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I do a little dance every time an new thread OP gets posted without an itch. Praise the Sun-Birther!

>>6309570

### The sealed verses ###


>ARCHIVES:

>First Thread:

https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6012263/

>Second Thread:

https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6049645/

>Third Thread:

https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6098808/

>Fourth Thread:

https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6154957/

>Fifth Thread:

https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6198478/

>Sixth Thread:

https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2025/6240838/

Thanks everyone for all the votes! Will we get every thread gilded? Make my mom proud and do your part, anon!

>Voting Link:

https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=sunseeker

>>6309572

### A post a day keeps the Seven at bay ###


Update schedule: usually one updateevery 24-48 hours.
Also, I’m trying a new thing: I’ll announce in the /qst/general if I am ‘live’ during posting, which means I should be able to write sooner and more extensibly. I probably won’t be able to do it every day, but it’s an interesting experiment to run. Let me know what you think!

>are you ‘live’ now?

Yes, I will be ‘live’ for 3 hours starting when the OP drops

>will it always be 3 hours?

Ansàrra willing… I’ll let you know post by post, usually in the general and in the spoilered text at the end of each new update

>questing live on twitch when?

not a thing unless…

Moving on, for each update you can expect between two and four posts depending on narrative pace and player interaction. I will do my best to reply to questions and suggestions!

Notice: new players, please feel encouraged to interact and play! I promptly made the summaries you see attached to these posts just for you.
The more the merrier the marred, as they say in the Night Lands…

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>>6309573

### The lay of the land ###


Rules Recap:

We vote by majority to decide actions. In rare cases, if a tie happens I may incorporate both options if narratively possible or interesting. This does NOT happen for combat rolls.

Usually, options are highlighted in red, blue, green (with no special meaning for the colours, I just think they are neat), and there is almost always an invitation, in bold, to add suggestions and discussion. Discussions and questions are highly encouraged as they may give you numerical bonuses or allow you to skip dangerous situations!

We (generally) use a Best of Six 1d100 roll against a DC, plus bonuses.

>natural 1 is a critical failure, natural 100 is a complete success.

>crits in the same roll cancel each other

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>>6309575

### Dubs and Trips and Crits ###


Roll vs DC for most checks. You might need to win more than once.

Combat roll is (generally) Bo6, comparing rolls in succession (my first roll vs your first roll, etc.) and counting successes against my rolls (usually you need to beat only 1 or 2 of my rolls)

If you or I get dubs, trips or more on the rolling post we add the following values/effects to what was just rolled and only that:

>dubs: +18
>trips: automatic critical success
>quads: permanent bonus + kiss on the cheek

Once you got quints and you gained a nice permanent bonus.
these rules apply to my rolls as well but only to the first one (as I use a single post for my rolls)

>Write-Ins:

there will be the occasional prompt for these. Interesting ideas or suggestions may be incorporated in the update even if they don’t reach a majority.Discussions and questions are highly encouraged as they may give you numerical bonuses or allow you to skip dangerous situations!

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>>6309577

posts Willow: it's on a 7s dub. pottery...

# # # Lore! And Stats # # #

Pasta?

Pasta!

>Lore and Important Characters:

https://pastebin.com/By6W3xxD

(you will find yours and other character's bonuses here in this file):

>MC and stats (updated!)

https://pastebin.com/CuxGS43X

# # # # # #

And now, the news…

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>>6309578

# # # Silver Knight Quest Thread VII # # #


Your own blood used to taste differently.
…maybe.
When was the last time you tasted it…?
You are laying on the grass.
Your eyelids flutter against the sunlight, but you can only see dappled smears of colour.
Hear heavy footfalls. Coming closer.
When was it that…
Ah, yes.

Three years ago. You were still thirteen, you were racing your brothers on the dry earth of the vineyards behind your household. A promising harvest. The last.
The sweet scent of the grapes, the dry earth…
Then you stumbled on your feet and bit your tongue.
The shame stung fiercer than the pain, and more bitter than the iron-like liquid pooling in your mouth.
Your brothers had pulled you up, your mother scolded you, your father took care of your tongue…
To think a day so full of bodily pain could taste so sweet now, so compelling.

“Hnnh…” you gurgle, sputtering. Your head pounds.

[cont.]

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>>6309580
Your… what’s the thing in the middle of your chest? Beastbone? Whatever it is, it hurts.
You are holding something in your right hand. It’s—metal.
Memories crawl up from the abyss, like bubbles from a fresh batch of red wine.
You are sixteen.
Master’s disciple.
His first one in so many many years.
That’s what you are—more than a girl and yet not a woman in the recount of your people.
Any chance of marriage and a normal, decent life have been ripped away from you by your wine’s cultivar falling out of fashion; by the blight; by the smirking merchants of Frigéia, purchasing your ruined vineyards for a handful of silver.
That only lasted so far as the Landing Strip.

Your family is waiting for you to save them.

[cont.]

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Rolled 97, 72, 17, 95 + 10 = 291 (4d100 + 10)

>>6309581

Will you disappoint Master, too?
Those thunderous footsteps boom ever closer now.
Something growls.
You grip your hand against the metal as fear thickens around your heart, but your burning anger rises like a fissure through it.

No. No. No. You won’t fall again. You won’t cry again.
You grip the axe’s handle even tighter.
Yes. Your axe.
Just another day of Master’s gruesome training.
Lucky you.
You open your eyes.

Laying on the ground, the hyena-thing hunches over you like a monstrous tree. So close its shadow lingers over your gambeson, its growl crawling up your aching back, your shuddering breastbone. Its black lips curl into a grin, glistening with saliva, the stench like wet fur that curls in your stomach.
The cut over his knee where your axe bit black into its flesh seems but a scratch.
It raises one of its claws and it covers the burning globe of the Sun—of Her sun, you correct yourself.
Who knows if Ansàrra is watching you, even now.

Or ever.

You roll on the grass away from his strike, which only cuts grass and dirt. You stumble upright, axe in your hand, blue eyes trained on your foe, silver hair sticky with sweat, your mouth stained crimson.
You lick a droplet of blood.
On second thought, it tastes just the same.
You raise your axe and rush ahead to strike.

# # # # # #

>Combat Roll: roll a 1d100+4, best of FOUR against my rolls in this post.
>Beat at least TWO of my rolls.
>Dubs, trips, etc apply
>You can't use banked rolls or the cameo bonus (this is a scene set in the past)

welcome back, anon! creating a new thread ALWAYS sends my blood pressure into the two hundreds, but I'm glad this time it went mostly without an itch. Remember we will be LIVE for about three hours, so please feel free to comment, roll and generally praise Ansàrra. Or the Stilladìa, if you are feeling spicy. Thanks for playing and I will see you... well actually I will be seeing you right now.

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>>6309584

>Will you disappoint Master, too?

uh...

Rolled 86 + 4 (1d100 + 4)

>>6309584
WE ARE SO BACK! Amazing recap images qm, great to introduce new players or remind old ones.
>You can't use banked rolls or the cameo bonus (this is a scene set in the past)
Glad to know master was as diligent as ever with Argia's training (like that time they sparred with blindglass poleaxe..)
Well time to reminisce about our successes! or the tragic extent of Argia's failings..
>>6309585
I believe in the power of our loaded dice to beat even the past! (Starless Night what do they feed these hyenas...)

Rolled 60 + 4 (1d100 + 4)

>>6309584

>>6309591
>>6309592

good rolls! though it seems they won't be enough...

>amazing recap images

thanks, I wrangled my autism until it started being useful

>sparred with blindglass poleaxe

Master has faith in your skills!

>spoiler

who knows... there might be room for even bigger failings this thread!

>what do they feed these hyenas

you should ask the Kiengiri but probably something... crunchy.

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Rolled 26 + 4 (1d100 + 4)

>>6309584

>>6309622

nice pic and nice dubs anon!

>26+4+18

with a total roll of 58, anon gains your first roll victory. but will you be able to best my roll of 95?

Ansàrra willing...

Rolled 23 + 4 (1d100 + 4)

>>6309584

>>6309624
a valiant effort

my rolls:
107,82,27,105
vs
90,64,58,27
your rolls

you manage to sneak one victory, but sadly it's not enough. It's enough for me to write though...

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>>6309584

You have been training under Master for a few months now.
When you dash at the beast, blood is pumping in your veins, your heart gripping your throat. Each step on the grass echoes up to your spine. Your slender vintner arms have thickened with muscle. Your sinews are stronger, your reflexes much sharper.
And you have learned the sheer joy of slaying—you sharpen your blade at the heat of your anger.
May it be one day the skull you’ll be splitting with your axe will it be that of the Stilladìa.

Master told you everything about that wretch.

But now—for now it’s this whoreson of a misshapen hyena you must fight.
Its claw swings down below, you skip to the right.
It misses.
You skip again, it’s a feint, like Master taught you.
You raise your weapon, aiming for the thing’s groin. Lots of blood to spill, there.

To think you used to wonder which grapes were the most ripe, just a few years ago.

“Raaah!” You shriek, a shrill banner of your anger and skill, and you swing with all the might you can put behind the strike, right against the thing’s reeking thigh.
The axe bites onto its fur, it cleaves through its hide—
It stops an inch inside.
Starless Night, you think.
Just in time to try and pry the axe off the thing’s skin, but it’s too thick, you won’t—
You raise your other arm in a vain attempt to cover yourself. Its claw reaches for your arm and it pries you off your weapon, which sticks out of its flesh like an afterthought.
The part of you that can still think curses the Kiengir meat-mages that molded this thing out of black knowledge in forgotten dark years. It lifts you until your are level with its muzzle.
“Ah—” you gasp, regretting it when the hyena-thing’s stench fills your nose, burning. It opens its jaws, wide. It ekes out a laughter, that horrible haw-haw-haw you have heard through the nights while you and Master stalked its den.
Your right hand is free, though.
You reach for your belt.
Your hand coils around the hidden knife there.
And you plunge it deep into its throat.

[cont.]

>>6309697

The hyena feels it this time, stumbling back, swinging you around like a puppet—if this was one of those puppet shows you love so much, would you survive? Would Ansàrra save you at the last moment?—your arm aches even more and—
Then—
With a -pop- something gets pulled off its socket.
“Ahhh!” You shout. “Aaah… Ahh!” Your left shoulder is bent at a too-sharp angle.
Like that time you fell off the roof, like…
… your brothers were there though…
The hyena snarls, sputtering blood.
Good.
Filthy thing.
If you have to die, at least you…
No.
Fear pierces you like an icy arrow.
You do -not- want to die.
It’s not your time yet!
You—
The thing’s jaws close around your head.
You shut your eyes, and something heavy whooshes right over you, like a bird speeding by on its way to the horizon.
A sound like a distant bell toll echoes through the air and your body, and you dare open your eyes.
Someone is holding you. The claws that held you in thrall fall open and the hyena collapses on its knees, then forward, right besides Master Ibardo Delebasse. In his left arm: you. In his right hand: the vibrating black-glass weapon that’s even older than the monster it just dispatched.
The hyena’s head is nowhere to be seen. All that remains above its neck a shattered crater bursting black blood, smoking up in banners.
“I hope,” he says with a smile as he pops your shoulder back in. You shudder against his chest, panting heavily. Your axe still sticks out of the hyena’s thigh. “You have learned your lesson.”
You are not really sure there was any lesson in this.
Just a lot of fear.
And another failure to add to your impressive record.
Nothing to learn.
You bite your lip and try not to cry, even as that same scent of sweet grapes and dry heart wafts around you. Master’s hand pulsates against your shoulder and the pain subsides, healed by the mighty of Ansàrra.
Tears run big and hot down your cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” you heave, your chest moving up and down. “I’m sorry.”
Master runs his fingers through your silvery hair.
Why he sticks with you—that’s the biggest mystery of them all.

[cont.]

>>6309698


Hours later, you two are sitting by the fire.
Master is usually against lighting one at evening.
It might attract attention.
But the hyena is dead—quite impressively so, with its head bursted like a pumpkin cooked under the summer Sun…
…Her summer sun, you remind yourself.
Ansàrra’s blessing running through your shoulder and you forget to hallow Her name.
A failure.
You deserve your cursed hair.
Pulling tighter the hood that covers your mane, you dare look at the sky.
There had been a time when you used to look at the stars, at their uneven dance, and at the glowing silver arc that cleaves the night. Or the day.
The planetary ring never leaves.
You used to like it.Your father used to say that you inherited its shade in your hair, and you would live a lucky life.
He was wrong about a great many things.
Now the ring reminds you of the Stilladìa.
Master has explained many times that the Adversary is quite beyond the strength of all the Powers put together. Even all the Echorists from your homeland, all the Great Houses and their armies, would amount to nothing but dust in the wind before the reach of the Stilladìa.
Besides, half of them are already on her pay book.
More than half, you’d bet.
You blink and go back to the feelings of your body.
Besides the burning shame in your belly, hotter than the flames crackling before you, you feel fine.
You feel fine because a certain Someone, in Madua, is bleeding for you, now.
How much did it hurt when Ansàrra took upon Herself your wounded shoulder?
Did She even feel it amidst all the plagues She has to endure for the good of Her people?
And you can’t even remember to name Her sun after Her…
“What was the lesson?” You try, unmooring the thought that has been gnawing at your for hours.


[cont.]

>>6309699


Master lifts his eyes from the flames. They are grey—ironic—but they seem to glint gold in the fire.
“What do you think it was?” He replies, running his hand through his short beard.
You hate it when he acts all mysterious and mystic-like.
You have been trained as a vintner! You are certainly not a philopho-phyloso—
Your brain is not made for thinking, Starless Night!
“I don’t know,” you shake your head, frustrated. A lock of silver falls against your neck and you tuck it back into place. You are getting closer to Maduan borders and if any faithful were to see your hair…
Another great irony, how much you trying to hold onto a faith that thinks you the emblem of its greatest enemy.
Your greatest enemy.
Perhaps there’s something to build upon there…
“I don’t know, really,” you repeat, rising your voice just a bit.
He is certainly a madman and a meddler, but you wouldn’t disrespect him, when he went out of his way to protect your brother from the filth in the Landing Strip, take you under his tutelage and give you a chance to save your family for good.
Even if becoming a Knight of Ansàrra feels like an impossible dream. You might as well jump over the planetary ring…
“Good,” he replies, the tired chord of your frustration twinging yet again.
No.
You have to master your emotions. One of his first teachings.
A Knight is honourable. And has her dignity.
“I still don’t understand, Master,” you say, opening your arms. “I don’t get any of this.” You groan, leaning back against the trunk that will be your haphazard bed tonight. After spending two cycles sleeping on live rock because Master thought you’d need to go on a hike with him, it’s almost as comfortable as being back home in Candéa…
“Do you believe,” he adds, with that kind tone that you hate to hear, because it shows how much he cares about you, about your wretched hide that can’t even hold an axe properly, “that you are to blame for today’s defeat?”
What kind of question is that?Your ice-blue eyes burn with anger.
“Yes,” you hiss. “Of course! That’s—”
“You faced the battle all by yourself,” he interrupts you, using the dull end of his weapon to shift the firewood. “That was your mistake, Argia.”

>>6309700

You blink, confused.
“A Knight… has to be proud of the strength of her arm.”
“Indeed. But you are no errand blade-for-hire in the Thronelands, nor a bodyguard earning dime and dine. You are trying to become a Knight of Ansàrra. This means that the strength of your arm is inconsequential.”
“Master—” you blink. “I still…”
“I have taught you the meaning of the Sun-Birther name.”
Yes.
The first word in Kiengir language you ever learned.
Still the only one, though.
“‘All that there is’,” you reply.
Comprehension dawns inside you.
Your lips purse in surprise.

Oh.

“But… Master. How do I know the Sun-Birther will be there with me when the time comes?”
“You do not.”
“How—how do I know She will give me strength?”
“You do not. I do not either,” he chuckles. “That is what makes this so nonsensical and so terrible. And so wondrous. A mountain could sit on a stalk of grass and it wouldn’t bend, if so were the will of the Sun-Birther.”
There had been a time when you used to think of Ansàrra as something that involved others. She was the goddess of the Maduans, after all.
Coming into Her service, for foreigners… it could happen, but—
“I am not sure I can hold much faith in me,” you counter, drawing your knees closer to your chest. “I am weak. I am slow. If I were an Elf like Saint Kishirra maybe…”

Master gives you another of his look. This time it seems like the golden glint it’s not just a play of the firelight.
“Kishirra is a beloved figure,” he concedes, then reaches for something inside his pocket. “It is my honour and duty to carry her weapon after all these centuries. And while she burned bright, her fire did not last long. I wouldn’t say she can be of much inspiration to you.”
You shake your head.
Certainly not.

The Elf had been so strong. So beautiful, even. Someone like her could be chosen by Ansàrra. Could make a difference, could save those she cared for…
“But there is another.”



[cont.]

>>6309702

“Hm?”
“A Saint just like Kishirra, but besides that, she couldn’t have been more different,” he muses. “She started out just like you: nothing more than a girl, roused to great deeds, yet as fragile as silence inside a Temple of Flame.”
You think you have—
Heard that name…

“Bragia Lacresta?”

“Correct,” he laughs, and shows you what he’d been producing from his pocket.
It’s a tiny white thing.
One of those carved medallions. One of your aunts used to have one.
You think it’s called a cameo.

He gives it over to you across the fire, pouring the steel necklace it hangs from onto your hand. The features of the figurine etched onto its surface look to the side, with a faint smile in a youthful face.
She holds a pointed mace in her right hand.
Didn’t Saint Bragia use an axe…?
“She was not alone,” Master adds. “This is not an afterthought. She had true companions, who stayed by her side until the end.”
“The end?”
“She was murdered by the Adversary.”

Something inside you jolts.
The faint smile seems even more precious now.
“Why? What did she do? Why her? She looks like she would have been lovely.”
“Everyone who met her was charmed. One could say perhaps Ansàrra was among those… Bragia was dearest to her. The Adversary hurt the Sun-Birther where she could cause the most damage.”
“That’s just like merchant filth,” you hiss, closing your hands around the cameo, then stop. It looks fragile, even with the steely band to coil around it.
It must be… old.

“Master… are you showing me this as an inspiration? To say she was just— just like me?”
“Well, perhaps not just like you. She used to have brown hair. And olive green eyes, so not at all like you are right now,” he laughs. “But she was in the same situation. And she certainly wasn’t an Elf.”
You look at the cameo—it seems to pulsate with a hidden heat against your skin. Like if it recognized you.
“Also, I am not showing you anything. This is a gift.”
“W-What? Master, you can’t! This must be precious! And expensive, who knows where you even got something so pretty!”
“That does not matter,” he shrugs. “What matters is what you will do with it. This was the perfect time to show it to you.” A fond smile spreads over his features. “No wonder…”
“B-But… for me?”
“For you.”

You don’t know what to say.
You seldom do.
Even when you used to live with your family, words had always failed you. That’s why you always preferred to race with your brothers, or to sit by the boys or play with them, rather than gossiping with girls your age—they only said mean things anyway!—and when you became the subject of that gossip, you stopped trying for good.
“Thank you,” you breathe.


[cont.]

'she's just like me FR FR' t. Argia Candente

>>6309704


That’s it.
That must be enough.
“It’s not me who you must thank,” Master reminds you. “But no reproach at this hour. It has been a long day and there will be many more like it ahead.”
“I know,” you sigh, holding the cameo closer to your chest.
“A Knight is brave and dutiful,” he agrees.
“Aye.” For the first time in many days a tentative smile pulls at your lips, shared with Master.
He nods in your direction.
“You are made of sterner stuff than the soft wood of vineyards, Argia Candente,” he adds, once again moving the firewood with his weapon. “You will find out soon enough.”
“I pray you are right, Master.”
You pull our blanket closer to your tired body and slowly close your eyes, the cameo—Master’s precious gift!—held against your chest. You still do not dare to put the chain around your neck…. perhaps after tomorrow’s morning prayers…
“Argia?”
“Master?”
“If you do not let go, She will not let go.”
You hesitate. A knot tightens in your throat.
“I—I’ll try.”
“Nothing else is required of us,” he adds with a satisfied chuckle.
You nod again, the cameo against your breastbone.
It does not hurt any more, either.
You try to picture Saint Bragia in your mind. Young, beautiful and full of hope… a simple girl, with all the weakness in the world.
Inconsequential.
Before Ansàrra, all strength fails.
Even that of the Adversary.



[cont.]

>>6309705

—and you hold onto the cameo, you slip it around your neck, the very next day—

—and when you plunge your sword deep into the belly of the Ubaiid, the snake-man folding like a piece of paper before you, you shout Ansàrra’s name—

—Master lauding your form when you finally understand how to properly use the Stance of the Lion, and the cameo seems to hum with pride—

—your first Sanction, rushing through you, that ivory circlet burning against your naked skin—

—she was there, she was just as afraid as you were, but Bragia held on, held on, held on—

—you hold onto the cameo when Master departs, leaving you with the others. You do not like the way the black-haired girl, this Rubida, looks at you or at your hair. You do now know what to think of the tall girl with the braid. Perhaps the brunette will want to be your friend…—

—you cry and heave alone the morning Soralisa pretends like she doesn’t recognize you anymore. You are alone and you hate this, but your family over there in the Landing Strip must hate hunger and illness even more, so you will bear it, no matter what—

—the cameo’s hum your only comfort when you reach out to Ansàrra and Her blessed light, soft and scented like grapes and dry earth, when you try to fall asleep, away from the group—

—Starless Night, this mission seems crazy to you, why did they sent you and your Manipolo to hunt cultists of the Seven is truly baffling. Carnaval would be a better choice, but you keep your mouth shut and hold on to the trust in your heart—

—you jump onto Soralisa, holding her and attempting to let the Sanction discharge without killing her. Please, please Sun-Birther, if there is ever one thing you asked of Her—

—you show it to Astoria, and the sudden curiosity she displays does not sit with you very well—

—you brandish the cameo when you face the half-dead face of one of the Seven—

—it feels comforting on your chest when you sit with the others watching the puppet show—

—when you explain to Rubida why you have stopped drinking wine—

—and so hot when Willow kisses you—

—and it guides you across the glass desert—

—and it is the only thing that’s still with you when Willow betrays the group—

—it’s with you when you make up with Rubida and when you face Rosandra, it is with you all the time, every time, Saint Bragia is with you—

—if you hold on—

…and now it swirls and turns on itself like a crazed top, spinning on the floor of your cell in Rasena, inside the very heart of Madua.

You are nineteen years old.

[cont.]

seriously WTF even is this update, 4032 words I was supposed to stop two hours ago someone pls shot the Muse it's her fault Mom pick me up I'm scared

>>6309706

One of your hand is reduced to an oozing pulp.
The heavens above are cold and empty.
You sit in the darkness.
Some of the only light the tiny shards of Carnaval’s feather, embers dying their slow death.
And the crimson glow of the eyes of the Stilladìa.

She sits across you—just like that night with Master when you received the cameo, your back is against something that helps to keep you upright.
This thing, the Adversary, the enemy of Ansàrra, the source of all your troubles—has made sure you could look her square in the eyes while you discuss.
She had wanted you restored to dignity.
You remember Astoria in the Amaranthines chamber, just a few days ago, oozing triumph at your battered state.

The Stilladìa does not speak.
She looks at you in silence, her pale face bathed in the glare of her pupils. The thousands and thousands of stars glisten between her curved horns, but their cold light seems subdued, muted.

She looks so much like her depiction on the cameo—spinning, spinning, spinning between your bandages-covered body and her naked one.

The same curve of the chin, the same small and elegant nose, the same platinum lips. And yet there is a hint of something else, a violent beauty in her body that reminds you of the aggressive perfection in the Sister who was trying to reincarnate herself in the Well.

Willow was there.

Willow is gone now.

You blink.

You were discussing something.
Ah, yes.
“Thinking with my own head,” you mutter.
You already explained Master you are no good at this sort of thing…

Perhaps, if you move very fast, you could just dash ahead and claps your good hand around that slender, white neck and squeeze it until those stupid red eyes pop out of her skull.

Perhaps.

You hit her square in the chest with Carnaval’s feather, covering her in the angel’s blood that’s known as the only substance capable of harming this merchant wretch, and there she is.

Even in the dim crimson light you can clearly see her skin softening, forgetting all about the open crater you burst inside her just moments ago.

Six hundred years. She’s been at this for six hundred years.
How long have you been alive again?

Your blue gaze shifts towards the spinning cameo.
Didn’t she have a proposal?

[cont.]

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>>6309707

That’s madness but—

It’s funny. Back when Master gave you her cameo—Saint Bragia’s cameo, made by her own hands—you were afraid of dying.

Now you are afraid you won’t be able to save your friends. All of them, even those deserving a nice good spanking, like Willow.
And your family.
And seeing Master again.
And thanking Carnaval for her help.
And even that heathen Sandora.

But—

You were thinking about…
Right.
Right.
Time to think.

You open your mouth and only breath comes out.

None comes from the Stilladìa in front of you.
It’s a strange thought, but—
—this is actually the Saint you spent so much time with.
You were—

“I was jealous,” you confess.

The crimson-eyed face in front of you raises one white eyebrow.

“Of you. Of how much Ansàrra seemed to care for you.”

The Stilladìa grins—but halfway through it deflates into a sheepish smile that turns into a bitter sneer.

“You surely seem to grow jealous over the funniest occurrences, Argia Candente. You are a most peculiar one.”

“You are one to speak. Merchant filth. You abandoned Her embrace for what?”

“A chance to give human beings the liberty denied to them—under Kiengir rule, and under Ansàrra’s dominion. When a Frigèian mother is in trouble, she calls for a physician, not for a priest.”

“And what good does that—”

“We are free,” Lithala of the Night Lands whispers, rolling the words between her lips like a kiss. “To stand or to die on our own terms. For a whipped dog it might be blasphemy, for the wolf running in the steppes it is the source of its dignity.” She rears her head back. “Ansàrra offers you everything a human animal might desire: food and comfort and safety, and all she asks in turn is you lay down everything that makes you more than a chained beast.”

“I just want to save my family. I don’t care about anything else.”

The smile comes back.
You might have made a misstep.
Big surprise.
You can’t string two words together and here is someone who has been collecting souls like marbles for more than half a millennium.

[cont.]

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>>6309708

You would raise your eyes to the heavens and ask Ansàrra for support, but feeling the sky as empty and uncaring as it is now makes you feel a chill down to your very soul.
So you do not.

“The transactional nature of your faith is plain,” The Stilladìa recounts. “You are but one of many. The difference between that and what I do is just a signature on a binding contract.”

“You can shove your contracts—”

“Thank you,” she claps her head, producing a sharp sound of not-quite skin that makes you jolt. “But there are almost forty thousand souls listening to his conversation, and I would not have their ears dirtied.”

“How considerate,” you chuckle.

The tension between you two raises, then, like a mounting tide, it passes past you, and you deflate again, all wind out of your sail.

Amidst the trough, you wait for her to say something, but she does not.

Think with your own head.

This is still Bragia Lacresta sitting across to you.

You loathe the tiny excited jump your stomach makes upon the notion.
You may not feel ready to either listen to her or to ask her to leave you alone.
Also, she did care for your hand over the past few days.
You might have lost it for good without her.

But maybe, just maybe… if Ansàrra is not listening right now…

You open your mouth again, and this time, it’s to give voice to a question.
Your family. The Frigéian merchants that ruined all of you. Doesn’t she feel even a bit of remorse?

The difference with Bragia of old is… uncanny. Why did her body change so much? Is she even alive?

She called your faith transactional but… what does Ansàrra gain out of everything that happened? You truly can’t see it…

You also have another question for the merchant filth (write-in/suggestion; I mean, i's a once-in-several-lifetimes chance)


well that grew far beyond what I had planned. Five thousand words of pure update plus everything else plus the summaries. Scratch Ansàrra, scratch the Stilladìa, I have given my soul to /qst/. And what’s worst is that it feels so good being back. Thanks for playing… I’ll look forward to your votes tomorrow.

>>6309712
>Your family. The Frigéian merchants that ruined all of you. Doesn’t she feel even a bit of remorse?
A most glorious reintroduction, QM. Welcome back!

>>6309712
>The difference with Bragia of old is… uncanny. Why did her body change so much? Is she even alive?
First option is a trap, I'd say. They had the freedom to be bastards, so they did.

>>6309738
Whether she personally feels remorse could inform how much we trust the Bragia that lives inside the Stilladia, no?

>>6309712
>“But there are almost forty thousand souls listening to his conversation, and I would not have their ears dirtied.”
Interesting, I was wondering if those souls Stilladìa collects are even aware of what is going on when they aren't being called to shave off a few minutes of their contracts.
>You also have another question for the merchant filth (write-in/suggestion; I mean, i's a once-in-several-lifetimes chance)

>as you stare at your spinningcameo you recall something, before this whole thing escalated into you stabbing it's owner's heart..she said that you were merely the "courier”. Is this accursed patron of bartering really suggesting that your purpose this entire time was for you to somehow bridge the gap between Ansàrra and her wayward "daughter"? Is that why Ansàrra left you? Because your part in this was merely to return this cameo back to it's true owner?
If we want any hope of finding out what is going on with Argia not being able to call for sanctions, then the ancap devil is our current best bet for answers, especially about why did she apparently "abandoned" Argia, she is the closest to Ansàrra's heart after all.

>>6309738
I don't think the first option is a trap per say, it's there to give Argia some sort of closure regarding her many many feelings regarding her discovery about her idol being her enemy and the indirect cause of nearly all her problems, same for option 2, they serve to help Argia to better understand Bragia.
option 3 is a coin toss between the Stilladìa getting to the point or turn it around by convincing Argia over how her way of life is the true freedom (fair enough, but that's not exactly what Argia is concerned about) and the bonus plans of a contract with her.
>>6309741
>Whether she personally feels remorse could inform how much we trust the Bragia that lives inside the Stilladia, no?
Eh, we can trust the Stilladia to hate the seven as much as Argia does AND to stop the worm.
whatever she cares or feels pity for Argia's plight is secondary right now, those questions sidetrack Argia of her real objective which is stopping the worm and saving willow or spanking her corpse if all else fails...
That's why I'm suggesting opening a branch of question to see if the Stilladia has any idea about what is Ansàrra's endgame regarding Argia herself.

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>>6309712
>She called your faith transactional but… what does Ansàrra gain out of everything that happened? You truly can’t see it…

>>6309712
>You also have another question for the merchant filth (write-in/suggestion; I mean, i's a once-in-several-lifetimes chance)
Stay silent, Say nothing. Giving her an opening to build rapport simply because she helped us is exactly why she has so many souls. We need nothing of her, and want for less. All we need to do is delay until Willow or the others to turn back up, She can't take forever we're soon to be executed anyway.

Besides we have ~80% the answers already, or can intuit them by inspection easily.
>Your family.
No Contract with her, doesn't need to care. Though could become an option for collateral to be pursued as part of future dealings.

>The Frigéian merchants that ruined all of you.
Has more important stuff to be overlooking, and Contracts only go so far as to provide guard rails and oversight. We know she can't be everywhere at once. Nor preside over all actions taken on her behalf or by associates however tenuous.

>Doesn’t she feel even a bit of remorse?
Won't help her get what she wants, unless it does. I'd expect it to be purely performative to build rapport. It's a trap option. And probably reveals too much of an angle into Argia's headspace. It won't undo what has been done, and even if it did what would it cost.

>Why did her body change so much?
Do we need much more of an explanation that Magic "exists" and does some weird shit.

>Is she even alive?
Does she fog a mirror when breathing on it? and Argia's got her answer.

>what does Ansàrra gain out of everything that happened?
Literally this entire interaction and conversation is being held with her by proxy, and a cleaned up "dead end", since ain't no way we're not being executed on the spot if it gets out that this even occurred, now that she has revealed herself. or we even hint at heretical knowledge of the former "St." Bragia.

>You truly can’t see it…
Because it's not for us.

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>>6309741
interesting idea anon

>>6309782
>>6309824

these are intriguing questions

>she is closest to Ansàrra's heart after all

this is a given. if you want to gain some answers, there might be no better time

>we can trust the Stilladìa to hate the Seven

it's kind of personal with them. perhaps a bit less so than with Ansàrra, but the Sisters absolutely enjoy making mayhem.

>to see if the Stilladìa has any idea about what is Ansàrra's endgame regarding Argia herself.

She said something at the end of last thread, which I can sum up as: Argia only served as a means to an end, and as such she will now be discarded.

>>6309995

anon doesn't trust merchant filth.
might be a good call, might be not.

>Until Willow or the others turn back up

keep in mind that Willow is in the Night Lands and most likely won't be back (or at least not on her own...), Rubida and Soralisa lack the power to get you out in any way, unless their plan to contact your Master goes through (which is already a flimsy possibility). And the Stilladìa has shown more than once the ability to still time, so playing mute might not be the best idea...
...but then again you are thinking with your own head, so it might be an improvement.


overall, the funny thing is we have five votes and each of them goes in a different direction (we have one each for the three colored options and two suggestions). This has never happened and I find it delightful.

I'd like to write next update on a majority of at least 3 votes (what can I say I love democracy). So I am extending voting time for about 18 hours from now.

We'll see what happens...

>>6310004
>keep in mind that Willow is in the Night Lands and most likely won't be back
Argia can rely on her "friends", to at least try to help her out. No contract needed.

>(or at least not on her own...)
Who doesn't "need" godly intervention from time to time, at least its not a Blatantly unfair contract. and is with those that do demonstrably have said powers within their grasp to solve, for a favor sure. But that doesn't me we can't "fix" things post-facto.

>Rubida and Soralisa lack the power to get you out in any way
Doesn't matter they are more than sufficiently driven to investigate the slightest of opportunities, and call in favors, or represent us far better than we could ourselves. We can find ourselves in no better hands than those of our friends.

>which is already a flimsy possibility
Carnaval is a wildcard here, giving her a reason to go looking for an out was a bad idea if things were to proceed uneventfully.

>The Stilladìa has shown more than once the ability to still time
And I doubt she can do it entirely for free, If she could why does she need contracts with combatants? It shouldn't be that hard to just slit a throat, or yeet an energy source into a wall or steal stuff, while outside other's perception.

And as such exceeding her allotted budget shouldn't take too much, Argia's soul isn't "worth" much to her plans anyway, so making it an unfavorable trade in terms of expenditure should be fairly simple to do.

>so playing mute might not be the best idea
Openly hostile actions will very much change the tack of the conversation, revealing what she is actually is here for. And give us a reason to stick Feather in eye socket.


>but then again you are thinking with your own head
Everything to avoid being offered a contract. We don't need her help to fix our problems. We just need an opportunity to set things right.

>>6309712
>The difference with Bragia of old is… uncanny. Why did her body change so much? Is she even alive?

>>6309712
>The difference with Bragia of old is… uncanny. Why did her body change so much? Is she even alive?

>>6309570
Fuck, I didn't see this thread until ~2 hours ago. It's good to see you back, OP.
>>6309584
damn, those are high rolls
>>6309640
>you manage to sneak one victory, but sadly it's not enough. It's enough for me to write though...
so, after reading the update was the roll just to see how we fared against the hyena ?
>>6309712
>The difference with Bragia of old is… uncanny. Why did her body change so much? Is she even alive?
the only question I see doing something good for us

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>>6310019
>>6310087
>>6310401

thanks for breaking the tie

>it's good to see you back, OP

thanks anon! glad to see you here again!

>the roll just to see how we fared against the hyena

yes, it was a combat roll

alright, tie is broken, so I should be able to write an update in a couple hours. I'm out tonight so I won't be able to stay live, I'll keep you updated when we drop the new posts.

If someone wants to add suggestions I'll keep the window open for the next 120 minutes starting from this post's timestamp.

see you soon!

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>>6309712

The difference with Bragia of old is… uncanny. Why did her body change so much? Is she even alive?

# # # # # # #

As you open your mouth, your eyes roam over her figure. A part of you, a part that screams in your head—stay silent, stay still, share no words with the Adversary—pushes you to just wait for this to end… but there is no way to know when this might end.
With every beat of your heart you slide closer and closer to the Trial. To the molten gold pouring over your body, eating through your flesh, branding you as an enemy.
You shudder amidst the void that seeps from the empty heavens. There is no light coming there to meet your prayers, there has not been for the past… how many days?
Seven?

Eight.

It’s been eight days—another delightful irony that the Stilladìa shows up right now. Eight is her number after all, just like six is the one sacred to Ansàrra.
If you were still a vintner girl you might ascribe this to a coincidence.
But you know better. So you take in Bragia Lacresta’s form.
She has the same slender physique you remember from Ansàrra’s visions. Which the Stilladìa just proved once again they were true.
But her skin is now alabaster-white, and crossed by tiny cracks from which oozes a faint brightness that makes your eyes water.
Reminds you of a cracking egg, about to burst.

You did crack her, alright. With Carnaval’s feather, to reveal the insides of her body, those black strings, slithering ropes, knitting themselves back together.
Her skin is almost back to perfection now. Snow-white, with only the faintest roughness from where you cratered her flesh.
Whatever she is now, she is certainly not human anymore.

“What happened to you?”

[cont.]

>>6310619

Her crimson eyes go wide. Her glowing pupils flash with surprise.
The grinning Adversary, the triumphant collector of souls wanes for a moment, like a cloud coming to cover Her sun; leaving her to drag her knees closer to herself, coiling a long strand of white hair around her black-nailed finger.

“Many things. Ansàrra’s disregard, for once. And the care of one of the Seven, the least of them, who has forever departed this world. Ah, this is a bit surprising. Not the kind of question I am used to hearing,” she muses. “Especially not from a puppet dancing on Ansàrra’s strings.”
“I like puppets,” you say. You seem to recall saying something like that just a few minutes ago. It’s hard to remember. The presence in front of you seems to absorb every thought.
You still have a hard time believing it’s her. The same girl who inspired you to never give up. The foundling, taken in by Ansàrra just like Master found you and trained you.
The lonely girl who grew up to have a tight group of friends.

Betrayed…

It’s like an ice knife scouring your heart, every time you think about that moment, when you set your foot on the shore, and the Sun-Birther disappeared.
What did you do wrong?
Maybe nothing, and that’s a thought that opens a gnawing abyss right where your stomach should be…

“Have my strings been cut now?” You wonder. It’s a whisper, and only when the Stilladìa tilts her head to regard your question you realize you have spoken out loud.
Of all the times when you could speak without a care… Rubida would be so angry at you if she were here.

“That is a question I am used to,” she chuckles. “I often seek out those who desire their chains broken. I have felt your friend’s burning desire, cycles ago. Before you visited the Temple.”

Oh.

“Wait. You--how much do you know about Willow?”

[cont.]

>>6310620

“More than enough to make me squirm with haste. I wouldn’t be here otherwise, Argia Candente.” She draws in air, and it’s almost a breath, but she does not breathe out. Her body certainly looks human, but it’s almost doll-like… a living statue, a simulacrum. “You are aware of the Worm. You must have heard about it… seen its story in the Temple, didn’t you?”

You nod.

Back when you thought this would be solved by a pair of magic shackles, by picking up a melting Asterite and securing it to justice. Then you could forget all about it and earn safety for your family.
No matter your soul.
“B-But you stopped it once already, didn’t you?!”

Ah— your voice. Your cheeks frolic with heat at the excited tone that slipped out of your mouth.
It’s hard to keep your devotion, admiration, for Bragia Lacresta from your disgust for the Adversary. That they are one and the same still makes your heart tighten with confusion.
The Stilladìa nods, her gaze wandering beyond you.

“Yes, but that was under different circumstances.”

“You were still…” faithful? What might the right word be? Good? Decent?

“… a fool,” Lithala provides with a sneer. You blink at the venom in her voice, whenever she speaks of her former self. Unlike the burst from Carnaval’s feather, this is a wound that has never healed.
Was the Sun-Birther attempting to leverage it?

But… Ansàrra wouldn’t do anything like that!

You have felt Her warmth, Her compassion, Her strength. She wouldn’t do something like that! Not to someone She used to love like a daughter…
… would She?

“And perhaps you have felt how dire these new circumstances are,” she continues, worry slithering inside her voice like a black snake darting through clear waters. To think someone like the Adversary can feel worry! You thought she could feel nothing else but evil mirth and satisfaction from her faithless acts.

Such as murdering Saint Bragia.

But Bragia is here before you, and you do not know what to think anymore.
Think with your own head.
Yes, but what should you think?
“Last time, the Worm used Uxoria as a vessel. Mighty as she might have been, she was still just a woman. A native woman. Your friend is a Strander.”

[cont.]

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>>6310623

“Does it make a difference? Willow is not a very… very powerful one. Though she wouldn’t like me to just say so…”
“It makes all the difference—” the Stilladìa opens her hands and two ghostly blue spheres appear, made as if by solid light, or perhaps liquid diamonds. “Imagine this is our world,” she says lifting her left hand, “… and this is Willow’s world.”

“Earth?”

“You may underestimate yourself, but Ansàrra certainly did not, Argia Candente,” the Stilladìa muses, a faint echo of her usual confident grin reappearing.
Just as that prickle over your cheeks reappears.
Saint Bragia praised you! Saint Bragia gave you a compliment!
You try to push the satisfaction blooming in your heart down into the depths of your being. This is the Adversary!

“Earth, yes…” she goes on. “I cannot compress thousands of years of history in a few lines. Besides, my husband is far better at this than I am.”

Husband?

“The Worm is now connected to another world, to the wheel of the cosmos.” A thin blue strand connects the two spheres. “This is the difference between what happened then and what is happening now: the Seven have used Stranders before but never like this. The conduit is fresh, strong and eager—the Sisters haven’t enjoyed such luxury since before their fall! What you must understand is that, when the Kiengiri died, when the Epochalypse happened and Ansàrra destroyed this world’s connection to the wheel, as well as the Old Sun—”

“Wait, what?”

“Not the kind of thing they teach you in a Temple of Flame?” She chuckles. “And yet it is in plain sight: the Sun-Birther. There have been three Suns in the history of our world. The one that’s burning outside, the temporary one Ansàrra lit up using up lost Kiengir arts, and the one she smashed against the planet. Ansàrra never had qualms about breaking what belonged to her. Hah—nothing like a monopoly to stifle competition…”

“You lie.”

[cont.]

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>>6310629

The words jolt out of your lips, feverish, accusatory, as you lower your gaze to the spinning cameo.
It just—
Even after everything that happened, every piece of the puzzle forming this terrible wholeness, this picture that haunts you—Saint Bragia!—it’s too much to accept.
You feel like your head is filled to the brim with heretical notions and…
“That’s a lie. That must be a lie. Her sun cannot die.”
When you raise your eyes again, the Stilladìa’s gaze is stern, burning with an icy anger.

Uh.

“I was a liar’s thrall, once.” Her voice is as thin as a razor and it brushes against your skin like chill winter wind. Your hairs stand on hand. “Therefore, I try not to make the same mistake, Argia Candente. My contracts are simply-read and simply-written. My terms are respected. My trust,” a snarl quivers over her lips, blue at the light of the spheres, “is unbroken. I am a terrible liar, and I always strive to uphold my standards.”

Those words—Candeloro said those to her, during the first vision Ansàrra gave you.
And if Ansàrra sent you that vision, it must be true.
Which means…
The pit in your stomach deepens.
At the idea that Ansàrra Herself gave you the key to make sure the Stilladìa is telling the truth.

“T-The sun…”

“It washed over the Kiengiri and all their works. A flame stronger than you can fathom, stronger than I can imagine, bloomed over their civilization, erasing it in the span of a heartbeat. All of their slaves and most of their monsters, charred to nothing. And then the Old Sun died, and the world was shattered. Our Moon murdered…”

“Willow told me Earth has a Moon,” you blabber, trying to hold on against the onslaught of information, against the Stilladìa’s version of the history of your world.
“A moon has its uses. Helias would be able to explain better…” she sighs. “Something to do with the seasons… you would have to ask him—he gets so excited when he talks about these things I feel bad for not giving him attention, but I get so confused… also, that’s not important right now. What matters is that in a way we still have a moon.” That grin is back again. “It’s just… different.”

Oh.
Oh, no.

[cont.]

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>>6310631

You remember Willow, holding up a hand to shield her eyes at night.
How bright your nights are, compared to those of her world.
And that silvery thing…

“The ring.”

“Correct once again, Argia Candente.”

Your mind reels with revelation after revelation. You feel like you are in free fall.
“Let me adjust—” the spheres floating on her hand change: one develops a thin ring around it, and another a smaller sphere that escorts it.

“Well this is not to scale,” she frowns. “You must imagine them much farther, and…” she blinks. “Oh, this is my husband rubbing off on me again. Nevermind!” She clenches her hands and the spheres disappear. “The one thing you should keep in mind: the Worm is like a wedge keeping a door open. The one good thing about this is that it is still in its infancy. What I will do is to kick that wedge off. If it’s not too late.”

Not too late?

“That is also why I came to you. I wanted to know the extent of Ansàrra’s plan before facing the Seven—and I have fallen into her hand once again.” She clicks her tongue. “Fooled once more, and for the same reasons.”
“Wait. Wait… the Worm is keeping the door open for the Seven, but what about Willow?”

Her crimson eyes smolder.

“The care you show for your friends is endearing, Argia Candente. You admitted being jealous, and it is my turn now. I yearn for friends that would stand by my side, without withering under the weight of years, without falling to dust. But that is my fate. The Seven have robbed me of the joys of a mortal body. Ansàrra has robbed me of holding a child I could call my own. I made my choices and Willow Stark has made her own.”

You remember your very first vision—when Saint Bragia confessed how she wanted six children with Candeloro.
Centuries ago.
But wait… Willow made her choices?

“You won’t kill— you won’t have to kill Willow, will you?”

“The Worm cannot be suffered to live, Argia Candente.” Her lips form a thin hard line. “Everything else is collateral.”

[cont.]

>>6310634

“You can’t—”
“Willow Stark may be your friend,” she shrugs. “She is no friend of mine.”

“Then… then you are just as callous as the Ansàrra you claim to be a monster,” you seethe.

The Stilladìa’s eyes grow wide again, then she laughs, bitter. The echoes linger in the cell.

“There is an Earthen saying about apples and trees. I suppose I can’t go far, no matter how much I try.” She tilts her head, her gaze smoldering through you. “Would I pry off the flower to save the whole pot? Perhaps, if it were about to burn, or to fall under the yoke of Kiengiri reborn. Which brings us back to you, I guess. The Strander’s life is forfeit, and perhaps it would be preferable to thralldom under the Seven. But you still have a choice about your life and your Trial.”

“She—she did it for me! Because she wanted to keep me from giving out my soul to Ansàrra, with… with the ordaining.”

“And now I wonder if her sacrifice ever had any chance of working.”

“It’s not right! She must have a chance at redemption… I—I must reach out to her, she has to listen…” you don’t know what you would say. But Willow has to listen to you. You didn’t have a chance last time, but you know you can save her. You know you can stop this, with… with Ansàrra’s help…

You wince at the void surrounding you. The darkness envelopes your body and silences your soul.

Was everything that happened just because you were supposed to give the cameo back to the Stilladìa? To tug at her stillborn heart with one final pledge to go back home? Just the bearer of news, soon to be discarded?

“If you have a plan it would be high time to give it shape,” the Stilladìa urges you. “Until you are here with me, time is quietly waiting outside the door. But this is only so until you make a decision, or I grow bored. Whichever it may be depends more on you than on myself.”

[cont.]

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>>6310637

“You are a useless sack of filth,” you spew, anger rising once again. Why does it have to be you? After all these… these news, about the Moon, and the sun, and whatever happened, why does it have to be you here with her?

You looked up to Bragia! You loved her like the big sister you always missed.
Someone that could inspire you, and now—now she’s here taunting you with your decisions and your most-likely death. So, why not? Let it all out. You were always better with swords than with words, but blades had proven useless, so how about trying a new thing for once?

Maybe this is thinking with your own head.
The Stilladìa sighs, seemingly growing more bored.
Does she think this would stop you?
Nobody stops.

“My entire family was thrown into poverty because of you! Because of your filthy money-grabbing merchants selling my homestead for a handful of silver coins! You and your mercantile empire should just burn! Burn!” You spit at her and it lands between her legs.

“How many people has your wine killed, Argia Candente?”

What?

You shake your head.

“That—you make no sense. Stop… stop it!”

“A drunken man, growing angry and battering his wife’s head until it bursts. Unable to stop himself due to inebriation. An old farmer driving a carriage, falling off a cliff in drunken stupor. A group of kids, falling into lidless sleep, choking on their own vomit, after they spent the night sharing bottles. Bottles you sold.” She sighs. “You never stopped to think of that. If your wine could produce so much evil, shouldn’t you be held responsible?”

“Shut up!” You shriek, standing up on shaking legs, pointing your bandaged hand at her. “You know—nothing—nothing of me or my family! We—it was our craft, you wretched devil! We were —proud!—proud of our wine! I used to run through the vineyards with my brothers! People were happy! We were happy! Give! It! Back!”

Tears run down your cheeks, fat and warm.

“Give it back—”

Like a sail losing its wind, you fall back against the wall and once more you slump like a sack of bricks.
This time, Lithala of the Night Lands does not pick you up.
Give it back, you mouth.
To her? To yourself?
To Ansàrra?
No answer either way.

[cont.]

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>>6310639

Your breath ragged, you feel your chest tighten—
The Stilladìa stands. She glances at the cameo, still spinning, but she does not move to get it.
Do you even care anymore?
It’s hers.

She made it.

You were just the courier.

And it hasn’t pulled her back at all.
Did Ansàrra think it would be enough to make her fall in tears on her knees and beg for forgiveness? If anything it has only made her angrier.

“I am also happy and proud when people use my gifts to reach their ends.”
“What ends? Death and destruction? So proud,” you retort in a whisper.
“That is not up to me.” A pause. “I desire to level the playing field. It is far from a clean job, to make a Goddess obsolete.”

“Well, congratulations. You proved your point. Now you can go die in a ditch, or against the Seven… I do not care. I do not… I do not care,” you lie.

You promised to yourself you would help Willow. That you would protect your friends!
You trusted in Ansàrra—and right after you put all you had in Her hands, She leaves you… has Master imprisoned, Rubida and Soralisa separated.

All to give this stupid thing back to someone who doesn’t even want it.
Master was wrong to put his trust in you.

So very wrong.

“I used to run through the vineyards,” you mutter. You are so tired.
The Moon, the world, the Worm.

It’s all so confusing.

Think with your own head[/i.]

The Trial of Gold.

Being used and discarded like that… like it happened to Bragia?
What happened to turn her like this?
She spoke of a betrayal… was what happened on the shores a betrayal?
You want… to go back.
No idea how.

“Smelled like dry earth and sweet grapes. Ripe for the harvest. The scent of home,” you add. You want to go back to those times.

To when the world still made sense and your silver hair was just a quirk of your birth, not a sign of heresy.
A bitter pulse spreads through you at the thought. You did everything for Ansàrra. For the Maduans. To protect their inane lives, their peace, their stolid lives: you toiled, you climbed on the glass hill for them! You stained your shirt red for them!
The Sun-Birther may have Her reasons, but Astoria… she only did all this for self-gain!
Like merchant filth—

“Smoke,” comes Lithala’s voice. “The amber smell of firewood and lacquer.” A pause. You raise your watery gaze to meet her glowing one. A corner of her mouth twitches. “And the comforting scent of fresh linen.”

Your lower lips twitches. That sounds like…

“Is—Is that what you smell when…”

“When Ansàrra is with me,” she breathes through her nose. Once again, she does not breathe in. “I only have to bow my head, and I can come back home.” She chuckles. “It would be so simple.”

[cont.]

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>>6310641

That ugly jolt of jealousy stings you once again, burning bitter in your throat, like you drank a mouthful of cleaning alcohol.

“She is so patient with you,” you grumble.

For the favorite daughter.
Compared to her, you are just a discarded rag.
After all you did.
A Knight is gracious—but right now you don’t feel knightly at all.

Then the Stilladìa sets a finger against her lips.
Thinking.
Thinking is dangerous always, even more so from her.

You should probably choke her slender neck, or bash her head in with… with something.
Your sword must still be around here somewhere.
If you thought it would do anything but amuse her, you’d strike.

Instead, she nods to herself.

“I came here knowing much about you, Argia Candente. You knew very little about me.”

“I know enough.”

“Not everything your faith taught you has proven true as of late, has it?” She smiles. Softer than a grin. She looks almost… embarrassed. “I know how it is. The frustration—the feeling of betrayal. And I know how confused you are. So: I do have a proposal. Your Trial approaches, and you must take a decision. Will you go onward, ignorant, with that yoke around your neck and that blindfold over your eyes, walking like a mad woman towards the abyss and the shower of molten gold that will turn your bones into charred cinders—”

“You have such a way with words. Trusting Ansàrra is not madness!”

You shout, and she continues, undeterred, her confidence a wedge piercing what little you can hold on to.

“—or see for yourself. And learn. And decide, standing, on your own feet.”

[cont.]

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>>6310643

She waves her right hand, the waterfall of stars inside her horns blooms into a curtain of silver light, covering and erasing the walls, the stone… and you are outside.
You are sitting in the middle of a meadow. Her Sun is high—and warm, so… so it must be Her third, right?—and the clouds white and playful. The silver ring shines as bright as happy thoughts. Perhaps a little wider than you are used to seeing it?
Where is this?
And most importantly… when is this?
“It is an old story, quite interesting,” the Stilladìa adds, lending you a hand to help you stand. You blink and past her, you see a group of four people.
Two women and two men.
A tall and broad friar, his thick arms covered in chains. A slender blonde man flipping through a book. And two women sparring between them.
One of them has short brown hair.
Olive eyes.
And she is holding a morningstar.
“I think,” muses the Stilladìa, “that you have earned the right to witness it.”


No! No more visions, no more listening, no more nothing! You pull away and curl up like a dead thing in a corner of your cell. Just… make it stop, please. Make it stop. Have her leave you alone.

You take her hand and stand. The sky is full and vast, and the land… isn’t this a bit familiar?

You don’t take her hand, but stand on yourself, and walk, stunned towards the Bragia of the past. Is this just a memory? Can you interact with the environment, with… her?

Add a suggestion

Well, wasn’t this another update supposed to be kinda neat and short. The tale grows in the telling… thanks everyone for playing! It was fun trying to spin everyone’s suggestions into the story, as much as I could. Now let’s see… what dreams may come?

>>6310629
>Saint Bragia praised you! Saint Bragia gave you a compliment!
KEK, Argia would be a terrifying idol fan if the circumstances were right, she already got the love for her oshi (bragia merch when?)
>>6310634
>“The Worm cannot be suffered to live, Argia Candente.” Her lips form a thin hard line. “Everything else is collateral.”
Welp, guess Argia won't be able to count on Stilladia to save Willow on this one..it falls on argia to think up a plan.
>>6310644
>You take her hand and stand. The sky is full and vast, and the land… isn’t this a bit familiar?
Stilladìa was a bit tactless about Argia's family plight but a lack of guilt over it makes her more trustworthy to my eyes than any pity would ever be, she doesn't feel joy about what happened to Argia, but she is not going to feel responsible about it either, which is pretty much what I already expected. It's more respectful than a showing of pity.
Also she did go the extra mile in making Argia's hand salvageable, ulterior motives or not Argia loses nothing in being courteous and letting Stilladìa get into storyteller mode. and holding back a little on the murderous thoughts kek

>>6310644
>Add a suggestion

Begging a merchant is so far below us, She can't offer us anything of interest; and won't offer us what we would want. Playing along with this "pity party" is pointless. She's clearly going to show us what she wants when she wants to, and there Isn't anything we can do about that she has a captive audience, Doesn't mean we need to play along.

It's all fake anyway, and based on her perception of events, nothing to do with whatever actually happened
Argia's not going to offer her soul, nor compromise on Willow, even if its not possible. It's that not hard but is so very clearly beyond the Stiladia's means, but the fact that she hasn't grokked that Argia's not a "big picture" person, means the lead in is wrong, and she keeps digging that hole even deeper.

~~~~

>>6310678
>Stilladìa was a bit tactless about Argia's family plight but a lack of guilt over it makes her more trustworthy to my eyes than any pity would ever be
But that is the issue it; clearly demonstrates that all she cares about is her contractors, to the extent that the exacting terms of her contract are not breached. Beyond that she cares not. We really want to interact with her the least we can, it won't end well.

She's already told us that she can't give us what we want, end of story. So much for that option; spend the time thinking about and preparing for other eventualities.


That Inanimate objects like said bottle of wine have as much agency as the uncontracted masses, in her eyes In a broad sense; Is a version of Willow's viewpoint when she was on Earth where everyone was an NPC and outcomes were deterministic, the fact that we managed to disabuse Willow of this in short order not withstanding, what we would need is to find someway for her to buy back into things, but that isn't really an option at this point, and she's probably too far gone.

We really shouldn't ever even consider signing a contact, she won't honor it in spirit, nor work around its bounds to our advantage. We don't want anything to do with that, Ansarra at least makes us feel warm inside.

It's a dead end, and the only reason she's doing any of this is to make herself feel better.

>>6310644
>You don’t take her hand, but stand on yourself, and walk, stunned towards the Bragia of the past. Is this just a memory? Can you interact with the environment, with… her?
When we see what really happened with Bragia, we can decide for ourselves if we trust Ansàrra.

>>6310629
feels nice to see this image again
>>6310634
>The Seven have robbed me of the joys of a mortal body. Ansàrra has robbed me of holding a child I could call my own.
shit, the 7 had a hand in making stilly like this ? fuck and to top it off, Ansàrra somehow was responsible for emptying her eggs
>>6310644
>You don’t take her hand, but stand on yourself, and walk, stunned towards the Bragia of the past. Is this just a memory? Can you interact with the environment, with… her?

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>>6310644
>You don’t take her hand, but stand on yourself, and walk, stunned towards the Bragia of the past. Is this just a memory? Can you interact with the environment, with… her?

>>6310692
>Beyond that she cares not. We really want to interact with her the least we can.
But we really don't stand to lose anything by hearing her out, even if she can't help with Willow or the information she gives us is biased, there is no time lost either since she stopped time until she grows bored with her conversation or negotiations break down completely.
>She's already told us that she can't give us what we want, end of story.
Because we don't have a plan to deal with it, if Argia can offer an alternative that can put down the worm without killing willow she is willing to hear Argia out, all she said is that she can't "Deus ex machina" willow for Argia's sake, she will have to come up with something on her own this time around.
>We really shouldn't ever even consider signing a contact, she won't honor it in spirit, nor work around its bounds to our advantage.
But the Stilladìa isn't some genie in the bottle waiting for a "gotcha!" on people who sign deals with her, literally nothing we've read so far in those past 6 threads even implies that she breaks her word or bends contracts, that's not how the Stilladìa operates, everything points out that she is a kind employer, that scene with Bradiamante is proof that she isn't a heartless merchant. We still don't know what she wants to offer Argia anyway, so there's no point in arguing about the fairness of hypothetical deals.
Betting all our chips on maybe Argia's friends coming in a clutch to free Argia of her trial or for Ansàrra to hear her plight a minute before the trial of gold happens is silly when we lose nothing by seeing all the options available
>She can't offer us anything of interest; and won't offer us what we would want
The thing Argia wants above literally everything else, including Willow, is to give her family a safe home in madua, even Argia’s friends or flings can't compare to that life goal, that's the whole reason Argia followed master and even converted to Ansarra's faith and so far it doesn’t seem like Ansarra or her faithful can provide Argia with that little.>Ansarra at least makes us feel warm inside.
And as far as we know nobody associated with her will grant safe passage to Argia's family since Argia is already a branded heretic (unless we are really counting on a last minute miracle where sunmommy herself comes down on the trial and declares Argia the next Saint Bragia reborn) nor save Willow. Again Argia's first priority was never truly being a "Knight of Ansàrra" that was always a means to an end (even if she took to the faith like a fish takes to water), but to find her family a safe haven and from the smile the stilladia offered Argia at the mention of her family she seems to be able to do something about her family’s current plight, which already merits hearing her out, even if the worm is dealt with it won't matter if her family is in the same spot as when she first started.

>>6310867
>But we really don't stand to lose anything by hearing her out
We do though, it could well be brought up at trial, and if we don't resist at every step. A it opens up holes in the defense that we aren't her agent falls apart if we're seen to be "taking orders". After all she wants something from us as she wouldn't put the effort in otherwise.

>if Argia can offer an alternative that can put down the worm without killing willow she is willing to hear Argia out
I doubt that she's going to sit around and wait for a plan to be created before acting should it prove necessary. So Argia's stuck on her timeline.

>all she said is that she can't "Deus ex machina" willow for Argia's sake
And Ansarra knew for a fact that she could birth suns before she did? She constrains her abilities by predisposing that much simply isn't possible.

>literally nothing we've read so far in those past 6 threads even implies that she breaks her word or bends contracts
Sure, but she would still have us agree to her terms and conditions, and with having done this near 40,000 times. I don't doubt that they by necessity would be unerringly narrow in scope, or overly burdensome. She is after all perfectly free to just "not" to offer up a deal.

>We still don't know what she wants to offer Argia anyway, so there's no point in arguing about the fairness of hypothetical deals.
She's already told us she can't do what we would want her to, thus there is nothing of interest for either of us here.

Poisoning "the Well" is only going to actually get us dead in the coming trial, so I don't know why she keeps trying to predispose any and all possible arguments in our defense. Even then I doubt that Ansarra doesn't know about this meeting, we need to push back on this.

>when we lose nothing by seeing all the options available
Again we do lose something, we have heard what the charges laid before us are, and to go in the 11th hour before judgement and make them true; defeats the last possible defense we have. As it would transform the charges from patently false, to well. Materially True. Remember that the charges being brought before Ansarra to rule on relate to being an "Agent of", not a "Contractor of".


>The thing Argia wants above literally everything else, including Willow, is to give her family a safe home in madua
And the Stilladìa is not some grand Gatekeeper of Madua, and so it entirely falls outside her remit to grant


>And as far as we know nobody associated with her will grant safe passage to Argia's family
Rubida's familial connection could probably be lent on to get them in, as menials; it not yet beyond salvage, to the point where a Contract would be the only path left.
The knighthood was the only expedient and workable method presented at the time of its undertaking

>at the mention of her family she seems to be able to do something about her family’s current plight
And what could Argia possibly offer her at this point that is, worth the pending execution?

>>6310644
>You don’t take her hand, but stand on yourself, and walk, stunned towards the Bragia of the past. Is this just a memory? Can you interact with the environment, with… her?

>>6310888
Anon, I think you're looking at this a bit narrowly.

Ansarra already knows wee're dealing with the Stilladia and doesn't care; in fact, she wanted us to. It was possibly her reason for favoring us and getting the cameo to us.

As for what the rest of the less than faithful fellowship woll think... Right now they don't know we're dealing with Stilly. If they find put, it won't matter if we took the deal or not: seeing a silver witch in our cell will be damning enough.

As for our family, Stilly can't get them into Madua, but I bet she can get them safe housing away from The Landing Strip.

And why would The Adversary do that? Because she's still a very sentimental person, as we've seen in all of her vignettes, and right now probbaly because Argia reminds her so much of herself. She would make the deal in a heartbeat, I bet, if her heart still beat.

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>>6310692
>>6310867
>>6310888

>triple eights

checked

# # # # # #

interesting discussion throughout these posts. I'll try to clarify the most important points brought up, in a QM-ex-cathedra fashion, so take this as me speaking to the players in general.

>Stilladìa cannot offer Argia what she wants

she most certainly can, otherwise she wouldn't bother being here. Safety for her family (probably not in Madua, but any safe place where they can rest and recover will be more than enough). It might probably be less optimal than Ansàrra saying 'sike!' and everyone clapping and giving Argia their Congratulations! Congratulations!, but that's a fever dream.

>This memory is fake

everything that I showed you so far throughout the threads goes against treating The Stilladìa as a liar. Taking everything she says at face value might not be wise, but that's true for every person you meet down the street.

>The Stilladìa is not some 'gotcha!' genie

correct.

>the thin Argia wants above literally anything else, including Willow, is to give her family a safe home in Madua

yes. I tried to make this as obvious as it could be. Right now the prospect is Madua of course, because of the past few years and all the sweat tears and blood you shed, but the ultimate goal is to keep her family safe forever,, no matter what.

>holes in the defense

the Trial of Gold is not a normal process when you have lawyers and procurators. Astoria and the Amaranthines have already judged Argia as guilty (this whole part of the 'process' is a sham), but the last word comes from Ansàrra herself. If you'll burn and die under the shower of hallowed gold She has melted, you will have been just a tool for a purpose. Then again, Ansàrra might save you at the last moment. You can still put your trust in Her.

But you do not know.

The Stilladìa can certainly take you out of here, away from Madua, and protect your family. What matters is if if you trust her enough.

>Rubida's familial connection

is naught before the Amaranthines and less than zero before the word of the Sun-Birther. Remember what happened when Maduans saw Argia's silver hair: they turned on her on a dime.

>And what could Argia possibly offer her at this point that is, worth the pending execution?

the only thing the Stilladìa craves more than any soul, more than all the souls she has collected.

>yea but what is it

it will become increasingly obvious

# # # # # #

Alright, I hope that clarifies things a bit for everyone. I should be able to write an update in about two to three hours so see you soon!

>>6310894
>Ansarra already knows we're dealing with the Stilladia and doesn't care; in fact, she wanted us to.
This hasn't confirmed directly though a vison or otherwise, and with no indirect guidance as to where the limits actually lie. And I wouldn't be absolutely certain. After all Ansarra's opinion clearly gets diluted and its just reading into things at this point. It'd be a different story if the Blessing wasn't obviously withdrawn upon our landing in Madua. Where fewer questions

What do we even infer from these occurrences, our hand was pretty badly hurt by her flame, why assume that we still have her favor. I just think that some level of caution should still be exercised.


>If they find put, it won't matter if we took the deal or not: seeing a silver witch in our cell will be damning enough
So why engage now of all times, if she leaves its less likely to have been an issue we don't know what kind of countermeasures the Amaranthines have access to, sure she can stop time and flit around as she wishes, doesn't mean it won't have been noticed after all Carnival's feather reacted to her presence.

If this is part of a ploy to reduce obstructions to justice there are far easier ways to go about it. Something larger is obviously afoot; and Argia is only a footnote at this point.

>can get them safe housing away from The Landing Strip
Where? Thanks to Argia's appearance Madua, and her actions the Thronelands aren't an option; and heading to Frigéia wouldn't likely go down well, and the Nightlands really don't have much to offer at all.

~~~~

>>6310896
>she most certainly can
In context it was meant to reference the fact that she isn't going to go out of her way to save Willow, nor would she be likely to make a deal that forced her hand on that matter. It's obvious that breaking said contract would have "consequences", even if she had no part in her death. As it would constrain her options in dealing with "the Worm", which would have strategic impact on the balance of powers among others and so obviously be untenable in her position.

>throughout the threads goes against treating The Stilladìa as a liar
It's not that she has lied, but she would only show us things that are strictly advantageous to her position in a negotiation, as a prospective contractor. It makes no sense to not cautiously engage in the way this gets framed; as it will impact the terms she will offer, or what we should ask for to trade.

>correct.
It's more so that I'm prepping for her to absolutely lowball us, as we don't know our value to abridge the demands on her side of the contract; and use anything she shows us as cause to do so. She can't reference things if we don't engage in finding out and her being the "any port in a storm" option doesn't sit right with me at this point.She claims she can stop time, why not wait until after Ansarra makes her determination, should it go badly. Then She'd literally have us over a "barrel".