Death Gentle and Cruel
Eleventh Day of the Ninth Month 293 AC
Some decisions are easily made, the fiend you will keep as your prisoner, just as you will Lormar and his apprentice, the former likely to face oblivion, the latter two perhaps in the hope of persuading them to serve you, depending on their motivations and character. Fifth Circle mages are not precisely common and the Scholarum certainly has its fair share of enemies-turned friends. Before leaving the sept you move one by one through the sleeping congregation, looking through their minds for signs of blood and murder. You find them in only one, though it has nothing to do with the cult.
Three wives killed, simply because he did not wish to be seen attempting something so 'scandalous' as a divorce. At Malarys' suggestion you simply tell the Watch Captain where to look for the bodies and imply you discovered their disappearances while investigating the cult, technically true even if the investigation involved looking through the man's mind.
Thankfully the blood magic that bound them to the Abishai is visibly degrading with its defeat, or perhaps more precisely with the disappearances of the dagger with which it tried to stab Varys. Tiamat will find no easy path to restore her cult here, though you have an unpleasant feeling you will see that dagger again.
The sellswords who had been captured or surrendered present a more troubling conundrum. Beyond a trio of genuine fanatics, for whom you can unambiguously suggest a noose and not the Wall, most have faith in Tiamat in the same way a devour R'hllorite trusts in the Red God, you can
see that Dany's explanations of Her true nature are getting through, but still they
know more about the worship of the Mother of Wyrms than you would be comfortable allowing in say a publicly available book. Were it not for Maester Aemon's presence and Bloodraven's influence you would probably err on the side of safety over clemency, but the Wall will need strong defenders against what is to come. So you take their oaths not to spread that knowledge, making it very clear that you would take any lapses very ill indeed, and hand them off to the somewhat confused but grateful City Watch.
There is one more task to do... You take the stairs into the basement, hearing strange cries, halfway between bird and beast. Within you see Vee cradling the misshapen head of the false Darkenbeast, a startlingly human eye filed with pain looking out of a hairless canine face while the other side of the face is covered in horn-like growths, one of them growing from the eye-socket.
"Shh... shh now," Vee strokes the creature's head, pouring healing magic into it to soothe the pain that had obviously been a part of the creature as long as it had been alive, however long that had been.
"I thought it was supposed to be mindless," you say softly, finding yourself unexpectedly bereft of words at the sight of Vee's pain, the girl who could look a living god in the eye unflinchingly.
"Lormar's been
working on the poor thing," the girl says, with such venom in her eyes that it recalls the first sight you had of her outside the dead bounty hunter's cabin. "Why would anyone do
this, make something that is just going to hurt? She didn't ask to be born like this." Vee swallows. "I know he could be useful, that he could teach wizards or make things. but I can't stand the thought of seeing the son of a bitch. If you keep him, send him somewhere where I won't have to lay eyes on him."
Once she would have just asked for the mage's head. Vee had changed from that frightened vengeful child you met long ago. For all she still says she does not like people she puts the common good before her own desire for vengeance.
"You have my word that you won't have to lay eyes on the man," you promise solemnly.
He had better be damn useful to justify keeping his head after this.
She nods, eyes still on the creature in her lap. "Can you make sure it doesn't hurt when she dies?"
You lay a hand upon the creature's head and lay a spell of death, soft and gentle as evening's shadows.
***
All three Lantern bearers are arrayed behind a table with half a dozen crystalline bottles, with one of them keeping an eye on them at all times. Tobyn looks about ready to smash them, stopped only by the knowledge that this would only free the beasts within. Good instincts... you would probably be acting the same in their place if you had only as many resources as they to face a siege by Farspawn.
"There is a way to get some use out of their deaths, to make them count towards fighting their remaining kin. A God of Sea who would reward the spilling of tainted blood in his honor in ways that would not be unwholesome. The Merling King can offer many boons from the sea, cleansing the foulness of Deep One power from person and place both, and more besides."
"Bullshit," Tobyn grunts looking up at you suspiciously. "Nothing good comes from the sea. Fire's the only cure," he says that with the near-religious conviction that makes you wonder if he had converted to worship of the Red God... no. there is something else behind his eyes, fear. Why would he be afraid of you now when you are offering him another way to fight his enemies? Certainly not base superstition of foreign gods and strange magics.
"That box he handed us wasn't bullshit," Yohn interjects before you can reply. "Neither was the kid's magic," he nods towards Waymar.
Rather than bristling at the words
,the young Valeman jests: "You weren't bad either, old man."
Tobyn still looks stubborn, the strange fear even clearer on his face. "There can't be another way..."
"Things changed and they are changing all the time." The mage, Loras, says with the air of repeating an adage, perhaps one the other man uses often.
"If this bites us in the ass..." the hunter pauses, then almost painfully he nods. "Alright, let's do this."
The gaze of the Merling King is heavy as a storm cloud, his boons deep as tainted ichor transmutes to sea water blessed by his hand, flowing eternally from the flasks the hunters extend. By it might wards be anointed to bar the Deep Ones from the safe-houses of the Lantern Bearers, by its merest touch might those touched by the Far Realm be known.
Lantern Bearers gain Eternal Holy Water Flasks
The offer of the blessed spring is accepted gladly, though Yohn insists that any such people still be held responsible for their actions unless there are clear signs of direct mental control, a notion you wholeheartedly agree with.
Tobyn is silent, and grimmer than you have ever seen him.
"It was his wife," Loras sends by magic as you are about to part and with that the pieces fall in place. He had killed all the tainted, including those closest to him.
Could she have been saved? you wonder, though you doubt it matters by any practical purpose. Sooner would stones speak than Master Tobyn would ask to see his wife again.
***
Oldtown is already beginning to be filled with rumors of the arrests that had taken place, of the desecration of the sept. But of them all one stands out in your mind. Brother Lucan had arrived with his train of warriors and bound mages to reconsecrate the sept, but none speak of angels. Likely he wants to keep them secret to call them forth at the Conclave itself, the better to impress the gathered Elders.
What do you do?
[] Meet with Lucan, he knows you are here after all and it is only polite to introduce yourself
-[] Write in
[] Speak with one of the other important godsworn
-[] Write in
[] Infiltrate the Citadel
-[] Write in
[] Write in
OOC: I'm not sure about the vote. I was tempted to carry on even further and include the mechanics for influencing the Conclave, but that would feel unfocused (added to the fact that I have not made said mechanics yet).