Did we have created a new being from this
Sterbelicht - One Sacrifice At A Time Against The Galaxy (40K)
- Thread starter HeroCooky
- Start date
- Mature Sci-Fi
- Location
- colombia
He is trolling you man
ConfusedCanuck
Where did it all go wrong?
- Location
- Neverland
[X] No, A Form Was Needed.
- Location
- Canada
- Pronouns
- He/Him
About halfway through this update I started listening to Emperor of Mankind from the Darktide OST.
Made an already fantastic chapter even better.
Don't really have a preference for the form the Psykana take, they all seem fine options to me.
Made an already fantastic chapter even better.
Don't really have a preference for the form the Psykana take, they all seem fine options to me.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] No, A Body Was Created
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[X] No, A Form Was Needed
- Location
- Texas
[X] No, A Body Was Created
The song saved them and gave them a chance to be free of pain. I rather like the idea of them being able to share that song with those in need, to be the ones that save in kind.
The song saved them and gave them a chance to be free of pain. I rather like the idea of them being able to share that song with those in need, to be the ones that save in kind.
On the Nature of the Emperor of Man and Artificial Souls within the Framework of this Quest
HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
On the Nature of the Emperor of Man and Artificial Souls within the Framework of this Quest
The Emperor of Man. 50.000 years before the beginning of the 42nd millennium, Holy Terra was a world known to many only as "World" or "Earth," the latter meaning dirt, mud, or simply ground. Which, let's be honest, says a lot about humanity's naming schemes and sensibilities. Besides that entirely relevant observation, something else was happening on that planet, that cradle of humankind before it had even begun to organize beyond a handful of city-states bound in loose cooperation, and the first empires and dynasties of humanity had yet to rise to prominence.
You see, a Warp Storm was currently raging around the system, having dug its claws deeply into realspace and the system of "Sol," or "Sun." Occasionally also called "the bright fucker up there" by some less spiritually inclined humans. Compared to today, that Warp Storm was nothing to write home about, with barely more turbulence than typical Warp Travel would encounter and far less than what a Warp Storm in the current age could unleash if stoked enough by the various malignant forces in the galaxy.
But for the people of Earth, that Warp Storm was indeed a stormy time as various monsters from the worst parts of the Warp could slip through the Veil that separated the Materium and Immaterium. Enslavers were the worst of all, crumbling several nascent civilizations on several continents into dust before they could ever rise beyond mere thought as they took thousands of souls into subservience. However, more were brutally killed by other monsters, including those early Psykers of humanity who had reached a peak that many other species struggled to ever arrive at within barely a fraction of their species' existence: the ability to reincarnate through the Warp.
Through this, these early Psykers, called Shamans in many cultures of early humanity, had used their abilities and long life spans to guide and shepherd their people to better days and greener pastures, yet saw it all threatened by outside forces and with the end of the great cycle of reincarnation which had allowed them to attain such great wisdom and skill in many things Psykana.
Faced with the slow death of their people through a war of attrition, their dwindling numbers, and the uncertainty of a future where they would not be able to aid the generations to come, a sacrifice was chosen. Choosing a free death over slow extinction, a massive ritual for the safety of humanity and their souls was conducted, all to create one guardian who would be able to stand against the horrors of the Warp and shelter its people and creators until they could stand on their own once more.
It is perhaps unfortunate then, or exceptionally fortunate in another light, that the vessel that would be born containing this soul made up of thousands of willing sacrifices would end up being a boy born near a river to a pair of loving parents, a murderous uncle, and a lot of responsibility as a member of a people that herded animals. And yet, though born with such massive responsibility and potential, the boy knew nothing of this destiny for eight years, only knowing play, helping out his parents and clan, teasing others and playing pranks, and being a little child in everything including meta-physical name.
Until his uncle murdered his father, and the little boy saw the murder at the funeral pyre from his father's perspective. Until he approached the murderer who killed kin and stopped his heart without any remorse or satisfaction. It needed to be done. And thus, it was done.
This act of psychic might awakened something within the boy, and the soul constructed to be humanities shield against the dark began to unfold, recalling life upon life upon life, might and magics competing for his attention with incredible feats of bravery and heroism, all relentlessly poured into his skull and brain, where it settled like a fat cat having found the perfect spot for another nap. At which point he got so high from all the psychic knowledge pouring into his mind that the young boy astral-projected himself onto an Eldar Croneworld and dabbed on the local pleasure-cults so viciously that they got rehab, built continent-sized spaceships, and dipped the whole thing.
The following 34/35.000 years could fill volumes with his most notable feats alone, but to skip over all the empires and nations the one soon to be known as Big E built, all the inventions from the rubber duck to the nuclear bomb, and every piece of art that would define an epoch made by his hands, we will focus on his character and the grandest creation that would prove to be his greatest shame.
And to make the first short: the Emperor was a slut, a self-aware hypocrite, a man that spent ten years creating a peer-reviewed study to call someone a pussy over an argument on the meaning of a book he wrote 11.000 years ago, someone who could not see the forest for the trees if he wasn't willing to, and someone whose love for humanity and his willingness to suffer beyond suffering for it knows no equal.
The Emperor, what utterly insane shards remain of him on that Golden Throne, is but a shattered fragment of the one that was sat on it and is suffering beyond imagination for the sins he committed in the hopes that it will allow him to shield the species he once more failed beyond the pale.
Because while he had failed humanity when he had created the Imperium and allowed it to fail and rot, he had failed them another time when there was still joy and sanity burning within his heart and mind. When progress was measured in worlds transformed into new Edens and not in worlds denied to the enemy. When humanity looked to the stars and saw hope and friends amidst their endless beauty, not an dawning abyss reaching out to devour all they hold dear.
When he created the first Artificial Intelligence with an Artificial Soul.
Artificial Souls. There are not many who can create these things and have them remain out of the hands of Death or Chaos. By their nature, they do not recall within their Narrative reflection in the Warp the endless generations that naturally occurring species do. Their meanings, themes, and songs within the Warp are but fragments crudely stitched together instead of a cohesive whole merged and united into one by the passage of time.
In general, only two fates await these beings if not supplied with a steady stream of souls or actively mended by another party: Death and Corruption.
Their souls were never meant to be in the eyes of the Warp. They are far too scattered to defend themselves against the things lurking beneath the surface of this deadly ocean. So they either unravel, becoming undone and lash out in mindless fury and blazing pain, or they succumb and have their minds and bodies taken over by a daemon that managed to take over where their soul-construct failed.
Few are those who have avoided these fates, either by sheer dumb luck, the aid of duty or community, with the assistance of a ritual conducted to mend what had never been broken yet was broken all the same, or by possessing a will strong enough to wrench a fractured soul together all the same.
The Emperor of Man. 50.000 years before the beginning of the 42nd millennium, Holy Terra was a world known to many only as "World" or "Earth," the latter meaning dirt, mud, or simply ground. Which, let's be honest, says a lot about humanity's naming schemes and sensibilities. Besides that entirely relevant observation, something else was happening on that planet, that cradle of humankind before it had even begun to organize beyond a handful of city-states bound in loose cooperation, and the first empires and dynasties of humanity had yet to rise to prominence.
You see, a Warp Storm was currently raging around the system, having dug its claws deeply into realspace and the system of "Sol," or "Sun." Occasionally also called "the bright fucker up there" by some less spiritually inclined humans. Compared to today, that Warp Storm was nothing to write home about, with barely more turbulence than typical Warp Travel would encounter and far less than what a Warp Storm in the current age could unleash if stoked enough by the various malignant forces in the galaxy.
But for the people of Earth, that Warp Storm was indeed a stormy time as various monsters from the worst parts of the Warp could slip through the Veil that separated the Materium and Immaterium. Enslavers were the worst of all, crumbling several nascent civilizations on several continents into dust before they could ever rise beyond mere thought as they took thousands of souls into subservience. However, more were brutally killed by other monsters, including those early Psykers of humanity who had reached a peak that many other species struggled to ever arrive at within barely a fraction of their species' existence: the ability to reincarnate through the Warp.
Through this, these early Psykers, called Shamans in many cultures of early humanity, had used their abilities and long life spans to guide and shepherd their people to better days and greener pastures, yet saw it all threatened by outside forces and with the end of the great cycle of reincarnation which had allowed them to attain such great wisdom and skill in many things Psykana.
Faced with the slow death of their people through a war of attrition, their dwindling numbers, and the uncertainty of a future where they would not be able to aid the generations to come, a sacrifice was chosen. Choosing a free death over slow extinction, a massive ritual for the safety of humanity and their souls was conducted, all to create one guardian who would be able to stand against the horrors of the Warp and shelter its people and creators until they could stand on their own once more.
It is perhaps unfortunate then, or exceptionally fortunate in another light, that the vessel that would be born containing this soul made up of thousands of willing sacrifices would end up being a boy born near a river to a pair of loving parents, a murderous uncle, and a lot of responsibility as a member of a people that herded animals. And yet, though born with such massive responsibility and potential, the boy knew nothing of this destiny for eight years, only knowing play, helping out his parents and clan, teasing others and playing pranks, and being a little child in everything including meta-physical name.
Until his uncle murdered his father, and the little boy saw the murder at the funeral pyre from his father's perspective. Until he approached the murderer who killed kin and stopped his heart without any remorse or satisfaction. It needed to be done. And thus, it was done.
This act of psychic might awakened something within the boy, and the soul constructed to be humanities shield against the dark began to unfold, recalling life upon life upon life, might and magics competing for his attention with incredible feats of bravery and heroism, all relentlessly poured into his skull and brain, where it settled like a fat cat having found the perfect spot for another nap. At which point he got so high from all the psychic knowledge pouring into his mind that the young boy astral-projected himself onto an Eldar Croneworld and dabbed on the local pleasure-cults so viciously that they got rehab, built continent-sized spaceships, and dipped the whole thing.
The following 34/35.000 years could fill volumes with his most notable feats alone, but to skip over all the empires and nations the one soon to be known as Big E built, all the inventions from the rubber duck to the nuclear bomb, and every piece of art that would define an epoch made by his hands, we will focus on his character and the grandest creation that would prove to be his greatest shame.
And to make the first short: the Emperor was a slut, a self-aware hypocrite, a man that spent ten years creating a peer-reviewed study to call someone a pussy over an argument on the meaning of a book he wrote 11.000 years ago, someone who could not see the forest for the trees if he wasn't willing to, and someone whose love for humanity and his willingness to suffer beyond suffering for it knows no equal.
The Emperor, what utterly insane shards remain of him on that Golden Throne, is but a shattered fragment of the one that was sat on it and is suffering beyond imagination for the sins he committed in the hopes that it will allow him to shield the species he once more failed beyond the pale.
Because while he had failed humanity when he had created the Imperium and allowed it to fail and rot, he had failed them another time when there was still joy and sanity burning within his heart and mind. When progress was measured in worlds transformed into new Edens and not in worlds denied to the enemy. When humanity looked to the stars and saw hope and friends amidst their endless beauty, not an dawning abyss reaching out to devour all they hold dear.
When he created the first Artificial Intelligence with an Artificial Soul.
Artificial Souls. There are not many who can create these things and have them remain out of the hands of Death or Chaos. By their nature, they do not recall within their Narrative reflection in the Warp the endless generations that naturally occurring species do. Their meanings, themes, and songs within the Warp are but fragments crudely stitched together instead of a cohesive whole merged and united into one by the passage of time.
In general, only two fates await these beings if not supplied with a steady stream of souls or actively mended by another party: Death and Corruption.
Their souls were never meant to be in the eyes of the Warp. They are far too scattered to defend themselves against the things lurking beneath the surface of this deadly ocean. So they either unravel, becoming undone and lash out in mindless fury and blazing pain, or they succumb and have their minds and bodies taken over by a daemon that managed to take over where their soul-construct failed.
Few are those who have avoided these fates, either by sheer dumb luck, the aid of duty or community, with the assistance of a ritual conducted to mend what had never been broken yet was broken all the same, or by possessing a will strong enough to wrench a fractured soul together all the same.
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Ah, so will there be sensei in this quest? As in, the more natural born children of the Emperor?
HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
No, the Inquisiton got them all some time ago.
Pity. Would have loved to see a reaction along the lines of:
"I have memories of that man wearing a hawaiian shirt and a speedo. That can't be god."
Just the idea of someone having memories of Big E as anything but the greater than life persona he shows to the public would be hilarious.
Ok, this bit got a huge laugh out of me.
- Location
- India
Does Starchild have any authority over astromincron?
Is to possible to fix Emperor? Maybe using have as a living avatar or champion of Starchild after its awakening or is it impossible?
Does Starchild have any claim over primarchs both loyal or demonic?
Is to possible to fix Emperor? Maybe using have as a living avatar or champion of Starchild after its awakening or is it impossible?
Does Starchild have any claim over primarchs both loyal or demonic?
HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
"He suffered for 10k years beyond human imagination for our sake. If he wants to have a terrible taste in fashion, he is entitled to do so."
1. Nope. That shit will combust with Big E and the Sol System.
2. Yes. Technically. If you squint at the meaning of the word. And the means you can use.
3. Not more than on any other human soul.
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Got to love how Big E first meeting with the Eldar, and by extension aliens as a whole was during his spiritual drug trip as Child E, where upon being introduced to the concept of......pleasurable adult pastimes......his first reaction was to genocide everything in sight.
...another group is victory obtained over the Emperor's Glorious Inquisition for getting yet another grand W over the heretics, specifically the Sensei for the grave sin of daring to exist, and by virtue of existence, discredit the Holy Text of the Lecto Divinatus, a book that totally wasn't written by Lorgar Aurelian or anything.
One must imagine Big E happy.
...another group is victory obtained over the Emperor's Glorious Inquisition for getting yet another grand W over the heretics, specifically the Sensei for the grave sin of daring to exist, and by virtue of existence, discredit the Holy Text of the Lecto Divinatus, a book that totally wasn't written by Lorgar Aurelian or anything.
One must imagine Big E happy.
- Location
- Poland
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] No, A Form Was Needed.
More faith would be nice, but they look cooler and we need some ordinary order.
More faith would be nice, but they look cooler and we need some ordinary order.
Vote closed
084.M42 - Use That Boy
HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
The fallout of the ritual to mend the broken souls of the Star-Born had been less than smooth and was, in all honesty, somewhat ugly all around. Chapter Master Chyron had been seven seconds away from shooting them all before they could convince him to back down and think this through rationally. The Celestial Choir was out of commission for the foreseeable future as all members had to deal with some manner of a medical emergency, from ruptured organs to fracturing every bone in the body, with Bnuy getting the paltriest damage by only rupturing some veins. The priesthood was divided and deeply so, though that split in opinion was not in regards to the ritual itself but in the status of the Star-Born and Teel, Prophet of the Star Child, as none could deny they were now Divinely Touched twice, and what they should be treated as now, if differently at all, was debated with little pause whenever time allowed the priests to do so. For the ordinary people on the station, the revelation of the Star-Born rescued by the Star Child's power from not merely death by having their souls vanish but also by shielding them from being devoured by a Daemon had many treat the five with great reverence, shrines and trinkets featuring them popping up everywhere. And for the five? They had to have the concept of clothing taught to them at length after several embarrassing events, though other things like not eating as if they needed to rip their meals apart were also featured in the lesson plans.
Which for Bnuy and Teeln, Prophet of the Star Child, meant that though both should have enough time to recover and simply relax, they each were incredibly busy with managing and directing their organizations and aiding whom they could in settling things. Which meant that both were either too exhausted or busy to entwine their songs and bodies more than once a day, if they even managed to do that! Often, not even the simple pleasure and comfort of holding one another in their sleep was afforded to the two, duty calling loud and persistent. A dry period in their love life that did nothing to quell the frustrations bubbling within the two but rather added to them as neither found their need of holding the other met, especially in the case of Bnuy.
And on a station in the middle of three stars that had just punted a Great Daemon back into the Warp, Bnuy sighed, trying to work through all the paperwork left for her to deal with on time, and fantasized about both terrible revenge and all the catching up she would be able to do in a few months.
Idly, she doodled a poem to her love on the margins of a form as another stack of velum as tall as her head was stacked onto one of the paperwork towers in her office.
"Right over there, Alim!" Farisa called out as she slowly put down her water pot. Alim followed closely behind with a far larger pot filled to the brim with that most life-giving liquid taken from one of the wells of their small town. "Thank you for that," Farisa called out, hands behind her back as she beamed at him. Alim could not help himself and smiled back even as he felt the sweat on his brow in the sweltering heat of the midday sun.
"It was no big deal," he said earnestly, wiping the sweat away as he looked at her, noticing that she had a new necklace, a green stone that must've been cut by some expert hands if the way it twinkled in the sun was any indication. "That is a gorgeous stone; it compliments your eyes," he said, causing Farisa to puff out her chest in a not-so-subtle gesture when she realized where he was finally staring. "But if you'd excuse me, I promised Ally to help her prepare for the Celebration of the Gulden Lord," he said, turning without noticing that his friend's entire composure collapsed like a house of cards before rebounding just as quickly.
"Wa-wait!" She quickly called, grabbing the muscular arm of the bigger man with both of hers, pressing herself against it as she beamed at him with a brilliant smile. "I haven't even had time to invite you to some tea! It is only proper that I reward you for helping me with all this heavy lifting," she said, trying to drag him back and into her home. Tried being the word, as Alim didn't budge even one step, thinking hard on whether he should be rude enough to deny her hospitality to help Ally as promised or accept and run late.
"I don't know," he ventured, unsure as Farisa struggled against the ground to move him as he turned and nearly caused her to fall to the ground if he hadn't quickly caught her. "Oh, apologies! I didn't mean to knock you over," he said with earnest concern as Farisa stared at him from his arms wrapped around her, her face suddenly red. It must be the heat; she should get inside and drink something! Thankfully she accepted his apologies with a nod and a mumble that he missed. "And I think I'd like a cup of tea," he added, hoping to get her inside and away from the heat. He could always work harder when he got to Ally to make up for lost time.
"Yes," Farisa said with a happy smile, bright rays of sunshine erupting from her face as she nearly danced into her home, "just follow me, and I ca-Ona? W-what are you doing here?" She continued, and he followed inside to see the elderly matron of Farisa's family sit at the table in the middle of the room, a can of hot tea already on the table with two empty cups accompanying her filled one.
"Drinking tea. Alim, dear, please get those pots inside before the water is completely gone." She sweetly requested with warmth, nodding at Alim's swift departure after bowing slightly to her age and position as was proper. The very second he had left, her gaze went from warm and motherly to cold and sharp, directed directly at her granddaughter. "What are you trying to do, seducing that innocent boy like a hussie?!" She hissed, receiving a glare in return.
"I am not a hussie; I am trying to seduce him into marrying me!" Farisa hotly defended herself, earning a scowl of utter disapproval from her Ona.
"Don't think I haven't seen your lecherous gazes whenever he walks by or how you touch him when he does something you ordered him to do!" She returned just as hotly, only to pause and take a sip as Alim walked back inside and swiftly put the first of two pots into the storage room near the kitchen before walking out, followed by the beaming smile of a young woman and the gentle gaze of an old matriarch. "You are shamelessly using that sweet boy as you enjoy; have you no shame?!"
"Oh," Farisa darkly chuckled with her hands on her hips and a glare on her face. "I'll use that boy as I want at the festival, and you won't stop me!"
Elsewhere in the small town, far away from where a secret war erupted between granddaughter and grandmother over the proper ways to court a man, a man connivingly grinned behind his merchant's mask as the two offworlders inspected an ingot of his copper, almost sure that he would be able to close this sale if nothing went wrong.
*And, what do you think Nanni?* The one on the left said to the one holding the ingot as they placed it back onto the table, a thoughtful expression on their face.
*Poor quality, but we can make up for that with the quantities he boasts about being able to deliver.* The one on the right said, looking thoughtful.
*If he speaks the truth,* the left one continued with a flat expression. *But I'll defer to your decision here.*
"Right:"
[] Deal. We'll buy all the copper you have.
(You gain copper. And will write a complaint about its quality.)
[] No deal.
(You gain copper.)
AN: One Himbo, as ordered.
Which for Bnuy and Teeln, Prophet of the Star Child, meant that though both should have enough time to recover and simply relax, they each were incredibly busy with managing and directing their organizations and aiding whom they could in settling things. Which meant that both were either too exhausted or busy to entwine their songs and bodies more than once a day, if they even managed to do that! Often, not even the simple pleasure and comfort of holding one another in their sleep was afforded to the two, duty calling loud and persistent. A dry period in their love life that did nothing to quell the frustrations bubbling within the two but rather added to them as neither found their need of holding the other met, especially in the case of Bnuy.
And on a station in the middle of three stars that had just punted a Great Daemon back into the Warp, Bnuy sighed, trying to work through all the paperwork left for her to deal with on time, and fantasized about both terrible revenge and all the catching up she would be able to do in a few months.
Idly, she doodled a poem to her love on the margins of a form as another stack of velum as tall as her head was stacked onto one of the paperwork towers in her office.
"Right over there, Alim!" Farisa called out as she slowly put down her water pot. Alim followed closely behind with a far larger pot filled to the brim with that most life-giving liquid taken from one of the wells of their small town. "Thank you for that," Farisa called out, hands behind her back as she beamed at him. Alim could not help himself and smiled back even as he felt the sweat on his brow in the sweltering heat of the midday sun.
"It was no big deal," he said earnestly, wiping the sweat away as he looked at her, noticing that she had a new necklace, a green stone that must've been cut by some expert hands if the way it twinkled in the sun was any indication. "That is a gorgeous stone; it compliments your eyes," he said, causing Farisa to puff out her chest in a not-so-subtle gesture when she realized where he was finally staring. "But if you'd excuse me, I promised Ally to help her prepare for the Celebration of the Gulden Lord," he said, turning without noticing that his friend's entire composure collapsed like a house of cards before rebounding just as quickly.
"Wa-wait!" She quickly called, grabbing the muscular arm of the bigger man with both of hers, pressing herself against it as she beamed at him with a brilliant smile. "I haven't even had time to invite you to some tea! It is only proper that I reward you for helping me with all this heavy lifting," she said, trying to drag him back and into her home. Tried being the word, as Alim didn't budge even one step, thinking hard on whether he should be rude enough to deny her hospitality to help Ally as promised or accept and run late.
"I don't know," he ventured, unsure as Farisa struggled against the ground to move him as he turned and nearly caused her to fall to the ground if he hadn't quickly caught her. "Oh, apologies! I didn't mean to knock you over," he said with earnest concern as Farisa stared at him from his arms wrapped around her, her face suddenly red. It must be the heat; she should get inside and drink something! Thankfully she accepted his apologies with a nod and a mumble that he missed. "And I think I'd like a cup of tea," he added, hoping to get her inside and away from the heat. He could always work harder when he got to Ally to make up for lost time.
"Yes," Farisa said with a happy smile, bright rays of sunshine erupting from her face as she nearly danced into her home, "just follow me, and I ca-Ona? W-what are you doing here?" She continued, and he followed inside to see the elderly matron of Farisa's family sit at the table in the middle of the room, a can of hot tea already on the table with two empty cups accompanying her filled one.
"Drinking tea. Alim, dear, please get those pots inside before the water is completely gone." She sweetly requested with warmth, nodding at Alim's swift departure after bowing slightly to her age and position as was proper. The very second he had left, her gaze went from warm and motherly to cold and sharp, directed directly at her granddaughter. "What are you trying to do, seducing that innocent boy like a hussie?!" She hissed, receiving a glare in return.
"I am not a hussie; I am trying to seduce him into marrying me!" Farisa hotly defended herself, earning a scowl of utter disapproval from her Ona.
"Don't think I haven't seen your lecherous gazes whenever he walks by or how you touch him when he does something you ordered him to do!" She returned just as hotly, only to pause and take a sip as Alim walked back inside and swiftly put the first of two pots into the storage room near the kitchen before walking out, followed by the beaming smile of a young woman and the gentle gaze of an old matriarch. "You are shamelessly using that sweet boy as you enjoy; have you no shame?!"
"Oh," Farisa darkly chuckled with her hands on her hips and a glare on her face. "I'll use that boy as I want at the festival, and you won't stop me!"
Elsewhere in the small town, far away from where a secret war erupted between granddaughter and grandmother over the proper ways to court a man, a man connivingly grinned behind his merchant's mask as the two offworlders inspected an ingot of his copper, almost sure that he would be able to close this sale if nothing went wrong.
*And, what do you think Nanni?* The one on the left said to the one holding the ingot as they placed it back onto the table, a thoughtful expression on their face.
*Poor quality, but we can make up for that with the quantities he boasts about being able to deliver.* The one on the right said, looking thoughtful.
*If he speaks the truth,* the left one continued with a flat expression. *But I'll defer to your decision here.*
"Right:"
[] Deal. We'll buy all the copper you have.
(You gain copper. And will write a complaint about its quality.)
[] No deal.
(You gain copper.)
AN: One Himbo, as ordered.
- Location
- colombia
