The Lost (30k Primarch Quest)

XVI. Devotion

"A few Kuji-Nan." Shen says, gesturing behind him to a group that was just coming up. "There were others; soldiers, I think. But they… they were selected."

You nod. There's no need for him to say any mo-

"For human sacrifice." Shen continues.

"I get it."

"They likely died in immense agony." He continued. "I can't say for certain the screaming was theirs-"

"Stop it."

"-but it was blood-curdling shit, lemme tell you." Shen shakes his head. "Ever hear a pig getting fucked by a knife that's on fire? It was like that except-"

You tune him out and go to the Kuji-Nan, re-evaluating your previous idea to let Shen teach the witches you have.

One woman, two men. None of them are properly dressed, probably because the cultists took their clothes. Most of them do not any of their wondrous tech (probably stolen from them) but one of them – the apparent leader – has a singular visor with a bright blue glow. You only know they're tech monks because of the visor and the fact that the three are huddled together.

The visored man genuflects, though he keeps one hand to the side, which you can tell is a reflexive movement to hold on to a staff he does not have. "This humble one is called Virtuous Whim, of the Kuji-Nan Temple of Perpetual Devotion, and he owes you his thanks. This is Paradise in Labor, and a lay sister of the Cloister of Circuitry."

Paradise bows his head. The lay sister moves as if to curtsy, though the rags she wears start to slip off and she thinks better of it.

"What is her name?" You ask. "Are you embarrassed because it sounds even more pretentious?"

"No." The monk answers as if you weren't just making fun of him. "She has yet to take any vows and thus has no name. We were supposed to be assisting her on her pilgrimage, but, well…"

You shrug. "Yeah I found one of the slaver ships."

"Have you seen any of our armaments?"

"Sorry." You shrug. You don't know what armaments they had, but you haven't seen any particularly impressive technology since you got here either. It's strange that the cultists didn't use any, but perhaps there's an explanation for it.

Whim sighs and shakes his head. "I had hoped we would still have our weapons. It would make surviving in this place a little easier. But we will have to make do, and you seem capable." He looks around at the milling slaves. One of the girls is embracing Ping and crying. "This camp is as good a place as any to start. It's already defensible enough, and if your ship ran aground, we can strip it for supplies to shore this place up."

"Whoa whoa whoa," You hold up a hand. "We're not staying. We're getting out of the storm.

The lay sister's eyes flicker with fear, but it's Whim who speaks. "I'm sorry, pirate, but only the Cult knew their way out of the storm."

"I made it in, I can get us out again." You say, conviction in your voice. "Just need time to repair my ship."

Whim sighs. "If your ship was run aground because of damage from the storm, what makes you think you can get out again?"

"Oh it wasn't the storm. It was the kraken."

Whim stares at you, and is quiet for long enough that Paradise speaks for the first time. "The kraken?"

"And the zombies." You add. "There's very little storm damage. We just need to patch the Cutting Dagger up and sail away. It won't be easy, but if we take some of the wood from here we should be able to sail out and make it to a port for proper repairs."

The three glance between each other, then turn back to you.

"We are forever sworn to neutrality in politics and the machinations of the houses," Whim says, "but if you can get out of the storm as easily as you say you got in, we would offer our services to you as thanks, Captain."

"I'm glad to hear that," You say, grinning, "Because I already have something I'd like you three to look at…"

"Hey boss!" One of your crewmen shouts, bringing over a crate from one of the other buildings. "I think I found their weapons!"

"… Well that was surprisingly simple." You note aloud, turning to the crew member whose name you definitely remember.

Whim looks over the objects they found. He sighs. "Well, it's not the full set, but it's something. And we cannot delay." He points into the crate. "I believe that is yours, sister."

The lay sister gasps and immediately grabs an orb within the case, an orb with strange green runes you do not recognize. She whirls to you and throws her arms around you before kissing your cheek.

"You're welcome," You say, surprised but not displeased, putting your arm around her too. Fan giggles.

"I'm going to pretend you did not just do that, lay sister." Whim says, his tone holding warning. She blushes and moves away from you.

You grin and wink at her anyway, idly wondering if Kuji-Nan take oaths of celibacy.

Paradise slips on a pair of gauntlets, and after a moment the man grumbles. Whim frowns at the staff in his hand as well.

"Sister. If you would."

The lay sister holds the green orb up into the air, and for a moment you think something is flashing behind her eyes. She says something in a language you don't recognize, and the orb begins to glow bright green.

The electro-staff hums to life in Whim's hand, and he grins wide. At the same moment, Paradise in Labor's gauntlets – while not sparking with energy like Whim's – begins to hiss and whirr.

"This," The monk says, his visor turning towards you, "will do nicely."

-

You remember the way back to your ship, of course. You lead the others back through the jungle. You need to stop more than once as your crew's injuries hamper their movements. Paradise ends up carrying Amaya on his back, the quiet woman only barely able to stand. Ping is trying to look tough and walk alone, but after the fourth time of falling on his face, he accepts help standing from the lay sister.

However, when you get back to the temple, someone throws themselves from the bushes into your path.

It's a small child, no older than Fan, with short black hair and a knife that looks too dull to be useful. He's holding the knife improperly and his stance is trash. In a blur of motion you knock the knife from his hands and go past. He punches and kicks at your side, screaming about vengeance for mama and papa, but you ignore him…

…right up until you notice Fan tackling him to the ground and punching him, at which point you pull the two apart. You try not to laugh as Fan and the boy reach out towards each other, scratching at the air like angry cats.

"I'll kill you!" The boy screams, with the kind of conviction only a small child who knows nothing can muster. "You monster!"

"Don't you talk about shinwi you… you… gaul kisser!"

"He's a big stupid hairy tick with a goofy hat!"

"IT'S A PIRATE HAT IS SUPPOSED TO BE GOOFY YOU UNCOLTORED SPLEEN!!"

"Fan, come on," you say patiently, "he's just confused and he's doing no harm-"

The boy pulls a second knife from his robe and throws it at Fan. It hits her hilt-first.

Lightning cracks the sky. You glare at the boy, and you see his face pale with terror.

"Don't ever try that again. Get it?"

"Got it." He whimpers.

"Good."

"… Shinwi?" Fan is also looking at you with a sudden fear, and it's that that calms you down. You take a deep breath and drop the boy back onto the ground.

You consider the boy as he backs away from you, eyes wide with fear and white as a sheet. Hrm. He's too young to have been an active participant in the cult's blood rituals. He can be salvaged, perhaps. You reach out for him as he starts to scramble away in fear.

"WAIT, LORD!!"

You glance behind you, only to see a number of men and women emerge from the forest around the temple area.

They wear the robes of the cultists, the more ragged and desperate sort. None of them are wearing the intact dress shirts of the cult's leaders. Some of them have even torn off what little remained of their rags, only covering themselves with leaves and fronds.

You cover Fan's eyes. "What do you child murderers want?" You growl.

Several of the cultists wince at that, and others look uneasily between them. They know what they did, and your knowledge unnerves them. Good. They should be ashamed. Or preferably, dead.

One of them – a woman with long, ragged black hair - comes forward. "I am Xiulan, and he is my child. Please, let him live."

You start to growl out that the cultists kill whoever they please, but you stay your objection.

She takes your silent as assent. "Son, please, to me."

The boy scrambles in the dirt for a moment, then runs to hide behind his apparent mother. He glares at Fan, who would doubtlessly be making faces back at him if you weren't covering her eyes.

The mother steps forward, her eyes full of both awe and fear. She stares at you for just long enough for it to be slightly uncomfortable.

"… You intend to return to your ship and leave the storm?" She asks, voice trembling.

You nod. "And if this cult ever becomes a problem again, I'll come back-"

She falls down, first to her knees, then on to her face.

What.

The other ragged men and women follow suit, falling to kowtow before you. Her child, Son, does the same after a moment, though he keeps glaring at Fan.

"Stormbreaker, our savior, please," the woman says, trembling from the ground, "If you can truly travel the storm, take us away from this place. We will be your servants."

You're quiet. Amaya is scowling. The Tech Monks are silent, though Whim's face is a grim one.

Ping is more vocal. "And why would we trust any of you, or let you onto our ship?"

"We were lost, lord," She says, her voice reverent but shaking with her fear, "Lost to heathen gods and monsters. But now, with you here, we are found. We were lead astray, but you can lead us out of the darkness of the storm." She gets onto her knees and kowtows as if before the Empress. "We exist to serve. Please, let us serve and worship you in our repentance. Or failing that, destroy us. Let this nightmare be at an end."

"That last one seems reasonable enough." Whim says, his voice low and cold. It's a surprisingly cruel stance from one who claimed to be neutral… then again, these people did plan to sacrifice him to their gods before you arrived.

You step forward, grab Xiulan's chin and force her to look up into your eyes.

"Mercy, lord." She whispers.

-

Voting

The Dark Eldar were chased off and the cult's leaders slaughtered. However, the remaining cult followers are asking for you to lead them now. And though they do not ask it, it occurs to you that the young – the children – might not be too far gone to save.

[] – Take them all away from here

You've killed their leaders. The cultists won't be a threat to you anymore. You can afford to show mercy, even to these kinds of monsters.

(The cult swears loyalty to you, and you bring them home.)

[] – Take their children

She wants mercy? You will grant it to the young that had nothing to do with this. The rest can stay in the hell they've made for themselves.

(You take the young from the cult but leave the rest behind.)

[] – Leave them in the hell they made

Without their leadership, they won't be any threat to you again. But you're not taking them with you; who in their right mind would trust these evil fanatics?

(You leave all of the cultists behind.)

[] – Kill the men and women

These people are slavers and murderers. Even if they did not wish to, they still allowed it. Let the gods sort the 'innocent' from the guilty.

(You take the children and kill the rest.)

[] – No mercy

These monsters – spawn and all – must never be allowed to rise again.

(Kill them all.)

[] – Write-in

Suggested by @keykingdom

[] – Write-in
-[] Take them all but make them burn all their icons, and cultist stuff, shave their hair while you make them swear in the gods of this world that they will not repeat their actions.
-[] left behind the ones that refuse to comply