Catalyst Quest: Wild Growth
- Thread starter Alaric
- Start date
- Original Mature Fantasy Horror
>A] Follow Father Pevrel's lead on this. Investigation is his specialty, and you know he won't barrel into danger blindly.
Knock-knock, Pevrel Homes at your service!
Knock-knock, Pevrel Homes at your service!
Alaric
⠀
(Chapter 12: In the Belly of the Beast has been updated to include Zephadar's portrait. In addition, the Demons (Seen Thus Far) threadmark has been updated to include Zephadar's portrait, and a brief entry on him and Aralene!
I'm curious if anyone has any feedback on how our informational threadmarks are laid out. I've never heard any complaints, but they do seem like they could be considered unwieldy. Does the current layout work for you guys? Is there anything you'd like to see improved on? Please let me know if there is!)
I'm curious if anyone has any feedback on how our informational threadmarks are laid out. I've never heard any complaints, but they do seem like they could be considered unwieldy. Does the current layout work for you guys? Is there anything you'd like to see improved on? Please let me know if there is!)
Chapter 36: The House
Alaric
⠀
Chapter 36: The House
"I'll trust you. This is your specialty, after all."
The leader of the Church of Vengeance lets up on his frown, for once. "Alright. Let's get moving, then."
With your help, Father Wilhelm is gently woken up, and has the situation explained to him by Father Pevrel. It takes no time at all for the priest of recovery to implore his God for the energy he needs to get through the endeavor— but nothing more.
While the three of you slink from deserted alleyway to alleyway, you can't help but stare. Father Wilhelm's eyes are lit up in electric blue. Anticipation of a fight has him shaking and twitching at every crackle of leaves beneath your feet. He smiles to you once or twice, but you exchange no words of reassurance or care.
Before long, the sight of tall houses and winding back roads makes way for a happy little street. Cute, well-maintained homes line it on either side. The opposite end of the street veers away to your left, so there's no seeing what's around the bend from your vantage point.
You and your allies are hiding behind the side of a red-brick home, looking intently to the house that's dead-center on the opposite side of the street. It's as mundane as could be, with a colorful garden adorning the front and back yards. Small, flat stones lead up to a wooden front door. It's even got a sign painted with the word "welcome" hanging below a peep-hole.
The roof is tall, slanted steeply, and smoke roars out from the top in a steady stream. There are no other signs of life in all of Smererynpool. You try and catch the scent of whatever it could be on the air, and if you weren't mistaken, you'd say it's a medley of vegetables. Carrots, potatoes, celery. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Father Pevrel keeps you all in hiding for half an hour. He points out that there is no movement in any of the windows, and no sound to be heard despite the vast number of people that he can tell are inside of the building. Not a soul comes down the street to disturb you. It's enough to put Father Wilhelm's overexcited nerves on end. You give the priest a hand to hold after twenty minutes of mania-induced anxiety, and reassure him that you won't be outside all night.
It might as well be in the dead of the afternoon, but by your count, it's supposed to be just before 11PM. The gray, dimly lit sky does not reassure you in any way.
In the quietest voice he can muster, Father Pevrel whispers to you both, "we're going to approach the house together. It's likely that it will draw us in. Once we're inside, I'll be able to gather the condition of any hostages. Our objective is to rescue as many individuals as possible, and reduce casualties as much as possible, without jeopardizing our own safety." He's looking right at you. "If we are incapable of defending ourselves or making it out of here alive, we can't save anyone. Do you understand me, Anscham?"
"I do."
"Don't go getting pissy if I have to roll a few heads in order to save this village, then." He takes you firmly by the arm. "Stick by my side." You do. "Keep your eyes closed until we're adjacent to a window. I won't let you trip."
"Why...?" You've closed your eyes anyways. Father Wilhelm does the same, brushing his paint-slick hands off, and walks behind you without missing a step.
"The Church of Vengeance responds more often than not to these sorts of disappearances. My men get in, and if we're lucky, a few survivors get out. Not all demons kill in order to feed, Anscham. Some of them need to take living victims, and if I'm not mistaken..."
You all come to a stop. Father Pevrel pulls you flush against his side, and mutters, "this one has harbored more victims than most. I trust that you won't panic. Now isn't the time to be soft, Anscham. I want you to follow my lead. When I give the word, I want you to open your eyes. We might become separated."
The lord of wrath forces a firm tone into his voice. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was frightened.
"Our God is just. Anscham, this is a situation where if you need to invoke, it's warranted. You have my permission. Now open your eyes."
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Chapter 37: Appearances
Alaric
⠀
Chapter 37: Appearances
"Please don't take me away." There's a crushing pain in your skull, from the hand of a caretaker wrapped tensely around your small features. The grip is crushing.
Red rims your eyes, but they stay dry. Dry, and fiercely locked onto the small boy curled in on himself in the corner of your bedroom. The walls are painted light yellow. Your matching beds are neatly made, and toys are strewn about from hundreds of hours spent trying to pass the time. To teach you. To make you better. Your older brother knows that you aren't well. There's something wrong with your head, they said.
You're dragged kicking and screaming out of the small, windowless space. Away from all of the locks on the outside of the door. Down the hall, down the stairs, down into another night of distractions and incoherent babbling. There's something wrong with you. You can't express yourself how you'd like to. You can't make them understand.
They want to help you. Your parents love you. They only see that you're constantly hurting your brother. Maybe this time, a punishment will stick. Maybe this time, you won't act out again.
Dust gathers on the toys in your bedroom.
Your brother's clothes are handed down to you several times over.
Your mother always wants to keep up appearances. It's so important to her to keep up appearances. Night after night, she has guests at your home.
The dining room is practically a sacred space. You're not allowed to sit there. You're not allowed out of the basement, after all. You can only scream, and claw, and beg for someone to try and listen.
They can't hear you, but your brother hasn't forgotten. You can hear him late at night, when he picks the locks to the door, and comes to keep you company. You hurt him— as you have countless times before— but he keeps coming back. You need each other. You still love each other, through it all. He'll bring you toys, he'll bring you food, he'll bring you a reminder of what family is meant to be about.
He loves you, just like you love him.
You're allowed to sit at the table with guests and company for the first time in twenty-three years, tonight.
"Everything is alright," your mother says, looking intently at your two house guests.
They see that your hair is falling out in clumps, and that you're covered in bruises from head-to-toe. Something is stilling their tongue. Something has them terrified beyond all measure that if they speak up, you'll be put to death, or worse.
You've never had something wrong with you.
You've been protecting your brother, for all of these years.
Every outburst, every plea, was all in the hopes of taking all of that pain onto yourself.
He looks to be in the peak of health. He might even be mistaken for being happy— if everyone at the table wasn't so stressed out, they could die at any moment.
"Everything is fine," your father says, pouring a ladle of gravy over an empty plate.
Your brother can't know that you aren't sick. That nothing has ever been wrong with you. That you've distracted your parents at every turn, to hold their attention, to ensure that no one but you has had to suffer.
He's suffering. He's been suffering for all of his life, but this is all that he's ever known.
This is all that every resident of Smererynpool has ever known.
But you are in the body of a beaten and bruised young man, who has forgotten what it's like to speak coherently.
"Oh, dear. You look so tired." This is not your father. This is a creature with no face or jaw, who's drooling acid all over a spartan table. It's laid bare of anything resembling humanity. Everyone in your company is starving to death, and hasn't known anything in the way of sanity or kindness for generations.
"Why don't we get you to bed?" This is not your mother. Her body is only vaguely reminiscent of femininity. Spikes jut out from too-angular hips. Loose flaps of skin dress her in a mockery of a housewife's attire. Her face is a nightmare. You can't look at it for more than an instant without averting your gaze, and try not to retch.
Screaming comes more naturally to you, but you are trying so hard to choke down the desire to cry out. To not go back to the dark.
"Everything is fine," your not-mother assures the table. She is speaking directly to the table. The table is a person, who has been grotesquely arranged into the shape of one. They might still be alive. It's difficult to say.
This is fine.
It's only a small part of you, but it's there. Something. A reminder of something that could be sane.
Your brother has no eyes. He looks over the table, and to you, and to the demons that are hosting this catastrophe. The voice that leaves him is strong, but every word is more hesitant than the last.
"Can I go, too?"
Wide, horrified eyes practically bulge out of the hosts' heads. They twitch slightly, looking to the young man with enough disappointment to kill.
"Why?" The female drags a pair of perfectly manicured, utterly normal, human hands along the table. They're hers. You wonder why it's the only normal thing about her.
Her bug-eyed stare snaps to you. A rictus grin accompanies the look. "See, dear? Everything is fine."
The husband looks to his two dinner guests, all apology. "We don't have guests nearly often enough. Please excuse him."
"Oh, dear, you don't have to." A perfectly normal, utterly human female face grins at everyone present. It's as if a cute, elderly old woman were suddenly beaming. "Everything is fine."
>A] Try and wake up. Do anything you can to get out of this nightmare.
>B] You can't think clearly, let alone begin to process what's happening to you. Wait and see what happens.
>C] This isn't who you are. This isn't who you want to be. Something is NOT right here. (Write-in how you wish to approach this situation.)
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>B] You can't think clearly, let alone begin to process what's happening to you. Wait and see what happens.
Pevrel Homes is still on the case ladies and gentlemen, and we have not yet seen bodies dropping left and right as of this moment to warrant excessive action. As the faithful companion, Anscham gets himself conked into another person's life and it is imperative he should regain his former identity to once again, keep the party alive.
It seems sight is needed for the demon's influence given that we'd already lost contact with the rest of the Fathers upon opening our eyes. So chances are the good detective is still operable, if not encountering difficulties.
Observe the dream and focus on the details. Look inwards within yourself and find that small sense of wrongness that has alerted you to this charade. The Lord of Honesty does not look kindly upon something trying to implant falsehood upon his waking moments.
As soon as your thoughts have been mustered and your initial investigations of the dream concluded, talk. For what is more dangerous than the faithful Anscham turning the tables upon the enemy by turning them into allies or at least subduing them with his masterful wordplay?
Pevrel Homes is still on the case ladies and gentlemen, and we have not yet seen bodies dropping left and right as of this moment to warrant excessive action. As the faithful companion, Anscham gets himself conked into another person's life and it is imperative he should regain his former identity to once again, keep the party alive.
It seems sight is needed for the demon's influence given that we'd already lost contact with the rest of the Fathers upon opening our eyes. So chances are the good detective is still operable, if not encountering difficulties.
Observe the dream and focus on the details. Look inwards within yourself and find that small sense of wrongness that has alerted you to this charade. The Lord of Honesty does not look kindly upon something trying to implant falsehood upon his waking moments.
As soon as your thoughts have been mustered and your initial investigations of the dream concluded, talk. For what is more dangerous than the faithful Anscham turning the tables upon the enemy by turning them into allies or at least subduing them with his masterful wordplay?
Alaric
⠀
(Meta QM note: the last musical track (Arnold Schoenberg (1874-1951): Verklärte Nacht (Transfigured Night / La Nuit transfigurée), Op.4 (1899)) that I uploaded is quite long, and was intended for both chapters 37 (the previous chapter) and 38 (what I'm about to post). I'm not reposting the file in chapter 38 for a smoother experience for anyone reading through only the threadmarks, and for anyone reading the archive. I figured leaving this note for everyone following the current content wouldn't hurt!
That all said, the update will be out shortly.)
That all said, the update will be out shortly.)
Chapter 37: Cross Examination
Alaric
⠀
Chapter 37: Cross Examination
This must be a bad dream.
Your fuzzy, shadowed gaze goes to your hands. Your body. They're worn so thin, it looks like you could snap at any moment. Lacerations litter your exposed wrists, under a mauve shirt that was gifted to you from your brother over four years past. There's holes from moths eating at it, where your sharp collarbones nearly poke through. Your sunken waist and the violent tremor in your hands does little more than remind you of something that you used to know.
Clutching your fists together does more than steady them. It's a reminder of something that's been utterly devoid from this house for longer than you've been alive.
Prayer.
You want to pray, and the young man sitting at the table across from you has assumed the same motion. Despite having no eyes, he looks towards the monstrosities hosting this facade with a frown. "I had nearly forgotten my manners," he says.
Both of your hosts tense, looking frantically towards their guests, all apology. They ramble off a dozen variations of, "please excuse us," all while coming around the table to flank your savior.
You try to focus on the details. There's blood under his nails from trying to pick at something for far too long. The locks on the door? Has he been digging? There's nothing else unusual about him. He looks well-rested, and fit for a fight. Has he been saving his strength for something like this? Did he know that you were trying to protect him all along?
"Vengeance," the young man says, just as he's being hoisted to his feet.
"You need to go to your room." The mother grins with too many teeth. There are three rows of them, one in place of where her gums should be.
"You are mistaken." Your brother straightens upright, making no move to strike out at the man who's holding him up by only his collar. "It would seem that you've interrupted me. That's not very hospitable of you, is it?"
A nervous stare from the monsters goes to you, and to the two other people seated at the table. Everyone looks confused, and terrified, and you remain glued to your seat as if waiting to see what happens next could save your soul itself.
Two demons ease their captive to the ground. They take a seat at either head of the table. The male grins only at your brother, but speaks loudly enough that the entire table can hear.
"We don't need to remind you that we'll skin your brother alive if you step out of line, boy."
It feels like something is crawling along your abused and battered Flesh. Your eyes pour over the human table before you. The figure that it's been warped from has eyes of blue.
You can't scream. You're paralyzed, and watch as the eyeless youth knocks over the plate full of gravy. "Whoops."
"What do you think you're doing," your not-mother hisses.
"Calling your bluff." A deeper, rougher tone takes over the young man's voice as he grabs a fork, and chucks it straight into the opposite wall. The piece of silver skewers a painting of both demons smiling happily together outside of their home. In the picture, the sky is red. The faces are now stabbed to pieces. "You wouldn't ever do anything to actually kill him. You need us. All of us."
"That does it." The father isn't a father. Focusing even slightly on the figure's jaw-less form shows that despite its deep tone and assertive nature, its body is graceful and lithe. Clothed in a red dress that hugs a body made of sores and sand, she moves with freakish speed straight towards your brother.
He dives across the table, knife in hand, and grabs one of the guests by the throat. The woman. She has sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, and a little button nose. It's sniveling instantly, while she screams, and thrashes, and tries to escape like she's been trapped for nearly thirty years in a nightmare.
The young man presses his blade deeply against her throat, drawing a thin, continuous line of blood. He gets to his feet behind her, and speaks with the intent to kill. "I intend to find out what you've done to all of us. I know it's why you've tried to rob us of our identities. You figured out how capable we all were from the first moments we entered your domain, didn't you?"
There's no response for several long seconds, with only the sound of your heavy, panicked breathing carrying along the air. It gives you enough time to get a grip.
This can't be right.
This can't be real.
The spiked, dressier demon stays calmly seated. "Dear, you aren't making any sense."
The young man digs the knife significantly deeper, and screams, "DON'T FUCKING TEST ME! This nightmare is NOT going to last more than another TEN minutes. Mark my words."
A sudden, hard motion is made with his arm. It's as if he's going to swipe the woman's neck clean off from her shoulders. She screams, and looks like she's going to kick at him, or run away—
"Yes," your not-father grits out through pointed teeth. "We did. We knew about you and your friends. Now—"
"No bargaining. Not yet." This pleases all parties involved just enough for him to keep talking. "Answer my other question. What have you done to us?"
They reply in unison. "We've made your stay more accommodating."
The motherly one looks to your brother. "You couldn't strike back at us if we never struck you."
A hard look is made towards the table, from both demons. "Some men are too unpredictable to be given any choice at all."
Pointed teeth and acid drips towards you. "And others are more dangerous still. Ones who need to be removed from speech... from love... and from strength itself."
It feels like you've been in this house for nineteen years, and you're trying incredibly hard not to cry. There's still no words that rise to your lips. It's like you've forgotten how to speak.
"If you won't strike me, then allow me to play your game." The boy is getting tears all over his hands and forearms from the woman he's holding, thanks to her crying inconsolably. Her partner is still sitting beside them, looking to everyone as if he could help the situation in any way just by staring at you all. "What are your names? It's only polite for me to know."
They can't refuse. This is their Catalyst, isn't it?
"Ena," says the one without a jaw, taking a slow step forward.
"Fina," says the one too many teeth, remaining seated. She fires a glare at the man who's yet to rescue his partner. It stops his staring in its tracks. His gaze falls to the floor, his entire body shaking in anger.
"That's better," your brother says.
You try and focus on anything that makes sense, like the black and greasy hair that hangs just to the young man's shoulders. You must not be related. What's left of yours is brown and scruffy, last you checked.
"It's only fair that we all introduce ourselves." He scowls in an all-too-familiar way.
"I'm Father Nicholas Pevrel, leader of the Church of Vengeance."
It feels like something rekindles in your soul itself.
Ena snarls, "no, you are not—"
"Take one step closer." Father Pevrel has blood flowing freely from the neck locked beneath his arms. An artery hasn't been cut yet, but the victim must already be feeling light-headed.
You feel light headed. It's like your head has been stuffed full of cotton.
The demon takes one step closer.
The lord of retribution cuts cleanly across the blonde's pale neck with such strength and skill, he slices from flesh to spine in one fell motion.
Everyone screams.
You find your voice, your ability to move, and your identity. You shout, and knock your chair aside as you get to your feet.
You watch in horror as the innocent victim falls to the floor, motionless. Warm, painfully real blood seeps onto a hand-made rug.
Everything is too warm, too bright, too intense. Your memory snags on the sight of her yellow hair intermingling with a pattern of animals devouring one another on the rug. The embroidered display is of even more senseless violence. It turns your stomach almost as much as the sight of her neck split in two, with her head hanging at an unnatural angle, connected by a threadbare flap of skin and bone.
Father Pevrel is already behind the other man in the room, with the same damn knife. Blood arced all over the dining room table and his forearm, which is now soaked past the wrist in ruby.
"This dinner party is ruined. Your son will be the talk of the village, if you can ever reconcile this mess. And the other one has been watching. You have the leader of the Church of Mercy watching." He narrows his absence of eyes at you. "Father Wilhelm might be unable to assist us, but I know that you still can."
"Enough of this. Stop—!" Ena gets to her feet.
"NOT ANOTHER step!" Father Pevrel's bellowing actually makes the demon take a seat.
The table beside you twitches slightly.
"This is all real, isn't it?" Your fellow priest is looking to Father Wilhelm— or whatever he is now— with suppressed terror.
Fina grins from gnarled ear-to-ear. "Of course it is."
"Don't you dare lie in front of Father Anscham." The hand that Father Pevrel is keeping on his knife isn't trembling, but all the rest of him is.
"Oh, but we wouldn't dare." Ena leers over the table, managing to get far closer to the preacher without making another move on the bloodied, corpse-covered rug.
You've seen a few demons that could manipulate other people's bodies, but only one with this much ability.
These are demons of Flesh.
"There were reports of children missing from this village from only several months past. Not years. Yet I have been under the impression that several generations of humans have fallen under your control. Our perspectives have also differed during my stay here. That of my fleeting experiences, and what has no doubt been a harrowing, lengthy ordeal for Father Anscham. To say nothing of what Father Wilhelm has been subjected to... it leads one to believe that you have absolute authority over Time within your domain. Don't you?"
It becomes apparent to you that Father Pevrel has already deduced the answers to all of these questions. He might be making the demons admit to as much for another purpose, as they do continue to answer in unison.
"Yes. Of course we do."
Demons of Flesh and Time.
It's a good thing you're sitting. Thoughts of the demon of agony flit through your shattered mind's eye for a moment. The only other monstrosity you've encountered that had this particular association with the Gods was dangerous beyond all compare. The encounter was also one of the most grief-stricken experiences of your life.
It dawns on you that you don't have your Relic. Neither do you have Mercy's ring.
Hot, red, and bitter anger cuts across your sight for several long seconds. You can't think straight. No one takes your Goddess' gifts from you.
"You can kill us at any moment. You can reeshape our bodies, and fracture our sense of Time. But you won't break us completely. Not when you realized how much resilience you had to work with. You've cast aside all of your other toys, just to play with us for the last nineteen years. Isn't that right?"
"Yes, dear."
"And you'd like to keep playing this game, wouldn't you?"
A long, heavy pause. Blood is pooling around your feet, which are bare. You haven't needed to wear shoes in your entire life here.
"Yes, well. We have very little say in the matter, love." Fina eventually admits it, like she's embarrassed of the fact.
"Your Catalysts are both of hospitality."
"Yes."
Father Pevrel looks straight at you. "Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself, and help me with this."
Having slowly reached across the table, Fina gestures towards the knife, and Father Pevrel's blood-soaked captive. "Don't—"
"You want a happy life, don't you?" The priest says it to the demon like his heart is completely broken.
She retracts her hand instantly.
Your friend and ally— your brother in arms, and the leader of the Church of Vengeance— has tears across his face. "There's your information, Anscham. There's roughly two hundred other people throughout this house, and we're all ready to die. Now tell me that you're still in there, and that you know something that we can do to save everyone here. Talk to these demons, and do what you do best."
He drops the knife, and watches as your hosts do nothing to stop him.
"I'm counting on you."
>A] You are more than a little unhinged from everything that you've endured. Threaten Ena and Fina with the might of the Gods, if they don't immediately surrender and give everyone back their normal forms. (The following suggestions are promises. Do not vote on them if you are not willing to follow through.)
>1] You'll invoke Vengeance, and will inflict the suffering of hundreds on these two demons in a single instant. They'll be made to understand what they're doing. (It's something you will feel, too, but you can take it. Right?)
>2] You'll invoke Spirit, and will break their minds so utterly, they'll be incapable of doing anything other than your bidding. (What this would do to your own mind is likely the same reason you're even contemplating these courses of action to begin with.)
>B] To hell with the risks. Offer to have Ena and Fina host the rooms below the Church of Mercy's dungeons in exchange for fixing and releasing every prisoner within Smererynpool (including you and your friends).
>1] They can find the way themselves. Trust that they'll find the company of countless demons and a labyrinthine home more tantalizing than torturing or capturing your own city's people.
>2] You will take the three day hike back to Eadric, to see them (and Aralene) safely into the depths of your home.
>C] After everything you've been through, you still have yet to forget yourself. Make a compelling speech. Convince these demons to release their captives. Right what's been wronged, in the way that only you know how. (Write in.)
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Florin
Priest of Yech
>C] After everything you've been through, you still have yet to forget yourself. Make a compelling speech. Convince these demons to release their captives. Right what's been wronged, in the way that only you know how. (Write in.)
"Vengeance does not only answer to the call of Father Pevrel, I could cast the decades of pain you have inflicted on these people back onto you in an instant. I could channel Spirit and obliterate whatever might be left of your sanity, I could invoke Dream and turn all of this into your worst nightmare. Time Herself came to me before, I do not doubt for an instant that She would do so again. I could do all of this and so much more.
But I won't.
For demons of hospitality you make for absolutely lousy hosts, it is not good manners to rob your guests of what they hold dear. Return my items to me, do not pretend you don't know the ones. Release Father Willhelm from this demented form, will you? The whole thing is quite uncivil. For the sake of propriety, I would like for us to properly meet. Introducing yourselves is the least you could do after failing so utterly at accommodating us, what is one more evening on top of 19 years, after all. We ALL want happy lives, I can help you with that more than you can imagine, more than you could achieve here on your own. To start off, my catalyst is that of faith. I would like to know more about yours."
"Vengeance does not only answer to the call of Father Pevrel, I could cast the decades of pain you have inflicted on these people back onto you in an instant. I could channel Spirit and obliterate whatever might be left of your sanity, I could invoke Dream and turn all of this into your worst nightmare. Time Herself came to me before, I do not doubt for an instant that She would do so again. I could do all of this and so much more.
But I won't.
For demons of hospitality you make for absolutely lousy hosts, it is not good manners to rob your guests of what they hold dear. Return my items to me, do not pretend you don't know the ones. Release Father Willhelm from this demented form, will you? The whole thing is quite uncivil. For the sake of propriety, I would like for us to properly meet. Introducing yourselves is the least you could do after failing so utterly at accommodating us, what is one more evening on top of 19 years, after all. We ALL want happy lives, I can help you with that more than you can imagine, more than you could achieve here on your own. To start off, my catalyst is that of faith. I would like to know more about yours."
Zedalb
I just started a Patreon!
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>A] You are more than a little unhinged from everything that you've endured. Threaten Ena and Fina with the might of the Gods, if they don't immediately surrender and give everyone back their normal forms. (The following suggestions are promises. Do not vote on them if you are not willing to follow through.)
>1] You'll invoke Vengeance, and will inflict the suffering of hundreds on these two demons in a single instant. They'll be made to understand what they're doing. (It's something you will feel, too, but you can take it. Right?)
AND THEN
INVOKE MERCY
>C] After everything you've been through, you still have yet to forget yourself. Make a compelling speech. Convince these demons to release their captives. Right what's been wronged, in the way that only you know how.
"I am making you suffer but suffering without purpose is just cruelty and I am a man of mercy, I should be above that, so allow me to do what few on this planet would dare to even attempt allow me to fucking show you why I am mercy's chosen.
Because this pain, it's not punishment, it isn't vengeance, my wrath is cold and controlled, you know not what you do, so I will make pain your teacher for I know of no other way.
So Suffer as they have all Suffered.
And then after we have endured this torment together after I risk shattering both our minds to teach you. To give your comprehension to share understanding to know what pain is and to see what you have done. I will make you hate yourself and there is no cruelty in that. Because I do it so that you can have the one thing done to you one would dare.
Be Forgiven.
Can a demon learn regret? We shall see, can a demon change their ways, if so it will only be through mercy, my God suffers for us so we shall suffer for her to teach you, to change you to put you on a different path. I do not know what you will do with this but I know today you shall learn, today I save everyone, not with a blade, not with steel, but with kindness born of suffering.
So let us see what you become, when you understand what you have done."
>1] You'll invoke Vengeance, and will inflict the suffering of hundreds on these two demons in a single instant. They'll be made to understand what they're doing. (It's something you will feel, too, but you can take it. Right?)
AND THEN
INVOKE MERCY
>C] After everything you've been through, you still have yet to forget yourself. Make a compelling speech. Convince these demons to release their captives. Right what's been wronged, in the way that only you know how.
"I am making you suffer but suffering without purpose is just cruelty and I am a man of mercy, I should be above that, so allow me to do what few on this planet would dare to even attempt allow me to fucking show you why I am mercy's chosen.
Because this pain, it's not punishment, it isn't vengeance, my wrath is cold and controlled, you know not what you do, so I will make pain your teacher for I know of no other way.
So Suffer as they have all Suffered.
And then after we have endured this torment together after I risk shattering both our minds to teach you. To give your comprehension to share understanding to know what pain is and to see what you have done. I will make you hate yourself and there is no cruelty in that. Because I do it so that you can have the one thing done to you one would dare.
Be Forgiven.
Can a demon learn regret? We shall see, can a demon change their ways, if so it will only be through mercy, my God suffers for us so we shall suffer for her to teach you, to change you to put you on a different path. I do not know what you will do with this but I know today you shall learn, today I save everyone, not with a blade, not with steel, but with kindness born of suffering.
So let us see what you become, when you understand what you have done."
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My gainz! What have you doooooonnnnee!?
Flesh bro forgive my lax of vigilance! Enact your penance upon this lowly manlet!
"Pevrel Homes I presume?"
"It is Fairly Elementary you see!"
They turned Wilhelm into a table? Now, now you've made me mad.
The Blessed C Vote Returns with Vengence!
>C] After everything you've been through, you still have yet to forget yourself. Make a compelling speech. Convince these demons to release their captives. Right what's been wronged, in the way that only you know how. (Write in.)
This is not hospitality! This is sacrilage of the highest order! What kind of host turns their guests into tables (taps sympathetically on Father Wilhelm) or that they've retained their "guests" long after they've tired of you. After this pathetic showing of your catalyst, now we the Fathers have seen this lack of respect and devotion to your very selves and ultimately to your fellow men!
No, don't try to squirm out of this with excuses, look at us in the eye and see how much pain you've caused. This waste of flesh and time (gesturing at you own emaciation), the people out there whom you've trapped. You know all too well that they cannot accept this hospitality as you both now it. Let us be frank. This is a prison.
I cannot blame you, the catalyst you've fallen into tells you this overriding thing that people fear and of you corrupting, doing unspeakable horrors to your fellow men to fill the hollowness inside you. You try to twist this to assauge that guilt, from hiding the horror of your guests by making them forget and warping them in Flesh and Time, to lying to yourselves as this whole thing (gesturing the entirety) as hospitality. This is why I call it pathetic, and we both know how empty it is, why there is no satisfaction! And so this. must. end.
You both want happiness and to be beyond the wretchedness of this facade you keep playing?
Then we must do this right. You start by respecting your guests and their propriety. Return to our original forms and our belongings so we may start this as civil beings would do.
I want to help you. For do we not all want to live happy lives? I may be the foremost researcher of the Catalyst alive. But even I can only do so much without you helping yourselves to this task.
Zedalb
I just started a Patreon!
- Location
- Washington
I'm going to ask the previous voters to check out my vote.
We are a man of mercy and we should lean into that.
We can overpower our foes yes.
But we are a man of mercy, not flesh, not vengance, not even agriculture as much as our peen says otherwise.
They know not what they do.
So let us show them.
We are a man of mercy and we should lean into that.
We can overpower our foes yes.
But we are a man of mercy, not flesh, not vengance, not even agriculture as much as our peen says otherwise.
They know not what they do.
So let us show them.
For this situation, no. Because:
This means the demons already know that this "play" is wrong on an inherent level. Meaning that we already have a good shot at reforming this through speech without the need of invocation.
Unless further action from the demons themselves counteract the current situation. Calling on Mercy now is overkill.
>C] After everything you've been through, you still have yet to forget yourself. Make a compelling speech. Convince these demons to release their captives. Right what's been wronged, in the way that only you know how. (Write in.)
I have to agree with Florin on this one. We don't need to invoke unless they move to hurt any of us.
I have to agree with Florin on this one. We don't need to invoke unless they move to hurt any of us.
This I need to disagree with, as we are a priest of all of the Gods. Mercy is just our first amongst equals.
Zedalb
I just started a Patreon!
- Location
- Washington
You can disagree but you are explicetly *only* the pope of mercy.
You are mroe mercy than anything and anyone else.
Sure you like the other gods and can invoke most of them, but to compare your usage and knowledge of time to that of mercy?
It's not first among equals. It's far far far more uneven than that. I don't think richard even can invoke all of the gods.
That's also a no. If you've read waaay back when, you'll see that we've already invoked all the Gods in one point of Richard's life.
Vengence was the first to be invoked will usually answer when the situation fits. Usually triggers our catalyst.
Mercy is beloved and is our most invoked waifu until recently.
Agriculture you already know
Storm, we've invoked him in the ruins so long ago. Haven't really gotten to know him much too be involved in invoking at will
Flesh we've invoked him intermittently. Lately not at all because he doesn't like our figure (We shall soon fix this lard stacked body, Flesh-bro). We're working on that.
Dream we have also invoked him, though we haven't had much communication with him enough, the need for Him is less at this time, or like Flesh something with our current habits don't jive with him for sufficient invocation (prolly our workaholic schedule).
Time we have invoked only once and only when She deems our need is great.
Spirit, is always there, observing and usually available for knowledge related problems.
We are the ONLY person so far that has the ability to take in all of the Gods blessings and invocations. We took up the office of the head of Mercy because they were the ones who took us in when we first invoked Vengeance. Plus Mercy is 1st waifu.
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