you interrupt, “I don’t know if we’re here to save her, or to stop her. I really don’t know.”[2]
>>6295673Demesne. Fifth level. The great lake of filth. It’s different now – the surface of the stagnant liquid still bears the scars from where it was recently disturbed, with a trail of ink black footprints leading off into a strange black mist. It’s as if whoever came through here wasted no time in circling around the black lake, marching doggedly through the middle of it and kicking up the thick black fog.You don’t follow their path. No matter how much of a hurry you might be in, there are some risks you won’t take.“Look at these footprints,” Elle breathes, her voice muffled by the handkerchief tied over her nose and mouth, “So many! It’s like-”“It’s like a whole family came through here,” you finish for her, “No, a whole noble house, family and servants alike.”Before you say anything else, the mist parts enough for you to see a body slumped against the wall. Even from a distance, and through the veil of fog, there’s no mistaking those ragged red robes. A silent curse forms on your lips as you race over, dropping to your knees by Kalthos’ side. His chest heaves as he draws in a laboured gasp of air, blood bubbling from his lips as he does so. Judging by the amount of blood already staining his filthy, matted beard, his wounds are grave.“Oh, is… is that you?” the old man mumbles, his eyes gradually focusing on your face, “My young apprentice… I’m afraid you’ll have to do without me for a while.”You mutter something intended to be reassuring as you look down his body. A dark stain has spread across the surface of his robes, the red cloth died redder still. A single stab wound, straight through the chest. Just a few inches short of piercing his heart. Either his attacker missed, or they wanted the old fiend to suffer.>I can’t do anything for you. I’m sorry, but we have to keep moving>Just stay there, and we’ll get some help. I’m not going to leave you>You need to tell me what happened. Who did this to you?>I… (Write in)>Other
>>6295685>I doubt I can do anything for you, but you deserve to see the end of all this.>Carry him with you. It shouldn't be much further and he couldn't weigh that much.
>>6295685>You need to tell me what happened. Who did this to you?I assume Juno, but...>...and why?
>>6295685>You need to tell me what happened. Who did this to you?
>>6295685>Just stay there, and we’ll get some help. I’m not going to leave youHe may be an asshole but he's on our side
“Leave him,” Gratia says, her voice cold, “He’s beyond our help. He’s beyond ANY help.”“They didn’t stab my ears, girl, I… I can hear you just fine,” Kalthos rasps, drawing in a deep breath and trying to spit at Gratia. The defiant gesture ends in a pathetic cough, the blood spilling down his face to add one more stain to his soiled clothes.“You need to tell me what happened,” you tell the old man firmly, trying to sound as professional as possible, “Who did this to you? Was it… was it Juno?”Slowly, painfully, Kalthos shakes his head. “That miserable family of mine… they came marching through here as if on parade. Steeped in Calamity, drunk on it… blasting through the seals that bind this place… carrying this great… great palanquin with a ruin of a man,” he gasps, forcing each word out, “They caught me, tried to drag me along with them. I fought… I’m an old man, but I can still fight! But then one of them did THIS, and… and it all got awfully confusing after that.”“They left you here to die,” you assume, “Have you seen Juno?”“She passed by. Stopped to talk, just like you did. Only… only she was more polite about it,” a hideous laugh gurgles in his throat, “She took the stone from me, the last piece of your map. Clever girl. I feared… I feared some vulture might come along and take it first. She… she went on ahead, after the rest of them. You need to… need to go after her, but wait…”With a clumsy, trembling hand, Kalthos reaches into his stained robes and pulls out a misshapen brass medallion. “My last gift for you,” he explains in a weakening voice, “Something I’ve been… been saving for a special occasion.”You take the medallion, feeling a stir of power running through you.[Sign of the Eclipse: +1 Insight Attunement, +1 Calamity Attunement]“Thank you, Kalthos,” you breathe, “The twenty-first Lesson…”“Twenty-second, actually,” he corrects you, “But who… was counting?”With those last words, his head slumps down to the side and his chest rises for one last, shuddering time.You slump back, staring at the old man’s corpse for what could only be a few seconds, but seems like an eternity. He was an undeniable villain, a walking offence against nature, and yet he had been one of your most reliable allies. He had always helped you, always passed on his knowledge – tainted and impure though it may have been – and what had he asked in return? Nothing really, save for some of your precious time.“Isambard,” Elle whispers, touching your shoulder, “We need to go. He would have wanted us to keep moving.”“I know,” you reply, your voice hollow, “He said as much.”Though you can tell that she wants to say something more, Elle holds her tongue. With a low sigh, you heave yourself to your feet and stare down at the brass medallion.His last gift to you.[1]
>>6295716>laws that govern the world loosen their gripCould we turn that on the bird invasion? Who says the Eclipse has to be a force of 100% pure evil? If they can use it for evil, why can't WE use it for good?
>>6295716With a heavy heart, you descend to the sixth layer of the Demesne. This is as far down as you’ve ever been, but you now stand equipped to progress even deeper. It doesn’t feel like an achievement.The long corridor is filled with a cloying mist as with the previous layer, but it’s not quite the same. The mist is warm, sickeningly so, and carries the iron stench of fresh blood. Strange noises seem to drift through the fog too, distorted screams and the howls of animals. Sometimes, rarely, a familiar voice breaks through the mist to whisper words in your ear. With no other option, you press on ahead.“I had a dream about you,” Elle’s voice murmurs from the far end of the hall, even though the oracle herself stands right beside you, “In my dream, you were walking into the web of a great spider. I don't think you realised how much danger you were really in. That spider, it... it thought it was so clever, but deep down all it wanted to do was eat – to eat and eat until there was nothing left.”“We cannot face the coming horror, weak as we are,” declares the voice of Janus Tomoe, rich and strong, “We must go beyond horror, make fear a part of ourselves, and be born anew in the blood of a god. But which god? Countless generations of men have lived and died beneath the callous gaze of the Godhead, and their dying prayers have always gone unanswered. We must turn to other gods instead, gods who are more sympathetic to mankind.”“The Magna Mater has the power by which men can assume a new form,” Major Ionescu this time, a note of warning in the voice, “A form better suiting their true nature.”Even though a terrible pain pounds in your temples, you press ahead like a man in a drunken daze as Janus Tomoe’s voice resurfaces.“And why shouldn't it be us?” he rages, “We, who have suffered purges and pogroms yet still survive. We, who are always wounded but can never die. We are the wounded woman Nicea saw in her maddening dreams as she writhed in the poison's embrace. We are the ones who will drag mankind into the awe and terror of a new age, whether they wish it or not!”Elle cries out, but her words barely reach you.“At the very bottom of the Demesne, there is a secret room,” Kalthos whispers, as if the dead man yet lived, “Anyone who enters this room will be granted their heart's greatest desire. But men do not know what truly lies in the deepest depths of their hearts, because they cannot bear to face it.”The far wall is in sight now. The corridor reaches its end.“What lies at the base of the Demesne?” Janus Tomoe asks, before immediately answering his own question, “A crossroads, a place of power, a place where the veil grows thin. A place where man might call out to the gods and receive an answer – not from a servant or a messenger, a fragment of divinity, but from the gods themselves. Let them hear our prayers, and let our wishes be granted!”[2/?]
>Just FYI, I'm going to take a pause here to write out the next sequence in full rather than posting it piecemeal. I should probably have it complete in an hour or so, though that feels like tempting fate.
>>6295735Ho boy, things are going to get wild aren't they?
>>6295747As if they weren't already...
>>6295735So ready to see dark souls boss Janus
When you finally reach the end of the corridor, you throw your body against the seal and push with all your strength and will. With barely any effort at all, the seal gives way and sends you tumbling forwards into the final layer. The chamber yawns wide around you, vast corridors – so great that a train could easily drive through them without touching the sides – stretching off in all directions.Juno Tomoe sits slumped in the middle of the floor, the golden ceremonial spear lying by her side. Her gaze is fixed forwards, staring straight into a writhing gash in the empty air. Though your body seems to be moving in slow motion, you start to hurry towards her before your own eyes are drawn to the unnatural window. The rest of the world seems to grow distant as you stare into it.An ulcerated wound, an opened grave, a grotesque womb split open for all the world to see its contents. What lies beyond is a true nightmare, a world of flowing blood and churning organs. A world of constant visceral chaos, flesh that flows like molten wax in a constant search for new form. Worst of all is the feeling that something within the labyrinth of flesh SEES you, and it… it recognises you.You shout a wild, wordless command, one that Elle and Gratia understand well enough. They hurry forwards and grab Juno, dragging the red-haired girl away from the shimmering wound. Juno lets out a shrill cry as if scalded by their touch, her hands grasping and groping for the fallen spear. You grab the ornate weapon and clumsily through it back towards the entrance. As you do, you see something move out of the corner of your eye. Without thinking, you throw yourself back in the same direction as the spear.The wound in space stretches, distends as a hideous limb emerges from it. Red-raw and slick with blood, the limb alone is longer than you are tall. It slams into the stone floor with a wet crunch, crushing the ground where you had stood mere seconds before. Still lying prone on the ground, you watch in horror as a second limb pushes free from the wound, stretching it wider still so that a shapeless, bulbous head can follow the legs through.A whole noble house, family and servants alike. Countless bodies, drawn into the nightmare world of the Magna Mater and fused together into the form of a great, blasphemous spider. Now, the horror forces its way out of the Mater’s womb and into your world – to feed, to consume, to grow larger and larger until all the world is a part of itself.Though your body aches and your mind is numb, you manage to rise and stand on your own two feet. With a trembling hand, you draw your sword.If you’re going to die, you’ll die with a weapon in your hand.[1/2]
>>6295771The next time that the Nightmare reaches out with one clumsy limb, you lunge forwards and slash out with your sword in a wild swing that’s all strength, no precision. Your blade cuts deep, shearing through the thick limb and sending a bloody chunk of flesh flying free. A limb, part of a hand, a section of a woman’s torso with one nipple still somehow unblemished – the shorn flesh starts to writhe as soon as it hits the ground, flopping and wriggling as it tries to reunite with its source.Nausea rises up to choke you as you stumble back, drawing your revolver and firing shot after shot into the chunk of writhing flesh. Each shot that hits home deforms the flesh even more, but the wounds soon close up as muscle and skin flows like water.The hammer falls on an empty chamber, and the revolver falls from your nerveless hand. Even if you had brought spare cartridges with you, what would be the point in reloading? The bullets achieved even less than your blade, and that had virtually no effect whatsoever. You might as well be trying to cut down a tree with a letter opener. You cast a wild glance aside to Gratia, but her expression shows nothing but the purest horror.Faced with an enemy that knows no fear, that has gone beyond such human frailties, her “other half” – the malicious hellbird that has taken roost in her soul – is powerless.Desperation drives you to launch attack after attack at the Nightmare, each blow from your blade chopping through flesh like a butcher’s cleaver but achieving little more than slowing it down. All the while, the Nightmare struggles to drag more of its blasphemous body into your reality. The bloody womb that birthed it does not easily loosen its grip, however, as if some inhuman will can’t bear to see its child go. The Nightmare cries out in frustration, countless different voices wailing from countless different mouths.“Oh God!” Elle cries out, sinking to her knees as she clutches her head, “A hundred voices, a hundred wills, but all bound to one. To one! Isambard!”She screams your name, throwing herself forwards and wrapping one arm around you. With her other hand, she points towards the Nightmare’s bulging head. There, almost lost in the sea of flesh, you recognise a single face – the face of Janus Tomoe.A desperate hope. An impossible feat of defiance, in the face of a living god. And yet…>It’s too late. All hope is lost>You know what you must do… (Write in)
>>6295772>>You know what you must do… (Write in)Throw the Spear of the Tomoe into Janus's face. He wants to be a God? Well, he can rest of his own house's Spear dedicated to spilling their blood.
>>6295779This. End him rightly.
Realising what must be done, you lunge forwards in a swift attack. Ducking low under one sweeping leg, you drive your blade towards the face of Janus Tomoe. The Nightmare’s other leg crashes down like a tidal wave before your blow can strike home, sending you stumbling backwards. Dazed and disorientated, you barely manage to pull yourself out of the Nightmare’s reach before you realise that the sword is no longer in your hand. It remains impaled through the spider’s leg, gleaming there like a silver toothpick.No cartridges left, and anyway your revolver has fallen away somewhere. No sword, unless you want to try and pry it loose from the Nightmare. Your dagger? Even you’re not mad enough to try and challenge the beast with that little thing. So what, then?Then you remember – the golden ceremonial spear of the Tomoe, a weapon fated to spill the blood of a god.Lurching over to where Juno kneels, practically comatose with fear, you grab the weapon and test its weight. The balance is strange, and it was clearly never designed for what you’re about to try, but what choice do you have?Irritated, distracted by the blessed blade stuck in its flesh, the Nightmare allows its guard to drop for just a moment – just long enough. Taking a short run up, you take aim and hurl the golden spear forwards. It arcs out like an arrow, piercing through Janus Tomoe’s face and biting deep.Countless voices cry out all at once as the Nightmare rears back and convulses, seeming to lose all control over itself. Stray limbs peel back from the central mass of the body, wavering wildly in the air as if groping for freedom. You hesitate, wondering for just a moment if you might be victorious, but that brief moment it too long. One of the Nightmare’s shapeless limbs swipes out and strikes you, knocking you to the ground. The flailing leg slams down near you, almost crushing you in an instant. Before you can crawl away, the stray limbs, arms and hands, cling desperately to you.As the Nightmare pulls you towards it, a jagged wound of a mouth opens up in the malformed head. You claw desperately at the ground in a futile attempt at slowing the Nightmare. The mouth yawns yet wider, broken ribs and other bones forming countless uneven teeth. Then you stop suddenly, a cold pain closing around your wrists. You look up, seeing hazy ropes of shadow wound around your arms like pair after pair of hands. Yet further away, Gratia reaches out to you with her own, flesh and blood, hands. Even this inhuman grip starts to slip, naked panic filling Gratia’s gleaming eyes as she feels her strength falter.[1]
>>6295791A ragged cry splits the air, and you look around to see a flash of red. With her face set in a grimace of determination, Juno Tomoe charges towards the monster that was once her father, her entire family. Relief turns to horror as you realise what she’s about to do. You start to cry out a warning, then a demand for her to stop, but the words fall on deaf ears.Throwing the weight of her entire body into the charge, Juno grabs the spear that juts from the Nightmare’s head and pushes forwards with all her might. The womb seems to open wider as Juno drives the Nightmare back through the portal. Even as she drives it back, the Nightmare’s groping arms wrap around her body and pull her close.You yell Juno’s name one last time as she and the monstrous remnants of her family plunge through the portal and into that world of blood. Time seems to slow to a crawl as you see the womb starting to close behind them both. Struggling to your feet, you stumble forwards and throw out one hand in a desperate attempt to reach her. From the very first moment you started moving, though, you know that you won’t make it in time.As the portal closes behind her, Juno is able to turn back and look at you once more before the end. Her face is calm, her eyes free from fear. If anything, her expression is one of relief.-With a final squirt of steaming blood, the portal closes completely as if it was never there. You fall forwards, falling through the empty space where the portal once hung. Your body meets cold stone instead, the fall sending a dull pain running through your body. A silence falls, so great and dire that it almost chokes you.Drawing back one fist, you slam it into the stone floor. Again and again, until blood flows freely from your knuckles, you beat your first against the pristine white stone. It’s only when a gentle grip closes around your arm that you stop, that all the strength bleeds from your body. Elle puts her arm around your shoulders, clinging to you as she trembles. Slowly, steadily, she helps you rise to your feet.You look around you, as if seeing the Demesne for the very first time. The lowest level of the Demesne, the unreachable destination for countless pilgrims across the ages. The last great hope that your father had, the triumph that he had set his sights on even as he struggled and perished. Your whole journey has been leading up to this point, and yet-”“There’s nothing here,” Elle says softly, looking around at the empty corridors stretching off into nothingness, “Gratia, I thought…”“No, not nothing,” Gratia answers carefully, moving over to join you. You notice that she’s holding a small piece of stone – the last piece of the map, likely taken from Juno’s unresponsive form during the battle.[2]
>>6295803Juno :'(
>>6295803“The Demesne is just one tiny part of a far larger labyrinth, a labyrinth that connects countless worlds. Some of them are like ours – doomed, or already destroyed. But others remain, unnoticed by the Stryx,” Gratia explains, gesturing at the vast tunnels around you, “That was father’s last hope. There was no secret weapon, no magic spell that might banish the Stryx once and for all. All he wanted was a way to escape, to leave this world to its fate.”“He was… running?” you whisper, the bottom seeming to fall from your stomach.“From the very beginning, he realised what we’ve all been refusing to accept – that there is no way to defeat the Stryx, no other way to survive what he had unleashed,” Gratia shakes her head in disgust, “If it makes you feel any better, he intended to come back for you. He wanted to bring you with us, to see the other worlds.”You say nothing for what seems like an eternity, bitter bile rising up in your throat. Even though he’s been dead for a long time, your father still found one last way to wound you.“Well, come on then,” Gratia concludes, turning towards one of the tunnel exits and taking a step forwards, “Let’s go.”“Go?” Elle repeats, her eyes widening with surprise, “What do you mean “go”?”“Weren’t you listening?” Gratia asks, her voice hardening, “This world is doomed. There’s nothing we can do to change that, but we don’t need to be dragged down with it.” She draws close to you, placing her hands against your chest and leaning in. “This world was never meant for us, dear brother,” she whispers, “This petty, unclean world… We were always meant for better things.”You flinch back from her touch, and just for a moment you see all light and life leave Gratia’s eyes. She stares at you with the sharp gaze of a predator, before a wounded light creeps back in.“I can’t believe this. You’re really just going to run away?” Elle demands, her own eyes flashing with anger, “After everything we’ve gone through, you’d really leave this entire world to die? I refuse to accept that it’s hopeless. No matter how difficult, I still believe there’s a chance to survive – a single golden path that leads to victory. So long as that tiny hope remains, I will stay and fight!”“Fine. Stay,” Gratia hisses, “And die, if that’s what you really want. But you, dear brother. We share the same soul, you and I. If we walk this path, we must walk it together. I won’t let us be separated again.”>I won’t let you go alone, dear sister. Somewhere out in the labyrinth, we can find a world meant for us>Flee if you must, but I belong in this world. I won’t leave it to die, no matter how bad things get>This is my world, Gratia. It could be your world too. Stay with us, and help us fight!
>>6295818>Gratia you and Elle might see the future, but I've seen the past. Did you know that a brother and sister started the Pale bloodline? Twins sharing a soul, the brother a strong brave and the sister a shamaness. They left they fellows to be corrupted, letting them be destroyed, and started the bloodline that gave way to us. It's all a cycle, a thousand lessons I have seen and learned from dozens of different sources, and they all point to the same lesson. Those who fail to learn from the past repeat it, again and again and again endlessly. >I'm not leaving, not until our father's work which he ever ran from is handled one way or another. I wish you would stay, but if you feel such fear that you must go? Then I will not stop you. But no longer can I run from my fears.
>>6295822I agree with this
>>6295818>This is my world, Gratia. It could be your world too. Stay with us, and help us fight!For all the power of her Strix half she was powerless against the Nightmare we just fought. There is a golden path we can follow, and I hope she can join us on it.
>>6295818>>6295822Supporting.Can't believe our two favorite Tomoes are gone. Gratia doesn't care about anyone except Bard, so I'm guessing she'll either begrudgingly stay or it'll escalate and she's going to try to force the wincest route on Bard. Either way, it's no wonder that our mom rejected her.
>>6295791>you realise that the sword is no longer in your hand. It remains impaled through the spider’s leg, gleaming there like a silver toothpick.>No sword, unless you want to try and pry it loose from the NightmareIs the Wave Sword lost forever now?>>6295803>As the portal closes behind herRIP the cool signature sword
>>6295822+1
>>6295814At least she went out on her own terms, doing some good... RIP.
The cold silence stretches out, seconds turning into minutes which threaten to turn to hours. There’s a part of you that wants to stay like this forever, if it meant that you didn’t have to make the painful decision laid out before you. Elle’s lips tremble as she awaits your response. There’s so much that she dearly wishes to say, but she doesn’t dare open her mouth for fear of… what, pushing you away?Gratia waits too, with the perfect patience of a born hunter. For her, it must seem like the easiest decision of all. You wish she could see the world the way you see it. Then, it really would be an easy decision for her to make.“Gratia,” you begin, her eyes widening ever so slightly at the sound of her name, “You and Elle can see the future, all the horrors it holds, but I’ve seen the past. Did you know that our family, our whole bloodline, was started by a brother and sister just like us? Twins who shared the same soul – he was a brave warrior, and she was a witch of the forest. Their life was anything but easy. They turned their back on their companions, who had become tainted and impious. Those fallen kin were destroyed, but those twins – our ancestors – lived on.”“You see?” Gratia murmurs, “It is no sin to-”“Sin or not, it’s a cycle,” you interrupt, holding up a hand to silence her, “Repeated over generation after generation, all leading to the same lessons. Learn from the past, or be doomed to repeat it. Learn from the past, or be destroyed by it. They ran, leaving their companions to die, and now look at you – all too eager to repeat the same fate.”Gratia shakes her head. “Ten long years we were separated, dear brother. Now that we’re reunited, I don’t want our lives together to be short and filled with sorrow,” she insists, “I want to live, and I want YOU to live too!”“So stay with us, help us fight!” you urge, “I’m sure that there was a time, however brief, when father thought he could stop this. I will continue that work, no matter how much pain or sorrow that involves. With you at my side, I’d be able to bear any burden. But… if you truly must leave, if your fear is so great, then I will not stop you. I will only wish you luck.”For a moment, it seems like she might do just that. Gratia turns, casting a longing gaze down the endless tunnels. The labyrinth is an infinite unknown, promising both wonders and horrors. Yet, no matter what miracles might await within, they would always be hollow. False gold, ready to tarnish at the slightest touch.“How I wish you could see the world I see it, dear brother,” Gratia sighs, “The foolishness, the banal mundanities, the mediocre masses that fill it. But… you see something else. You see something that is worth saving.”“And we share the same soul,” you remind her, “So you too could see that, if you allowed yourself.”[1]
>>6295853Gratia thinks on this for a time, idly toying with the stone shard in her hands. Despite the long silence, you feel oddly calm. If she was going to leave, you reason, she would have done it by now. A slight grimace runs through her face as she reaches a decision, and she leans closer to you once more. “I will warn you now, dear brother,” Gratia whispers, “I may be a bird, but I can never be caged. The day may come when I wish to spread my wings and take flight. If that day should come, you will not be able to stop me.”“And if I wish to clip my wings and remain on this impure earth, there is not a single thing you can do to make me fly,” you counter, “So do we understand each other?”“I understand YOU, dear brother,” Gratia purrs, “But a woman should always keep a few mysteries to herself.”Stepping back from you, Gratia turns to Elle and gives her fellow oracle a cool nod of respect. Elle returns it, meeting Gratia’s cold eyes without flinching. “So what happens now?” she asks, reaching out to take your hand, “You’ll need a new sword, I suppose.”“I will. Though, I’m not sure if a sword will do much good in the days ahead,” you admit, “But it’s the principle of the thing. No modern gentleman is complete without one.”“We’d better go back and let Ariel know that we’re okay,” Elle reminds you, “She’s probably worried sick, the poor girl.”And then when you’re done with that, the real work can begin. The last remnants of House Tomoe have been driven from this world, and the balance of the Great Houses has been shattered. Across the vast sea, enemies mass in their barbarian homeland, while more familiar foes lurk within the shadows. Perhaps mankind is not ready for the coming horrors, as Janus Tomoe thought, but you’ll face them regardless. A thousand roads may end in failure, but one golden path leads to victory.You glance across to Elle, the bearer of that prophecy, as you start on the long journey back to the surface. There may come a time when your paths diverge, when fate leads you in different directions, but you feel certain that something stronger than destiny will, in time, bring you back together.The three of you talk little as you walk back towards the real world. You’ve said everything that needs to be said, and none of you are in the mood for idle chatter. Yet, you find yourself wishing for the kind of inane conversation that Gratia so despises. Not to annoy her, but the drown out the distant sound at the very edge of your perception.The distant cry of night owls.THE END.
Well, it's been a long road to get to this point. I first started work on The Pale Inheritance perhaps four or five years ago, although it was a very different project at that point. This is something that I've been working on pretty consistently since then, adding ideas here and there until I finally had something I was happy with. In that sense, this is probably the most effort I've ever put into a piece of writing. I hope that some of that effort shows through in the finished product.So what now?I'm planning to take a short break from writing, just to catch up on a few neglected hobbies and get my energy back. I already know what my next writing project is going to be, and I've been preparing various materials for a while now. I've got some pretty ambitious ideas for what comes next, and I'm super eager to see how they develop. So keep an eye out, and I hope you'll join me for BENEATH THE ECLIPSE.Coming soon(tm)!
>>6295867Thanks for the Quest Moloch! So out of curiosity was spear to face the best idea for dealing with Janus, or did we have another alternative?Will we be having a red-haired woman with a wound stepping out of the Demense soon?
>>6295867Oh? A direct sequel this time? Exciting!Thanks for running, QM. It was a blast. You really took everything from The Path of the Exorcist and amplified and expanded it. The cast was great, the worldbuilding rich, the prose pitch-perfect.See you soon!
Going to nap now, but I'll check the thread tomorrow morning to pick up any questions folks have about the story. I might not be able to answer all of them, but we'll see!>>6295870My expectation was that we'd go for a strike on Janus' face with our sword, then Juno herself would follow up with the spear. Same general idea, just some difference in outcome. There were a few details, like losing our sword, that were fixed outcomes - they needed to happen, for reasons.Trust the process>>6295871I suppose I could have been a little more subtle about it, but yes - a direct sequel, of sorts.I'm glad that you enjoyed the quest. It's been a lot of fun to run, largely because of how self-indulgent it's been. I've been 100% pandering to myself, and it's great
>>6295867Thanks for the quest!What would it have been like if we went with each of the other girls instead of Elle? Especially Juno :(
>>6295867Amazing quest, thanks for writing it.I’m glad to hear that Bard’s story will continue! Poor Juno…maybe we can save her? :(From your perspective QM, what was the most surprising decision which we took? And in the same vein, what is something which you wanted us to do but we never got to do?
>>6295867Fook. My answer to Juno would've been just a tad different if I was thinking about her sacrificing her life.Honestly, I don't think it would've been too bad if Juno let the army handle it. It didn't have the memetic infection, so we'd mostly be dealing with a fast regenerating creature that's gorged on denizens and black goop.With Phalaris out and about, we could even farm the thing to make flesh golems. That's the perfect material she was missing, after all.
>>6295867Thanks for the quest!Now I'm curious how it would have turned out if we were on the Juno route. Bard is best boy. It was always funny to read his edgier thoughts whenever they popped up.
>>6295867Thanks for the quest"The real work can begin" goes hard
>>6295913>>6296030In my first, very early idea of the story, Juno was the main companion character - although she was a very different girl back then, more melancholic. I imagine the story might have been darker if we'd gone with Juno. I saw Elle as a kind of stabilising force for Bard, someone who prevented him from going too far into dangerous waters. While I feel like Juno has some of the most thematic weight of the story, I feel like her story might have been tougher to write.The overall arc of the story might not have changed much if we went with Ariel, though they would have been much better, obviously, because best girlI'm actually fairly glad we didn't go with the Gratia route. I'm not sure if I could get the balance right, with just enough ick without being too offputting.>>6295958>From your perspective QM, what was the most surprising decision which we took? And in the same vein, what is something which you wanted us to do but we never got to do?Visiting the Iron Keep with Jan so early took me by surprise. That arc was one of the first ones I'd planned out, but I'd originally been planning to set it much later in the quest. I saw it as a kind of turning point, where the more human or ambiguous threats gave way to something more overtly monstrous. In retrospect, I'm glad we went there early after all - it might not have had the same impact if we'd visited the Keep later, as jaded veterans.As for your second point, I'd hoped that we'd go to Rhyl for the assassination mission. I'd had quite a few ideas of how it might play out, and I'd been interested in setting an arc in a comparatively foreign setting. I can understand why we passed on the opportunity though - it was a diversion, and not really something in Bard's character. The best thing about notes that don't get used is repurposing them for later!
>>6296155How competent have we been in actually killing supernatural entities? Feels like they had a ton of immunities and we just happened to sometimes hit something that at least worked.
>>6296155Thanks for the detailed answers QM!Have a few more questions:- Did we make a significantly ‘wrong’ decision at any point and if so, what was the consequence?- If we’d embraced a darker, more calamity-filled route, could we have become powerful enough to beat the Stryx?
>>6295867Hey Moloch, congrats on another completed quest. Reading through Pale Inheritance has been quite the ride, and I have to say your choice of ai artwork really added to the grimy, gothic feel of the story.I especially enjoyed the bits referring to your previous works, they never got the point of interfering with this story but I definitely got a grin out of them when they came up.The only regret I have with reading your stories is that I cannot for the life of me convince anyone I know to give them a chance.
>>6296165Depending on what you'd consider "supernatural", we had a few successes, like the siren creature. In general though, I wanted to portray the encounters with inhuman creatures as more desperate, an attempt to survive rather than win. It's because I viewed Isambard at least for now as still on a roughly human level, not really equipped for killing magical creatures. Lovecraft has always been a big influence on my writing, and I think it shows here.>>6296221I can't recall any serious "wrong" decisions we made, but that's partly down to me not writing too many in. Or, like getting involved with the Effluvium/black liquid, they were pretty clearly signposted as a very bad thing. If we had done something like that, I would have needed to do some very quick thinking to work out what would happen next.As for the second question, we could have potentially reached a point like Gratia, where we lived in uneasy union with a Stryx. There would be benefits to that, but it might not help much in terms of saving the whole world. In general though, I didn't see the Stryx as a problem to be solved - more a question of "how do you live when you know what the future holds?". That may change with my next project, though.>>6296473I've always seen my writing as a pretty niche thing, and that's fine. If I wasn't writing the things that appealed to me, I don't know if I'd be motivated enough to see things through until the end.It's a contentious subject for some, but using AI image generation in this quest was a lot of fun. In previous projects, I've really struggled to find various bits of art to use for characters so being able to generate it really helps. It's had some other benefits too - Ariel's entire character came about after I was playing about with images and cooked up her character portrait. It has limitations, obviously, but some of the images have really helped me "understand" the characters
>>6296595Did you cut off much from your planned plot? I feel like the ending came abruptly and plot lines like the Saint were left dangling
>>6296595Personally I really liked the AI images, they personified the characters well>>6296652This is a good question, I also feel like there were some story lines left dangling - like using the inventions to rebuild our army and what’s happening with the migration
>>6296595Did any of the flesh survive? Is Isambard going to drop a calamity-drenched foot in front of sankhalin to report "Behold, what's left of House Tomoe"
>>6296652>>6296676I did originally have some more plans for Saint Lucille, tracking down some more of her enemies, but I ended up shelving that idea. Partly for time reasons, but also because it felt like it was just retreading old ground. I couldn't really think of a way to make it interesting - it was basically a videogame style "go here and kill the guys" type sidequest.Likewise, I'd had an idea to attend a demonstration of the new weapons with the Teilhards, only for some of them to be stolen by parties unknown. It felt like the sort of idea that would have been much better at the start of the story. Rest assured though, the Lliogor migration has very much not been forgotten.>>6297000Most of the Nightmare was drawn back into the Mater's dimension, but you never know. We DID chop off a good few pieces. I'm sure nothing bad could come of leaving stuff like that lying around
