Character Sheet
The Mysterious Orphan

Name: Lotte, daughter of Henrik and Anelie
Sexuality: Pansexual
Age: 18
Species: Lamia, Central Lands Human Culture
Level: 3
Class: Hunter
Weapons: Bow, Knife

XP: 2/18

Description: A tall lamia, with short blond hair, and blue eyes, dressed in a protective vest and a noble's hunting shirt. They are muscular, well-formed and handsome, and have slightly yellowish eyes and a forked tongue. Their snake-half is in a forest pattern that helps for blending in, except for the occasional splash of Tyrian purple.

Traits:

Just Devotions (Racial--Human, Central, Cultural)(Level 0): Humans in some parts of the world worship the Gods, vast and sometimes unknowable beings that do grant blessings to those that believe in them, magical blessings. But even the lowliest of the pious knows how to pray to them, how to do the right supplications, how to act in the proper ways. This knowledge can sometimes be put to good use, though the Gods rarely turn their eyes to every little prayer.

Wholesome Farm Looks (Human, Central, Physical, Level 1): Though most of the people of the Central lands, that mass of Kingdoms, Princedoms, Dukedoms, Duchess States, and more, are of course quite poor, they are a hardy, hard-working people, and sometimes this life less beats a person down and more hones them. They have reasonably good looks, and even more importantly, look trustworthy, clean-cut, and otherwise like the kind of person who'd never lied a day in their life or slacked off a single hour, either. This remains even after becoming a lamia, though it is... tempered, obviously.

Snake Eyes (Level 1, Physical, Lamia): You can see in the dark pretty well. It isn't perfect, but the night is not nearly so dark and full of dangers as you expected it would be, for whatever reason.


Forest Wanderer (0, Pre-Class): The forest is a fascinating place for a child, as long as they don't go too far. As one gets used to it, one learns more about its ins and outs, and while some of it only applies to the forest that such a child lived in at first, much of it is quite helpful later.

Forest Eyes (Level 1. Class): As one could have eyes that pick out every tiny detail of the tundra, so can one be used to seeing in the dark forest tracks, possibilities, old growth, traps, and anything else, especially when one knows how to use your ears and nose to aid it. It is remarkable how much you can see, when you see what is actually there.

Hunter's Mettle (Level 1, Class): To hunt, one needs a bow, an arrow, and perhaps a knife for self-defense. Having some skill at them is inevitable, having solid skill at them is admirable, and quite useful.

Steady Arm (Level 2, Class): You have a strong, consistent aim. You're not a superlative archer, at least by the standards of adventurers, but you don't have off moments, and you don't waver from being able to hit your target, even if you're not doing the fancier tricks.

Leave Few Traces (Level 2, Class): The experience of being on one side of the hunt makes you wonder how you'd hide your tracks if you were being hunted, or tracked by hostile enemies, as sometimes does happen in adventures. You've begun to practice how not to be followed in the woods, and perhaps elsewhere.


Mending Knowledge, Basic (Level 0, Pre-Class, Healing Priest): You know how to apply poultrices, and you know the basic ingredients of a number of potions that cure headaches, deal with common pains, put someone into a gentle sleep, and other minor things. You can also bandage someone properly. You are not very good at this, merely adequate... but that's more than what most people are.


Whitlin' Ways (Level 1, Common): A man or woman who knows how to whittle will never want for whistles, or spoons, or any number of goods. It's a useful, solid sort of skill, and one that could be made into a trade. It also makes a pretty decent way to pass the time, and the person who whittles never lacks for a knife in sticky situations.

Penny Pincher (Level 1, General): You know the value of a Pfin, and how to keep from wasting all of your money, even if you're far from a merchant. Money is something you're familiar with.

Steel Nerves (General, Level 3): You've seen enough strange places and done enough fantastic things that you are less likely to panic in terrible situations, and more likely to think things through, however difficult. This doesn't mean you can't panic at all, but you have a grip on those nerves. In battle and danger only, this unfortunately doesn't help at all with social anxiety.


Divine Sense (Level 0, Divine): You can sense when someone is a Demigod, and there's at least the potential ability--though you have not figured it out yet--to try to track people through their divine 'scent.' A person's 'scent' gets stronger as they get more magically and divinely powerful... but on the other hand, you now have a 'scent' of your own, that will allow other demigods to know you for what you are, increasingly as you grow more powerful yourself.

Captivating Eyes (Level 2, Divine): You can sometimes 'catch' people with your eyes. If you're concentrating, they'll find it slightly more difficult to look away, though any sense of threat or danger breaks it immediately, and they'll hear your words clearly, actually listening… or at least hearing them. There's no requirement to listen to them, nor does it seem as if anyone's mind is being altered in any way, but it's an interesting, if bizarre, power, and certainly is a new take on 'lost in their eyes.'

Slithering Shadows (Level 3, Divine): You can blend into the shadows better than you should be able to. At night, and in darker areas, you can seem to shift away from sight. It doesn't work well in a wide-open space, but that little bit of extra secrecy can be very useful as a hunter, and as someone who might need to sneak through various areas.
 
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[X] Go straight. There are strange groves, yes, and there's the wild animals that apparently attack people without sense, foaming at the mouths, and the witches, and--wait, what was your point? Oh, yes, but it's the straight path, and even more importantly, it's the main road. So maybe they used it?

Yeah, I agree with Varder. This seems the best path based on what we know. Either this or the right path.
 
[X] Go right. You'd have to be insane to go through Corpse Woods, and anyone who steals the relics of a famous martyr has long since become unhinged. Plus, there are usually not... physical dangers from going through Corpse Woods. Usually, at least in stories, it's more about the mind and soul. Which is harder to shoot an arrow at, but at least won't outnumber you.
 
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Adhoc vote count started by The Laurent on Aug 20, 2019 at 7:03 AM, finished with 16 posts and 13 votes.

  • [X] Go straight. There are strange groves, yes, and there's the wild animals that apparently attack people without sense, foaming at the mouths, and the witches, and--wait, what was your point? Oh, yes, but it's the straight path, and even more importantly, it's the main road. So maybe they used it?
    [X] Go right. You'd have to be insane to go through Corpse Woods, and anyone who steals the relics of a famous martyr has long since become unhinged. Plus, there are usually not... physical dangers from going through Corpse Woods. Usually, at least in stories, it's more about the mind and soul. Which is harder to shoot an arrow at, but at least won't outnumber you.
    [X] The left route, which goes down at least a little bit, and is a little rocky and unsteady, as if someone had tried to build a stone road and given up, leaving it worse than if it was good, honest dirt. There were supposedly bandits (which they might be looking for) and beastfolk villages (which they weren't) in this direction. Neither are likely to be very trusting, even at best case scenario.
 
Wow, way closer than I expected!

Usually even with the options being about equally tempting it's down to two of them, just from first voter advantage and stuff. Neat!

This might end with a one or two vote difference, then. Nailbiter time!
 
Wow, way closer than I expected!

Usually even with the options being about equally tempting it's down to two of them, just from first voter advantage and stuff. Neat!

This might end with a one or two vote difference, then. Nailbiter time!

Actually, the nails have been bitten. I've closed the vote so that I can try to write tonight. We'll see if I get anything done, I'm a little tired from my first day of school.

(And also reading fanfiction...)
 
2:5
2:5

Perhaps the main route wasn't the best, but the promise of witches seemed to lure Lotte. Surely witches would have some use for all of the holy artifacts. Lotte didn't know anything about magic, or anything more holy than the feeling of her prayers, or the beauty of the sunlight through the trees of her home forest.

But Clemencia did, and so did Guilliam, and when she stated the possibility that witches could use the objects, Guiliam had nodded. "So could I. I could sing songs about them, and it'd probably work."

"They are… the remains of a great ancestor," Clemencia said. "It would be stranger if there was not magic associated with them."

Lotte understood that this meant that she believed less in the holy power of a martyr, and more in the power of Ingeld, the ancient hero.

Perhaps there was something to say for that, in a way. The Sepult believed in the work of their hands.

So did Lotte.

The forest wasn't beautiful. The trees looked slightly odd, and the path now wound like a river, like a snake, dodging around this or that dangerous area. But there was only so much a forest could be twisted. There were still animals, and none of them were crazed, not yet. Lotte could still hear birds sing, could still smell the forest, and see the sun overhead, even as it began to set.

There were still things to appreciate, but it wasn't her forest. It wasn't what she was used to, and that shouldn't matter. It did.

So she kept on smiling and watched the edges of the twisting landscape, waiting for something to go wrong. She knew it would, and if it did, at least for a moment or two she'd be at the front of it.

There were still signs to follow, but they were sparse, which made sense. Lotte was starting to believe that they must have split up at least a little bit. There were no obvious signs of doubling back, but the signs to follow them had become fewer and farther between. If just a few people had continued onward… perhaps they were planning on trading just a few of the artifacts to witches, and then the rest would be used some other way?

It was easy to think of the stolen goods as one single unit. But they could be divided, like inheritance could.

So what did that mean for their trek? Nobody had asked about it, and Lotte didn't want to speak more than she had to.

Not now.

She was lost in the signs, in picking out the way to go from the thickened darkness. She couldn't be sure of anything, but she did know that Witches weren't always bad. Nor were they always good. They mostly just were. Strange magic users that relied on charms, alchemical potions, deals with strange beings… the beings could be good or bad, or could even be the Gods, though Lotte had no idea how they'd be different than a priest.

But it was.

Lotte didn't really question things, at least not more than once in a while. So, Witches were always different than Priests, and yet a Priest could be a Witch. Sometimes. The world was strange.

Very strange, as she learned when the coin finally dropped.

"Something's coming," Lotte said. She'd strung her bow, of course, since she'd need to use it quickly.

The others didn't hear it. "Where…" Oscar began.

"Shut up," Clemencia said.

They listened, and there it was, the panting of wolves, and then a howl as three leapt from the underbrush, one on one side, two on the other.

These weren't wolves, not really. Lotte knew wolves. They were shy and retiring, mostly, when it came to humans. Yes, they would attack humans if a human was lost and alone and a wolf was hungry enough, but it was rare. Even the most territorial of wolves didn't always react the way some feared.

Wolves also operated in packs, groups that worked together, no doubt cared for one another. Families. There was a reason Wilfhuld was as he was.

Lotte felt for wolves, for what such animals must live through. They hunted to live, just like she did. They were smart creatures, and worth admiring.

Most importantly, they knew fear. That wasn't a weakness: without fear it was hard to have sense.

These animals attacked senselessly, leaping at the group. They were foaming at the mouth, and their eyes were glowing faintly red. Lotte drew in a single, smooth motion and fired, her arrow taking one in the neck. She made sure to stand where she was, hoping the others would come forward to cover her, because moving and firing was folly, if she wanted a good shot. She wasn't used to battle, but she knew how to stand steady.

Clemencia hurried ahead, and Lotte almost relaxed, except she was already drawing another arrow. The wolf she'd hit hadn't gone down, but it had been slowed, at least a little. It was in no good shape, with an arrow all the way in its throat, but it seemed too stupid and maddened to realize that.

"The bear walked in the valley," Guilliam began to sing, each of the wolves glowing in turn as he sang of a bear scared off by a man with an improbably bushy beard, who was then mistaken for a bear in turn.

Oscar, meanwhile, was guarding the horses, sword drawn, but also desperate to keep them from whining or running.

Which they of course would, because even the most trained warhorse would fear snarling wolves. (They too had fear, and too were sensible.)

It made sense to keep them from running, since if they did, they'd take their packs with them.

But it meant that it was just the three of them. The wolves seemed to slow and almost hesitate, but not enough.

Clemencia brought her warhammer down on the head of the wounded wolf. It staggered, a part of its skull caved in, finally recognizing mortality, but by then the other two were on Lotte, who had the time to loose a second arrow, this one straight in one wolf's eye (an easy shot because it was so close, and a hard shot because of the size of the target and the lack of time). Then she had to retreat.

She tried, at least. Two different wolves were bearing down on her, and while one of them was slowed, another suddenly sped up as the glow around it faded, leaping onto her and trying to bite her arm. She kicked at it.

The world fell away until all that was left was a desperate fight not to be bit. She punched the wolf, but from her position there wasn't a lot of force behind it. It was a feeble blow, because the few times she'd practiced wrestling she'd been told it was all about getting the right angle. She had no good angle at all.

She kneed the wolf, and this at least worked better, but its dripping fangs sliced against her hand was she punched it again. It looked baffled that she was fighting back, growling and trying again to bite her. She didn't know if it was already too much, didn't know how long she could--

The wolf was lifted off of her and slammed against a tree.

"Fly, fly, up and up, up and fly," Guilliam said, his face a mask of pain and concentration as he sung. The wolf stood, the spell just as quickly cast, but he sang it again, louder and louder, keeping the wolf off-balance. Clemencia and Oscar were both finishing off the other wolf. All Lotte could do was watch.

"Well," Clemencia said. "That was… something. Good job, everyone."

Oscar glared at her. "Good job? Everyone?"

"I had to keep the other one off Lotte, manling," Clemencia pointed out. She had one bushy eyebrow raised, and even beneath her beard, her face was grim. "You were the one watchin' animals while Lotte fought. And now she's bit."

"She… she was bit?" Guilliam asked, his voice wavering rather more than a musician's should.

"Yes. It wasn't much of a bite," Lotte said, pushing herself up, but holding out her hand, like she'd done for her ma all those years ago when she got scrapes.

"Oh." Oscar looked at her hand. The bite wasn't deep, and it was more like teeth tearing into her skin, rather than a full bite. A real bite would have done more. She could probably even still use her bow, if she wrapped it up so that it stopped bleeding. That wasn't the problem.

"Does anyone know… how that works?" Guilliam asked.

"I can," Clemencia said, and she closed her eyes. They waited in silence, the bloody bodies littering the ground. All three wolves had died, and for nothing. They weren't hungry, they were just angry.

Lotte was exhausted and sad. Were all fights like this? Even triumph couldn't last that long in the face of the exhaustion that hit her. She'd almost died, and there'd been little time to think, and little enough time to act.

Now she'd been bit.

"Normally you'd have at least a week, and probably weeks, before the worst parts of the madness struck you. But this is different. This is magical, as well as physical. You have a day or two. We need to wash the wound. It helps balance your humours, when the water meets the blood of your hand, but only if you have soap as well along with it, to balance out the thinness of water. If you do it correctly, your bodily humours might resist illness." She spoke slowly, as if she was reading from a book. "After it has begun, only magic can save you, and only sometimes."

Lotte tried not to think about Arndt, coming back wounded, coming back when he might have died. He could have died over nothing, and even then… even then Arndt hadn't been the kind person she'd… cared for so much after it. Her thoughts were coming slowly, as if she were slogging through mud.

"Well, let's get her hand treated? Then, do we turn back?"

"No," Lotte insisted. "We keep on going. If we find witches and they aren't bad, maybe they can help us. Either way, I have time, and we have a mission."

If she backed out now, if she ran away like game before the cry of a hunting horn, then who would respect her? Her life was at stake, she realized that, but it had been at stake before.

Oscar was looking at her, somewhere between impressed and appalled

"Then we have to clean her hand, and then we have to hurry," Guilliam finally said, his voice firming. "This… this might not be the only attack we face."

"Perhaps not," Clemencia said, with a shrug. "We'll see if the manling lives."

*******

Lotte felt fine, but she didn't know what she'd feel if she were a day or less from going mad with some strange disease of hatred and anger. So instead they continued on, until at last the forest grew dark. Lotte took the lead, almost, but now Clemencia walked next to her, keeping up only because Lotte slowed down a little.

They didn't speak much, as if the possibility of death and the fight had frozen their words, had choked them where they lay. If anyone spoke about how possible Lotte's death was, even with the best medicine imaginable, it'd change things. Lotte had to imagine they'd all seen people die, even allies, but that didn't mean any of them had to like it, let alone accept it.

Lotte knew that perhaps she should smile and declare that she would be fine. But she didn't feel like it.

The moon rose, high and almost full, just a sliver missing from it. They could see it only for brief moments, as they were still under heavy tree cover.

So when they heard chanting, it was hard to tell where it came from in the muddle that all the trees made of hearing. Still, that was usually a sign, and they pressed forward. Lotte was pushed out of the lead by Clemencia, and couldn't find it in her to stop the other woman.

The Sepult was worried about her, and it warmed her heart in a way. It had been a long day, and her legs were starting to ache, as was her wound. She could use what warmth she had, for the moment.

They pushed through a bushy area, and suddenly Lotte could see lights, lanterns hung up on the trees.

The Nachtmater. This was a ceremony for the Nachtmater. Lotte had heard about these, in passing, but never from her mother. She didn't know anyone who went to them, but she did know that the goddess was not easily or simply invoked.

"Well, this is going to be a fine mess," Guilliam muttered.

"Quiet. Silence is the greatest gift we can give to her," Oscar whispered, his voice barely audible even a few feet away.

It was true that people believed that nights were silent, but Lotte had to wonder at that. Lotte had been out in a forest at night, and quiet wasn't the right word for it. Yes, it was quieter, but there were sounds anyways, and the sounds meant a lot more when you had nothing else to hear but them.

Lotte, thought, knew it wasn't none of her business, what more learned people than her--as Oscar no doubt was--believed. They kept on moving, until at last they saw smoke drifting up above through the dark night air, and the stars, thousands of them, stretching above them like thousands of beady little eyes. And below? There were almost a dozen men and women in a circle around the fire, wearing rough robes of brown or black, their features obscured by both smoke and darkness. Each of their arms was raised, as if they were pointing with their whole body towards the fire.

"We have a visitor," a woman's voice said, though it seemed to echo and carry so that it was hard to tell which of them it came from.

"We did not intend to interrupt, truly," Guiliam said, raising both his hands, to show he had no weapon drawn. "But we heard the chanting and saw the lanterns."

"Yet interrupt you did," a man said, turning to them. He was sallow and aged, the color of either hair or eye obscured by the darkness. "What madness brings you here, venturers?"

"We are after a fugitive who stole holy artifacts," Oscar said, stepping forward. "We sought the straight route because we heard of gatherings of witches, and wondered whether they might have tried to sell such objects."

"Ah," a woman's voice said, the same one as before. On the other side of them, a woman steps… not forward, but instead around the circle, as if there was something there to avoid passing through, besides the fire. "Do you think us witches?"

"Are you?" Oscar asked.

"Some of us. I am one. We have heard the calls of the forest, the birds and beasts, whipped up by the passing of great power. Furious that it is beyond their touch." The woman shook her head, hands now in front of her, crossed. "It was but a fragment, a coil to a rope, but no more. But these things have power. The Gods abide in them. And they abide within the Gods. You are marked."

Marked?

Lotte saw that she was looking at each of them.

"Marked for what?" Clemencia asked, suspiciously.

"All things have fates. Deaths. Lives. Gods as well, though we forget it as they will not. Can not." She spoke in a hoarse whisper, as if afraid of where the words might go otherwise.

Lotte felt something tug on her, as if she were being dragged forward, and she took another step.

"Interesting," Guilliam said. "Could you say that again, but less vague?"

"The Gods can die, but is that the end of the story? Man can die, but is that it? We endure, and this martyr, he--"

"We didn't tell you it was a he," Oscar said, suspiciously. He tensed, not drawing his weapon, but clearly ready for anything.

"I know who it is, and I--what are you doing, child?" the woman said, her voice quivering, the mystery replaced by fear.

Lotte brushed past the stunned worshipper in front of her, stepping into the circle. There was something in the smoke and fire, a form that couldn't quite resolve itself. As if it hadn't decided. As if it didn't know. Her heart pounded, and it felt as if her body was falling away, all the aches and pains, yes, but also all of the solidity and confidence that came with it. You made yourself into a hunter, you tried your best to care for your body, hideous and disquieting as it was, because it was strong as well. It was a sort of gift, to be able to be tired, to be able to walk in the forest exhausted and strong and both aware and unaware of your body.

She lost that as well, couldn't help but be dragged forward.

Then the lights, all of the lanterns, went off at once. There was a scream, but it slowly faded as nothing happened.

Lotte saw, though, in the darkness, some shape, a…

It was a moth, coming towards her, glowing faintly, but not in a way that seemed to alert anyone else. Overhead, thousands of fireflies swirled and moved, and the stars themselves seemed to bleed light, light that somehow didn't touch the grove, didn't touch that wide open space where rituals to just this being had been done, Lotte suddenly understood, for centuries. Ingeld had stood here, Lotte could suddenly see him for a moment, a tall, bearded figure in rags, watching uncertainly from the side. He'd come, had watched, had felt the Nachtmater's presence, but faintly.

Coil of a long rope, sound of a lost hope
Tiny strange human child, husbander of the wild

"...Yes?" Lotte asked, baffled. Her mouth moved, but no sound came from it. Yet she knew that She had heard.

Why are you here now, so early?

Early?

Yes. Years. years to unwind. But here you are now.

A… Lotte didn't know the name of it, but it seemed almost like a tongue, reached out and touched Lotte.

Her heart stopped beating, or at least she was unable to hear it, as if she were being drowned by degrees, but peacefully. She was dragged forward by the Nachtmater.

You weren't supposed to see her, merely feel her presence through implication, and to stare it in the face felt as if…

It felt as if she were staring into the sun and would soon be blind.

The strange… not tongue glided over Lotte's bandaged hand, and Lotte couldn't help but shudder.

It was strange, because she was both terrified and not. There wasn't anger in this Goddess before her, there wasn't anything but amused curiosity. Somehow Lotte could feel the Gods' emotions just as her own mind was being read. It wouldn't hurt her, at least not tonight, and yet that couldn't stop the fear. It was as if she was shaking apart.

Do not worry, you are mortal. You carry your darkness like a torch to clear the way, and your darkness devours you in turn, until at last the flame will gutter.

Lotte didn't know how that would reassure anyone at all.

You do not know because you are not a God. A God can be doused, can be nothing, can be dead, and yet still exist, like a flame surviving on the memory of a candle. Weak, easily destroyed, and yet still--

Lotte wanted to sink to her knees. She felt something moving in her. She was at once silenced, screaming, crying, and laughing. She wanted to get closer, she wanted to run away. She was a moth to flames, and they were licking her skin now.

All she could manage was to keep just enough away. A part of her was afraid what would happen once she was all burned up.

You are strong, to stand. The night envelop you, and the night hide you from harm, from danger, from judgement, from--

She felt it, it was the end of the encounter. Lotte didn't know where she found the strength, for words seemed farther and farther away, but she said, "Wait."

The moth, the Nachtmater, stared. Yes?

"I have a question…"

You do, it seems. You may ask. I may answer.

What does Lotte ask? (Choose 1)

[] "Why me?"
[] "What did you do to me?"
[] "Why was Ingeld taken?"
[] "I'm… early, what do you mean?"
[] "What is… what is darkness, that mortals carry with them?"
[] "My… hand, what did you--?"
[] Write-in, subject to veto.

*******

A/N: Whew. On time at least, yay!
 
[X] "Why was Ingeld taken?"

I'd pick this one. I'd avoid questions directly personal to Lotte. As said, he's on a mission and as much as he'd like to know, that's for him to find out. (To be cursed with terrible Protaganism!). Ditto about the darkness, it's probably a metaphor about human nature. Which might actually have some metaphysical/supernatural relevance.

I mean, they'd all be interesting, but I imagine Lotte trying to remain professional. Maybe not successfully, but trying.
 
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Ah, medieval medicine. My least favorite kind. Those people didn't believe in vaccinations. Mostly because they didn't exist.

Mmm. I wonder if magical rabies can be treated the same as the regular kind.
But.
Hot water? Inconceivable!

That would unbalance her humors even more! Silly Raiseth.



The Night Mother?

Ah, Gods.
Luckily, I was learning how to get some sense from the best of them since I first started playing RPGs. Unluckily, I still don't know what the fuck they are talking about half the time, but let's try it.

Coil of a long rope, sound of a lost hope
Tiny strange human child, husbander of the wild

That implies we are connected with Ingvald's artifacts, which, to be fair, we are. We are on a quest to retrieve them, after all.

Why are you here now, so early?

Early?

Yes. Years. years to unwind. But here you are now.

Nachtmater didn't expect to meet the MC so soon.
Implications are as follows: she did expect to have that meeting some time in the future, which is interesting, since I doubt Gods spend their time to meet all the randos under the sky.
Years to unwind probably relates to the little problem Lotte has at the moment. Which may or may not mystically connect with their origins as a child of the god of Murd-
Okay, sorry, it's the last time, I promise.
Well, I'm pretty sure it's connected with something, since there's magic, possibly reincarnation, probably afterlife, and, you know, soul.

Do not worry, you are mortal. You carry your darkness like a torch to clear the way, and your darkness devours you in turn, until at last the flame will gutter.

Ah, the wonders of mortality, at least we don't live in Soulsverse.

The terrible, terrible flames of Want.

You do not know because you are not a God. A God can be doused, can be nothing, can be dead, and yet still exist, like a flame surviving on the memory of a candle. Weak, easily destroyed, and yet still--

I remember that little chat with Mirkul on the nature of Gods and their deaths in MotB. Then I exorcised him, which was awesome. To kill the ghost of the dead evil god of the dead, who wouldn't want it?

You are strong, to stand. The night envelop you, and the night hide you from harm, from danger, from judgement, from--

Yourself.

My question is, of course,

[Q] "What can change the nature of the man?"

No, that's not right

[Q] "What does one life matter?"

Still feels wrong for some reason
Ah, right
The most existential question of them all, ( subject to QM veto, of course )

[X] "Who am I?"

10/10 would speak with night gods again in your quest.
 
[X] "Why was Ingeld taken?"

We're looking for his relics, so this is probably the most pertinent thing we can ask to help us. It may also shed some light on the other stuff since like Lotte, Ingeld was a humble woodsman touched by the Nachtmater.
 
[X] "I'm… early, what do you mean?"
 
[X] "Why me?"

When meeting a god I'd think we'd be forgiven if the job falls to the wayside. A much more important question I believe would be to ask why the hell this is happening.
 
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"Some of us. I am one. We have heard the calls of the forest, the birds and beasts, whipped up by the passing of great power. Furious that it is beyond their touch." The woman shook her head, hands now in front of her, crossed. "It was but a fragment, a coil to a rope, but no more. But these things have power. The Gods abide in them. And they abide within the Gods. You are marked."
Coil of a long rope, sound of a lost hope
Tiny strange human child, husbander of the wild

hmmmm???

Ingeld had lived five-hundred years before, during the Great Troubles, and when his Duchy was threatened by a marauding band of mercenaries, criminals, and monsters, he stepped up to lead a guerrilla campaign that had protected the shrines of several Gods and had kept the peasants safe. A man who'd come out of the strange, dark woods of his home, and saved everyone, and then died towards the end of the war.
Lotte had always liked to think that, in her own small. humble way, she could imitate Ingeld's fundamental goodness, the greatness of spirit that the stories always gave him

Hrm.
No clue what to pick, probably....
[X] "Why was Ingeld taken?"

idk
 
Lotte is on his second quest and is already meeting a God. I wonder how much the others are freaking out. As for the question right now I don't really know what to choose. There are a lot of questions that you can ask to a God.
 
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