The Tinpot Princess and Her Many Travels

Zam said:

Amber certainly is a realist about the nature of divinity XD

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The nature of gods in this setting, yes. (It should be obvious that gods are not the same in every fictional setting, but I don't want to be misinterpreted.)

pantherasapiens said:

ELYS NO

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Er… I beg your pardon?

Here's the next chapter:

Chandagnac said:

One of the inside doors opened. A terrifying figure lurched into view: a tall, muscular man with horrific scars over one side of his face. He looked as if he'd been partially flayed. One of his eyes was gone, apparently gouged out. His scars were old and sealed-over, but he was still an unnerving sight. Especially since he was wearing a bloodstained leather apron and holding a scalpel in one hand.

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In that moment, I nearly surrendered to fear. I wanted to take to my heels and flee, screaming about undead monsters. And yet, at the same time, another part of me was thinking, 'Isn't this thrilling? It's just like one of Elys's adventures!'

Thus, I wavered between panic and excitement; neither side could gain the upper hand. I forced myself to be calm – or to fake it well enough that no one could tell – put on a smile, cleared my throat, and said as politely as I could, 'Good afternoon, sir. Are you a priest of the Forgotten God?'

'Among other things,' he said with a nod. 'What can I do for you, young ladies?'

Seeking confirmation, I turned to my friend and whispered, 'Amber, do you know this man?'

'By reputation,' she admitted. 'Sir Moridan Ambros, a former Death Knight.'

'You have the advantage of me,' he rumbled. 'Yes, I was a Death Knight, serving Teryn the Ghostlord, until a few years ago. Then, I had to leave because…' A grimace. 'For reasons of ill health.'

I caught myself staring at him. He was fascinatingly ugly. Maybe it wasn't always so. Before someone sliced off one side of his face, he might have been handsome. I wouldn't know. When I saw him, he was a horror. Half of his face was a scarred ruin: the other half was so twisted by pain and suffering that it was terrifying to look upon. His remaining eye was deep and dark, like… uhh, there are some old legends about travellers in a faraway land who drank from a sacred pool. Some of them were mysteriously rejuvenated, some were blessed with ancient knowledge, and some were killed instantly. Sir Moridan's eye reminded me of that story: it was like a sacred pool of knowledge and death.

'How does that work?' I asked. 'You served one god, but now you serve another? Can you do that? I mean, don't the gods get offended if you do that?'

'Those who worship the Forgotten God tend to worship the rest of his household as well. Teryn is his favoured servant. As a Death Knight, I served Teryn Valharek as a warrior. As a priest, I worship the Forgotten God and serve the needs of this community. Different jobs, but there's no conflict between them. Either way, I've been serving my gods, doing what they need me to do. Because... one of the fundamental tenets of my religion is that life has value. Unfortunately, the local people have very few opportunities to make something of their lives. I help them as much as I can.'

'Is that why you're holding a scalpel?' Amber asked, smirking.

Sir Moridan glanced down at the scalpel, examining it with his good eye. It was as if he'd forgotten he was holding it. 'No, but it's related. Two other gods who serve the Forgotten One are Valurhiag, god of justice for the dead, and Lacuna, goddess of mysteries. I worship Valurhiag by seeking justice for those who have been murdered or… hmm, sometimes, ghosts are unable to move on through the Wheel because they suffered a great injustice while they were alive. I do what I can to make things right. Also, at the same time, I worship Lacuna by investigating strange deaths. By uncovering the truth, I gain her favour. That's what I was doing before you came: carrying out an autopsy.'

'So, as well as being a priest and a knight, you're also a detective and a coroner?' I said, raising an eyebrow. 'That seems like a lot of work for one man.'

'It's not a burden I have to carry alone. There are two other priests who serve this temple, just like me, but at different times. We split our workload between us.' Sir Moridan put the scalpel away in his belt pouch, drew himself up to his full height, and said, 'Why did you come here, ladies? Just to ask questions? Or is there something I can do for you?'

'Jana here has a… uh, a special request,' said Amber, glancing at me. 'She knows the Forgotten God. She's met him before. There's something she wants to ask him.'

'And you don't want to tell me what she wants?'

'Uhh… Jana? It's up to you.'

I wasn't sure if I wanted to tell him. I felt like it'd be very embarrassing to tell a priest of the Forgotten God that I was gonna ask his god to make me his Chosen One. Especially since I don't even worship him. Uh, no more than most ordinary people do. You see, the majority of people in this world are polytheists. They pray to Lissa for healthy children, to Nyssa for good harvests, to Strashan for protection from storms, and so on. Most of the time, people don't think about the Forgotten God. Except at funerals. The rest of the time, they forget about him. Which I suppose is appropriate, considering that he has no name other than "the Forgotten God".

While I hesitated, Sir Moridan gave a derisive snort and said, 'By all means, pray to the Forgotten God. You don't need me for that. If he thinks you're worthy of his time, he'll answer you. Otherwise…' He gave a shrug, wiped his hands on his apron, and turned to leave. 'Good day to you.'

What did Jana do next? (Choose as many options as make sense)
[] Ask Sir Moridan some more questions about…
-[] his backstory.
-[] the Death Knights.
-[] his scars.
-[] how he became a priest.
-[] the Forgotten God.
-[] his detective work.
-[] autopsies.
-[] living conditions in the Sprawl.
-[] the local people.
-[] something else. (Write in: what do you want to ask him?)

[] Tell Sir Moridan that she wants to become the Forgotten God's Chosen One.
-[] Ask him to send the Forgotten God a message on her behalf.

[] Pray to the Forgotten God, asking to speak to him.
-[] Tell him that she wants to become his Chosen.
-[] Say something else. (Write in: what else do you want to say?)

[] Talk to Amber some more.
-[] Ask about Sir Moridan's reputation.
-[] Ask about the work the Forgotten God's priests do in the Sprawl.
-[] Ask her if she wants to go on a date after this.
-[] Say something else. (Write in: what else do you want to say?)

[] Do something else (write in: what do you want to do?)

Chandagnac said:

EDIT: I'm going to start writing the next chapter, but if anyone else has anything they'd like to add (ideas of things you'd like to talk about with Moridan, Amber, or the Forgotten God, maybe), feel free to vote.

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That's a no? All right, then.

Chandagnac said:

I wasn't sure if I wanted to tell him. I felt like it'd be very embarrassing to tell a priest of the Forgotten God that I was gonna ask his god to make me his Chosen One. Especially since I don't even worship him. Uh, no more than most ordinary people do. You see, the majority of people in this world are polytheists. They pray to Lissa for healthy children, to Nyssa for good harvests, to Strashan for protection from storms, and so on. Most of the time, people don't think about the Forgotten God. Except at funerals. The rest of the time, they forget about him. Which I suppose is appropriate, considering that he has no name other than "the Forgotten God".

While I hesitated, Sir Moridan gave a derisive snort and said, 'By all means, pray to the Forgotten God. You don't need me for that. If he thinks you're worthy of his time, he'll answer you. Otherwise…' He gave a shrug, wiped his hands on his apron, and turned to leave. 'Good day to you.'

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As he walked away, I called out to him: 'Wait! I have some more questions, if you don't mind!'

He turned slowly. For a moment, all I could see of his face was the ruined half. Again, I couldn't help but flinch: it was the snarling face of a demon or an undead monster. However, I was reassured when I saw his other half: grizzled and grimly impassive, but definitely human. 'Ask,' he said curtly.

'The Sprawl is… uh… not a very nice place,' I said. 'In fact, it's ghastly! How do people live here?'

Moridan considered the question. 'They live. As well as they can, under the circumstances.'

'But… what do they eat? Where do they buy the things they need? They can't all be thieves, so where do they get the money to buy things?'

'There are a few shops hereabouts. You must have passed them on your way here, but they're not very well signposted. I'm not surprised you didn't notice them. And…' He grimaced, closed his good eye for a moment, and took a deep breath. 'Most of the men living in the Sprawl have regular jobs. They work very hard. Or, if they don't have jobs, they go to one of the main city squares and try to get themselves hired. At least temporarily. The women work just as hard as the men. Harder, maybe. Even after they've finished work, you'll find most of them go home to yet more cooking, cleaning, and looking after their own children. It never ends.' He shook his head sadly. 'Only a small percentage of the local people are thieves, but they give the rest a bad name.'

'How do they get past the gate? And the guard?'

'Most of the time, the gates are open. The guards don't usually stop anyone going through unless it's obvious that they're fleeing the scene of crime, in the process of committing a crime, or tooled-up and ready to commit a crime in the near future. However, if they're bored or just feeling vindictive, they can always find excuses to harass my people as they go to or from work.' Moridan's lip curled: an expression of distaste. 'I've often thought that the gates, the guards, and the high walls around this part of the city are all meant to intimidate the people who live here, to make them feel unwelcome, like they're being imprisoned. Elsewhere in the city, they call it "the Sprawl", like it's an untidy mess scattered haphazardly about by people who're just too lazy to build anything better. Around here, we call it "the Oubliette".'

'Were you born near here?' I asked, impressed by his strength of feeling. It was obvious that he deeply cared for and sympathized with the local people. I just wondered where that feeling came from: why had he adopted these people as his own?

'No. I was born into nobility. As much wealth, luxury, and indolence as I could possibly want.'

'And you gave it all up, for this,' Amber drawled. 'Was it a fair exchange?'

Moridan shrugged his brawny shoulders. 'You may think I'm a fool, but I'm happy with my choices. Can you say the same?'

'Why did you make that choice?' I asked. 'What made you decide to become a holy knight, a priest, and then everything else?'

'There are more important things in life than comfort, or pleasure, or finery. I realised that long ago. You see… I was raised to follow the Path of Transcendence and study the Nine Mysteries. They taught me to think about my life, my place in this world, and the purpose of my existence. I was encouraged to ask questions like "Why do we suffer?" and "Can there ever be an end to suffering?"' He paused. 'In Quellonia, at least, there is no orthodox version of the Path. There are many different Paths to Transcendence, each with different answers to those questions and others. But… ah, in the end, people believe what they choose to believe. I chose to believe that I can attain transcendence by doing good, by caring for my fellow man, and fighting for a good cause. I was inspired by legendary heroes such as Joram and Entar Queldrake, Elyssar Dulaq, and so on. That's why I joined the Death Knights. You see, there are creatures in this world who'd destroy our souls, mutilate them, or bind them in eternal slavery. I wanted to fight against such creatures and prevent them from harming any more innocents.' He gave a crooked smile. 'That's how it began. I've come a long way since then.'

'Can you worship the Forgotten God and follow the Path at the same time? I thought they were separate religions,' I said dubiously.

'The Path is all about improving your soul by making the right choices in this life. That's something the Forgotten God approves of. I think he'd prefer it if there weren't so many disagreements as to how exactly one should follow the Path, but… on the whole, he doesn't mind.'

There was a moment's pause. I decided to change the subject. 'What can you tell me about your detective work?'

Moridan frowned. 'People turn up dead around here all the time. The city authorities don't usually care unless there was something especially unusual about one of the deaths: if the corpse was someone they wouldn't have expected to turn up dead in a slum alleyway; or if it was a particularly gruesome murder with salacious details they'd be excited to gossip about. So... most of the time, they don't care. But I figure someone has to. I'm a priest. People come to me all the time, looking for someone to confide in, or for a shoulder to cry on. I get to hear all kinds of things that aren't common knowledge. Because I serve the Forgotten God, people expect me to serve as an undertaker, coroner, and medical examiner all-in-one. As you said, it's a lot of work, but it means I have plenty of time to examine the bodies and find out everything I can about how they died. I have an advantage over most of the detectives I've ever heard of in that I don't often have to go out looking for clues: people usually bring them to me.'

I would have asked him some more questions. I wanted to know what he did with the information he gathered. If he discovered that someone was a remorseless murderer, what would he do about it? Would he inform the city authorities, even though they seemed indifferent to the plight of people living in the Sprawl? Would he enact some vigilante justice? Or… uhh, what would he do?

However, before I could say anything else, the front door opened behind me. Someone shoved into it so hard that it slammed against the wall. A gangly young man staggered into the hall. He was tanned and weather-beaten, his face gaunt and pockmarked, with bulging eyes, long greasy hair and a wispy beard. When I saw him wringing his hands, I saw that they were scratched and bleeding. 'Sir, I need help!' he cried. Ignoring Amber and me, he gazed imploringly at Moridan. 'Please. I've no one else to turn to!'

'All right, Niklas,' the former Death Knight said calmly. 'Come with me. We'll discuss it in private.'

Moments later, they were gone, through one of the inside doors, deeper into the temple. The door clicked shut behind them.

In the tone she used when she thought she was being funny or insightful, Amber said, 'You know, I've heard about the Forgotten God's priesthood. Guiding lost souls is one of their most important duties. I didn't realise that applied to the living as well as the dead.'

'Uhh… I might as well do what I came here to do,' I said. Sitting down on one of the pews, I began to pray. Amber sat down next to me. I tried not to get too distracted, even though she was tantalizingly close. Instead, I focused on my prayer, on what I wanted to say.

'Hey, Forgotten God, it's me, Jana. Heh, I felt a bit awkward saying your name like that. It's a bit of a mouthful, isn't it? Do you have a nickname, maybe? Something a bit shorter? Could I call you Forgy? Forgo? FG? Or do you insist on people saying your full name every time? Although… it's not really a name, is it? It's a title. Yeah, I've heard the story about how Telthalus tricked you into getting rid of all your names, and how you were erased from existence. But have you ever considered getting a new name? Or two, or three, or more? I know Lissa has many names: she's Lyzani in the West; Belissan or Shelinande in the South; she was Elyssar to the Queli of old; some call her Yanis the Fairest; and no doubt she's got dozens of names I've never even heard of. Have you ever considered following her example in that regard? Just a thought. Uhh… I'm gabbling, no? Please excuse me, I'm nervous. Let me start again.

'I… I hope you remember me. I remember you. When I nearly drowned, you… uh, I'm not entirely sure what you did, but I'm not dead. Thank you for that. Thank you for my life.'

After that, I hesitated. I was about to ask him to do me a big favour. I needed to ask in a way that would get him to take me seriously, make him consider my request and not immediately reject me, and I couldn't do that if I kept blundering around like a blind elephant. I had to be subtle about this. Yeah, I can do subtle, all right?

But it didn't matter. Before I could continue my rant, I heard a faint, raspy voice in my mind: 'Hello, Jana.'


In the next chapter, the Forgotten God will set up a mindscape where he and Jana can talk more comfortably. What should this mindscape look like?
[] It should be formed from Jana's wistful memories of "home" (back in Ismar).
[] It should be constructed out of Jana's recent memories (of Truinon and the people she's met there).
[] It should be a model of Creation during the First Age, when everything was pristine and new.
[] It should be a blank, featureless white plain stretching off into infinity.
[] It should be an image of the Halls of the Dead, filled with ghosts waiting to rejoin the wheel.
[] It should look like something else (write in).

Also, is there anything else you'd like Jana to talk to the Forgotten God about?
[] Moridan
[] The Death Knights
[] Suffering
[] The Path of Transcendence
[] Bellona
[] Teryn
[] Valurhiag
[] Lacuna
[] Souls
[] The Chosen
[] Something else (write in).
(Btw, if you choose any of these options, please include a brief explanation of what you hope to find out.)