Let me clarify by saying that just because Mercy is our favorite, it does not diminish the others and our love for them. I would even say that Richard would think Time, absolute as She is, is greater than even Mercy. Also at this point in the story, we have invoked every God at least once. While some of them are upset with us, we have not been forsaken by them. While I'm not willing to test it, as it would be abusive to the extreme, I am certain that any of them would come to our aid if we were to call on them, such is their love for us.
Catalyst Quest: Wild Growth
- Thread starter Alaric
- Start date
- Original Mature Fantasy Horror
Let me clarify by saying that just because Mercy is our favorite, it does not diminish the others and our love for them. I would even say that Richard would think Time, absolute as She is, is greater than even Mercy. Also at this point in the story, we have invoked every God at least once. While some of them are upset with us, we have not been forsaken by them. While I'm not willing to test it, as it would be abusive to the extreme, I am certain that any of them would come to our aid if we were to call on them, such is their love for us.
Chapter 38: Misericorde
Alaric
⠀
Chapter 38: Misericorde
What have they done?
Fury keeps you on your feet— shaking, with a hand to Father Wilhelm— as furious as can be. You wallow just a moment in self-pity, waiting for Flesh to strike you down where you stand. It becomes clear that the Gods are not going to punish you for your lack of vigilance just yet.
It gives you enough courage to contemplate how to proceed. The obvious answer would be to invoke Mercy, but these monsters have stopped making any move to hurt you. It would be overkill. They already know that something is terribly wrong here, and your friends are relying on you to deal the final blow.
"This is not hospitality." You stare daggers at your hosts, and bark, "this is sacrilege of the highest order! What kind of hosts turn their 'guests' into tables—?!" Every ounce of strength left in you goes towards taking your tense fingers off from Father Wilhelm's skin. Instead, you gesture to the lord of righteousness and all the blood covering his arms. The poor man that he released from his grasp has crawled backwards on the floor, up against a nearby wall, and is looking for an escape. "—or retained them for long after they've tired of you? After this— after this pathetic display of your Catalyst...? After seeing the lack of respect or devotion you have towards yourselves— and ultimately, towards our fellow man?!"
Breathing hard, you take a single, shaking step towards Fina. "Vengeance does not only answer to Father Pevrel."
The demon recoils almost imperceptibly.
"I could cast every decade of pain you've inflicted on these people back onto you in an instant. Pain is our teacher. There would be no cruelty in making you hate yourself. Even Mercy does not suffer a demon to live— which is why I could invoke Spirit, and obliterate whatever might be left of your sanity. I could even invoke Dream, and turn all of this into your worst nightmare."
You're smiling. You're smiling harder than you have in nineteen years, and lean your head back slightly, arms wide.
"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." You lower your arms. "Much." Your smile falls. "More."
Everyone in the room is staring at you with infinitely more fear than they are to the demons under your gaze.
"But I won't."
You point a finger at the monsters of hospitality as sternly as you're able. They're about to talk and say something stupid.
"No. Don't try to squirm out of this with— out of this with excuses." You drop your arms, drop the drama, and drop back into your chair. You're incredibly tired, and simply stare at your captors listlessly. "Look me in the eye, and see how much pain you've caused."
They do. They shut up, and look at your bright green eyes. They're rimmed with red from how hard you've been trying to not cry. There's now twenty seven years of captivity in the listless, unhinged orbs that gaze back. Their piercing, inhuman, watery eyes are enough to wear at your own nerves, but you hold the stare for as long as you can.
"This waste of Flesh and Time—" You gesture to your miserable, skeletal body as if it could give you back what you've lost. "—the people out there that you have trapped. You know all too well that they cannot accept this— this hospitality as you both know it."
The gesturing stops. You drop your arms to your sides, and choke out, "let us be frank. This is a prison."
It hurts so much to say. You understand completely.
"And I can't even blame you. Your Catalyst— that endless well, the deepest chasms any of us can ever fall into— you'll corrupt, you'll commit unspeakable horrors to try to fill that hollowness inside of you."
They look so guilty, it hurts. It's the face of two addicts, who have been lying to themselves for all of their unnatural lives. They're still trying to hide from the truth, even now— and you won't have any of it.
"You try to twist this, to assuage your guilt? You think that hiding the horror of it all from your guests— by making them forget, by warping them in Flesh and Time— that lying to yourselves about this whole THING will make it all feel any BETTER—?!" You're wildly gesturing to the entire room, are on your feet, and don't care at all how ridiculous you must look. "This is not hospitality! This is what I call pathetic. We all know how empty it is! Why there is no SATISFACTION!"
You're not sure if you're talking to yourself or the monsters before you any more, and you can't care.
"And so. This. Must. End."
You stride back to your chair, spin it around, and sit properly at the not-table. Upright, back straight, feet on the bloody floor. "You both want happiness, and to be beyond the wretchedness of this facade? Then we'll do this right." You straighten up a little further. "For demons of hospitality, you make for absolutely lousy hosts."
They both open their lips to protest. Outrage contorts acid-dripping lips and too many rows of teeth into horrors unimaginable.
You give a discreet smile to Father Pevrel, and continue, "you start by respecting your guests and their propriety."
The snarling and drooling deescalates in an instant. They sincerely look like they want to try. It's possible that they're compelled by their Catalyst to do so, but that will have to be good enough.
After all, these monsters need guidance— and you're happy to give it.
"Return us to our original forms— along with our belongings, and do not pretend that you don't know the ones— so that we may start this evening civilly. It's terrible manners to rob your guests of what they hold dear. Particularly Father Wilhelm. This form that you've forced him into is demented."
Both demons approach you with their shoulders hunched over in shame. Fina places a normal woman's hand to your emaciated shoulder, and Ena places a tentacle to your forehead. Both of them feel unnaturally warm.
It feels as only if a single second has elapsed, before you're halfway across the room, laying on the floor. The sensation of vertigo isn't what makes your head spin, though.
You're back in your usual body. It doesn't take even a single second to register the difference. A sob catches in your throat, as you quickly sit upright, and hug yourself. All of the strength you've tirelessly worked to achieve is there, in muscle that's still buried beneath a couple hundred pounds of fat. You can't care. It's wonderful. You're stupidly soft, and it's bliss. All of your old, familiar scars are mostly hidden beneath modest attire befitting of a priest on a road trip. The promise ring that Mercy gave you is back on your left hand, and your Relic is around your neck. You kiss it. It's warm to the touch, and easily the second-most beautiful thing you've ever seen.
The sweetest sight for sore eyes you've ever seen is Father Wilhelm, sitting on the floor across from you. He looks horrified beyond all measure— staring with a glassy look to the opposite wall— but he looks normal. Slender, a little aged, pale as a ghost, and dusted with cigar ash all over his blue sleeping pajamas. His usual nightcap with moons and stars is in place over his long, shaggy hair, and his neatly trimmed beard isn't even disturbed.
You practically tackle the man into a hug, while looking wildly around to make sure that everyone is alright. The dead body is gone from the floor, the blood has all been cleaned, and the man who was sitting with you all is nowhere to be seen.
"Are you alright?" Your voice is as warm and gentle as ever. There's even a greater degree of strength in it than before. You could sing, if you weren't waiting for a reply.
Finding his voice, Father Wilhelm coughs, "I could really use a smoke." You're hugged tightly back. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I knew you could do it."
You give the man several minutes to cry it out, and help him to find an old cigar buried in his jacket, so that he can get that damn smoke.
While the heady scent of herbs and spice fills the air, Father Pevrel stands directly behind you, arms crossed, looking disgusted beyond all belief. There's no doubt that he was the only one who kept his perception oriented at all while your bodies were restored. He's back to his middle-aged, muscular, poorly dressed, blood-soaked self. The lord of honor even has his sword back. There's mud on his shoes, which he probably insisted on keeping on, as he looms over you and your fellow priest.
He nods slightly to you, with more gratitude across his features than you've ever seen. Another nod is made towards the opposite corner of the room, which is what's making the man hold his tongue.
Standing there are two aging women. You safely assume that both demons have assumed a more appropriate form for a dinner party, as they're in floral dresses, have clean aprons on, and their hair is tucked back in graying buns. Were it not for the height difference— Ena is at least a foot taller, standing around your own substantial height— you'd mistake them for twins. The shorter of the two has the same face of an elderly woman that Fina wore a few seconds ago, which helps enough.
That is, until Ena crawls over, and it's clear that there are tentacles beneath her skirts.
At the demon's approach, Father Wilhelm breaks apart from your hold (you have not stopped hugging him for a second), and he scrambles backwards on the floor in terror.
You get to your feet, hands on your hips, ready and willing to scold. But before you can say a word, Ena has already backed up slightly— silent, and clearly too ashamed of herself to speak.
You let Father Pevrel kneel beside the lord of visions to offer him some comfort, while you speak softly to your hosts. "This is a good start."
Fina closes the gap as well. It's hard to not notice now that the entire dining area smells intensely like soap. You're positive that they took the time to clean the entire place (particularly that of the unfortunate woman who Father Pevrel killed), and simply tampered with your sense of Time so it seemed instantaneous.
"I want to help you." You can barely talk, you're so grateful. "Don't we— don't we all want to live happy lives?"
Ena wilts. "Yes, dear. Of course we do."
At the sound of her voice, Father Wilhelm's outward terror dies down. He's visibly shaking, white-faced, and petrified. There's heated, low whispering from Father Pevrel, who's no doubt trying to explain the situation as best as he can to the traumatized priest.
You keep your gaze focused on both demons. "I may be the foremost researcher of the Catalyst— but even I can only do so much. For this task, I will need your help."
You stride across the room, straight up to the front door of the home. It's just beside the dining room, with a little 'welcome' mat on the floor. "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."
Father Wilhelm's eyes lift at your emphasis. He looks unbearably grateful. Terrified, yes. But he seems to register just how much you've done for everyone here.
Holding your hand out stupidly, you wait for Ena and Fina to come over and shake it. All the while, you ramble to yourself, trying to not dwell on what must have happened to the other two-hundred-something people that were imprisoned here. "What is one more evening on top of nineteen years, after all? We ALL want happy lives. I can help you with that, more than you can imagi—"
Fina takes your hand gently in her own. They're wrinkled, and a little too warm. She has a garnet on her left ring finger. "Do you remember my name, dear?"
"Fina, was it?"
She beams at you, then to her partner.
The snake-like appendages that Ena moves on discreetly slithers over towards you. She's eerily silent when she moves as a result. The demon crudely assumes a female hand, as if she can't remember exactly what hers are meant to look like. The end result is a hideously deformed lump of flesh with five stumps on the end, which gently holds onto your own (normal, thick, scarred) hand. Her strange limb is also far too warm, but you hold it sincerely.
"Ena," you say.
"Yes." She winces. "That was particularly polite of Nicholas to ask for our names—"
Your ally hollers out the correction from across the room, pissed beyond all belief. "Father Pevrel!"
Ena cringes. "My mistake!" Wincing like she's been stabbed through the heart, she whispers to you, "and you're Father Anscham, is that right?"
"Richard is fine."
She still looks mortally injured. "Don't you all get tired of hearing 'Father' every time you address one another...?"
You gently lead both women back towards the now-normal, wooden, and decidedly not-human table. It's oak. Just oak. You could hug it, but resist the urge to for just another moment. "Not particularly. As I was saying: I would like to help you both to achieve more than you could hope to accomplish on your own."
It seems that Father Wilhelm and Father Pevrel are completely content to sit on the floor across the room, so you you sit down at a chair and get comfortable (which is quite easy, now that you aren't a walking skeleton). A brief second is spent simply enjoying being back in your own body, before you smile at both demons seated across from you.
"To start off, my Catalyst is faith."
Both women look to each other, cooing, "oOoh," in fascination.
Before they can start gossiping, you lean forward and gently insist, "I would like to know more about yours."
>A] Make something from your flask for everyone present. (Feel free to specify any preferences.)
>B] School Ena and Fina further on being good hosts while you all talk.
>C] Simply let both demons talk about themselves. You get the feeling they're really going to seize the opportunity.
>D] Write-in. (Any pointed questions you want to ask, things you'd like to specify, other ways you want to be doted on, etc.)
Florin
Priest of Yech
>A] Make something from your flask for everyone present. (Feel free to specify any preferences.)
Something soothing, make sure to specify that is a gift from someone who knew TRUE hospitality. That welcomed us honestly and without deforming us. Tell them that there can be no hospitality without generosity, tell them of what Yech meant to us and what we could achieve together if only they were willing.
Something soothing, make sure to specify that is a gift from someone who knew TRUE hospitality. That welcomed us honestly and without deforming us. Tell them that there can be no hospitality without generosity, tell them of what Yech meant to us and what we could achieve together if only they were willing.
>A] Make something from your flask for everyone present. (Feel free to specify any preferences.)
[X] Florin
Spread the word of Yech! Though I do want to later on touch on the fate of the village and later on have them move to either our dungeons or Ostedholm. I get the feeling they're gonna like the Party Demon King of Generosity!
[X] Florin
Spread the word of Yech! Though I do want to later on touch on the fate of the village and later on have them move to either our dungeons or Ostedholm. I get the feeling they're gonna like the Party Demon King of Generosity!
Chapter 39: Hospitality
Alaric
⠀
Chapter 39: Hospitality
An old and beloved friend is taken out for what feels like the first time in weeks. The small, simple, gold-capped flask was gifted to you by an archdemon. It has a staggering thirty-four tally marks on its gilded underside, from each and every time that Vengeance has come to you.
To the enchanted item, you politely ask for, "tea, as soothing as you can make it. Chamomile and lemon balm at minimum." You pause a moment, think better of holding back in this situation, and add, "lavender and honey, too. Please."
Confused looks from Ena and Fina pour over you and the small container. In an instant, it floods with the herbal tea you requested. The scent is heavenly. You ignore the harsh way that your stomach is growling, swipe up five cups from the table, and pour out a piping-hot sample for both demons.
Your own cup is poured to the brim, and a single, perfect slice of lemon slides out onto it.
"Excuse me for just a moment." You leave the beautiful slice of sanity alone for just a second, bring your friends their own cups (across the room, still situated on the floor), and whisper to both of them, "are you both going to be alright?"
Before Father Pevrel can reply, Father Wilhelm swipes up both cups and beams at you, despite still looking terribly shaken. "We'll be just fine. Don't mind me, Richard. Thank you for the tea."
You give him a brief hug, and get back to the table.
"Where do we begin?" Having reverted her arm to a snake-like appendage, Ena listlessly runs it along the rim of her glass. Both women are elated by your taste in herbal remedies, but mostly are ashamed by your superior manners.
"The beginning is as good a place to start as any, dear." Fina gives her a hollow smile, which then shines at you. "There's a sickness in Smererynpool. It must have started... oh, what is it now, love?"
Ena patiently replies, "we can't keep track of it anymore, can we?"
The way that demons can't speak of the Gods has always gotten under your skin. "Time," you clarify. "It's alright if you can't keep track of the Time, or don't know how long ago it was."
"That is awfully kind of you, Richard, dear." The pretense of cheeriness has yet to fall from her, but Fina's wrinkled, short-lashed eyes focus only on her small cup. "The rot. There's no better thing to call it, really. Have you heard of it?"
You're the most proficient healer in the nation, and have a great deal of experience with most afflictions in your home country. "Yes. There are a few variations." Those of the rot are all lethal. You're loathe to ask, but really need the details if this is what's to blame for Smererynpool's tragedy. "Can you tell me what you've witnessed?"
"It's terrible dinner conversation." It looks like she can't respond.
Ena tightens her grip on her own cup. "Dear, it's only polite to answer."
A nod from the other demon, though she seems dead set on keeping her nose to her cup.
The scent of steam and lavender is heavy in the air.
Ena sighs. "It starts so young, and takes us all in different ways. Some get horrible growths on their bodies— some which made life harder, and others simply cut it short. That particular malady led many neighbors to believe the poor children affected by it were cursed. Fina and I knew better than that. We'd take in any we could. Same for those who would just start to... waste away. Their skin, and muscle, and all the rest. It would..."
You've heard this much before, and seen a few cases first-hand. It's nasty business. Necrosis throughout the entire body is not something that anyone should have to endure, but this variety sounds particularly devastating. Getting anyone from the clergy out this far from the cities for anything in the way of useful healing is challenging. Not only that, but treating even a single patient is grueling, lifelong work. If they didn't have a resident priest or priestess of Mercy...
You recall that Mercy's gifts have simply been absent from most of the public for many months out of the last year.
"Mercy—" You're not taking Her name in vain, insomuch as wishing She were here.
Both women practically snarl in disgust.
"Don't be ridiculous," Ena rasps.
"There's been none of that here for as long as I've been alive or dead," Fina snaps.
You slowly, calmly, and patiently refill your teacup. You hadn't even noticed how quickly you'd gone through it, let alone what the taste was, but the way it's soothed your throat from talking so much is clear enough. The last of your nerves melt away after just a few pulls. Sweet and earthy notes hit you from the smooth, herbal concoction that you've brewed. It's exactly as hot as you like it.
With the lingering aftertaste of lemon and chamomile, you take your time with sipping it, silently waiting for the demons to continue.
Eventually, Ena realizes you're content to just keep listening, and tries to rekindle the subject. "We didn't have nearly as nice of a home before. The children had to stay wherever we could make room." She straightens upright, suddenly all pride. "Having enough bread to go around was a struggle, but we fought for what happiness we could." Fina holds her by one of her appendages, in the closest approximation to holding hands they likely still have. "Didn't we?"
"Until the very end, dear."
"Richard, you have to understand that not everyone is as kind as you are." She seems to be sincere enough. "Not nearly as understanding. They thought that we were harboring demons. The townsfolk didn't have the faintest idea of what they were talking about. We were trying to help those poor babies. We wanted to give them all a chance at a better life."
"What did you do to try and help them?"
"The same thing we did to try and help you and your br— Father Pevrel."
Nearly twenty years of starving in the dark hits you like a slap across the face. Being separated from the only person who cared about you. Not hide nor hair of another living soul, aside from your 'caretakers.' Being beaten black and blue without rhyme or reason— not even to put you in line— but because your captors were completely unstable.
There's something deep in there, repressed, down as far as you can shove it. Something about having your head and body cut open. Something where they were trying to 'help' you be 'whole' again.
The tea in hand is a welcome reminder of sanity.
You take a shaky breath, and sip at your drink.
It feels like you can't breathe. You remind yourself of several months spent in the company of a priestess of Spirit, set down the cup, and close your eyes.
Deep breaths.
In the moment of peace and quiet, it dawns on you that the ache in your soul is gone. A quick glance over to Father Pevrel confirms that all of his bandages are missing, without a further scratch on him. The injuries that littered you are mended, too. You run a nervous, steadier hand along your thick wrists, confirming that the only scars there are ones from your life before being pulled into this nightmare.
Whether the ache in your soul leaving is a matter of the demons or your own lengthy stay here has yet to be determined, but the realization of your restored health gives you enough courage and sanity to speak. "I see."
"Some of us lived far longer with the rot than others," Fina says, squeezing her partner's hand. "We've been friends for so long now. Like many other women in the village, we couldn't have any children of our own. Not even with another man. But in a way, we did find children of our own."
Ena's eyes are fixed on the abominable limbs she has left. "We turned slowly. I'm... not quite certain when it happened, if I had to say."
This is new. The change usually occurs over a matter of seconds. You forget your own horror, and resist the urge to lean in with everything you have.
There must be a glint in your eye, as a high laugh leaves Fina. "Curious, are you? Well! You should be! We've made quite the life for ourselves." Her enthusiasm falls by the second. "Or so we thought."
Both demons look to the table, and quietly work at their tea. You refill their cups after just a few minutes, and look to them for permission to speak.
They nod to you, and so you set your own cup aside, and take your flask out for everyone to see. "There can be no hospitality without generosity. This flask was a gift, given to me by Lord Yech the Disgusted. He's the current archdemon of the ruins of Ostedholm— and is far and away my dearest friend." Holding the item up to the candlelight, you speak with loving devotion. "He welcomed me into his home, knowing that I was a threat to life and limb. I had done terrible things to his family and domain— but at every turn, he still gave me another chance."
A little mist comes to your eyes, while you look to the underside of the flask once again. "I didn't have to pretend to be someone else around him. Yech treasured my friendship because of who I am."
Wiping the blurriness away, you grin to both demons seated before you. They're hideously ashamed of themselves. "Listen to me. He'd want me to tell you to not wallow in self-pity. He'd say to look to your strengths— no matter what the rest of the world has to say about it. These tally marks count the number of times that I have felt the Catalyst—"
Ena practically knocks her chair over. "You WHAT—?!"
"What...?" Fina drops her cup of tea, splashing the deep colored beverage all over her nice oak table.
You shush them both with a small motion of your hands, and encourage them to sit back down. "This gift was about more than that."
Both women reluctantly compose themselves, and mop up the tea before getting re-seated.
"I would like for you both to understand that Yech respected me for not what the Gods have given me, nor that I've felt the Catalyst and lived. He respected me for my— he respected me for my own strengths. We have an alliance that is unbreakable. It's thanks to that same bond that I was able to make it out of the ruins alive. We have defeated armies together. And due to even more than that— our strengths are the same reason that he is now an archdemon."
The demons sitting before you are looking to you like you're something they've never seen before.
You gently lean across the table, and top off Fina's empty cup of tea. "It's the same reason that you both have survived for as long as you have, while maintaining control over several hundred resilient souls. Would either of you like to tell me what's happened to everyone who was trapped here?"
Your candid speech has both women blushing. Ena stammers, "w-we couldn't just let them go."
Resisting the urge to chuck your teacup at the nearest wall, you calmly breathe in and out for a moment, before quietly asking, "I beg your pardon?"
"They're all just outside of the house," Fina explains. "But they're still within our domain. We were going to tell you straight away. But we can't just let them go."
"They'll die." Ena is trying her best not to cry, and is spectacularly failing at it. The way her elderly face is all scrunched up is horrible. "Most of them have stayed here of their own will, Richard. Everyone else fled Smererynpool when we turned. They thought this was a house of demons. They couldn't imagine a reason to stay, I'm sure. The cowards."
Fina gives her partner a warning look.
"Not exactly of their own will," Ena concedes. Fina gives her a handkerchief with an embroidered F on it. "Thank you, love."
"You're welcome, dear."
"Richard, we have kept them outside of—" The way she's sniffling becomes strangled and pained.
"Time," you say.
The demon goes back to her tea, breathing heavily. "Y-yes."
Fina pats her gently on the hand, and finishes, "if we were to send them home, they all would succumb— well, who knows how quickly— to their individual maladies. All of the men and women that you'll see outside were only children when they first came to us. And these are not the children who we first took in, either."
The discrepancy here is driving you insane. It's been only a few months since any kids have been reported missing.
A few gears turn. It all suddenly clicks. "You don't mean...?"
A hand goes over your lips.
Everyone who has gone missing has already died.
"The families that you have here, then...?"
"All from our own home, dear." Fina says it as apologetically as she can. It seems she's starting to understand the situation, too.
They've altered Time so heavily, they bred generations of victims in the few months since they took in their first children.
"Mercy—"
"We told you, there hasn't been any of that. Not even cutting the rot clean out did a thing to save any of them." Fina is staring angrily to her teacup, as if it could give her a cure if she only got mad enough. "Only slowing it down did."
"You said that you were intimately familiar with the rot that affected the first children you took in." Your conviction has only redoubled. You pound a fists on the table, rattling the tea and your flask. "What of the rest? What of everyone who's still alive? If it's slowed, then you—"
"Pardon the interruption, dear, but it won't do you much good to speculate. Will it?" Fina gives you a sad smile.
You sit back down.
Ena frowns. "We never were able to stop it completely. Once the rot takes effect, it acts quickly. By slowing the..."
"Time," you say.
"...in parts of the child's..."
"Flesh."
"...we were able to stall its effects... eventually."
Everyone leaves a tactful, horrified silence in the air for several long minutes. There is a lot going unsaid here about how many children this took, or for how long, and you do not need to know the grisly details.
Deep breath.
"You eventually deduced how to stall the rot. Correct?"
Ena nods. Fina mumbles to the table, "yes, dear."
"Why can't you do that and release them?"
The women look to each other like they have to explain something to a child, then look back to you. Fina speaks first, very gently.
"Because we can't hold sway over anything outside of our home, love."
This house is the full extent of their domain. It makes sense. Their power is extreme, but it's concentrated on this sole location.
Would they even be able to leave?
If they had no one to dote on— even in their own, sick way— would they die?
"It's taken everything that we have to extend our influence this far. Working together has made it possible..." Ena casts a sad look around the immaculate dining room.
"But we could never continue to keep working on every single person we've been helping. We're not like you, Richard."
"What do you mean...?"
Fina makes a general, pained gesture towards your Relic and the ring on your hand. "Gold. Light. Real healing. What you're supposed to represent. You know I can't say it."
"You think that Mercy would be able to—?"
"Maybe with an army of you." Ena lets out an impolite laugh, looking a little ashamed of herself. "I don't think that this is something that even Yech would want you to try, Richard."
"Don't get the wrong idea, love." Fina fires daggers to the other demon, then a much softer look back to you. "I think what she means is that if your friend truly wanted what was best for you, he wouldn't want you to kill yourself. Not even if it's your strength to try and do so."
You are entirely unashamed of your self-sacrificing nature. "This is something that has been treated before."
"There were other healers who came to the village before." Ena frowns. "Many, in fact. They'd save one, maybe two babies— ruining themselves in the process— and the rot would just come back the next week."
"It's insidious," you mutter, admitting, "even intensive care in the Church of Mercy usually isn't sufficient to spare the afflicted. And if the case is this advanced..."
You don't want to say it, but they have bred nearly two hundred people with this malady. Sending them all to your home would devastate the ability of your staff. Your clergy are already looking after hundreds of other souls, and many more will be seeking care in the Church of Mercy in the days ahead.
Then again, you can't trust Ena and Fina to know how to look after anyone. Despite their attempts at civility, they're both still demons. It's in their very nature to corrupt hospitality. Sending them away to Yech would make the party demon incredibly pleased, but you also get the impression that these monsters of civility don't want to go anywhere.
If they can go anywhere.
No matter how twisted this family might be, you get the idea that it would be a very poor suggestion to propose that these demons leave until you've done something about their sick and dying children.
>A] The rot is a poorly understood phenomenon, and you are a man from an early period of time. For all you know, this strain is actually incurable. Invoke Spirit, and ask the Goddess of Knowledge to bestow on you ALL of the knowledge you need to treat this malady. Once you know what you're dealing with, you'll proceed as reasonably as you can.
>B] The scope of this venture is frankly insane, and you have a LONG road still ahead of you. Instead of killing yourself over this, ask for Ena's and Fina's help. See if they can aid you in identifying anyone who could make the trip to the Church of Mercy without your help, and have those survivors send for aid. Leave it to your people to come back to Smererynpool, and to address this disaster. Ena and Fina can stay here until the last minute, then should go to the ruins of Ostedholm for their own safety.
>C] Invoke Mercy alone. You have COMPLETE faith in yours and your Goddess' ability. You'll heal as many people as you possibly can, as completely as you can.
>D] Try to invoke Mercy and Flesh to heal others for the first time. The act of doing this to yourself alone nearly broke your mind in two, you're not certain if you still carry Flesh's favor, and this is a TERRIBLE idea, but you want to see if it's even possible. It's one of the only ways you can imagine out-healing this malady.
>E] Invoke Mercy and Time.
>F] Write-in.
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Florin
Priest of Yech
>E] Invoke Mercy and Time.
There is no ache in our soul anymore, we have not done a SINGLE thing to scorn either Time or Mercy and the extent of this situation is grave enough to warrant both of their attention. The suffering on these people isn't just a malady, its a corruption that has been suspended in Time. We know Time can reverse...time, and that the healing of Mercy is absolute. We could ask Time to reverse the rot back to its tiniest scale, the weakest it has ever been in all of the patients and then cleanse their bodies with Mercy while taking in ALL of the knowledge we can from seeing how the illness evolves and where it starts from. After we are done perhaps we can also see to a way to prevent it.
Mercy didn't raise no bitch.
There is no ache in our soul anymore, we have not done a SINGLE thing to scorn either Time or Mercy and the extent of this situation is grave enough to warrant both of their attention. The suffering on these people isn't just a malady, its a corruption that has been suspended in Time. We know Time can reverse...time, and that the healing of Mercy is absolute. We could ask Time to reverse the rot back to its tiniest scale, the weakest it has ever been in all of the patients and then cleanse their bodies with Mercy while taking in ALL of the knowledge we can from seeing how the illness evolves and where it starts from. After we are done perhaps we can also see to a way to prevent it.
Mercy didn't raise no bitch.
An entire village of people in this house? Hundreds? Why, the need is great. The Time of Mercy draws near my brothers!
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- Pronouns
- He/Him
You people have JUST promised to take more care of yourself for the THIRD TIME! Agri, Mercy, Time, Vengeance... If you could invoke the spirit of couches to reach for the remote you would.
>B] The scope of this venture is frankly insane, and you have a LONG road still ahead of you. Instead of killing yourself over this, ask for Ena's and Fina's help. See if they can aid you in identifying anyone who could make the trip to the Church of Mercy without your help, and have those survivors send for aid. Leave it to your people to come back to Smererynpool, and to address this disaster. Ena and Fina can stay here until the last minute, then should go to the ruins of Ostedholm for their own safety.
You need aid just as much as all the people you save. But if you want to keep abusing this power, sure, go right ahead!
>B] The scope of this venture is frankly insane, and you have a LONG road still ahead of you. Instead of killing yourself over this, ask for Ena's and Fina's help. See if they can aid you in identifying anyone who could make the trip to the Church of Mercy without your help, and have those survivors send for aid. Leave it to your people to come back to Smererynpool, and to address this disaster. Ena and Fina can stay here until the last minute, then should go to the ruins of Ostedholm for their own safety.
You need aid just as much as all the people you save. But if you want to keep abusing this power, sure, go right ahead!
Ah, hmm damn.
I've shamed myself and Fleshbro for not thinking of this alternative further! Delaying it is!
>B] The scope of this venture is frankly insane, and you have a LONG road still ahead of you. Instead of killing yourself over this, ask for Ena's and Fina's help. See if they can aid you in identifying anyone who could make the trip to the Church of Mercy without your help, and have those survivors send for aid. Leave it to your people to come back to Smererynpool, and to address this disaster. Ena and Fina can stay here until the last minute, then should go to the ruins of Ostedholm for their own safety.
I'll agree with Heliophage. We can come back here on the return journey home later after we've dealt with the crisis. What's a another year ?
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Chapter 40: Take Care
Alaric
⠀
Chapter 40: Take Care
You push past your former captors, and stride up to the front door. "Excuse me."
At your back, your allies and two demons hop to their feet. The commotion and protests are immediate, while you fearlessly turn the unlocked entrance's doorknob, and let yourself outside for the first time in nearly twenty years.
You look to the cozy, quiet, and completely abandoned street on either side. There's not even a tumbleweed, but less than three feet away from the door are rows upon rows of inert, sleeping bodies. Modestly clothed, fairly clean, and healthy looking men, women, and children all scattered around the innocuous front yard of Ena's and Fina's home.
Father Wilhelm pushes just past you, gets to the ground outside, and kisses the grass. He's battling as hard as he can not to cry. The man stays on his knees, and launches into a formal prayer towards Dream.
You are also reverent, but you don't focus for long on the luscious green grass. Your gaze does not linger on the gray and timeless sky. You look to countless lost souls with devotion, and a clinical eye.
There is no ache in my soul anymore. Nothing is holding me back from invoking.
I did say that I should only do so when absolutely necessary.
This qualifies.
Your hands are clasped together.
She knows how much I love Her. That my devotion is endless. Surely Time would see fit to work through me once more. To reverse this process, and to revert the rot back to its earliest form.
Mercy and I could then heal it.
All of it.
What are hundreds of patients, compared to our bond?
We could try to find a way to prevent this from ever occurring.
Think of all of the lives we could save.
Father Pevrel is instantly at your back, puts a hand to your shoulder, and spins you around to face him. He's furious, and his features twist as he snaps, "what the fuck do you think you're doing?"
Your glassy, ecstatic, unnaturally green eyes pour over row after row of potential corpses. These people won't last if you leave them to their own devices. Only being suspended in Time has kept them from the throes of agony. They need Mercy, and you alone have the ability to give them everything that they need.
The Church of Mercy did not raise a coward.
I also just promised to take better care of myself.
Didn't I?
Though this is about more than the crushing look of disappointment on Father Pevrel's face, you've lost count of how many people you've made the same promises to. Over, and over, and over again.
More than your twitchiness and the look you must be giving to these people has you part your fingers, and shove both hands in your pockets.
I need help just as much as all of the people that I save.
Your friend keeps a hand to your shoulder, and refuses to let go. "Hey. What is going on in your head?"
Head hung, you would like to keep your eyes to your feet, but your stomach is blocking your view. Shame sticks to you. You want to scream for only a moment.
You lift your eyes, and speak with determination. Self-love. Self-respect.
"I'm tired of abuse."
Father Pevrel's hand parts. He takes a step back— trying to hide how hard he's smiling— while your eyes lift to the countless people here that you can still save.
"Ena. Fina." You whip your head towards them. "You know your children better than anyone. I need your help in identifying anyone who will be able to survive a three-day march to Eadric."
Fina parts her lips to protest.
"Anyone."
The urgency and desperation in your tone is more than adequate for them to both jump to action, walking into the crowd of bodies with you hot on their heels. You're far from heart-broken. Every step gives you more resolution than the last.
"They'll be given the best care in the country, and so will you. I want to help you give them all a sincere good-bye— but not for good. Stay here with your babies for as long as you can. Keep them safe. I'll have these messengers send for help from the Church of Mercy. My men and women are some of the most hardened and capable healers in the nation. They will know what to do— and with the minds I have back at home— there is no doubt in my mind that they will find a way to send everyone home quickly and safely."
You're shaking from emotion, but tighten your fists, and stop walking in the midst of two-hundred potential survivors. "I want to tell you where Yech is. He can provide you with safe shelter, and I'm— I'm certain that he would love to meet you both. Think of it as a vacation. A retreat from the world, until I can find a way to fix all of this."
Both demons come to a stop as well, and stare you down.
Ena asks, "what are you talking about?"
"I want to come back. There are so many other crises for me to see to— but I can't forget about this. I refuse to. I'll come back on my return journey, and see to it that the people of your village are safe and sound. If a single issue remains, I will— I will fix it myself."
You swallow hard, and stare down two monsters.
"I can't promise that I'll find a cure for the Catalyst within the year, but I will continue to try."
"Well. I never. Excuse us for just a moment, dear." Ena turns to her partner, and they talk for a minute in incredibly hushed voices.
When they eventually part, Fina is the first to speak. She kneels down beside a little girl with strawberry blonde hair done up in braids, and is trying incredibly hard to not cry. The fear swimming in her eyes shines up at you. "Brianne could make the venture to Eadric and back, if necessary."
She breaks down into hysterical sobs, and gestures towards a young man a few rows over. He's dressed in rags, but looks incredibly strong. "And Elric would be happy to protect her. If they really could help him back in... your home, then he should survive. I hope."
The demon introduces only three other people like this. When she's done telling you of the potential messengers for the journey to the Church of Mercy, Fina collapses to the ground, and lets Ena rush to her side to console her.
You kneel beside the grieving women, and speak with sincerity. "The Church of Mercy has more hands at its disposal now, than it has— than it has had in decades. Help will come. And when it does, I want you both to be ready."
You thoroughly go over the route to Ostedholm with them. Fina looks like she wants to hug you by the end of it, but your violent, visceral, instinctive flinching when she draws close keeps both demons at a distance.
Heart racing— gesturing to the massive gathering of people in the yard— you speak in the softest voice you can muster. "Taking no action would have guaranteed the deaths of everyone here. So would have continuing on in the way that you were. You're doing an incredible thing. I know it must be unbearably difficult, but isn't the most important part of being a host— isn't it knowing when to say good-bye?"
You never take another step inside of the house of hospitality. You, Father Wilhelm, Father Pevrel, and five other survivors are brought outside of the demon's sphere of influence. Ena and Fina reassure you that they'll leave the day that anyone from the Church of Mercy approaches the village— and that when they do, their influence over Time and Flesh will leave with them.
Leaving a letter to the messengers explaining the situation would be out of the question. Not only are all of them illiterate, but they're going to need the support. Having to risk panic is the best you can do.
Once the demons are far out of sight (presumably back at home), the survivors gradually awaken, and have to have the situation explained to them in full. Yours and Father Wilhelm's combined skills are sufficient to keep them from breaking down completely, or from trying to go after Ena and Fina to kill them on the spot. Father Pevrel does ultimately have to flex his own skills in intimidation to keep everyone in line, but after several excruciating hours, you are able to send the messengers on their way.
Over the border of Smererynpool, five survivors take only a moment to look back.
The messengers have taken a different route (partly to help retain the discretion your mission requires), leaving you with only your fellow priests once more. The barricade is gone, so you leave without further incident.
Old footprints in now-dried mud reveals that it's only been a day and a half since you entered the demons' lair. You spent the 19th day of the First Reaping in the clutches of two demons. You have to wonder if the date held any significance, as it matches the number of years that you perceived, but it's no matter.
It is now the twentieth day of the First Reaping, and after a few steps out and away from the village's outskirts, the sky breaks into a clear and sunny day. Warm, genuine sunlight basks the world in glorious radiance. You spend several long minutes simply feeling heat and sanity wash over you. The embrace of your Goddess has never felt sweeter.
Father Pevrel slams a punch as hard as he can into your shield arm, laughing to himself at how hard you blush from the impact. It's akin to having a block made of solid metal swung into the tenderest spot of your bicep at ramming speed.
"Mercy—!"
"Don't want to hear it." He's making no attempt to hide how hard he's smiling. "I'm proud of you for what you did back there."
The hit was excruciating, and you can't help but love it. Simply nodding while you wince and hold at the spot is all the appreciation you really need to share.
"Keep your hands to yourself, please." Father Wilhelm sniffs, patting you on the back gently as he walks by, before setting off into the woods with no clear direction.
"Let's get moving." Father Pevrel raps you in the same fucking spot on your arm as he runs past, laughing all the way.
The pace you all set is grueling. No one really wants to talk. The only sound for quite awhile is the crunch of leaves and twigs underfoot, and the occasional growl of your stomach.
At least an hour transpires before you even try to tell your allies how little time has elapsed since you came to Smererynpool. It seems that Father Wilhelm genuinely could not perceive Time at all in the form that he was in, as he simply blinks.
"Is that all?" The brunette scratches at the top of his nightcap. Father Pevrel mutters to himself all the while, picking his way at the head of the pack through a particularly dense outcropping of tree branches in the way.
"What was that, Nicholas?"
The priest grumbles, "I said I'm just glad that we made it out of there alive." Without making eye contact, he says to you, "consider saving those people from a lifetime of torment adequate recompense for how many of them will die in the weeks ahead."
"I thought you were proud of him," Father Wilhelm teases (while still looking extremely bothered).
"I am. It doesn't change the fact that we all have blood on our hands, or that we let another two demons walk free this week alone." The lord of wrath takes out a large dagger, and simply hacks at the next several series of tree branches with reckless abandon. "I'm not losing track of how many! Don't think I'm forgetting how many more years of our fucking lives were wasted in there!"
Neither you nor Father Wilhelm interrupt the man's aggression. He has a point that you all are equally responsible for any lives lost until your clergy arrives.
Commenting on how he killed a woman in cold blood to save all of your lives also seems in incredibly poor taste.
You can't help but feel like the situation these people got into was your fault to begin with, but you're doing the best that you can. There is no use in trying to save every life but your own.
The mild-mannered gentleman at your side leans in and wraps an arm around you while you walk. "Richard. I sincerely would like to forget that any of this has happened, but I do want to commend you as well. This has not been something that's been easy for you. Not by any means. I wanted to remind you that there's no harm in the thoughts that you have. What defines us are the choices we make."
The arm that's on you is shaking violently.
"Thank you, but Father Wilhelm, do you need to stop...?"
He leans a lot harder on you, but keeps moving forward. "I'll be fine. I'd like to put as much distance between us and that place as possible. Where are we headed next, again?"
"Archenstead!" Father Pevrel barks it over his shoulder. "It's a straight shot from here, and not too far away. Don't worry about it right now. The day is young, and we'll reach the place well before sunset!"
Several more minutes pass by in total silence.
There are several heavy subjects weighing on everyone's mind. You all clearly want to address them, but no one seems to know what to bring up first.
>Write-ins are welcome to expand on any of the following.
>You don't need to be in-character. Expressing your views, giving your QM direction on where you wish to take the conversation, or even just general sentiments are fine!
>Please feel free to ask questions or even to just take some time to reflect.
>A] Releasing demons instead of killing them is a really, really big deal. Give your allies some space to vent (or feel free to share your own thoughts).
>B] It felt like you spent nineteen years in captivity. Try to come to terms with it in any way, shape, or form. (Any suggestions you have for coping— if you need to at all— are welcome.)
>C] Father Pevrel apparently had a similar perspective during the incident as you, but with even more clarity. Give the poor man a chance to talk about it. You're curious, too.
>D] You probably don't want to know what Father Wilhelm dealt with— and he might not want to talk about it— but you're going to support him in the weeks to come anyways. Make sure he knows that you're going to look out for him.
>E] The way that your Relic has affected your allies is obviously bothering them to an incredible degree. Broach the subject at long last. No matter how hard it is, you're going to try and talk about it. (Feel free to contribute your own theories about the item in general, things you've wanted to test, etc.)
>F] Write-in. (Other actions you wish to do [apart from hiking] are also welcome!)
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>B] Reflect on the days before your captivity and remember all that you've gone through. Keep in touch with yourself, all the experiences you've had, and all the lessons you've learned.
>C] Father Pevrel apparently had a similar perspective during the incident as you, but with even more clarity. Give the poor man a chance to talk about it. You're curious, too.
>D] You probably don't want to know what Father Wilhelm dealt with— and he might not want to talk about it— but you're going to support him in the weeks to come anyways. Make sure he knows that you're going to look out for him.
>C] Father Pevrel apparently had a similar perspective during the incident as you, but with even more clarity. Give the poor man a chance to talk about it. You're curious, too.
>D] You probably don't want to know what Father Wilhelm dealt with— and he might not want to talk about it— but you're going to support him in the weeks to come anyways. Make sure he knows that you're going to look out for him.
Florin
Priest of Yech
>A] Releasing demons instead of killing them is a really, really big deal. Give your allies some space to vent (or feel free to share your own thoughts).
Our job isn't to kill demons, it is to protect humanity. More often than not those two things overlap but we must be aware of the times they don't, quarantining these demons in Ostedholm is a much better bet than risking our own health and sanity trying to kill them. We might even be able to turn them into allies at some point, it wouldn't be a stretch at this point.
>D] You probably don't want to know what Father Wilhelm dealt with— and he might not want to talk about it— but you're going to support him in the weeks to come anyways. Make sure he knows that you're going to look out for him.
Our job isn't to kill demons, it is to protect humanity. More often than not those two things overlap but we must be aware of the times they don't, quarantining these demons in Ostedholm is a much better bet than risking our own health and sanity trying to kill them. We might even be able to turn them into allies at some point, it wouldn't be a stretch at this point.
>D] You probably don't want to know what Father Wilhelm dealt with— and he might not want to talk about it— but you're going to support him in the weeks to come anyways. Make sure he knows that you're going to look out for him.
Florin
+
>C] Father Pevrel apparently had a similar perspective during the incident as you, but with even more clarity. Give the poor man a chance to talk about it. You're curious, too.
>D] You probably don't want to know what Father Wilhelm dealt with— and he might not want to talk about it— but you're going to support him in the weeks to come anyways. Make sure he knows that you're going to look out for him.
Go another round of fishing, talk to the Fathers as you wait for the fish to bite. No contest this time, just contemplation.
>E] The way that your Relic has affected your allies is obviously bothering them to an incredible degree. Broach the subject at long last. No matter how hard it is, you're going to try and talk about it. (Feel free to contribute your own theories about the item in general, things you've wanted to test, etc.)
Maybe the relic is reflective of Richard's support system- At the time we needed to stop leaning in to our masochistic addiction, it was there to bear the brunt. We always had a need for friends, and what better way than to unify our abilities. We lacked self reflection and so had a mirror to look within us when the need arose. Did it bore witness to our sins and thus showed the keys to overcome them upon its making? Truly, the Gods are merciful!
>F] Write-in
What is magic? How is it possible to manipulate the world in almost the same vein as we the beloved of the Gods have access to Their Domains and yet not? Is this tied in anyway to our shells? The relationship between us and the world or the world to the Gods? How is it elves and demons have an easier access to it while the mortal man has to strive his very soul for it?
>F] Write-in. (Other actions you wish to do [apart from hiking] are also welcome!)
Creation myths and stories of the earliest days of man. Include even other accounts from other races. The book from the King aside, there might be some grain of truth within others that might help your goal in unlocking the Catalyst! Cross reference them from your own memories taken from Beltoro.
Sometimes you wonder of the heights of technology mankind once achieved in them and how far we've fallen from it. What might be needed to regain them... Well thoughts for another time when mankind is not hounded with extinction with every step.
>F] Write-in
Proceed to praise the Gods while running! It's a beautiful day and you want to regain your position as the Father of Speed! Breath control Anscham! It's all in the breath!
+
>C] Father Pevrel apparently had a similar perspective during the incident as you, but with even more clarity. Give the poor man a chance to talk about it. You're curious, too.
>D] You probably don't want to know what Father Wilhelm dealt with— and he might not want to talk about it— but you're going to support him in the weeks to come anyways. Make sure he knows that you're going to look out for him.
Go another round of fishing, talk to the Fathers as you wait for the fish to bite. No contest this time, just contemplation.
>E] The way that your Relic has affected your allies is obviously bothering them to an incredible degree. Broach the subject at long last. No matter how hard it is, you're going to try and talk about it. (Feel free to contribute your own theories about the item in general, things you've wanted to test, etc.)
Maybe the relic is reflective of Richard's support system- At the time we needed to stop leaning in to our masochistic addiction, it was there to bear the brunt. We always had a need for friends, and what better way than to unify our abilities. We lacked self reflection and so had a mirror to look within us when the need arose. Did it bore witness to our sins and thus showed the keys to overcome them upon its making? Truly, the Gods are merciful!
>F] Write-in
What is magic? How is it possible to manipulate the world in almost the same vein as we the beloved of the Gods have access to Their Domains and yet not? Is this tied in anyway to our shells? The relationship between us and the world or the world to the Gods? How is it elves and demons have an easier access to it while the mortal man has to strive his very soul for it?
>F] Write-in. (Other actions you wish to do [apart from hiking] are also welcome!)
Creation myths and stories of the earliest days of man. Include even other accounts from other races. The book from the King aside, there might be some grain of truth within others that might help your goal in unlocking the Catalyst! Cross reference them from your own memories taken from Beltoro.
Sometimes you wonder of the heights of technology mankind once achieved in them and how far we've fallen from it. What might be needed to regain them... Well thoughts for another time when mankind is not hounded with extinction with every step.
>F] Write-in
Proceed to praise the Gods while running! It's a beautiful day and you want to regain your position as the Father of Speed! Breath control Anscham! It's all in the breath!
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Alaric
⠀
(Aaaaaalright guys! The vote is locked. Absolutely adore all of the write-ins. I can't promise I'll get to them all in just this update, but I'll do my best. If they aren't included in the following chapter, just know that I've made note of it (along with the other subjects you all voted to talk about with Father Wilhelm at the start of the journey)!
Writing now.
Edit: I can't believe I got all 9 prompts in there. Apologies for the delay lol. Proofreading now.)
Writing now.
Edit: I can't believe I got all 9 prompts in there. Apologies for the delay lol. Proofreading now.)
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Chapter 41: The Lessons You've Learned
Alaric
⠀
Chapter 41: The Lessons You've Learned
"We'll keep moving forward," you promise, giving Father Wilhelm more of your shoulder to lean on. "Let me know if you need anything else, alright?" A single, grateful nod is his reply. "Please don't feel obligated to talk about— to talk about anything. But I'd like to talk a bit more with you and Father Pevrel... about a few things."
"Oh?"
"Like how I'm going to be the one supporting you in the weeks to come." You can't help but give him a teasing, silly grin.
The priest feigns disbelief. "Don't be preposterous."
"No, no. I insist." With far more gravity and a lower tone, you say, "I'm going to look out for you."
Nothing further needs to be said. Helping the man keep yours and Father Pevrel's demonic pace is more than enough for the next hour, where you get a rare moment to think to yourself.
It's all too tempting to wallow in misery or succumb to terror from what you've experienced in the last nineteen years. But you're an expert by now, when it comes to coping with trauma. Reflecting on the days before your captivity does more than take your mind off of things. It helps you keep touch with yourself, all that you've been through, and all of the lessons you've learned.
Some men are not as well equipped for these kinds of events as you are. You eventually part from Father Wilhelm's side, excusing yourself to run ahead. Father Pevrel is hard at work to keep a clear and safe path through the thick of the woods for you all. He welcomes the company, and gives you the brunt of the work. It's got your arms burning within seconds— which is exactly what you want— but you manage to not grin too hard.
Several minutes pass by at first without a peep from either one of you, until you both start talking at once.
"Did you have a clearer perspective during all of that—?"
"Anscham, if you really have to know—"
Father Wilhelm picks up into a whistle at your backs, somehow managing to do so while smoking a fresh cigar. He seems far healthier and happier than he did even a few minutes ago, and obviously has no interest in what anyone has to say about the affair with either demon of hospitality.
A few rabbits can be heard in the distance, darting through the underbrush. Father Pevrel leans towards you, whispering, "do you seriously want to know the sick details of what it looked like they were doing to you all that time?" He matches your grin. "As much as I'd love to retell it."
"If it would help? I— I am all ears." You keep your eyes forward, trying to give the man as much space as he needs.
Another long silence stretches out between you two.
"If it makes any difference, I am— I am curious, too—"
The priest shoves you as hard as he can, sending you staggering sideways only a foot or two. He's still smiling. "Asshole."
"I take it that you do want to—" You dust yourself off, and resume the march right by Father Pevrel's side. "—to try to satisfy my curiosity, then?"
"Shitty place to do it, Anscham."
Your stomach growls loudly enough that everyone in your company can hear it.
Not even Father Wilhelm protests when you drag everyone to the nearest bend in the Morinburn River, and insist on a safe, sane, and non-competitive bout of fishing. While you and Father Wilhelm stay on the bank— lazily keeping pole and line cast out— Father Pevrel happily fashions a spear and sets about skewering. Your close proximity to the tree line grants blessed relief from the hot-shining sun.
The lord of retribution shouts to you over the spray from warm freshwater. "I was able to see through their facade, Anscham, but I still felt the effects of their domain. They couldn't hide how many other people were trapped within from me— both of you included— but it still felt as if I were trapped in the body of some helpless little boy."
He spits. You almost press the issue, but the lord of wrath keeps raising his volume, using the weapon in hand with ever-increasing ferocity. "Taking them head-on would have been suicide. I had to bide my time until they had us all together. I knew that only with their guard down, and with all of us together that we would have stood a chance at saving their prisoners!"
Neither you nor Father Wilhelm comment that he's scaring away all the fish from your location. Father Pevrel brings over three fish skewered straight through the blade on his spear, drops them into the basket you've set aside, and drops on the bank next to you.
He looks exhausted. You're certain that the man is just emotionally drained, given that the two of you are completely healed.
Father Pevrel takes a long look at the long sleeves covering his forearms, his calloused hands, and the blood under his nails. "I will atone for the life that I took, but not in Time." His hands clench into fists. "I have unfinished business with Vengeance." The pits he has for eyes stares straight at you. "I want to thank you again for not doing something stupid, Anscham. I know it couldn't have been easy for you. Doing the right thing."
You frown, try not to roll your eyes, and let him get on with it.
"I wouldn't have been able to keep myself from killing them both, if I were in your position."
Oh.
"You aren't concerned with— with the hundreds of people who might not make it through the year...?"
"Don't be so naive. Of course I am." The priest has yet to relax his hands. "I just saw what they put you through. That's all. I..."
It's too easy to get him to talk. You can't help but leer towards your friend. "You were worried about me?"
"Shut up, Anscham."
Your grin's brightness rivals the sun. "Don't lie to me, Father Pevrel~"
He looks like he's going to shove you into the water, actually thinks better of it, and settles on flicking the side of your head instead. "Fine."
"Nnn—" You're not even going to rub at the spot, and only grin harder. (After all, you get to linger with the stinging sensation for longer, this way.) "Is that all?"
"Lecher. Last time you catch me trying to be considerate." He points over your shoulder, to Father Wilhelm.
The fisherman has been intensely watching the water all the while, and beams as he brings in a massive catch. The dace couldn't look more stunning.
"Excellent work." You buckle down, and focus far more intently on your own pole.
Father Wilhelm pats you on the back. "Thanks! I'll go get a fire going."
The minute that he's gone, Father Pevrel sidles right up next to you, and speaks in a lower voice.
"Do you think we are... technically twenty years older?"
It would make you middle-aged. You try not to wheeze at the thought of being thought of as 44 in any way, and barely manage to whisper, "I've had experiences with demons that added hundreds of years onto my perception, and I still regard myself as twenty-five. I don't believe that what we experienced genuinely represented Time's wishes. It was a perversion of Her works, after all."
"Like a bad Dream?" He's asking like you're an expert on the subject.
This is the first time that Father Pevrel has actually treated you as a priest of all the Gods, outside of combat. You straighten a little further upright. "Dream had nothing to do with it. That is— that is exactly why I've been concerned about you. You were the first one of us to realize that it was all real. Weren't you?"
A solemn nod, towards the river.
You stagger backwards, reeling in a rainbow trout. It's hefty, and puts a smile back on both your faces.
"Not bad."
"Not bad?" You drop the behemoth down into the basket beside you, which outclasses everything that's been caught so far.
"Listen— Richard. I don't think it's going to do either of us any good to dwell on this."
The use of your given name has you quiet down, respectfully listening.
"But... thank you."
"For what...?"
The killer tightens his fists in his lap, staring to the rushing river dead ahead. Determination sticks to every word. "Justice is what I know. I hate what you're doing to me. But at the end of the day, I know that it's for my own good."
The lord of honor gets to his feet, and offers you a hand to get up. "Thank you for reminding me time and time again that I do have other options. For doing what's best for all of us, and for reminding me of what matters."
You take his hand as firmly as you can, swiftly get back to your feet, and pull the man into the tightest hug you can muster. "You're welcome. What matters...?"
He keeps his arms by his sides and chokes through it, obviously unable to breathe. "Fuck off, Anscham."
The man feels like a slab of chiseled marble. You let up on the hug just enough for him to get some air. "This is not a contest."
Those empty eye sockets dart around you, as if he could find an exit. Still, the priest quietly says, "the people we live with. The lives we share. Not the bodies I want to make, or the lives that I've taken. They're a means to an end, at the end of the day. What I want..."
Father Nicholas Pevrel, leader of the Church of Vengeance, returns your hug.
"...come on. We're keeping Atticus waiting."
"I'm not keeping you here, Father Pevrel."
"Shut up."
You both eventually part, sweep up the fish and poles, and head for the small campfire Father Wilhelm has constructed.
"You know..." You begin.
"Oh, don't."
"It's unrelated to the hug."
"...fine. What do you want."
"Our job isn't to kill demons."
"Anscham, you idiot. I wasn't talking about demons."
"I know. This is unrelated to the difficulty you have with your own inclinations, Father Pevrel— though I do— though I do sincerely appreciate you sharing them with me."
"...fine."
"Our job is to protect humanity."
You both arrive at the campfire. The lord of visions has the flame raging, and is reclined on a log beside the spot. It's clear that he chose the location purely to have a place to lay down.
"What are you two looking so serious about?"
Father Pevrel drives his spear into the ground, and starts restlessly pacing around the camp as if someone could ambush you all at any moment.
"The nature of killing demons and protecting humanity," you reply, politely kneeling down by the fire and roasting the fish while you speak.
"Nice catch!" Father Wilhelm is absolutely floored by the rainbow trout.
"Thank you very much. Like I was saying: more often than not, these things overlap— but we must be aware of the times when they do not. Granting asylum to these demons in Ostedholm is far better than risking our health and sanity in trying to kill them."
Father Pevrel grumbles a little, but no one can really argue.
All conviction, you say, "we may even be able to turn some of them into allies."
"If you weren't working on the fish, I'd kick a rock at your head, Anscham." Father Pevrel kicks a rock towards the tree line for emphasis. "Maybe that would shake some sense into you."
Father Wilhelm sighs, and gives you a weary smile. "It wouldn't be much of a stretch, would it now?"
"Not at this point. No." You give him a cheerier smile in return.
The fish is done before long. The scent is divine. Father Pevrel insists on dividing the portions equally among the three of you, despite you being twice Father Wilhelm's size. You don't put up much argument. On the contrary. After a brief prayer to Agriculture—
"It's not even grown, Anscham. The fuck are you doing?"
"It's the thought that counts."
—you are all gratitude towards your friends. Tears are practically in your eyes. Every bit of you wants to binge on what's in front of you, all of the rations in your bag, and then some. Enough to compensate for another nineteen years of starvation.
You look to a humble little meal of roasted fish, with two men who are watching you like a hawk, and know that your friends seriously care about your well-being. Enough to give you a hard time. A little emotion catches your words in your throat.
"Thank you both so much for all of your help."
They take your thanks graciously, accept a bear hug, and get situated. As the meal passes by (you aren't an outstanding cook, but the fish is first-class, and is almost satisfying), you find yourself really giving your Relic a good look for the first time in a very, very long time.
Its golden, small, slightly raised features catch on the firelight. You don't bother handling the item only by its chain. Each time that the locket passes through your fingers, you're granted total relief from your pain. It's so odd to be in such little discomfort without the item, that you simply spend a minute or two enjoying the lack of sensation. It gets you thinking.
"Could it be that my Relic is devoted to my support system?"
Your friends look up from their own dishes (you ate twice as fast as them), but politely stop what they're doing to listen.
"I've—" You're blushing, which is fine. "Leaning into masochism has outright consumed me, at times. My Relic was there to bear the brunt of it, when— when my addiction was at its worst."
There's no shame in your tone. "I've lacked self-reflection, too. And so— when the need arose— I have been granted a mirror to look within."
You soften your gaze, eyes lifting towards your allies. "I've always had a need for friends. And what better way to find them, to keep them— to truly understand who they are— than to unify our abilities?"
The little, divine gift is held as lovingly in your hands as it possibly can be. "Did it bear witness to my sins, and show me the keys to overcoming them upon its making?"
It feels right. You hold your Relic to your heart, and start choking up. "Truly, the Gods are Merciful."
Father Pevrel blinks a few times. It's completely disgusting, and takes you so far aback that you manage to compose yourself.
"What...?"
"That seems completely reasonable." He seems just as shocked as you are.
Father Wilhelm looks to you with a good deal of respect. "It's as sound of an interpretation as any. Sounder than anything I could come up with, and you would surely know better than anyone else about this, wouldn't you?"
Smiling to yourself, you clasp your most treasured possession back around your neck, and help both men clean up the last of the fire. They wrap up the meal, and you're back on the road (or lack thereof) before long.
Father Pevrel keeps to the front, with a slightly saner pace now that Father Wilhelm's nerves are leveling out.
"Say, Father Wilhelm?" You try jogging around the leader of the Church of Dream. It looks a little silly, (you can't quite run circles around the man just yet), but the effort has a big smile across his mustached features.
"Yes, Richard?"
"What is Magic? I've seen you use it before, and I've had a few experiences of my own. But what is it, really?"
He pauses a moment, then thoughtfully replies, "it is the manipulation of what isn't."
"I don't get it." You huff— legs already burning, stomach nowhere near full enough from the pittance of a meal— and redouble your exertion. "How is it possible to manipulate the world in almost the same way as we do while invoking?"
"It's nothing like that." He's not offended, just mildly amused by your curiosity and enthusiasm.
"Then what is it? We're beloved by the Gods. We're granted Their ability as a reflection of that love. Is this tied in any way to our shells? The relationship between us and the world, or the world to the Gods?"
"Like I said, it's nothing of the sort. You, Richard, are granted the ability of all of the Gods. You are capable of manipulating all that is, as a reflection of Their love for you. Most of us— and by most of us, I mean a select few clergy, that are already an extreme minority in the world— are capable of using a fraction of one God's ability. That fleeting connection is a gift, reflecting a lifetime of devotion. Magic is nothing like that. The Gods give what already is. Magic draws from what never has been, and never can be. It's the study of what isn't."
He frowns. "Sorry if this doesn't make much sense, but I'm something of an amateur! This is how it was explained to me, and it's worked enough for me to get a grasp on a few party tricks."
"Party tricks? It's always bothered me—" You're tremendously dissatisfied. "—it's so dangerous for you to have done even that much. How is it that elves and demons have such easier access to Magic, when a mortal man has to risk his very soul for it?"
"Well, they're already impossible, aren't they?" The priest gives you a mischievous grin, and a wink. "Elves are hardly a gift from the Gods. And demons aren't natural, either. They really shouldn't be here." Father Pevrel seems to think that casual racism is the peak of comedy, and laughs loudly ahead of you both. "I think that grants them a closer connection to Magic. It's like... a horse doesn't become nearly as tired if its destination is close to begin with. Right?"
You're frowning. "I think I see what you mean."
A long while passes by in relative silence. Father Pevrel's light steps at the front of your group, knocking branches aside and picking his way through the undergrowth. Father Wilhelm's plodding, unused as he is to such prolonged physical activity. Your incessant prayer, literally singing praises to all of the Gods at times as you push your body to its limit.
Slowing your jog to a brisk walk, feeling like steam is coming off of you from the heat of the day, you rekindle the conversation with another subject that's near and dear to you. "Our people's history is almost entirely forgotten, isn't it?"
Father Pevrel calls over his shoulder, "you should have a talk with Father Sullivan sometime!"
It's so bizarre to hear anyone refer to the priest with his full title, you completely misstep your manners. "Sullivan?"
Father Wilhelm laughs a little at you. You don't return the humor. Several people have told you this month that the leader of the Church of Spirit is dead, or suspected to be dead. You don't believe it for an instant, of course, but a change in subject is prudent.
"I thought it might be nice to share a few of the stories we know. Particularly about our creation. The earliest days of man. Even accounts from other races." Your allies are looking to you with serious curiosity. "I was made privy to an exhaustive tome in the royal library, penned by King Magnus Himself— but it had so little that I could apply towards my research. There must be a grain of truth among other tales. Somewhere in my memory, even. Something that might help towards better understanding the Catalyst."
Both priests look exceedingly excited to help. Father Pevrel defers to Father Wilhelm, who gleefully speaks first.
"Dream once shared a vision with me, deep in the dark."
The preacher's voice takes on a richer, fuller, and more impassioned tone than anything you've ever heard from him before.
"In a time before Time— before there was a King among men— they say there it still was: The Catalyst. The Catalyst could not be opposed even by the Gods Themselves. They were displeased. There was to be one answer to this dilemma. Mankind.
"In their infinite wisdom, they created us. So, Time brought about the motion of the heavens. The world itself came from the bosom of Agriculture—" A knowing, sly look is given to you. "—but it is not only Her that we have to thank for humanity. Storm brought about the sea, the sky, and the flame to which we owe our lives. And from Mercy, we were granted light, love, and the spark from which all of life is born."
The priest brings his voice down, leading to you drawing closer to hear each and every word.
"Vengeance has always tempered Mercy. He has graced us with the desire to uphold our virtues, and to exact justice to the deserving. Spirit provides us with the wisdom to know the difference. Flesh gives us our drive to excel, and for His benevolence, from the very beginning has been the most beloved of all."
"They are all Merciful," you insist, trying your best not to interrupt.
Taking a long draw on his cigar, Father Wilhelm looks to the sky. It's still the middle of the afternoon, but you can tell he's looking for the stars.
"Truly. But Mercy alone is not enough to sustain all life on earth. The creation of the world and the birth of mankind was enough to wear out the Gods Themselves. Even They must rest, and that is why it is Dream who we have to thank most of all. It is He who granted the Gods and mankind alike with the ability to reflect upon our lives. His will is that of interpretation, of recovery, and of the night. Though He did not have a hand in the birth of all that is, it is He who has made this all possible."
Father Pevrel calls over his shoulder, "he's biased!"
"Oh, shut it!" Father Wilhelm laughs hard, nearly losing his cigar. "What would you know about the beginning of the world?!"
"I know that's all the stuff of children's stories!" The lord of honor is laughing, too.
The man's steps slow, and he comes side-by-side with you and Father Wilhelm. His expression suddenly drops into complete seriousness.
"Vengeance doesn't temper just anyone." A point is made to wrap an arm around both of your shoulders, tilting slightly from side to side. "Our God— the ultimate judge of our lives, and of every action we take until our deaths— it is He who brought the world into being."
A little nudge is made on your shoulder. "On one end was all of the suffering within our world. The realms of beasts, of elves, and of unsightly creatures that we dare not even whisper of in the dark. On that end, was the Catalyst."
A little nudge is made on Father Wilhelm's shoulder. "On the other, was mankind."
The priest hang himself slightly between the two of you, smirking to no one in particular. "The scales were brought into balance."
He hops off, and strides ahead of you both. "And that is how the world was made."
This is all rather silly. You say, "from what I remember, there were civilizations that predated all that we know."
"Mhm." Father Pevrel looks like he isn't listening, and strides further ahead.
"Go on, Richard." Puffing away at his cigar, Father Wilhelm is the picture of politeness.
"Well, I— you know— do you remember Beltoro? The demon who I mentioned during my first confession to you? The one who shared their memories with me?"
It doesn't take him even a second to reply. "I don't think I could ever forget that. They gave you several hundred years of knowledge, didn't they?"
"Yes. If I'm not mistaken— if I'm to believe that Beltoro's and Arkthros' memories are valid— we are all trapped in a cycle, of sorts. It's how we measure our very ages. The rise and fall of humanity. We were brought about by the Gods— as you say, Father Wilhelm— to mirror Their will. But I have always been taught that we were made to serve Them. For so long as humanity exists— and so long as the Catalyst is within us— we are doomed to fall. Over, and over, and over again."
Your gaze lingers on a few ruins that pass you by, far deeper into the forest. They're caked with moss, and barely resemble their former structures. The stone looks like it could be hundreds, if not thousands of years old.
"Sometimes I have to wonder of the heights that mankind has reached. How far we've fallen from our achievements, and what might— what might be needed to regain them."
Long minutes pass by in silence.
A halfling woman once told you that the Gods are what humanity uses to fight the Catalyst.
You stride to catch up to Father Pevrel, and call over your shoulder to Father Wilhelm, "it's a thought for another time. When mankind isn't hounded by extinction with every step!"
The priest laughs, shakes his head, and comes right up behind you. You're pat on the back. It couldn't be clearer how much he appreciates your efforts to lift the mood today.
At the pace you're going, Archenstead is coming up fast.
>A] You have little to no information on the village, and are still deep in the heart of the woods. Proceed with caution, but head straight for Archenstead.
>B] You have a little time left to yourself and your allies. Approach the village as normally as you can, but use these last few minutes wisely. You have a lot to think about, after all. (Write-in any other observations you'd like to make or share, things you'd like to squeeze in during these few minutes of sanity, etc.)
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>B] You have a little time left to yourself and your allies. Approach the village as normally as you can, but use these last few minutes wisely. You have a lot to think about, after all. (Write-in any other observations you'd like to make or share, things you'd like to squeeze in during these few minutes of sanity, etc.)
Hmm... This is intresting. Elves are impossible in a world where we can suplex demons? But I suppose there's a bit of a bias against those of another race.
Are there even arbiters of magic that we do not even know of? Do they have gods too or something of similar but in another name? Something we humans can only say it is impossible just as they consider our invocations impossible?
Yeah, we should've asked more on this with Celegwen before most of her memories were wiped.
Break the cycle Anscham! You can do it! We've gotten the keys, we just need to know where the locks are!
Although it might break some of the old tales it is worth asking; Is the Catalyst a part of the impossibility of that marks this world? Something tied to the presence of the other races and magic that in consequence also affected humanity as it's inherent obsession and corrupting power?
We go through the front gate like the Chads we are. Unless of course something has gone terribly wrong at first glance- then we go the sneaky sneaky route.
What exactly defines "that has never been", "isn't"? Is it the area in which there is a lack of the God's Domains? The Catalyst? If we can narrow that down, what gives that nothingness enough of a meaning to affect reality?
Hmm... This is intresting. Elves are impossible in a world where we can suplex demons? But I suppose there's a bit of a bias against those of another race.
Are there even arbiters of magic that we do not even know of? Do they have gods too or something of similar but in another name? Something we humans can only say it is impossible just as they consider our invocations impossible?
Yeah, we should've asked more on this with Celegwen before most of her memories were wiped.
Break the cycle Anscham! You can do it! We've gotten the keys, we just need to know where the locks are!
In a way true. But after all of our experience I am suspecting it's more of Them completeing us (humanity in general) rather than supressing it. Although they can also empower us to combat those who have turned into their Catalyst.
Although it might break some of the old tales it is worth asking; Is the Catalyst a part of the impossibility of that marks this world? Something tied to the presence of the other races and magic that in consequence also affected humanity as it's inherent obsession and corrupting power?
We go through the front gate like the Chads we are. Unless of course something has gone terribly wrong at first glance- then we go the sneaky sneaky route.