>G] The power vacuum in Eadric is still cause for extreme concern. Pay a discreet visit to LADY LARAVALD, your spy, and remedy this situation once and for all.
>D] One final SERMON before your departure would be incredibly sweet. It's also wise. (D1-D3 are mutually exclusive.)
>3] Do not summon Mercy. You're trying to be considerate of how distraught Mercy still is from last week's event, and this is an address to your city.
On one hand, we are leaving the city, and it must learn how to function without us.
On another, the lack of leadership is one of the problems Walter warned us about; people just feel like we have forgotten about them.
>G] The power vacuum in Eadric is still cause for extreme concern. Pay a discreet visit to LADY LARAVALD, your spy, and remedy this situation once and for all.
This will probably needs to be done, but I am split on whether a sermon is necessary. Still, it's best they don't think we disappeared on them and abandoned them in their hour of need.
>D] One final SERMON before your departure would be incredibly sweet. It's also wise. (D1-D3 are mutually exclusive.)
>3] Do not summon Mercy. You're trying to be considerate of how distraught Mercy still is from last week's event, and this is an address to your city.
(Going to be a few minutes before I can write, but given the unanimous vote for D and majority for G, I think we're fine. Noting the preferred times as morning for the sermon and afternoon to pay your spy a visit, and all discussion as well. Don't fret if your choice wasn't picked straight away. You guys still do have time! The vote is locked.)
"A sermon." A tangerine horizon shines off all the green in your eyes. "At dawn. Eadric is meant to be the last bastion of mankind, and Mercy and I have the capacity to aid all who are in need of our help. There should be no question of divine right. No question of authority. While my city must learn how to function without me— and I have no doubt that they will— this perceived lack of leadership is exactly what Walter has been warning me about."
You take your eyes down to the man at your side, while Ray climbs into what little space is on your lap. Ruffling your dog's fur with a smile, you say to both of your friends, "they should know that I care. They'll have felt it, thanks to all of our efforts. So far as I'm aware, Eadric is once again the safest city in the nation— and I would like to keep it that way."
Smirking, Father Pevrel crosses his arms. "Big talk."
"I'm done putting out fires. We will return to prosperity." You can't stop smiling at the thought of it. The morning sun gleaming off your city's high walls. Birds chirping, and the light of day safely flooding over your congregation. A little dreaminess comes into your voice. "All while giving Mercy the praise that She deserves."
"And all the rest?" Your fellow church leader is more aware than anyone of all the problems standing between you and stability.
"The problems that you and I have created do legitimately— they do require my full attention. The vacuum created in the wake of our actions is something I cannot ignore for one more day. By tomorrow afternoon, I should have it addressed. There is no reason that anyone— that anyone should have to fight for wealth or power in my city."
You're pat hard on the back. Ray fires a warning growl at Father Pevrel, who pays your boy no mind. "Good. Forget meeting up tomorrow afternoon."
A little guilt creeps into your tone. "Thank you for speaking to the Nye Brothers for me."
"A day or two of rest before the trip isn't going to kill you... if you can call the shit you're running around doing 'rest'. I'll make sure they stay off your back."
The two of you pack up the picnic just as night falls on the city of shields. Stars wink at you overhead, and the moon is bright. It's easy enough to see Father Pevrel's face as he finishes tucking the stupid parasol into your endless satchel.
"Don't give me any shit, Anscham. Who knows when it might come in handy?"
"Sure. Will I see you in the morning?" Your grin lights up the night.
"Not on your life. I'll have the same retinue of men posted for security, though. You need anything else?"
"I'll see to the rest. Thank you again, Father Pevrel. Blessed be the Dream."
"Yeah, yeah. Blessed be the night."
As the two of you part ways, you're left with the rest of the evening to yourself. Ray is given as much attention as humanly possible on your way back to the castle. Playing with sticks, bits of rope, and his favorite chew toy is all wrapped into the lengthy excursion.
Your boy is incredibly reluctant to leave your side as you return to the interior of Daybreak Citadel, but you don't mind the company in the slightest. Delegating the rest of tomorrow morning's mundane affairs is left to the competent hands of your most veteran priest. Brother Fergant is tracked down just outside of the Church of Mercy's main choir, and has been trying to keep the building immaculate. He couldn't be more delighted to hear you're making proper use of the space. He tears off running to find your swiftest priest, swearing that they'll have the event as the talk of the town come morning.
Ray insists on coming with you all the way to your chambers. The solar has had its sheets turned (despite how orderly you keep them), and the candles replaced. You settle in for the night, and think only to the coming dawn.
There are a number of concessions to make for the sermon. It's rare that you have the opportunity to truly prepare for one. No matter your love of improvising, you figure that a small outline couldn't hurt— especially given that this is how you may be remembered for weeks or months to come.
>Please choose one option from categories A, B, andC.
>Creativity and passion is almost always rewarded in Catalyst Quest, but especially so when it comes to your faith!
>This is where you really shine. Write-ins to bolster any options are strongly encouraged! General direction for your QM is fine, as well as specifics.
>A] While there are many things you want to convey to your congregation, having one predominant message is always a good idea.
>1] Independence. You want your citizens to think on what THEY can do in the coming days.
>2] Prosperity. Focus on your city's history, its strengths, and how the city of gold can rise to its former glory.
>3] Leadership. Let the people know that the theocracy has NOT abandoned them. You'll tie into your last sermon's message of restraint, help mend the damage that Inertia has caused, and paint a brighter picture for the future.
>4] Write-in.
>B] It's traditional for the presiding leader of the Church of Mercy to dazzle their audience. You are no exception to this, but have one hell of an act to out-do (given that last week, you summoned Mercy Herself before the crowd).
>1] This isn't about you, or the Goddess. Get up before dawn, and work with every hand you can find to make the Church of Mercy itself as stunning as possible. You love your home, and want it to be seen at its best.
>2] Incorporate the story of your missions from Mercy into the sermon. Your congregation should know that their Goddess' will is about more than glitter and light.
>3] You're fine with keeping the focus on your speech. You're dead-set on not invoking, and it should be a fantastic reminder of temperance (particularly for anyone who still wants to question yours)!
>4] Write-in.
>C] All eyes are going to be on you tomorrow. As much as you hate it, you should try to look your best.
>1] Traditional garb of the leader of the Church of Mercy is almost blinding. It should do nicely to distract from your build and your curse, and will be a visual reminder to everyone present of where your faith lies.
>2] You're grieving, and so is most of the city. Mourning attire could tastefully be incorporated into your holy vestments, will mask some of your facial features, should look flattering, and would be an incredibly thoughtful gesture.
>3] You'd like to show your respect towards everyone who's helped save your city: the Church of Vengeance, the Goddesses of Mercy and Agriculture, and your fighting forces. Dress in a practical fashion, paying your usual dues towards your patrons. You are just fine with not hiding your weight, curse, or any other issues with your image from the public.
>4] Write-in.
>D] A lot has happened since you came home. It's impossible to cover it all succinctly, but you'd like to touch on a few special details. (Write-in anything specific you'd like to have incorporated into the sermon! As the last address you're making before a long absence, what you write-in also does not need to tie into your overall message. I will work with as much as I reasonably can.)
>A] While there are many things you want to convey to your congregation, having one predominant message is always a good idea.
>3] Leadership. Let the people know that the theocracy has NOT abandoned them. You'll tie into your last sermon's message of restraint, help mend the damage that Inertia has caused, and paint a brighter picture for the future.
>B] It's traditional for the presiding leader of the Church of Mercy to dazzle their audience. You are no exception to this, but have one hell of an act to out-do (given that last week, you summoned Mercy Herself before the crowd).
>2] Incorporate the story of your missions from Mercy into the sermon. Your congregation should know that their Goddess' will is about more than glitter and light.
C] All eyes are going to be on you tomorrow. As much as you hate it, you should try to look your best.
>3] You'd like to show your respect towards everyone who's helped save your city: the Church of Vengeance, the Goddesses of Mercy and Agriculture, and your fighting forces. Dress in a practical fashion, paying your usual dues towards your patrons. You are just fine with not hiding your weight, curse, or any other issues with your image from the public.
>A] While there are many things you want to convey to your congregation, having one predominant message is always a good idea.
>3] Leadership. Let the people know that the theocracy has NOT abandoned them. You'll tie into your last sermon's message of restraint, help mend the damage that Inertia has caused, and paint a brighter picture for the future.
Do not paint a picture of obedience, the message of leadership we deliver should feel paternal rather than authoritative. The people feel like the clergy is completely separate from them, try to humanize them by telling stories of their day to day lives. Small quirks and maybe some defects here and there. Richard may be an exception but the citizens of Eadric should feel like the people protecting them are only human too, humans we put our entire faith into.
>B] It's traditional for the presiding leader of the Church of Mercy to dazzle their audience. You are no exception to this, but have one hell of an act to out-do (given that last week, you summoned Mercy Herself before the crowd).
>2] Incorporate the story of your missions from Mercy into the sermon. Your congregation should know that their Goddess' will is about more than glitter and light.
The ruins of Ostedholm were probably as deep and dark as we have ever went, insist on the fact that even at the bottom of the world the sun still shines. When they feel like the abyss they are going through is devoid of any Mercy they should be reminded that Mercy represents ALL of human emotion, that they too can be Mercy where there is none.
>C] All eyes are going to be on you tomorrow. As much as you hate it, you should try to look your best.
>2] You're grieving, and so is most of the city. Mourning attire could tastefully be incorporated into your holy vestments, will mask some of your facial features, should look flattering, and would be an incredibly thoughtful gesture.
The city needs to heal, in more ways than one. The major loss of life has left some deep wounds in peoples souls that might fester, grief is love that has nowhere to go so to honor the memory of their lost ones people should look out for everyone that is still here. People are the choices they make and the people that fought and died for Eadric and its citizens chose to fall for the people they loved, that singular act eclipsed any divine intervention because it was intentional and deliberate.
>D] A lot has happened since you came home. It's impossible to cover it all succinctly, but you'd like to touch on a few special details. (Write-in anything specific you'd like to have incorporated into the sermon! As the last address you're making before a long absence, what you write-in also does not need to tie into your overall message. I will work with as much as I reasonably can.)
The entire country will be looking to Eadric, let our hard work not be in vain, become the hope that your countrymen need. I love you all.
>A
3
>B
2
>C
2
>D
I would like to support Florin's write-in and suggest that we use it at/near the end. I think it would make for a good soundbyte to close the sermon.
Long before dawn rises on the holy city of Eadric, you get out of bed, and get ready for the day. After getting washed up, your hair is cut for the first time in months (you figure you could have done a worse job), and some practical, all-black attire is shrugged on under your robes. There's a few green laces and fasteners on your shirt, which is devastatingly tasteful, and shouldn't clash too much with what else you have in mind.
A single hand is placed to your enchanted outer garment. "Attire appropriate for grieving, in the fashion of the Church of Mercy. I have nothing to hide from my children, so please keep it devoid of full-face coverings. As tastefully as you can manage. No bright gold or glitter. Please."
The borderline garish article shifts gradually. Traditional holy vestments make way for closely cut, long sleeves on a fitted jacket. The lack of length or excess cloth is appropriate for a church who primarily sees to the dying just before they've passed. It's practical, but more importantly, comes with a weighty hood that will drape well over your eyes.
Inspecting the new cut of the garment further, you catch your thousand-yard stare in the nearest mirror. The bags under your eyes are deeper than usual, and you still are blatantly unhinged, but at least it's clear you've lost some weight this week. Most of it seems to have come off from your long face. The perfectly fitted top is particularly flattering, too. It's not a bad look. From the right angle, you even can focus more on the effects from the green dahlia than any curse on you.
You'd wager that you're looking better than you have in weeks, and can almost bring yourself to smile.
Pulling the over-sized hood up over your eyes masks the grief still reflected off them. Your Relic is on full display, along with the ring you wear upon your left hand. Both gifts from Mercy gently clink together, while you place a hand to your heart.
How many people couldn't be here today?
Ray nuzzles the side of your leg, and vigorously licks your free hand.
"C'mere, boy. I'm just fine."
"Bhoof."
"I'm not lying."
He pants at you.
"Don't you worry about a thing." Kneeling down and taking Ray's snout between your hands, you touch noses, and give him a sincere grin. "...you think I'll do alright?"
You're licked on the side of your cheek.
"Thanks." Scratching his ears is non-negotiable. A few head pats on his side are necessary, too, while you both part ways outside of the solar. "We'll see each other again soon. Promise."
Hardly a soul is up and about at this hour. It's effortless to dodge any interference on your way to the Church of Mercy. Winding through hidden passages, back rooms, and narrow corridors, you descend away from your chambers, out from Daybreak Citadel's outer wings, and take a detour into your gardens.
An outcropping of white lilies is your destination. The symbol of mourning is typically used by the Church of Spirit— and the smell usually makes you feel sick— but you're more positively attuned to the sweet scent now.
Devotion. Sympathy. Innocence after death. Humility.
The reminder of demons, botched invocations, or darker memories of mistakes long-past can't compare to your desire to heal. One fresh flower is placed in your lapel.
The sun is set to rise, so you make your way towards the entrance to the Church of Mercy. Hundreds of voices can be heard stirring from within the building, and you can feel the heart of your home thrumming. Citizens from all walks of life have gathered here today, and you start to see them before even entering. They're pouring out from the pews, out into the courtyard, and away from the expansive double doors that are your destination.
Voices swell on the air. Brother Durville is flitting to-and-fro on the second floor of the building. His keen eyes must have spotted you coming, which sets off your other priest near the front of the church. Brother Fergant joins the young scamp in hollering for people to be seated.
As you come into view, at least two dozen men and women gathered in the courtyard turn to face you. There's sleepy calls of, "good morning, Father Anscham!" in all directions. On the air also carries a divinely faint melody. Three more of your priestesses are within the building, though their hymn to a Goddess dies down by the second. No one sighs or complains at the choir coming to a halt.
The brisk air and fresh breeze becomes as calm and composed as you feel. You step through the colossal, gilded, and open double doors right at the front of the building. With you comes the morning sun.
The view within is enough to take your breath away. The dawn of a new day pours over hundreds if not thousands of aureate fixtures. Gilded chandeliers burst with hundreds of candles, dripping with pale-yellow wax. Statues and paintings in the likeness of your Goddess, old healers, and paragons of devotion adorn the side wings from polished floor to vaulted ceiling.
Sunlight dances across pews packed to the brim with men, women, and children. The second floor's banister is bare, with countless more souls respectfully seated away from the edge. Most are dressed in mourning, too.
Your eyes sweep down the center aisle. Striding forward, head held high, you easily see the usual retinue at the back. James is wearing the audacious red hat you got him as a gift, and is surrounded by covert priests of Vengeance. Your minstrel gives you a wink the instant he sees you looking your way, while discreetly jerking a thumb towards the next few pews down.
Candace had the audacity to come. The tattooed woman is in the simple maid's dress you and Agriculture gave her yesterday, and couldn't look more uncomfortable. She's also flanked by Father Pevrel's men, and dodges eye contact, while keeping her gaze fixed on the audience.
She must have still wanted to hear what I have to say.
At the end of the aisle, Adwin is once again seated front-and-center. Likely having read the room before coming into view, the young artist is in a more conservative set of shawls and robes than you've ever seen him in before. By his side is the elderly, traitorous gentleman you pardoned on the Night of Embers. You don't raise your eyebrows at the old man, or do so much as give him a slight nod before approaching the altar. He makes no effort to return the gesture, but seems content enough to watch the sunrise with the rest of your congregation.
Approaching the altar, your eyes fill with the full light of day. Thanks to your substantial height, there's no need for any podiums, or to literally put yourself above anyone else. Radiance splashes off from stained glass along the entire length of the Church of Mercy, and brings your heart to your throat. You turn to see hundreds— if not one thousand— people packed into the building. Most are looking in awe at the Church of Mercy in the morning light.
You give them all a moment to enjoy the sun, before projecting your voice across the stage. "Blessed be the day."
The message in return is mostly muttered, but the sheer volume of people in your congregation makes the reply deafening.
"Blessed be the light."
Your eyes scan the room, and though you linger on no individual in particular, the pain across your features is directed towards everyone. "I would like to thank you all for joining me here today. The sick, the elderly, the dying. Those of you who had to travel at a moment's notice to be here this very morning. Can you all hear me in the back?!"
You can hear them clearly. "Yes, Father," echoes from down the hall.
"Good! And to all of you who are normally here in our city: our men, women, and children, who have valiantly persevered in the face of the impossible! To all of my friends and family— thank you. There has not been a day that has gone by that you were not in my thoughts."
Your voice drops in tone, though you still call out to the highest seats and furthest members of the audience. "I have been thinking of all of my children, and every member of their families, too. I'm speaking not just of everyone gathered here today, but of the clergy, too. It's been several months since I last paid a visit to Beorward, and that's to say nothing of every other church in our nation. Given recent events here, in Eadric, I have to wonder how everyone is doing."
A few guilty looks pass through the crowd. It's abundantly clear that so much as humanizing the theocracy has some people uncomfortable— which is exactly what you're aiming for.
"I can't even count how many of them helped me. For every time I was able to shelter a priestess from the rain, ten other men and women risked their lives on my behalf. They never asked for my thanks. They rarely ever gave me their names. They had their own lives to lead, and their own families to go back home to. It suited us all just fine to keep our distance."
Melancholy creeps into your tone. "Most of them have gone off to fight on all of our behalf. I might not ever know all of their names, or their families, or their lives; but before I touch on matters here— if you'd humor me— I wouldn't mind remembering a few of them."
No protests. Not a single disparaging look in the crowd.
"To start, I— I don't think I would even be here today if it weren't for Brother Trebbeck. He may have yet to beat me in a race—" Happy for some relief from the somber tone, disbelieving laughter rises from the crowd. You mock offense. "Come now. Most of you know me as a demon of speed!"
The laughter redoubles. One heckler calls out from the back, "times change!"
You holler in return, "it wasn't even last year when I could have ran circles around any one of you!" You let the laughter rise a little, along with several loud protests from young athletes, before continuing over it. "My point is, the strengths of my dear ally came not only from how fast he could run, or how much we could lift together. It came from his family. The daughter he raised all on his own. His partner— a dear friend of mine, might I add— who couldn't be happier to lift him higher. And all of the people in his life, who he protected with more than his fists."
"Brother Trebbeck looks after his family with his heart. Be it beating down demons three times his size—" You make a dramatic gesture, just like the gorilla-demon Cyril imitated to you once before. It gets a few women (and James) to gasp comically from the crowd, before you lower your arms and preach normally. "—or preaching the merits of taking an afternoon off to a church leader who tried working himself to death."
The church falls completely silent.
You give a sad smile to everyone present. "I don't need to tell you all about how many of my children have helped me see what truly matters. Sister Raleigh— a priestess of Flesh, with her own clergy to look after in the heart of Calunoth— nearly killed me trying to defend her guard's honor. Twice!" You talk once again over a small surge of laughter. "Don't think the Father of Honesty is lying to you about that, too! Or Brother Wilhelm's insistence that his friends get a good night's sleep! I think I learned more from the boy in a few weeks than my own parents were able to teach me in years. He's onto something, too. They all are."
"We all are trying to look out for each other. I am incredibly relieved to inform you all— to any who haven't heard the good news already— that over one hundred of my clergy are en route from the capital. They will be coming with hands to spare."
Chattering breaks out across every single aisle. The overall tone is incredibly excited, relieved, or curious. Brother Fergant's aging voice hollers somewhere in the very back for everyone to quiet down, to which most people reluctantly comply.
A little more light spreads across your smile. "I could not be more excited for you all, either. I encourage each and every one of you to treat this church as your home. Please take as much time as you wish. I strive to be there for you all, each and every day— but no matter where I go, or what trials may come our way, I ask that you put just as much faith into them all as you would put into me." You pause. "Hopefully even more so. I will be absent in the coming weeks."
Dead silence from the crowd.
"Get to know the men and women who have sworn on their lives to defend you all. These are your Brothers and Sisters."
The familial connotations of the church are lost on many people, but you're happy to remind everyone. This is a light bulb moment for many younger souls in the crowd. Plenty of older men and women look amused as well. It's a welcome distraction from the bitter news, which has several faces looking like they'd rather pelt you with rotten fruit than waste another second here.
"But you all do not need to hear anecdotes about my other children, or what my plans are across country in the days to come. You all came here today to hear something worthwhile." Some of the disparaging faces turn at least to mild curiosity. "Something worth the time to come from halfway across the city. Worth leaving behind the safety or comfort of your homes. Worth risking your health, to brave the world when our days have been very dark of late."
A hand goes to the Relic resting just over your heart. "For those of you who are unaware, I left Eadric last year to die."
At least one hundred people mutter or shift uncomfortably in the crowd.
"You're right to judge."
The uncomfortable mood in the crowd intensifies. You don't mind.
"I was misguided, and lost beyond belief. But for every mistake that I made, and every step that took me further from Mercy's light, I found something else."
Lifting your voice, you speak with no bitterness. It puts everyone significantly more at ease, despite what you're saying. "There, in all of my grief and frustration. Within the rage I directed in all the wrong places, towards the friends I never made, and at every missed opportunity. I fell away from the Gods, and do you know what I found in the absence of all other things?"
Dust filters through beams of sunlight. You smile at every sun-speck.
"Even when I felt abandoned and without any cause— even at the bottom of the world, the sun still shines."
Casting a loving look to the locket in hand, your voice continues to waver. "I had no idea what waited for me from moment to moment. The next tomorrow was a blur of despair and wandering in the dark. I could not see the light of day— but I never needed to." The verve in your voice redoubles. You look to hundreds of stunned faces, and call out, "I saw it in the eyes of everyone I fought, who found their own way to save themselves. I saw it in the smiles of my companions, no matter how bitterly we parted ways. We knew that we would see TRUE sunlight again! Even when I saw the face of my mentor as she died— and I know that Idonea wouldn't have had it any other way."
Bringing your gaze up to the congregation, your voice rings out. "Mercy is to know ALL of human emotion. The rage that you've felt, the tears that you've shed, and every bit of grief you've yet to heal from. I'm speaking of compassion towards yourselves. Mercy where you all may feel that there is none." Your voice wants to crack. "This last month has brought such a major loss of life, I—"
You're not going to cry in front of hundreds of people, but fight to keep yourself level. "Can we all please take a moment of silence, for everyone who could not be here with us today?"
Nothing further needs to be said. The entire congregation bows their head.
A full minute passes, with birdsong and biting tears.
You gather yourself, and call out once again. "I will never pretend that every life lost can be deliberate. And while I can never extend my gratitude enough towards the men and women who have fought and sacrificed EVERYTHING on our behalf, I know that many of us are grieving for those who did not willingly choose that sacrifice." Your words catch. "I am so sorry. These wounds are ones that I cannot heal through my own hands, nor that of our Goddess."
It's fine that you're coming across as a lunatic. Enough has gone on this month to justify any behavior at a time like this.
"I would like to share with you all a few words that Mercy left us with last week: 'Even if your choices have brought you pain... even if you have chosen to not act. That is what has brought you all here today. Not to wait. Not to listen. Not to learn. We are all feeling for ourselves. For each other. For those we hate, those we love, and those we have yet to even know.' And She's right. We are the choices that we make." You're getting choked up, and can't care. "We are also just as much the choices that we cannot make."
Several people in the audience also look to be on the verge of tears. There's a lot of mistakes here. A lot of things people wish they could have done, and didn't.
"It may feel as if your love has nowhere to go, but I assure you, it does. The grief that we all share is that very same love. And the people who are still here— your mothers, your fathers, your sisters and brothers— the neighbors who have fought by your side, the people sitting to your left and right— and plenty of people we all have yet to meet— every last individual who enters our lives is one more person we can affect for the better."
Wiping at the back of your eyes with one hand, you call out to the furthest pews, and keep your voice clear. You can barely keep it together, but manage to look at plenty of watery, hopeful eyes with just as much faith.
"These are all people who we can honor our loved ones with. The entire country will be looking to Eadric in the days ahead. Let our hard work not be in vain. Please take care of yourselves, and everyone around you. Become the hope that your countrymen need. I love you all."
Silence falls over the entire Church of Mercy for several long minutes. It's clear that most people are too worked up or pensive to say anything, but the entire building also seems reluctant to move.
A bundle of rustling yellow skirts finally registers on the periphery of your vision. It's the best warning you get before Tilda shoves her way from the choir, through a congested aisle, and practically tackles you into a hug. Baffled, you instinctively return the gesture as best as you're able.
Adwin grins at you from the front aisle. Just about everyone else in the audience looks to have been roused from whatever somber reverie they were in.
While she's being smothered in a bear-hug, your priestess calls out to the entire congregation. "Thank you all for attending Father Anscham's service! If you would like to stick around, Susan— I mean, Sister Susan, Agnes, and I will be conducting a few more hymns for us all to sing together in just a few minutes! Otherwise, if you could please exit in an orderly fashion..."
>A] Stick around after the service, just for a little while.
>1] Compassion is your creed! See if anyone in the congregation wants to talk. It will show respect towards your clergy's efforts, and could really help you and your citizenry.
>2] Solidarity is great, too! Go join in the choir. You have a really nice singing voice, and it could help encourage some more people in the crowd to join in.
>B] See if you can find Spangle and Electrum in the crowd. It might take awhile, but you really want to set things right with them.
>C] Go catch up with Brother Durville. You've missed him terribly.
>D] You're kind of a hot mess right now, and could really use some time to decompress. Take as much time alone as you need. It will cut into everything else you want to get done, but you'll be much better equipped for the rest of the day.
>E] This is a perfect opportunity to get away without raising any questions. Go arrange that discreet meeting with Lady Laravald. In this crowd, people might think you never even left the Church of Mercy. Plus, you might even have some time later tonight to get more done. (This may potentially open up one more MAJOR ACTION, depending on how effectively you handle your meeting with your spy.)
>F] Write-in. (No matter what, you are heading to see Lady Laravald after your business in the Church of Mercy concludes, but any specific things you want to say or do in tandem with other prompts is welcome.)
>A] Stick around after the service, just for a little while.
>1] Compassion is your creed! See if anyone in the congregation wants to talk. It will show respect towards your clergy's efforts, and could really help you and your citizenry.
I want to know what effect the sermon had and know our people a little bit more intimately.
>F] Write-in. (No matter what, you are heading to see Lady Laravald after your business in the Church of Mercy concludes, but any specific things you want to say or do in tandem with other p
Sneak a look at all the former prisoners and sinner in the crowd, see what they are all feeling like. Also tell EVERYONE to remember to hug more!
Inspecting the new cut of the garment further, you catch your thousand-yard stare in the nearest mirror. The bags under your eyes are deeper than usual, and you still are blatantly unhinged, but at least it's clear you've lost some weight this week. Most of it seems to have come off from your long face. The perfectly fitted top is particularly flattering, too. It's not a bad look. From the right angle, you even can focus more on the effects from the green dahlia than any curse on you.
You'd wager that you're looking better than you have in weeks, and can almost bring yourself to smile.
While she's being smothered in a bear-hug, your priestess calls out to the entire congregation. "Thank you all for attending Father Anscham's service! If you would like to stick around, Susan— I mean, Sister Susan, Agnes, and I will be conducting a few more hymns for us all to sing together in just a few minutes! Otherwise, if you could please exit in an orderly fashion..."
>A] Stick around after the service, just for a little while.
>1] Compassion is your creed! See if anyone in the congregation wants to talk. It will show respect towards your clergy's efforts, and could really help you and your citizenry.
>F
Supporting Florin's write-in as well.
No need to tire ourselves out though, keep it casual and relaxed.
(Coming up on Catalyst Quest's 2 year anniversary in one month! I'm kicking off celebrating a little early with updating the title card for arc 8! On the way will be a couple of wallpapers voted on by the members of our Discord, which will be posted on September 3rd:
1. A lineup of all demons that have been depicted in the quest thus far.
2. Resized lineup of all the Gods seen thus far.
3. Every character depicted thus far, in order of appearance.
4. A tasteful gathering of your inventory's items that we have pictures for.
When I have the time, I'll retroactively update the title cards for arcs 1-7 as well!)
Kneeling down to Tilda (keeping her sweetly within your arms), you whisper, "can we belay that? Just for a few more minutes."
Your priestess grins from ear to ear and wiggles out from your hold. "Wanted to talk even more, huh?"
"Very funny." You can't help but grin back. "But yes." Tilda laughs. "Just something casual! I have no intention of throwing my voice out with another sermon."
"Alright, Father. I'll hold 'em up!" The sunspark tears of towards the choir, hollering a series of excuses to her Sisters.
The city of restraint knows well enough to not make the din into a thunderous roar, but the building swells with hundreds of voices. You still struggle to pick out any individual conversations— beyond what's brought directly to your attention. Right off the bat, you can hear a few people call out from the surrounding crowd to thank you for the service. You wave happily back to them, and try to keep it together.
Peeling away from the Church of Mercy's altar, you head towards the first few aisles, and are greeted by more mixed responses. Somber, smiling, and vaguely irritated expressions are on all sides. No one has the audacity to give you a hard time to your face, but mutterings are all around about your inbound absence. There's skepticism about how things will run with or without you, but to your extreme relief, the majority of the sentiment is positive. It seems that your work in putting a stop to the famine in Eadric, clearing out Inertia's forces, and restoring peace within weeks of your arrival couldn't have come a day too soon.
A middle-aged woman who was sitting in the front row looks as if she'd like to take you by the hands. She's been crying, but keeps a straight face in the company of what must be three of her friends. They're gathered like hens in mourning, huddled together in shawls and masks of grief.
The figure closest to you is wringing a handkerchief between her hands tightly enough to whiten her knuckles. There's a waver in her high-pitched voice. "I can't imagine how much trouble you'll be given for leaving, Father, but I'd just like to say that some of us appreciate all the hard work you have already done here."
You nod and discreetly gesture with your hands, wordlessly asking if she wants a hug.
The grown woman shoves her handkerchief into one hand, and takes you into a firm hold. Both arms. She's clearly battling not to cry. "We all can't be everywhere at once. I couldn't be there for my little girl, but I'd like to think that I'm still trying." The last shred of this woman's composure evaporates. She breaks down crying, despite how hard she's fighting to keep her voice level. Anger is all through her miserable display. "It's what she would have wanted."
You give a small smile to her, return the hug just for a moment, and gently place your arms on both of the woman's shoulders. She's more than relieved for the excuse to straighten upright, while you speak in a low and gentle tone.
"Thank you for sharing this with me. I'm certain that you'd know what your daughter would want, more than anyone. It's clear as day that you are still trying."
"Thank you. You didn't have to even come here this morning. You could have just off and left. Isn't that right?"
You drop your tone, and make no effort to hide how badly you're hurt by your own absences from home. "I can't ever let things get this way again. Leaving you all without a word was unthinkable."
"And we're going to have hands back at home. Real help." A watery-eyed, relieved smile casts back to her friends (who all give tired smiles), then up at you. "Thank you, Father."
All three other women that are gathered give you a few small, quiet nods.
"You understand this is exactly why I wanted to be here?" Your smile broadens, looking past the grieving woman's friends. There's at least fifty people standing behind them, every last one looking like they badly want to speak with you.
Laughing a little to yourself, you sigh, and spread your arms. "Alright. Who else wants a hug?"
The rest of the morning is a blur of hundreds of faces, at least thirty hugs (the fact that you lost count has you happy enough to nearly start crying all over again), and more gratitude than you can wrap your head around. While you keep your eyes out for any known prisoners and sinners in the crowd, there's no trouble to be had. No new faces from the confessions you heard. Candace keeps to herself, and leaves quite early into the affair. No less than four priests of Vengeance escort her out from the building (and you make a note to yourself to thank Father Pevrel later). And all the while, you manage to work deeper into the crowd, trying to see to as many people as possible. There's no line, or order, and it suits everyone just fine.
More sentiments work deeper into the crowd. There's a blend of excitement about who will be coming to occupy the Church of Mercy, and ample speculation about how affairs will be ran in your absence. More often than not, people gossiping among themselves are eager to share what they intend to do in your stead. There's motivation for change, and it's all in such a positive way, your heart is fit to burst.
"Father Anscham." One bitter young man elbows his way up to you. The peasant's scruffy hair and dirt-smeared face smacks of someone from the slums. You patiently listen while he fires a blue-eyed glare to everyone standing by.
Not a soul moves, so he gulps, keeps both hands clenched into fists, and acts as if you have the entire church to yourselves.
"You said that Mercy is always with us, but that can't be right." His voice drops to a whisper. He's tall for a teenager, so you aren't made to lean over too far. "She hasn't been there for any of us."
Worry knits your brow. There's a few slashes on the boy's forearms. You keep your eyes fixed on his pained expression instead, and speak just as quietly. "I am so sorry that you feel that way."
"It was YOU that saved my district." He's shaking with anger. "I saw you and Father Pevrel cut down those monsters where they stood. Those cultists. And it wasn't even Mercy that was with you. You called on Agriculture, right?"
"I did invoke Her."
"Why should I have to follow some creed of compassion when death is what kept me safe?"
You take the lily from your pocket, and hold it with a frown. "Bear with me. Do you know what this flower represents?"
"Death."
"Yes. It's also symbol of the Church of Spirit."
That frown keeps deepening. "Are you telling me that it was Spirit, then?"
"This flower is an icon of Spirit, yes, but it's also a gift from Agriculture. And we both know that that the Goddess of life can only blossom thanks to Mercy's rays. Right?"
"What's your point."
You extend the flower with no expectations. "It may have been Mercy who asked me to save the souls of my prisoners—" The boy's jaw drops. He moves to protest, but you continue. "—you asked me to explain. Did you not?"
"Yeah." He shifts a little from foot-to-foot. "I did."
"So you know that I consider myself a man of all the Gods."
"Yeah." He's starting to get it.
"If you wish to show Agriculture your love, or pay your respects towards Spirit, then you should go where your heart takes you. I can tell you about flowers all day, but what ultimately matters is what they mean to you."
The flower is taken reluctantly.
"We can interpret the events of our life however we please." You stare the young man down. His eyes are fixed on a white lily, as if it could answer every question his life has presented.
After several moments of silence, his eyes trail up to you. "What did Mercy tell you to do?"
Several bystanders are staring at you with equal measures of shock.
You spend the next twenty minutes or so going over the nuance of Mercy's mission. The prospect of offering atonement to violent criminals is something truly befitting of a man who's traveled through Time. Most people turn a deaf ear to the conversation within minutes, save for the elderly man who you pardoned earlier in the week. He was sitting at the front aisle, but on a cane and with no small measure of determination, the philanderer has made his way over to you.
He hollers out, just as you're moving to go even deeper into the aisles. "Anscham!"
You give the man a nod, and easily cross back over to him. A few amused thoughts cross your mind as you work through the crowd. Sure, you may be pudgy— but the extra weight really isn't anything to worry about. Particularly not when it's helped you keep up your strength these many long weeks. That same strength is what makes quick work of anyone that stands in your way. And with how much better you're feeling today, you would likely trounce even Father Pevrel in a fight. The ache in you is practically gone! Were it not for how chronically sleep deprived you are, you'd say you're in the peak of health.
Your eyes are dry, and a smirk paints your features as you arrive in front of a bent old sinner. "I never did get your name."
This individual confessed to making even your escapades look as pure as freshly fallen snow, but he meets your eyes without a shred of shame. "Better that way." A wet sniff is given towards the circle of people still gathered around you. "Didn't want to miss this. Had a feeling about it all."
"Oh?"
Mumbling to himself, the old man admits, "you didn't spoil things too badly last week. And things have been smoothing over here in Eadric. I'm starting to wonder how much good could have been done without us all holding you back."
"I pray that things will only continue to improve." You try to not frown too hard. Your citizen is smiling for possibly the first time since you've met him, and curiosity has the better of you. "I hadn't considered it, given when you resided in the Red City, but—"
"Oh, pfah." The end of his cane is shaken at you. "I'm not saying any of this because of whatever boy-toys you keep back in the Church of Flesh."
Biceps that could kill flash across your memory for a split second, a curse is on you, and you fail the fight to not blush. "Cyril is not—"
"Uh-huh. First-name basis?" A wheeze of a laugh escapes from the lecher. "I'm just giving credit where it's due. I'm not so old to stop seeing what's right in front of my face."
He turns to leave. "I'm not teasing you. You understand what I'm getting at? Don't let things fall to pieces while you're gone."
"I won't."
After several more minutes, you pass through crowds of relaxed and talkative families. Almost everyone is making an active effort to stay in the church to mingle. It seems that your speech actually has everyone thinking more for their fellow neighbor! More importantly, you don't catch many disparaging glances in any directions from those who are making an effort to congregate. There's grief in abundance, but you're certain that everyone has had enough of suffering to last a lifetime.
A lot of people are hugging and crying. You catch countless anecdotes about families driven apart or torn to pieces by the month's events. For every individual who has you to thank for still being alive, there's thirty more who just want their loved ones back.
As you approach the rear of the Church of Mercy— trying not to break down— a few people happily part so you can make it into the courtyard.
The second you step outside, your heart stops.
Past several dozen members of your congregation you spot Sister Cardew and Walter. The former is in her usual, stark-white attire. The latter is in the finest, cleanest, dandelion-yellow regalia that he owns. The priestess and nobleman look the part, while speaking with a farmer just on the outskirts of your home. The gentleman that they're talking with seems a little wary of the conversation— even from a distance— and he's keeping his eyes firmly fixed on his own family.
Beside them are two dogs. Ray is sniffing and looking over a female mastiff. She easily has the most stunning golden coat you've ever seen. It's beyond a rarity, and couldn't have been bred anywhere locally.
You have to force yourself to not run over, and hail your counselors with a wave long before you interrupt your boy and his potential mate. The trio all give you a unanimous, obligatory, "good morning, Father Anscham."
At your name, Ray's ears perk up. You murmur, "it's okay, boy."
He goes back to inspecting and greeting. Practically vibrating with excitement, you force a "good morning" to everyone present.
Walter— ever the gentleman— doesn't torture you by waiting a second longer. Ever a fan of introductions, he makes an elaborate gesture towards the farmer. "Father Anscham, this is Mr. Godfrey Collins. His land occupies acres of north-eastern Eadric, and if I am not mistaken, has seen a surge of prosperity in his barley fields just this last week."
"What a blessing." You feel like you might pass out if one more emotion is stacked onto you this morning. "A pleasure to meet you."
"Sure." The farmer standing nearby is practically your height, though nowhere near your bulk.
At least forty people in the courtyard are standing a fair distance away. Plenty look terrified of the monstrous size of both animals, but a few are smiling sweetly.
You can't help but gush. "She's yours?"
"Yep."
"She's stunning. About how old?"
"Three years, now."
The same as Ray.
You can't hide your smile. "What's her name?"
"Dog." The farmer sniffs.
You pause, and invite the man to correct himself or the joke.
He stares at you with absolute seriousness. "Trained Dog m'self. She'll answer to anything, if it's a problem." Another sniff, towards Walter. "We good?"
Another ridiculous flourish is made. Walter produces a comically overstuffed bag of coin. It's probably smaller currency, just to emphasize the weight of the article. It changes hands with loud clinking, and grins in all directions.
"Pleasure doing business with you." Walter's yellow gloves somehow perfectly clash with the daisy-colored bag he's handed off. You blink, wondering what he had to do to talk Electrum into this, and figure it's better left unsaid (right this instant. Maybe something to badger him about another time).
Mr. Collins gives his girl a quick pat on the head, shoves his payment into a larger bag, swings it over one shoulder, and heads off. Waving with his free hand to you as he departs, the simple man hollers, "just a long walk home! Rather be there before sunset. Thanks fer the service and all, Father."
You can manage an elated, "you're very welcome! Thank you!"
As Godfrey fades from view (and the congregation outside keeps a respectful distance), you take several precious seconds to meet a new friend. Her coat is easily one of the most gorgeous you've ever seen in your life. All of the morning light dances off from its long, glossy, and incredibly healthy sheen. Her face is easily larger than your entire head, and you try not to cry while the curious young thing starts sniffing around your hands and legs.
"It's nice to meet you, too."
Her ears perk up, before going back to sniffing and licking at Ray. Your boy couldn't look happier, either.
You look up to Walter with tears in your eyes. "She's beautiful. You didn't have to."
"I did, and it was your money." That shit-eating grin has to be hurting his face. "You don't have to thank anyone. She's yours."
>Please choose one prompt from A and B.
>A] Ohmygod.
>1] You'll see Lady Laravald tonight. This afternoon is being spent on your dogs, and making sure that everything is PERFECT. It's not that you don't trust Walter or Harriet. You just REALLY want to spend this time with the newest member of your family.
>2] You're so excited you could die, and you BADLY want to linger here at the Church of Mercy, but you'll at least have time to play with your dogs tonight. Trust in Walter and Harriet to look after affairs, take a few precious minutes to make sure everyone is alright, and then head out. The day isn't getting any younger, and you have a lot of business to attend to.
>3] Though you're an expert in animal training, have already ordered a uniform for Ray, know that these animals will be given the best treatment in the nation, and have thoroughly instructed your counselors on their care, there's still something you REALLY want to make sure you don't forget. (Write-in anything you want to express to Walter and Harriet, or to Ray or Dog.)
>B] You may be terrible with names, but you can do better than "Dog."
>1] Grace. Your new girl embodies it.
>2] Hope. Her and Ray are going to inspire a lot of it.
>3] Joy. You can't remember the last time you were this happy.
>4] Dog is actually fine! It's what she's used to, and you want your girl to be as comfortable as possible.
>5] Write-in. (Subject to QM approval. Please avoid pop culture references!)
>A] Ohmygod.
>2] You're so excited you could die, and you BADLY want to linger here at the Church of Mercy, but you'll at least have time to play with your dogs tonight. Trust in Walter and Harriet to look after affairs, take a few precious minutes to make sure everyone is alright, and then head out. The day isn't getting any younger, and you have a lot of business to attend to.
>B] You may be terrible with names, but you can do better than "Dog."
>5] Write-in
Sunshine
Im willing to change my b vote
>A] Ohmygod.
>2] You're so excited you could die, and you BADLY want to linger here at the Church of Mercy, but you'll at least have time to play with your dogs tonight. Trust in Walter and Harriet to look after affairs, take a few precious minutes to make sure everyone is alright, and then head out. The day isn't getting any younger, and you have a lot of business to attend to.
>B] You may be terrible with names, but you can do better than "Dog."
>5] Write-in Joy
Plan Pupper Factory is a go!
We've seen a lot of Miss Joys never a Missus Joy anyway.
>A] Ohmygod.
>2] You're so excited you could die, and you BADLY want to linger here at the Church of Mercy, but you'll at least have time to play with your dogs tonight. Trust in Walter and Harriet to look after affairs, take a few precious minutes to make sure everyone is alright, and then head out. The day isn't getting any younger, and you have a lot of business to attend to.
>B] You may be terrible with names, but you can do better than "Dog."
>5] Write-in. (Subject to QM approval. Please avoid pop culture references!)
What about naming her Sunshine? Y'know, Ray of Sunshine? Absolute power couple. I love this, by the time we get back there might already be a first litter of puppies. This period of time has been utterly blessed.
I feel like naming her straight up Mercy is a bit too on the nose and as much as we love dogs other people may take insult with naming an animal after a goddess, something Mercy adjacent would be better I think.
