Weighing Counsel
First Day of the Fifth Month 293 AC
The thick coppery taste of blood fills the air again beneath the outstretched branches of the godswood, keeping the deed from any curious eyes. To your surprise one of the erstwhile daemon worshipers had asked for a chance to pray before the end, not to the horrors she had dedicated her soul to, but the gods of her childhood, to which the other prisoner had responded by attempting to slay her with his chains, reason enough to be the first to the sacrificial knife, though that still leaves the question of the other. She deserves better, not freedom certainly, but...
"Wait here," you call to the guards, before willing yourself away to the market. The charm-seller is shocked to see you, but not so much that he does not try to sell you the most expensive talisman of the Great Shepherd he has. You pick out a simple bone affair, more sombre and fitting to the purpose.
Returning to the grove of sentinel pines you hand the woman the small token: "Take as long as you need."
The guards look at you strangely but neither says a word and for time the only sound which can be heard in the Godswood are fevered prayers to the god of Lhazar, not that the Old Gods would care in the slightest. Blood was blood for them, be it that of the fanatic or penitent.
Finally she drops the charm clattering against the roots and looks up at you blind in one eye from some festering sickness, but the other seeming at peace. Dark Sister ends her days in a single swift blow. Turning to the legionnaires you explain: "Half-an-hour's time is a small price to pay in order to deny a soul to the enemies of all life."
Sacrificed 2 cultists
The older of the pair nods gravely, though the younger looks like he would like to ask about two-dozen different questions, only just constrained by newly-learned discipline.
Seeing no further reason to tempt him by dallying, you dip the weirwood staff into a place where the blood of the two sacrifices had mingled and pooled among the roots.
....bloodied bones and hollow skulls covered in moss....
...the stillness of a pond nestled among hidden peeks...
....trees creaking and burning with lurid flame....
...the cheerful sound of pipes under a willow's branches...
On and on the 'voices' of the Gods played before your senses, not just sound, sight, touch, smell and taste. If this is what it is to be Bloodraven, then your respect for him only grows for even being able to think in this din, much less scheme and plot the ruin of kingdoms and the retribution for age-old wrongs.
Finally your feet hit the ground, and you struggle to keep your knees from buckling. The cavern had not changed, the Last Greenseer still enthroned upon his bone-white seat, a single crimson eye regarding you without much in the way of surprise. His withered lips do twitch into some faint shadow of a smile when you produce Soft Strider from the bottle she had traveled in that she might join you.
"A clever working," he rasps.
You wait patiently, half-expecting some pithy advice about the perils of arcane 'cleverness.' He
must have heard your call to Mammon and known your purpose.
"It is a poor counselor who chastises a king in triumph for the ills that might have been," he continues to your surprise, guessing, or perhaps in this place of power simply
knowing your thoughts. "Such chastisements give one a reputation for worrying without need, making it all the more likely that one's counsel will be ignored even on the times it
can arrive in a timely manner."
"What would you have done in my place?" you ask directly, as intrigued to hear the answer as any other question you have posed him.
"Attempted to divine the likely result of turning the devil's loyalty, and if I had not a true seeing killed her as too much of a risk to take," he answers simply.
"And if you could not know for certain?" you press.
The lopsided smile grows. "Well now, that depends on how young I would have been in this situation. At seven-and-ten..." A brief hacking laugh echoes through the chamber. "I would have probably tried to bed her and gotten stabbed for my trouble."
"I shall have to remember to thank Lya for shielding me from that temptation," you answer, amused.
"Attempts to turn the very order of existence on its head aside, I assume you have more questions?" Bloodraven asks.
What do you reply?
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OOC: Here we go again.