>A] Keep your eyes to the ground, and keep moving as fast as you can. This is NOT something you want to play with.
A fly swatter would be great to have right about now. I'm drawing a blank at how to handle these that doesn't get us in trouble, and I would rather not invoke and stress our soul now that we are so close to Wearmoor.
>B] Keep your eyes to the ground and move forward, but try talking to the faeries. Beings this Magical are not something you encounter every day, and you want to see what information you can (CAREFULLY) glean. It's alright if you don't gather anything useful.
Never agree to anything, never say anything affirmative. Only ask questions. If they try to back us into a corner remain silent. Treat them like cops basically.
Kind reminder to anyone that they can also vote for Catalyst Quest for Best ONGOING Quest! The votes are a lot more spread out so who know maybe we can actually get it up there. Do it for Ray or else Mercy is going to cry.
(Just a head's up guys: I'm working towards eliminating the informational threadmarks entirely, due to their bloat and unwieldy nature. They will be replaced with a wiki! I aim to transfer every single entry from all of our informational threadmarks into this wiki before the next arc comes out! If you are interested in assisting with this project, please let me know, or come join our Discord! We're regularly discussing the project there. It is available for anyone to edit. If you have any questions or concerns, I'm also very open to discussing them here in the thread!
Also a super huge thanks to everyone nominating Catalyst Quest for the User Choice Awards. You guys are the absolute best and I can't tell you all enough how much I appreciate you. Thanks again!)
>A] Keep your eyes to the ground, and keep moving as fast as you can. This is NOT something you want to play with.
But make a note of this location like we did with the fairy ring.
(This is giving me an idea. Maybe we should turn our research to magic at some point and have this place, the fairy ring, and any other magical hotspots investigated in a single expedition.)
(Hard day of work on the wiki brings us up to 84 pages! All that's left to transfer over is the Supporting Cast page now, and a whole lot of tidying up. Just thought I'd keep you guys posted!
It becomes an instant battle between you and two of the fairies to not lock eyes with them, but you're resilient, terrified of what these creatures might do, and can't think of a single way out of this situation that could be resolved without invoking. Not unless you keep your mouth shut, that is.
The faeries are screeching and screaming between bids at granting you immortality. They say they'll reveal the lost secrets of humanity, or could restore your lost loved ones to life. One claims she knows how to please a man in ways that mortal women could never Dream of (you manage not to laugh in her face), while the others swear they can entertain you from now until the end of Time. They all are singing sweet songs about the folly of man, the ineptitude of the Gods, and the superiority of whimsy over you and your stick-in-the-mud companions.
After a certain point, you pull your hood up, clamp the cloth down over your ears, and trudge out from the clearing with your equally irritated allies in tow. The faeries don't go without a fight. You're scratched at, bit, and peppered with specks of Magical powder that makes you sneeze incessantly. Every inch of you wishes you had a fly swatter. Even ripping off a shoe to bat at the nuisances seems appealing, but caution stays your hand. The attacks grow increasingly vicious as you move towards the end of their home, and you are legitimately scared for your life by the end of it.
All the while, you do your best to pay close attention to your surroundings. No amount of fear can quell your desire for answers. The hope is that one day, you'll be able to return to this neck of the woods. Maybe on another long trip away from home, though rather than for business with the theocracy, for some wholesome Magical research. You'll return armed with wisdom, the right kinds of questions, and might even get some real answers.
Those fairy rings will not investigate themselves, after all.
In the meantime, there is simply no way that you're stressing your soul unnecessarily. Not when you're so close to Wearmoor.
The faeries are left behind before long— they're all too aware that you and your company could kill them at a moment's notice if you all so wished— and nary a curse is placed on your heads. You get the impression that you've escaped some terrible fate as you leave the carnelians behind.
A little weight comes off your shoulders, you drop your cloak from about your ears, and head off with your friends into the night.
Terribly late that night— so late that it's just an hour before sunrise— you all make an impromptu camp at the base of some ruins on a hill. The decaying, decrepit structure smells of moss and old memories. Your heart goes out to every friend you've ever made under the earth. Fireflies float lazily about, casting a sweet yellow glow over the overgrown grass.
The campfire is brought up to a roar, while you sit alongside your friends with freshly caught fish and a whole lot to discuss.
"We're just a few days away now." You're trying hard not to talk with your mouth full. The fish is exceptional. Even Father Wilhelm has admitted that you have better aptitude for the sport and cooking than he does, by now.
Your aging mentor lets loose a huge yawn. You were out fishing for hours, but that's not why the bags under his eyes have doubled in severity since you started the trip. "That we are."
"I'd like to make a list, of— of things to smooth over my next trip away from home." You give a teasing leer. "Human carrying bags and all."
The three of you laugh over the crackle of the campfire. Father Wilhelm is particularly amused, and feigns a crick in his back.
"I'd say! For the Father of Healing, one would think you'd take it easier on an old man! To think that I've made it off the road in one piece!"
Father Pevrel waves the end of the dagger he's been using as a fish skewer, pointing due north. Right towards where Wearmoor should be. "Off the road we'll stay, no matter how many pieces we arrive in. I'd like for us to stay in hiding until the last possible moment. There is no telling what might lie in wait once we get to Wearmoor, but until that moment, I expect us to maintain an element of surprise. It will do miracles for disarming the enemy."
"Right." You give him a slight nod, and grin sheepishly to Father Wilhelm. "What would you have had me do differently, then?"
Another tremendous yawn. "Finding some way to get us all more rest would have been terrific." He matches your smile with one just as guilty. "Though if I'm not mistaken, I'd say I'm more to blame for that than either of you combined! You've gotten into no end of trouble for my sake—"
Father Pevrel's grumbling is more of a low roar. "Don't be ridiculous—"
You stumble over your words, trying to talk him out of the notion. "Father Wilhelm, I— I wouldn't say— it's been almost— I've been almost entirely to blame—"
"Listen to Anscham. He's entirely to blame." The priest of Vengeance shoves you over with some difficulty. He lets out a triumphant laugh. "Now we're even."
You deftly keep the last of your fish from falling to the ground, and eat some dirt in the process. Grinning to Father Pevrel with grass in your teeth gets him exactly as disgusted as you'd hope for.
"Liar."
"Fine. Have it your way." Father Pevrel briefly glares at you, before gently saying to Father Wilhelm, "we have all had our fair share of trouble." He offers you a hand to get up, which you take while spitting grass out (and silently praying to Agriculture for forgiveness). "Anscham, you want a list?"
"Yes." The instant you're upright beside the campfire, you happily get out your flask. To the small, gilded item you say, "something to celebrate a trip at its close... and to complement the taste of grass. Please."
You and your friends pass the enchanted flask around, right after it fills with an earthy, malted, and deeply colored lager. The amber brew has smoky currents throughout it, with threads of honey that washes away any nerves that are left in you.
"To not being cursed by fae." Father Pevrel spits.
"To making it through another night without Dream's ire!" Father Wilhelm cheers.
"To the both of you, for making this venture possible." You're not going to tear up. You're all smiles.
Father Pevrel wraps an arm around you and roughly tousles your hair. "Stop thanking me. We're not out of the woods just yet."
"Then what about my list?" You are not letting up so easily.
"Well!" He puffs out his chest, snatching the flask from your hands. The drunkard kicks back several mouthfuls before he matches your chipper demeanor. "We sorely lacked any materials on this trip for the preservation of any fine goods we found, and there were plenty."
You murmur, "I have been unable to examine the tapestries since we left the temple, but the hourglass and telescope remain undamaged."
"The Little King's Law is already falling to pieces, though." The two of you have read the entire tome cover-to-cover by now. Father Pevrel doesn't look too discouraged. "Materials for preservation and recreation would suit a scholar such as yourself well. Imagine if you were transcribing the entire holy text at every rest we took?"
Father Wilhelm chuckles. "Knowing Richard's enthusiasm? He'd have two copies by now!"
"Is that a challenge?" You roll back your sleeves, and menacingly snatch a pen and some parchment out. "With Spirit's blessing, just— just think of the possibilities—"
"So you're writing this down?" Father Pevrel smirks.
You are literally writing down the man's suggestions, and look up innocently from a calligraphy-covered page. "Yes."
Shaking his head, Father Wilhelm accepts the flask from you. "While you're at it, we ought to get some new clothes. You two didn't pack nearly enough!"
The three of you are positively filthy. Everything you have that isn't caked in grass stains or old blood residue has been streaked with paint. No amount of scrubbing has helped, even given the sheer amount of black that you and Father Pevrel wear. Poor Father Wilhelm looks like he's been splattered by an art exhibit everywhere but his face and hands. What rips and tears couldn't be mended on your attire is worn thin from weeks on end of hiking. Only your enchanted robes have made it out from the trip in one piece.
You also hate clothes shopping, and pretend you didn't hear anything. "Anything else?"
"He was trying to compliment you." Father Pevrel elbows your side almost as hard as he can. You're lucky it doesn't knock the wind out of you— but you realize what his game is the second he fires you a shark-like grin.
Your eyes light up, while you wheeze and clutch at your side in pain. There was a lot less cushion than usual! You've shed a tremendous amount of weight in the last month, and almost all of it has come off from your gut! You'd pin yourself at twenty or even thirty pounds lighter than you were this same time last month. It's no surprise. You've been having to bring your belt in tighter notches seemingly by the week. There's no telling if your invocation of Flesh is to blame, if slaughtering yourself every single day has paid dividends, or if having two friends religiously police your diet is what's truly helped, but you couldn't be happier.
A few tears spring to your eyes, which you blink away. You gesture for Father Pevrel to surrender the flask, which he begrudgingly does when he sees the look on your face.
"Oh, shit."
Father Wilhelm leans over from his position on the grass, looking particularly worried. "For Mercy's sake, Nick—"
"I've gone and broken something, haven't I—?"
"No." You wince, smiling so hard your face hurts. "No."
"If you're sure..."
"There's just— there has simply so much less pain in me these last few days, the— the contrast surprised me. That's all." You wipe at the side of your eyes, and keep grinning while you drink. "I'm just fine."
Father Wilhelm suddenly starts, looking wide-eyed to the fireflies all around. They're gathering in a great clump above the campfire, and begin swirling upwards in a strange, unbroken spiral.
"More faeries—?" The priest of interpretation is antsy, but recognizes his assessment as incorrect immediately.
"No." Father Pevrel laughs at the man, though he keeps his voice quiet and low. A tip of the flask is made towards the gathering swarm, then a glance to you. He seems to take some degree of enjoyment from you putting your like of nature to work. It might be the respect that the man harbors for Agriculture.
"They're enjoying the heat." You smile at the odd display, nervously fidgeting with the sting in your side. "Though this is unusual, to say— to say the least."
The spiral undulates. All of the cold-glowing insects dissipate to normal, lazy patterns of flight in and around your campsite. You're reminded of when you were a young boy, and hesitated to even capture fireflies in a jar— for fear of bringing the beautiful creatures to harm— and for want of their presence just as they are in the wild.
"It would seem that they're enjoying our company."
>A] The only pain in you right now is from knowing that moments like this can't last forever. Enjoy the rest of your evening quietly. You'd really like to make the most of it.
>B] You are starting to stress again about the dangers you'll be facing in Wearmoor and further beyond. There's a lot of advice you want from your friends. Don't be shy. Ask for it.
>C] You're taking this as an omen from the God of Respite. Get some rest extra early, and try to make things up to Dream as best as you can. You'll pray for a good night's rest, and nothing more.
>D] Propose that you all move away from this location. It won't cut into how much rest you get tonight— and after your run-in with those faeries, you aren't taking ANY chances.
>E] There's so much you'd like to say to your allies, and plenty more that you know they'd like to share. (Write-in anything else you'd like to talk about before your trip to Wearmoor comes to a close. This does not necessarily mean the immediate end of the thread, just that this is the last time a prompt like this will be offered before the end of the arc.)
Books and translucent wings go up in a rush of flame. You look through the inferno— robbed of your respite— and are helpless to stop your skin from blistering. Batting away at the flame does nothing to stop the burn. You take a bottle, and capture the sensation until nothing but opportunity is left.
The Flesh burns! Remember that Anscham as you take that sensation and use it for more gain!
Still, take steps to secure your burnable materials away from the fireflies just in case and…
>B] You are starting to stress again about the dangers you'll be facing in Wearmoor and further beyond. There's a lot of advice you want from your friends. Don't be shy. Ask for it.
>B] You are starting to stress again about the dangers you'll be facing in Wearmoor and further beyond. There's a lot of advice you want from your friends. Don't be shy. Ask for it.
>B] You are starting to stress again about the dangers you'll be facing in Wearmoor and further beyond. There's a lot of advice you want from your friends. Don't be shy. Ask for it.
>B] You are starting to stress again about the dangers you'll be facing in Wearmoor and further beyond. There's a lot of advice you want from your friends. Don't be shy. Ask for it.
(Safety, opportunity, and a unanimous B vote. You guys got it!
A VERY special shout-out to @Florin for all of the help with the Catalyst Quest wiki!!! All of the entries from our informational threadmarks have been entered, tagged, and should be completely filled in/updated over the next couple of days! I also plan on making a few meta pages such as a place to compile information you've learned on the Catalyst, stuff on Magic, and for the calendar. Not to mention pimping out the entry on Richard so it coincides with the info on your current character sheet! We're looking at a total of 152 pages as of this post, and more's still to come! (I kind of still need to input all the characters and locations from the current arc. Whoops!)
Anxiety is on you like stars on the night sky. You get to your feet, and drag every last bit of flammable material away from the campfire that you can. It isn't more than your satchel and a few odds and ends that feel threatened, but a vision falls from you as you work, and each passing moment has you feeling just a little better.
"Books and translucent wings go up in a rush of flame. You look through the inferno— robbed of your respite— and are helpless to stop your skin from blistering. Batting away at the flame does nothing to stop the burn. You take a bottle, and capture the sensation until nothing but opportunity is left."
As the last of the night-soaked premonition leaves your lips, you catch Father Wilhelm looking to you with a great deal of worry and respect. He slides around the side of the campfire to lay out on the grass next to you, and mumbles a little.
"It's troubling you, isn't it?"
You watch as a few embers dance and skip off the campfire onto the clearing you just made. They harmlessly peter off into the dirt. There absolutely was a fire hazard. It brings a nervous laugh to your lips, which ends as quickly as it came.
Settling back onto the ground, you take a few deep breaths of burning wood and fresh air.
Sitting under an open night sky still feels overwhelming at times.
So does being out of a cell, even in the company of dear friends. Dear friends who would leave behind their families and lives for weeks on end, just to help you rescue yours.
You miss Chesty and Serpent so badly it hurts. It feels like a lifetime ago that you were sharing beer under a little tree in Calunoth— but in reality, it's been less than three months since you last saw them.
Three months since you found Serpent bleeding out on the floor of Ofelia's bakery and saved his life.
Three months since you realized both men had been fighting tooth and nail in your name.
Despite barely knowing either man, they've truly risked their lives to help yours. To look into your mentor's death. To get you the answers you desperately seek.
You are sick and tired of not getting answers.
"Father Pevrel? Father Wilhelm?" You're not shy, either. Anxious, maybe. Unhinged, definitely. But never shy.
Though Father Pevrel doesn't reply, they've both been watching you intently. Your moon-and-stars clad mentor quietly asks, "yes, Richard?"
A few more sparks scatter from the campfire onto the surrounding area. It might be that the faeries sent some of their fireflies after you. It could be that this area is highly Magical. It could simply be that you're imagining things.
You sniff— so stressed out that you can barely keep it together— and try to focus on the opportunity that's at hand.
The leader of the Church of Dream takes a long draw on his cigar, looks to the item, and offers it to you.
You politely decline with a shake of your head. "I—" You might as well be honest. You always are. "I'm so stressed out." More nervous laughter. You run a hand through your hair, watching as Father Pevrel scoots closer towards you.
It dawns on you that the leader of the Church of Vengeance has voluntarily placed himself close enough to hug.
You practically break down on the spot, and pull him into a tight hold with one arm.
The priest stays put, looking particularly thoughtful. There's no protest or complaints while you keep talking.
"The dangers that I'll be facing in Wearmoor and— and even further beyond—" You take a ragged breath, holding your friend a little tighter. Even though Father Pevrel is a solid slab of tense muscle and the smell of blood, his presence helps tremendously. "Can I— may I ask you for your advice? Both of you?"
They get even quieter, though only for a moment. Father Pevrel is practically buried in the side of your robes, so his voice is a little muffled while he speaks. "To start, stop being so frightened of relying on us."
A nod of approval from Father Wilhelm. "Though you must admit, he's been much better about it as of late!" A proud smile flashes at you. "I imagine that Nick is more worried about how you'll fare once we return to the hustle and bustle of the city." The brightness of his smile falters. He sinks into a thoughtful and considerate stare, right towards the campfire. "It's a fair observation. From what you've told me, you had no end of trouble back home. You're right to worry over the difficulties that are to come."
The Seer of Somerilde relaxes a good deal. "Fretting over the future is one of the many ways we can work to better it. It gives us Time to consider our options. Even if what we anticipate never comes to pass, we find ourselves better prepared for the rest of our lives! And all of that preparation can lead to some stress relief, too." He turns to you, smiling mischievously. "If we do so in moderation, of course."
A slight nod of his head is made towards the fire. "Such as with this. You didn't lose any sleep over your visit from Dream. You couldn't have known with any certainty what would happen! Yet— even though there was a risk of appearing foolish or paranoid— you took a clever and safe precaution. You followed your heart, and never once did you need to obsess over the matter."
"No." You shake your head slightly. "I've had too many— I've had too many other concerns on my mind—"
"Do you truly think that— with nothing else distracting you— that you would have fretted over Dream in the same way that you're worrying about your boys? Yourself? How about your future?"
It's like every word is stressing you out more than the last. "No."
"This is only a suggestion," Father Wilhelm says. "I think it could do you some good to think about the attitude you've had towards this visit from Dream. Even with a vision from God, you didn't dwell on the future. You planned ahead, of course— but you largely focused on the present! To your great benefit!"
Father Pevrel gets an increasingly guilty look on his face. "He's got a point." He looks disgustingly comfortable, but manages to pry himself out from under your arm, and makes a show of dusting himself off. The blood-caked priest cracks his neck for good measure. "But that isn't what he's asking for help with, Atticus." Those awful eye sockets narrow at you. "You want to know how to manage your stress. Not to ignore it, or to try to focus on something else, but how to actually deal with the problems you're going to face. A change in attitude may help you feel better short-term, but it won't do shit to help with the very real problems that you're facing."
Smiling slightly, Father Wilhelm takes a few more puffs on his cigar. "Right you are."
A quick gesture is made towards your flask. Father Pevrel looks particularly moody. "Give me that." You pass the container over. He takes a long draw, and fires a mean look at you. "Don't go thinking that I'm the right kind of person to ask about this sort of thing."
You manage to hide your smile. "I won't."
"Good." Your flask isn't even capped. Father Pevrel hands it back to you, and smirks while you drink in turn.
Liquid relief lasts for a few blissful moments, before Father Wilhelm firmly taps you on the shoulder, and makes you surrender the item.
"Feeling any better?"
You've killed over less than the craving you have for more beer. "Slightly."
"This is my point," Father Pevrel says. He pokes your gut. "You say that binging helps you cope, but it doesn't."
You fight down the heat in your face, and bat his hand away. The severity of your frown should convey how strongly you disagree.
"What will alleviate your fears is progress. It will not be fast or easy, but as we deal with these problems you're facing, you will get relief." The man sniffs hard. The soot from the campfire must be bothering him. "Father Wilhelm is right about a few things. We need to help you prepare for what's to come. But before we can do that, I need you to promise me something."
"What?"
"Promise me that you'll let me rely on you, too."
Father Wilhelm looks to you in shock. It takes everything you have not to laugh from relief as you stare, flabbergasted, at the lord of darkness asking you for help. "Of course. But why...?"
The priest of Vengeance avoids eye contact. "I know you trust me, but I'm still having trouble trusting you. You're notoriously unpredictable, Anscham. I need to know that you'll live up to your damn title when push comes to shove."
"I don't think I—"
"You don't understand?" The lord of darkness snaps his gaze back to you. "You should by now. Our enemies have infested every corner of the nation. Even if we pick off a few of their leaders, it will do nothing for many of their followers. New leadership will arise. We have something worse than an infestation. These are not rats. They're parasites. Parasites that will bleed us dry, even if we remove them as carefully as we can."
He's back to staring bitterly at the fire. "Wearmoor is only the beginning. It should be a simple and quick matter to restore order and to get your boys. What worries me is what's to come after. You're right to be afraid."
His lips a fine line, Father Pevrel shifts to face you and Father Wilhelm completely. "But that doesn't make you weak, nor a coward. It takes a brave man to fear for his family's life. It takes a braver man still to fight to protect them. No matter where the information we gather in Wearmoor takes us, it will be one step closer towards ridding ourselves of this wickedness."
"Just what are you proposing?" Father Wilhelm smirks.
"We may not ever rest well at night, but we can become more familiar with the dark."
You fight not to groan. "I have spent all my life in the dark. That is— this is EXACTLY what is plaguing me."
Father Wilhelm gives your fellow Church leader a polite glance. "If I may?"
"Go ahead."
"Richard, he's trying to say that there will be many times when Mercy will be needed in the coming days. Not all of the problems we face will be solved by killing our enemies. The challenges we will face— how should I put this?" A few puffs. Smoke rises towards the stars. "They're going to be of a more human nature. A dark, terrible, and possibly unsolvable nature. Nick may wish to lean on your clemency to handle more challenging situations, and he is counting on you to grant him that ability. Not only for appearances sake, either, if I had to guess."
Father Pevrel grumbles, dodging the accusation of kindness. "Once we find your boys and resolve this mess with the Church of Agriculture, we will need to clean up whatever other messes they all have made. We will be far removed from many of our resources— and though we possess the ability to seize whatever we require from the public, I would not do so unless many lives depend on it." He's staring you down. "We know that Stace and Morris are in Mauseburg and Rimilde for now. That is a great deal more travel. A great deal of Time for them to escape."
His hands are clutched into fists. "We may find ourselves frustrated or wanting for easy solutions. Which is why I say that you have every right to be stressed the fuck out of your mind."
Father Wilhelm can't help but laugh. You do a little, too.
Cracking a grin, Father Pevrel says, "it's only going to keep getting harder. But THAT is why it's so important for us to persevere. Try to focus on the victories within your reach. We all want to save the world—" He pauses, looking between you and Father Wilhelm. "Well? Don't you?"
A shrug, from Father Wilhelm. "None of us want humanity to die out."
You grit your teeth. "More than anything."
"Well." The lord of honor crosses his arms. "You have lofty goals, and that's part of the problem. It's impossible to solve that sort of thing all at once. You have to take many steps to get there— and each one of those steps should bring you some form of relief. The goals you set should not be 'today I need to destroy all of Inertia,' or 'today I'll kill Stace,' or even 'today I'll cure the Catalyst.' You need to start thinking, 'today I'll stop being such a fatass, so I can make it to Wearmoor in the best shape that I can,' or 'today I'll investigate the leadership in Wearmoor with the help of the very Father of Investigation, and should stop worrying my unkempt head over a matter that will be quickly resolved.'"
Another long pause. Father Pevrel snaps his focus towards Father Wilhelm. "I'm saying the same thing as you."
Father Wilhelm is still laughing quietly. "Yes."
Laughing along with him, Father Pevrel reluctantly admits, "when you have a point, you have a point."
You can't help but sigh. "So you both— you both think I should try to focus on what I can do each day, and to look at my goals in smaller, more manageable ways. To take each day as it comes, despite the looming threat of the end of humanity, and the countless problems that I face. Is that right?"
"It could certainly help," Father Wilhelm says.
A nervous, ragged sigh leaves you. You're trying hard not to pull out your hair, and tease your scalp by gently pulling on the strands instead. "How am I supposed to just stop?"
"I told you, you don't." Father Pevrel flicks the side of your head.
"You learn to manage your fear—" Father Wilhelm gives a guilty look to his cigar, then to you. "—so that it doesn't consume you. You already know this to a great degree! Why, just look at how much you've calmed down since we first met."
"I know." You're not looking to the dirt, fidgeting incessantly, hurting yourself in any serious way, or getting lost in thought halfway through a conversation. You meet Father Wilhelm's bright blue eyes, and almost all your tension falls.
He just looks worried. As worried and considerate as a father does when one of his sons is hurting and asking for help.
He does just want to help. He always has.
It's okay if he doesn't have every answer.
You pull Father Wilhelm into a firm hug, and wrangle Father Pevrel into it, too. "Thank you both so much for— for trying to help me."
Father Pevrel elbows you with his arms still pinned, somehow. "Some thanks. You're saying we haven't helped you at all."
You're going to go gray early, at this rate. "I still can't help but wonder what I'll do about— what I'll do about everything—"
"Stop that." Father Wilhelm assumes a firm tone, for once. "Focus on what you know! What you can manage. Go on!"
"I— I'm terrified of what's happened to Chesty and Serpent. I miss them horribly— and it's my fault that they went to Wearmoor to begin with, and— and if I never see them again—"
"We're on our way to see them, and I've come along on this trip to ensure that their rescue goes off without a hitch. We're also going to address any corruption in the Church of Agriculture properly, so there should be no need for a violent rescue. If anything else could put your boy's lives in jeopardy, there is no conceivable way that we won't be able to handle it together." He raises his tone further. "And if anything I've heard is true, both of these rascals were putting themselves in the line of danger long before you even met! Their choices are ultimately their responsibility, Richard. You are not to blame for their disappearance, or for anything else that's happened in your absence."
This issue probably runs a lot deeper than chronic anxiety. There's something buried deep about wanting to save everyone who comes into your life. Not wanting to lose anyone. You're certain you're actually going to kill someone if anything has happened to your friends. They're like your children, even though you barely know them.
There's something burning in you, alright. It's fear. You can't put it out. You can only bottle it up, and pray that you'll find a better way to manage your emotions in the future.
For now, you hold your friends all the tighter.
They hug you back.
"We're going to look into all this," Father Wilhelm says. "It should be just a few more days."
Father Pevrel is buried so deeply against your robes, you can barely hear him. "While we sort out this council and rescue your boys, I'll be investigating the death of Mother Bethaea as well. Compiling their findings with my own should bear great fruit, Anscham. We will get answers."
Just one day out from reaching Wearmoor, the woods are as dense as ever. You know that countless families are responsible for the upkeep of the forests surrounding the holy city of Agriculture, so there should be far less danger here than in most areas.
You've been busting your ass harder than ever the last few days. The burn in you is quite literal, thanks to how hard you've been pushing yourself to gain. Between maintaining your routine and diet, days on end of marching, and the occasional piggy-back ride for Father Wilhelm, you're feeling every step of the several hundred miles you've traversed across Corcaea. The precise distance is difficult to gauge, but you've traveled at least twice the distance from Eadric to Calunoth on foot, through the thickest woods that Corcaea has to offer. Regardless of your size, the soul ache, or any of the other difficulties you face, it's truly something to be proud of.
Deep in the woodland, you all come across a massive swathe of land that's been slashed and burned. Ruins dot a landscape of charcoal and soot. Smoke drifts impossibly through the air, as the area has long since cooled.
The smoke is not what truly catches your eye. Far off in the distance— on the very edge of the clearing— there is a long, white building. It looks mostly intact, and is unmistakably a former Church of Spirit.
There's no movement anywhere in sight. Not even from any wildlife. It's unbelievably calm, and both of your allies relax a great deal.
Still, Father Pevrel's grimace is unrelenting. "We're making good Time. It would be a waste to stop here."
Though he doesn't say anything, the reluctance on Father Wilhelm's face is unmistakable. He must be exhausted beyond belief, yet it's clear that he doesn't want to rest now.
You're just one day away from your destination. With any luck, you'll arrive at the border of the city in the wee hours of the morning. A stop here could compromise your ability to enter undetected, or worse, could delay your rescue even further.
We can skip this ONE thing, I guess. We know where it is so we can always come back to it when lives aren't on the line. Flex our cartography skills and make a quick map of how to get here from wearmoor.
(Sorry about the delay guys. Something for tonight's update took me a lot longer than I was expecting, and I got to get some sleep. The post will be out later this evening, and the vote will remain open until then!)
I was thinking about after we get home to Eadric one of our projects could be doing some exposure therapy with our clergy when it comes to demons. The more civil ones like Adwin and Aralene that can be quite easily incorporated into society. I don't mean bring them out on parade but try to humanize them a bit. Demons aren't necessarily evil, they are just slaves to their Catalyst. We have met humans that have done worse acts than some demons, I think if this work can be done anywhere it can be done in the church of Mercy. Get our most loyal and stalwart allies first, people like Harvey and Klepto and then some of the clergy like Spangle and Electrum. Durville and Fergant later on. Or just put feelers out and see if anyone volunteers.
(Incredibly insightful stuff, @Florin ! I've made note of your suggestion for later. Thanks to all of you for your patience. I'm locking the vote at long last. Writing now!)
"I think we've taken enough detours." You stay right where you are, drop your satchel to the floor, and start digging for something you've been saving for a very long time.
Father Pevrel is caught between relief (he looked ready to run if you wanted to visit the Church) and irritation (he might kill you if you sit down). "What do you think you're doing?"
Triumphant, you extract a colossal scroll of parchment. It's never been folded, burnt, water-damaged, or had so much as a speck of blood on it. You run a hand lovingly along the crisp, thickly textured sheet. It has that old-page smell. You've been holding onto the scroll since returning to Eadric, and had prayed you'd get to put your budding art skills to use.
"Making a map. We can return here when lives are— when lives are no longer on the line. Don't get too comfortable. This shouldn't..." Locating your best quills and colored ink takes seconds. You prop up the back of the Little King's Law for a flat surface to write on, and get to work.
It feels like you've scratched in your thousandth tree by the time it's finished, but you've done it. In your hands is a map of every location you have passed since leaving Eadric. The distances might be all wrong, the roads may be inaccurate, you might have omitted one hundred villages, and there's nowhere near every branch of the Eventide present (you thought you were further west all along), but it's a map. The dense forests are all there. The nearest holy cities are lovingly recreated. You even put tiny sketches for each point of interest that you've visited, in the event that anyone needs help remembering just what on earth was so special about The Amber Copse?
This is one of the rarest kinds of documents that a man can possess, and it's yours to fill in however you like. You hold it to your heart like the treasure that it is.
The little sketch of Eadric you've made in the bottom-left corner of the map is like a knife through your heart. The day after tomorrow will make it one month since you left home, and you're feeling it. Your thoughts are back with Adwin and Aralene. You can't imagine what the last few weeks have been like for your boy, or how Harvey might have received the newest (equally delicate) resident of the Church of Mercy.
You couldn't wait to leave— but now that you're gone, it's hard not to think of family.
Father Wilhelm snaps you out of it by leaning over your shoulder and letting out a long whistle. "You've been practicing. This is marvelous, Richard."
From sketching during mealtimes to taking painting lessons directly under Adwin, you HAVE been working diligently on your art skills. You roll up the parchment with a slight smile, and don't reply. The thought of showing a completed map to Adwin after your return home is more than enough reward for your hard work.
With a deep sigh, Father Pevrel stops pacing and looks to the darkening horizon. "We're nearly there. Come on."
The three of you travel through the rest of the afternoon and into the night. The last evening on the road passes in absolute silence. There's no telling who might be in the woods this close to the Church of Agriculture— though you're about to find out.
On the dawn of the 29th day of your travels, you emerge from the trees. It's the fourteenth day of Low Reaping, in the second month of Agriculture. The cool morning air is filled with the scent of thousands of plants in every size and shade. Just outside the treeline, you're greeted by a huge spread of wildflowers. Far beyond the hill you're granted this lovely viewpoint from, you can make out the rise and fall of countless strips of land. Between each interwoven plot, you make out barricades, bushes, and other natural deterrents for any demons that could threaten the families who call the outskirts of Wearmoor home. Sunrise-speckled clouds hang low on the horizon. It's not the gathering Storm or the reminder of the Catalyst that's cause for concern, though.
The city of Vitality is thriving. Rows upon rows of crop covers the land with so much green, it's enough to rival your eyes. There is no sign of any flooding, famine, or hardship of any kind. Even at this early hour, farmers can be seen getting out of their homes to start the day's work.
They haven't been affected by Inertia's activity at all, have they?
You and your fellow Church leaders— sweat slick in your hair, flecked with paint, reeking of blood, a month out from civilization, and littered with marks of divinity— are arguably the most recognizable men in the nation. The secrecy of your journey may still be intact. Not a soul in the fields seems to have spotted you.
Not yet.
"The fields of Wearmoor." You say it with all the reverence that Agriculture's city deserves. A brief prayer is made to your Goddess, in thanks for your safe travels, and for Her blessing with every hardship that has yet to come.
Scratching at the back of his head, Father Wilhelm lets out a massive yawn. "Looks like we didn't make it on Time."
"Delays or no..." Father Pevrel is smiling to himself, in the way that he only smiles when he's expecting to kill someone.
You can't help but smirk. "Demonic pacts, countless detours, and cultist meddling aside..."
Father Wilhelm groans. "You both are terrible."
You're too worried to maintain your smile. The best you can do it to put on a brave face, and look to the road ahead.
"...thank you both, for everything. I can— I can hardly believe it. We made it."
That brings us to the end of Arc 9: Wild Growth. Whew. I did not expect this to be my favorite arc going in, but I'm 100% certain it is going out. Thank you guys so much for the unbelievable amount of support, write-ins, fanart, fanfic, votes, and to all you amazing readers who left likes the whole way through! I appreciate you guys so damn much, and cannot WAIT to get back to writing!
Our next arc will be Arc 10: Vitality. I plan on beginning the next thread one week from today, at roughly 10PM EST on Wednesday, December 8th. This is to give me enough time to write the next OP and to polish all of the new informational changes we're going to have!
I'm going to keep striving to make the start of each arc as accessible to new readers as possible, and trimming a lot of this informational bulk from the front page should help tremendously! Starting with the next arc, I will have one informational threadmark with the basics. Our new wiki will contain the rest. This means I do not want to front-load 200k words worth of content for a new reader - and definitely not 2 million! lol
Because of this, I strongly encourage you guys to discuss your plans for Wearmoor in this thread. Consider this an open-ended write-in prompt at the end of our last post! I will be here, available for questions or anything else, and will make note of any and all things you guys want to do moving ahead (as I always do)! We actually got through every single thing you all intended to ask and do when we set out in Wild Growth (barring your questions about Mercy and/or Agri having other names, the desert observations, and the exposure project for Eadric). I hope that we can go into Vitality guns blazing and get the show on the road RIGHT away!
While this next week passes us by, I will be working very hard to...
[X] Write the OP for Vitality.
[X] Make a new banner for Vitality.
[X] Write the singular, revised informational threadmark for Vitality.
[X] Make the illustrated timeline for Wild Growth.
[X] Finish polishing the Wiki. [] If I have time, write some side stories for the Catalyst setting from the perspective of other characters.
The last item is something special I've been wanting to do for you guys for a very, very long time. These would be canonical side stories. I will compile a list of story ideas. My Patreon patrons will get to vote on which one they want to see first. Once it's written, I'll post them in the Sidestory threadmark category (starting in our next thread, Vitality) so that everyone can see it!
Edit: Didn't want to burn out, so I'm forgoing the side stories for the time being. We'll do them in the future!
If any of you guys enjoyed this thread and want to show your support, please feel free to let me know what you liked! I'm also all ears to anything you didn't enjoy, stuff you'd like to see improved on, or things you're looking forward to in the future. I also have a Ko-fi if you want to make a small donation, and a Patreon if you're interested in supporting my work (with some extra perks)!
I'll be updating this post as the week goes on. A new post will be made in this thread with a link to the next one, so that everyone can find it easily. And so you all have a countdown handy...
Catalyst Quest - Vitality will launch in...
Dec 7, 2021 at 10:00 AM
Thank you so much again for helping make this crazy show possible. Hope to talk with you all more in the coming days, and I can't wait to see you guys in our next thread!!!
My plan for Eadric is to go around as many drug dens as possible and try as many natural drugs as possible to learn of their effects because we are immune anyway. It would give us a way wider range of options when invoking Agriculture and also pay tribute to her tenet of poison. Also Inertia is more than likely involved in these logistic chains and considering drugs were a social activity back in Calunoth I can imagine that a lot of them are gonna be around for us to get some information out of.
Short term plan: To reconvert as many members of Inertia as possible- This maybe a difficult task unless without further assessing each member's reasons for joining. But they do seem to have a common theme in the dissatisfaction, disillusionment of the Theocracy. We could enact proposals with our close links to the King- but in no circumstances promise immediate changes overnight without ruffling society in general. Still, stemming the bleed from what is essentially civil war will be crucial in staving off extinction and every member saved from Inertia will be a net positive.
Immediate future: Further study and breakthrough of the Catalyst. Should we solve this conundrum we can finish up the long held dream of reintegration of demons back into society. This will be attracting massive controversy- but the irrevocable truth of our findings will out to a stop many from grabbing the pitchforks and torches.
Might involve further research on magic and elves! Finding Celegwen arc when?
My other long term goal: Find a way to father demigods into the world to champion mankind into the golden ages once more. Once we retire to breed doggos and cultivate art through our gardens, get our dynasty going to push the orcs out of our lawn, and of course to spearhead Halfling missionaries and Elf reformations!
Also because the portfolio for the good bois is wide open!
Taking note of all these awesome ideas, good to know you guys are thinking so far ahead! Just three days til the next thread! I'm hoping to finish the timeline for Wild Growth tonight.
I am VERY pleased to announce that the Catalyst Quest wiki is completely done! It's available for anyone to edit, so if you think something is missing, please feel free to add it (or make whole new pages)! I hope you guys enjoy.
