[X] Visit the temples of the Catena Stellarum. They are a strange and foreign sort, but it feels only fair after acquainting yourself so thoroughly with Pendor's Sanctum. Mingle with the pilgrims, question their lay-priests- and perhaps share your knowledge here too. It could be life or death.
Blades without a Banner
- Thread starter Shine
- Start date
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Can we ask Johannes about more than one thing? I'm guessing not but just want to check.
[X] Dawn Pact Society. (What is a caste? How are they decided? Who rules, who labours, who fights?')
Metaphysics are wonky and won't tell us what these people are actually like to live with and deal with. This will.
[X] Visit the temples of the Catena Stellarum. They are a strange and foreign sort, but it feels only fair after acquainting yourself so thoroughly with Pendor's Sanctum. Mingle with the pilgrims, question their lay-priests- and perhaps share your knowledge here too. It could be life or death.
I'm extremely uncomfortable leaving information on disease treatments in the hands of only one religious group who seem likely to use it to try and gain advantage, or provide it only to their own people, especially one as deeply dubious as the Solarists.
[X] Dawn Pact Society. (What is a caste? How are they decided? Who rules, who labours, who fights?')
Metaphysics are wonky and won't tell us what these people are actually like to live with and deal with. This will.
[X] Visit the temples of the Catena Stellarum. They are a strange and foreign sort, but it feels only fair after acquainting yourself so thoroughly with Pendor's Sanctum. Mingle with the pilgrims, question their lay-priests- and perhaps share your knowledge here too. It could be life or death.
I'm extremely uncomfortable leaving information on disease treatments in the hands of only one religious group who seem likely to use it to try and gain advantage, or provide it only to their own people, especially one as deeply dubious as the Solarists.
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Not if you want an in-depth explanation, no.
Unfortunately, time is linear.
That doesn't seem like a very priestly thing to do.
(But.. it's also in character to at least suspect.)
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- Pronouns
- He/Him
Figured. Just making sure.
Sofia was not convincing that they would share their medical knowledge with others. She was the opposite of that.
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- Location
- Leeds
Only the important stuff.
[X] Local Food and Farming (Which sun-addled idiot thought it would be wise to call the orange orange oranges?)
[X] Accompany Aurora and Ophelia. In return for not handing her over to the law, Ophelia has apparently been recruited as an aide- blackmailed, it almost feels like, if not for her evident, terrified relief. Apparently she's on half-pay until she redeems herself, whatever Aurora means. The pair of them are investigating the Syndicate's former hideouts, although the actual inhabitants have long fled. They don't need your help, but the Sin Eater would appreciate it. You are curious to what they'll find.
Since this is specifically just this afternoon I'm not in a rush for the others. If it were a choice for activities over a week I'd probably change priorities however going through all the temples and sharing knowledge at each place seems like it would take too long and some of the other options I don't want to be doing after dark.
[X] Local Food and Farming (Which sun-addled idiot thought it would be wise to call the orange orange oranges?)
[X] Accompany Aurora and Ophelia. In return for not handing her over to the law, Ophelia has apparently been recruited as an aide- blackmailed, it almost feels like, if not for her evident, terrified relief. Apparently she's on half-pay until she redeems herself, whatever Aurora means. The pair of them are investigating the Syndicate's former hideouts, although the actual inhabitants have long fled. They don't need your help, but the Sin Eater would appreciate it. You are curious to what they'll find.
Since this is specifically just this afternoon I'm not in a rush for the others. If it were a choice for activities over a week I'd probably change priorities however going through all the temples and sharing knowledge at each place seems like it would take too long and some of the other options I don't want to be doing after dark.
Local food I get, but isn't our FIVE FOLD QUEEN (Long may She fertilely reign) a goddess of or at least a part of, Agriculture.
At least Geln should have a basic understanding of farming, I think…
Yus! Listen to our healthy chaddicus here miss, food deprivation is a sure fire way to lose one's gains! Get those meat into those sticks you call "arms"!
I can totally see grandaddy Geln being that doting pappy that'll feed all the kids with meat once he settles down- Maybe be like that old guy in the gymnasium where no one pays him too much attention until he casually suplexes people when they get too rough.
[X] Accompany Aurora and Ophelia. In return for not handing her over to the law, Ophelia has apparently been recruited as an aide- blackmailed, it almost feels like, if not for her evident, terrified relief. Apparently she's on half-pay until she redeems herself, whatever Aurora means. The pair of them are investigating the Syndicate's former hideouts, although the actual inhabitants have long fled. They don't need your help, but the Sin Eater would appreciate it. You are curious to what they'll find.
ADVENTURE AND DAEMONHUNTING! EARN YOUR SHEKELS AND WE GET MORE DOGGOS-IN-ARMS!
[X] Dawn Pact Society. (What is a caste? How are they decided? Who rules, who labours, who fights?')
We're gonna be working primarily with this sect for the time being. Getting to know your co workers would be a good idea before venturing further or getting out early.
Geln's understanding of farming is, being well within the top 5 percentiles of educated Islefolk:
'A thing foreigners do to get food, that involves the soil, miserable labour, a great deal of wretched chance, and is by and large inferior to our way* of doing so.'
*('Our way' involves extraordinary violence.)
The Five Fold Queen is the patron goddess of magic, law, war, wisdom and the sea. This is tangentially related to farming, in that it relates to the weather, but by and large the absolute pinnacle of Islefolk agriculture is growing herbs in jars of water, the occasional spot of hyper-violent back burning and culling, and selectively breeding dogs and birds.
Farming as we understand it is a completely foreign concept to the Islefolk; one they do not understand well, or, from their brief exposure to it, want to understand well. By and large, agriculture is about food, and the Islefolk have never wanted for food. They built extremely heavily fortified towns* not because agriculture enabled a sedentary life, but because advancements in architecture and metallurgy enabled them to defend themself from the never ending waves of monsters, thus meaning they no longer had to live as nomads (Snaga excepted).
(*Dense cities, too, are strange, foreign and typically ill-liked.)
The three primary ways Islefolk source their food is from scavenging the corpses of wild beasts, hunting and foraging, and fishing. In Spring, it largely comes from the former; in Winter, the latter, but either way the Islefolk have never wanted for food sources.
Only the means to kill them first.
(*Islefolk hunters are monster slayers with little compare, but aren't used to their prey trying to run avoid them. Arguably, they're not actually very good at hunting…)
TLDR… the incredibly fantastical nature of the Isles means that Islefolk have no need nor want of agriculture, and instead devote most of that time to war.
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There's a beauty in brevity
[X] Sin Eaters (Aurora doesn't seem to answer to anyone but herself, and Johannes speaks of her like she's a mortal woman in one sentence, and a divine messenger the next. Why?)
Bane of characters everywhere.
There's so much to do!!
[X] Visit the temples of the Catena Stellarum. They are a strange and foreign sort, but it feels only fair after acquainting yourself so thoroughly with Pendor's Sanctum. Mingle with the pilgrims, question their lay-priests- and perhaps share your knowledge here too. It could be life or death.
[x] Sin Eaters (Aurora doesn't seem to answer to anyone but herself, and Johannes speaks of her like she's a mortal woman in one sentence, and a divine messenger the next. Why?)
[x] Accompany Aurora and Ophelia. In return for not handing her over to the law, Ophelia has apparently been recruited as an aide- blackmailed, it almost feels like, if not for her evident, terrified relief. Apparently she's on half-pay until she redeems herself, whatever Aurora means. The pair of them are investigating the Syndicate's former hideouts, although the actual inhabitants have long fled. They don't need your help, but the Sin Eater would appreciate it. You are curious to what they'll find.
[x] Accompany Aurora and Ophelia. In return for not handing her over to the law, Ophelia has apparently been recruited as an aide- blackmailed, it almost feels like, if not for her evident, terrified relief. Apparently she's on half-pay until she redeems herself, whatever Aurora means. The pair of them are investigating the Syndicate's former hideouts, although the actual inhabitants have long fled. They don't need your help, but the Sin Eater would appreciate it. You are curious to what they'll find.
[x] Sin Eaters (Aurora doesn't seem to answer to anyone but herself, and Johannes speaks of her like she's a mortal woman in one sentence, and a divine messenger the next. Why?)
[x] Accompany Aurora and Ophelia. In return for not handing her over to the law, Ophelia has apparently been recruited as an aide- blackmailed, it almost feels like, if not for her evident, terrified relief. Apparently she's on half-pay until she redeems herself, whatever Aurora means. The pair of them are investigating the Syndicate's former hideouts, although the actual inhabitants have long fled. They don't need your help, but the Sin Eater would appreciate it. You are curious to what they'll find.
[x] Accompany Aurora and Ophelia. In return for not handing her over to the law, Ophelia has apparently been recruited as an aide- blackmailed, it almost feels like, if not for her evident, terrified relief. Apparently she's on half-pay until she redeems herself, whatever Aurora means. The pair of them are investigating the Syndicate's former hideouts, although the actual inhabitants have long fled. They don't need your help, but the Sin Eater would appreciate it. You are curious to what they'll find.
Two questions, gentlefolk.
A. Images on SV. I feel like I asked this before, but I just have forgotten…. How does one upload them into here?
B. Does anyone have any particular preferences for a side story? How the Laughing Gale is going, a look at the Islefolk of the ancient past, something concerning another person Aurora's looking for, maybe Incandescent from her perspective?
It might be a while before I write it, but these things take a while to think through.
(7 votes! Horah!)
A. Images on SV. I feel like I asked this before, but I just have forgotten…. How does one upload them into here?
B. Does anyone have any particular preferences for a side story? How the Laughing Gale is going, a look at the Islefolk of the ancient past, something concerning another person Aurora's looking for, maybe Incandescent from her perspective?
It might be a while before I write it, but these things take a while to think through.
(7 votes! Horah!)
- Location
- Leeds
Yeah sure, not at the cost of Geln updates currently but I'd be curious.
I more meant
since I am going to write one in the moderate future anyways (since some things are coming up)
which one would you like to see, or, if you have a different idea, suggest?
- Location
- Leeds
Ophelia's POV of recent events
Writing Imminent
University power gave out today, so
Vote closure in less than four hours.
Storyboarding right now.
I have absolutely no idea who at least half the people who read my things are, but if you feel like deciding what Geln spends the next probably one to three updates doing.
You should probably vote.
Vote closure in less than four hours.
Storyboarding right now.
I have absolutely no idea who at least half the people who read my things are, but if you feel like deciding what Geln spends the next probably one to three updates doing.
You should probably vote.
Vote closed
Anselm
[X] Sin Eaters (Aurora doesn't seem to answer to anyone but herself, and Johannes speaks of her like she's a mortal woman in one sentence, and a divine messenger the next. Why?)
It takes a surprisingly long time for Johannes to realise his answer, or perhaps realise how much he can tell you. It's time you spend patiently eating, long minutes in silence only broken by the sounds of cutting and eating. The mendicant eats much more slowly than you, carefully slicing his orange into parts with quick, deliberate strokes.
You think he was a warrior, once. He hardly strikes you as a chef, to wield a knife so well.
'To explain', he begins softly, putting aside the last third of his meal, 'I'll first have to tell you a story. Not a good nor grand story, and not one that's told for pleasure, but a story regardless.
Solasticism hails from the Dawn Pact, and the Dawn Pact is split into four equal kingdoms- the oldest, Lyria, then Orista, Hasamir and Qor. Many alive knew only a world in which there were three- and there are still people alive who remember when there were two.
One hundred years ago, the first of the steppe-clans of Hasamir dashed their old pennants, making them anew to honour their new faith. Conversion was a long and troubled process, one that took a generation to complete, and it was this strife that backdropped the first Sin Eater.'
'Only a hundred years? How old is Dawn Pact?'
'Just under two hundred years old', the sage affirms, unperturbed at your amazement. 'And the first Sin Eater, eighty years ago. There are peoples alive today older than modern Hasamir, who first knew them as ruthless bandits. The Pact is not a static entity; and the dream we have created is too vast for even cultures to grasp in full. Each peoples interprets and reinterprets; they focus on different aspects of that burning tapestry, and so worship in different ways. The first Sin Eater was a tiefling, and a convert, and it was the fusion of his beliefs old and new that let him blaze this path.'
'Are all Sin Eaters tieflings, then?'
'No; no more than all Seekers are Lyrian, or all Muses from Orista. Nor are all tieflings in the Dawn Pact from Hasamir, only the vast majority- Hasamir is two parts tiefling, one part human, nowadays. But this is about Sin Eaters, so let me continue.
Anselm was a godless man.'
(You sit straighter in ill concealed surprise, and the storyteller faintly smiles.)
'Anselm was a tiefling of the remaining, unconverted clans of Hasamir- Dolwen and Antiarch.', he continues, picking every word with care. 'He was a raider and a war leader, one who fought relentlessly against his faithful counterparts- full heartedly embracing the endless skirmishes across the dry steppes. Anselm and his marauders fought like vultures, always circling, striking the weak and crippling the reckless. He and his riders were only dozens strong, but in their cruelty they were legends, and he drew lesser warriors to him like moths to a raging flame- the stories of Mateo, Camilla, Jorge and more each weaving into his own, until they were as much a tribe as an army.'
'Some warrior he was, if he preferred to strike the defenceless! He should be called what he is.'
'What would you call him, then?'. Johannes' expression remains calm and thoughtful, his tone warm and dramatised, but something in the context makes you think you're being chided for your outburst.
'…murderers. That's what he was; no more and no less.'
'Perhaps so,', he agrees. 'For Anselm hated us more than the rest, some ancient grudge and recent mourning, and even as factions within his own clan changed their banners, he fought only more fervently, more desperately, and marked this defiance in a trail of blood and ruins.
Time, however, only moves forwards, and no one, no matter how cruel, can turn it back. With every week Anselm's enemies- and he had made many- drew only closer. The arid plains of Hasamir are vast and lightly settled, and perhaps one man could disappear- but Anselm was not completely without a heart. He and his force had become family, and he would not leave them.
So, as his warband slowly starved, cut off from friendly faces, he made a deal with daemons.'
(You almost interrupt again, in disbelief- how does everyone but your own know what a daemon is?- but something in his eyes makes you think twice.)
'To fulfil his bargain, he made a final, costly raid- but it was still one in which he barely succeeded. He seized food, water, remounts- but most importantly, he seized prisoners, for there were few things that those evil blots love more than souls, and Anselm would have sooner slit his throat than give one of his own. Amongst their number was a priestess, but Anselm did not fear the open sky. Even as she warned them insistently of the doom they were creating, Anselm's marauders shrugged her off.
…the meeting place was a ruin of old Illyria, a peoples whose souls were black as pitch. Only at last, did Anselm realise that he would be treating with the enemies of the world on their own ground- but still, he did not turn back.
His warriors found the altar they had been told of, and one by one, they started their sacrifices.'
(For a long moment, he is quiet again, and you wonder if this was your queue to speak. It was not.)
'But no matter how dark the path he was walking, Anselm retained his cunning. No matter how the daemons pleaded, he did not kill the priestess.. yet. Her life was leverage- her presence a weapon, her soul a prize the desperately craved. Through this, he predicted, he could keep his 'allies' in some semblance of order.
He was wrong. When his warriors had slain all but the last of their captives, the daemons turned on them as well- eager, empowered, enraged.
Anselm's war band stood in their place of power, made only more potent by their depredations. As the scions of hell bled from every surface, the warlord at last cut the priestess loose. In his final moments, he begged her to intercede on his warriors' behalf- and perhaps it was this final selflessness, that leant her power. Surrounded by evil manifest, she evoked a miracle.
Squires and raiders, horse and rider, Anselm and his captains, even herself…
She killed them all first.'
(You listen, enraptured, meal forgotten- but when the final sentence sinks in, you stare uncomprehending. How could it all have.. ended, like that?)
'….and Anselm was brought back.
For on the other side, he had struck a pact with heaven. He would be no place in the ever after for his sins, but.. perhaps his followers could. Selfless redemption, life anew, a chance to fight for something more than himself- he was the first Sin Eater, and all others after him follow in his footsteps.'
There's a tangible weight in the air, impossible to parse, and it's only when Johannes returns to his orange that you finally let out the breath you didn't know you were holding.
For another half a minute, the two of you sit in silence.
'…I disagree with what you said, earlier.', you finally conclude.
'What do you mean?'
'That was an excellent story.'
Someone else's sudden laughter went far in lightening the room.
It takes a surprisingly long time for Johannes to realise his answer, or perhaps realise how much he can tell you. It's time you spend patiently eating, long minutes in silence only broken by the sounds of cutting and eating. The mendicant eats much more slowly than you, carefully slicing his orange into parts with quick, deliberate strokes.
You think he was a warrior, once. He hardly strikes you as a chef, to wield a knife so well.
'To explain', he begins softly, putting aside the last third of his meal, 'I'll first have to tell you a story. Not a good nor grand story, and not one that's told for pleasure, but a story regardless.
Solasticism hails from the Dawn Pact, and the Dawn Pact is split into four equal kingdoms- the oldest, Lyria, then Orista, Hasamir and Qor. Many alive knew only a world in which there were three- and there are still people alive who remember when there were two.
One hundred years ago, the first of the steppe-clans of Hasamir dashed their old pennants, making them anew to honour their new faith. Conversion was a long and troubled process, one that took a generation to complete, and it was this strife that backdropped the first Sin Eater.'
'Only a hundred years? How old is Dawn Pact?'
'Just under two hundred years old', the sage affirms, unperturbed at your amazement. 'And the first Sin Eater, eighty years ago. There are peoples alive today older than modern Hasamir, who first knew them as ruthless bandits. The Pact is not a static entity; and the dream we have created is too vast for even cultures to grasp in full. Each peoples interprets and reinterprets; they focus on different aspects of that burning tapestry, and so worship in different ways. The first Sin Eater was a tiefling, and a convert, and it was the fusion of his beliefs old and new that let him blaze this path.'
'Are all Sin Eaters tieflings, then?'
'No; no more than all Seekers are Lyrian, or all Muses from Orista. Nor are all tieflings in the Dawn Pact from Hasamir, only the vast majority- Hasamir is two parts tiefling, one part human, nowadays. But this is about Sin Eaters, so let me continue.
Anselm was a godless man.'
(You sit straighter in ill concealed surprise, and the storyteller faintly smiles.)
'Anselm was a tiefling of the remaining, unconverted clans of Hasamir- Dolwen and Antiarch.', he continues, picking every word with care. 'He was a raider and a war leader, one who fought relentlessly against his faithful counterparts- full heartedly embracing the endless skirmishes across the dry steppes. Anselm and his marauders fought like vultures, always circling, striking the weak and crippling the reckless. He and his riders were only dozens strong, but in their cruelty they were legends, and he drew lesser warriors to him like moths to a raging flame- the stories of Mateo, Camilla, Jorge and more each weaving into his own, until they were as much a tribe as an army.'
'Some warrior he was, if he preferred to strike the defenceless! He should be called what he is.'
'What would you call him, then?'. Johannes' expression remains calm and thoughtful, his tone warm and dramatised, but something in the context makes you think you're being chided for your outburst.
'…murderers. That's what he was; no more and no less.'
'Perhaps so,', he agrees. 'For Anselm hated us more than the rest, some ancient grudge and recent mourning, and even as factions within his own clan changed their banners, he fought only more fervently, more desperately, and marked this defiance in a trail of blood and ruins.
Time, however, only moves forwards, and no one, no matter how cruel, can turn it back. With every week Anselm's enemies- and he had made many- drew only closer. The arid plains of Hasamir are vast and lightly settled, and perhaps one man could disappear- but Anselm was not completely without a heart. He and his force had become family, and he would not leave them.
So, as his warband slowly starved, cut off from friendly faces, he made a deal with daemons.'
(You almost interrupt again, in disbelief- how does everyone but your own know what a daemon is?- but something in his eyes makes you think twice.)
'To fulfil his bargain, he made a final, costly raid- but it was still one in which he barely succeeded. He seized food, water, remounts- but most importantly, he seized prisoners, for there were few things that those evil blots love more than souls, and Anselm would have sooner slit his throat than give one of his own. Amongst their number was a priestess, but Anselm did not fear the open sky. Even as she warned them insistently of the doom they were creating, Anselm's marauders shrugged her off.
…the meeting place was a ruin of old Illyria, a peoples whose souls were black as pitch. Only at last, did Anselm realise that he would be treating with the enemies of the world on their own ground- but still, he did not turn back.
His warriors found the altar they had been told of, and one by one, they started their sacrifices.'
(For a long moment, he is quiet again, and you wonder if this was your queue to speak. It was not.)
'But no matter how dark the path he was walking, Anselm retained his cunning. No matter how the daemons pleaded, he did not kill the priestess.. yet. Her life was leverage- her presence a weapon, her soul a prize the desperately craved. Through this, he predicted, he could keep his 'allies' in some semblance of order.
He was wrong. When his warriors had slain all but the last of their captives, the daemons turned on them as well- eager, empowered, enraged.
Anselm's war band stood in their place of power, made only more potent by their depredations. As the scions of hell bled from every surface, the warlord at last cut the priestess loose. In his final moments, he begged her to intercede on his warriors' behalf- and perhaps it was this final selflessness, that leant her power. Surrounded by evil manifest, she evoked a miracle.
Squires and raiders, horse and rider, Anselm and his captains, even herself…
She killed them all first.'
(You listen, enraptured, meal forgotten- but when the final sentence sinks in, you stare uncomprehending. How could it all have.. ended, like that?)
'….and Anselm was brought back.
For on the other side, he had struck a pact with heaven. He would be no place in the ever after for his sins, but.. perhaps his followers could. Selfless redemption, life anew, a chance to fight for something more than himself- he was the first Sin Eater, and all others after him follow in his footsteps.'
There's a tangible weight in the air, impossible to parse, and it's only when Johannes returns to his orange that you finally let out the breath you didn't know you were holding.
For another half a minute, the two of you sit in silence.
'…I disagree with what you said, earlier.', you finally conclude.
'What do you mean?'
'That was an excellent story.'
Someone else's sudden laughter went far in lightening the room.
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- Location
- Leeds
Yeah when your options are hell or hell, losing your soul looks like something of a 'not really a win but also not a loss'.
I hope they don't do this to people who are going to get to a good afterlife, however I expect they're generally following the trend of redemption.
I hope they don't do this to people who are going to get to a good afterlife, however I expect they're generally following the trend of redemption.
Nociva IV
'You have more questions.'
It was not a question; it was a statement, and it was not wrong. You nod in admission, although you still don't speak until you swallow the last of your lunch. Johannes finished slightly before you, although, strangely enough, he discards the orange skin. Why would a fruit have an inedible shell?
'You still haven't explained what Sin Eaters do, or where they come from.'
'Sin Eaters do as they wish.', he admits, shrugging noncommittally. 'The only commands they take are Heaven's own; we can ask, but it is never certain. And where do they come from… we don't know why, or how. They appear one day, and we do not pry- their pact is for them and them alone.'
'They have to come from somewhere, however- how else can you tell if someone is a Sin Eater?'
'They do, and sometimes we realise who they must have been. However, we still do not act on it- it doesn't matter who they were. They are Sin Eaters now, living martyrs, and their affairs are beyond us.'
He takes a draught of water, pausing to consider how to steer your curiosity.
'What have you seen Aurora do?'
'I know she can fight, that she receives visions, and that she can channel Miracles- although I didn't see what they do.', you admit. It must have been important, to draw on such a power.. but you were far from a sorcerer, to have sight beyond sight.
'There are several ways we can know, but I can only tell you two. Firstly, they receive prophetic visions, direction they should have no way of knowing; secondly, their blessings all share similarities. If you travel with her more, you may even have the privilege of seeing it!', he unsubtly suggests.
The two of you sit in silence for just slightly longer, before, as all things must, the conversation ends. As you stand up and retrieve your rucksack, you hear the faint crinkle of parchment under pressure, and a final question occurs to you.
'Would you know', you ask the priest, retrieving the week-old message, 'what this means? I found it upon an agent of the Eyes, but I cannot read it.'
He takes it, yet even as he reads it at a glance his expression visibly darkens.
'I'm sorry, but I can't read it either. No one here could.'
He hands it back to you, looking up to meet your faint confusion.
'It is in Abyssal. There are less than a handful of people in Nociva who could read this, and the Syndicate members will soon be executed.'
———————-
[X] Accompany Aurora and Ophelia. In return for not handing her over to the law, Ophelia has apparently been recruited as an aide- blackmailed, it almost feels like, if not for her evident, terrified relief. Apparently she's on half-pay until she redeems herself, whatever Aurora means. The pair of them are investigating the Syndicate's former hideouts, although the actual inhabitants have long fled. They don't need your help, but the Sin Eater would appreciate it. You are curious to what they'll find.
It's strange, looking at Aurora now, and remembering the story of Anselm.
Despite Suarez's best 'subtle' hints, you remain loitering near the Sanctum, if now out of the way, watching the empty streets. The monotony's only broken by a single supplicant, another tiefling who spared you only a wary look before rushing straight past.
Despite the templar's best hopes, you truly didn't have anything better to do than linger at the edge of the temple's protective aura, waiting for the Sin Eater to reappear. For a woman you've known for less than half a day, the mysteries between you have piled startlingly swiftly, and disappearing into the sprawling city on some half-hearted adventure would help you resolve exactly none of them. You had no need for coin for now, and no desire to rent a room within Nociva, while the untranslated message in your hand, the invisible target on your back painted by people you did not know and never wronged proved to be a far more driving concern.
(…and a part of you wondered what you would tomorrow, the day after. Pursue this selfish quest forever?
You remember Aurora's certainty, a never-ending journey, and you're mature enough to admit jealousy- but a sudden lack of direction is only one more symptom of your mistakes, and so you stop thinking about it. Another day, when you don't have a target on your back.)
Whatever Aurora was expecting, you'll never know- her literally iron expression smooths over any sense of surprise or satisfaction, her posture still statue-perfect despite being only hours past her injury. She nods to you once, before nudging her horse until it stands astride you, the beast giving you a spiteful side-eye.
'.. want something, Geln?'
'Do you mind if we work together more? I still have questions that need answering, and no one to answer them but you.'
'I would like that very much. Can you ride?'
Perhaps she's smiling under her mask, but she certainly doesn't sound like it- speaking still in that solemnly, softly impersonal tone. You shake your head in response- even if you did, the impressive levels of disdain her favoured steed was practically gutting you with killed any desire to try.
'It's alright. I'll walk alongside you- both of you.'
Behind Aurora, Ophelia slowly canters to a halt, carefully nudging the reigns of a far less impressive beast. Even focused on not dashing her skull on the floor, she sees you soon enough, and the poor girl's face sprints through an interesting flurry of emotions, before finally settling into one of visible stress, visibly and awkwardly nudging her horse to place Aurora between the two of you.
'Do you want to walk?', the tiefling asks her, but despite her visible difficulties in commanding the former carriage horse, she's surprisingly quick to insist she's fine.
You place yourself between Aurora and Kora, and your dog seems ever grateful for it.
————————-
It takes a third of an hour third of an hour to reach your destination by your estimation, and most of it is spent by Ophelia explaining to you what they were attempting- a task Aurora seems content to leave largely to her new aide, only nodding along at appropriate moments.
Despite the visible terror you evoke in her, she gets the point across well enough. The Eyes of Tamaril were, for now, defeated- their central cell crushed in a battle Ophelia refuses to speak of, and any other agents either long fled or hunted into irrelevancy with the captured intelligence. Now bereft of active opposition, Aurora was making the rounds around their abandoned properties, although what exactly she intends afterwards, Ophelia admits she doesn't know.
What Aurora needs the two of you for, no one seems to knows but herself.
To get there, the Sin Eater leads the pair of you in a completely new direction, and although Ophelia knows Nociva well, you get lost within minutes of leaving the Sanctum. The three of you pass away from the run-down slums into a mercantile district, if one far emptier than normal. Taverns and cafes and stores you have no name for line the street, many stooped beneath the households of their owners, yet despite chiming of hired buskers and warm scent of fresh food, your fellow pedestrians seem… tense. Most visibly blend in (and fail) at the sight of you; some flee entirely, while others- all humans, the new majority in this community- give Aurora unashamedly hostile glares.
The woman in question rides past them as if they did not exist, and it's not long before you find the source of this district's problems. You find an entire street blocked off by a barricade, foot traffic and wagons alike directed around and past no matter who and what they are. At least two dozen hearthguard swarm around a gutted inn, its contents fatally spilt across the street- removed, tagged, organised like spoils of war. Aurora leads your party to the impromptu palisade, and at the sight of her the sentry bows.
'Lady Aurora! Did Lord Mason send you?'
'I am resolving my promise. I would like to search the house.'
The young man nods as if that means something to him, although you suspect he might just be used to it.
'Of course- although.. we've searched, and I'm afraid we haven't found anything. These two are with you?'
'They are assistants.'
The sentry takes another look at the two of you, but a second look still brings him no closer to concluding who in the world you're meant to be.
'They assist me.', Aurora elaborates unhelpfully.
Demonstrating an impressive tolerance for strangeness, the unnamed sentry descends from his perch and muscles some manner of gate inwards, the mechanics obscured by its bulk. As you pass, more hearthguard give greetings and respectful gestures at the sight of your leader, in a sharp reversal from the atmosphere outside. She responds with a single nod, before dismounting aside the assorted furniture- beds, chairs, tables and the like, splayed out onto the street.
When she starts inspecting them, the hearthguard seem to take in stride, apparently inured to the sight of a masked tiefling glaring intently at carved wood. Ophelia produces from a saddlebag parchment, ink and a quill, giving you a rather helpless shrug, and so for lack of anything better to do, you join Aurora- working from the other end.
'…We're looking for hints about the Eyes.', Ophelia suggests unhelpfully. At least the Syndicate has decent taste.
It doesn't take long at all for the two of you eventually conclude that it is, indeed, furniture. Ophelia records that valuable insight, showing shocking literacy for a hired sword, before you move on to the building itself- still perplexed at what exactly Aurora was hoping to find.
You enter a building already near-completely emptied- stripped of decor and furniture until it's little more than a hollow shell. Still, Aurora approaches her self-set task with a stubborn insistence, and for lack of anything better to do, you follow suit.
Despite your severe doubts you'll find anything the guard haven't already apparently salvaged to oblivion, you do your best to aid Aurora in quite carefully prodding every wall and floor. Watching a woman give her full and complete attention to inch after inch of quite literally blank surfaces is a fascinating sight- but after half an hour, even she must admit it's a hopeless search.
Ophelia jots down another brief symbol- a cross, the ends of each line facing diagonal- and then you take your leave.
———————-
Nociva, you know intellectually, is large.
Nociva, you now on some more fundamental level understand, is enormous.
Aurora leads you in a weaving path, switching between straight lines and sudden backtracking at a moment's notice, and pausing to insist you carefully pry through a frankly egregious amount of locations, never once indicating she has any sort of map. Outright clueless at where you're going, you and Ophelia can only follow briskly, and any clever report or ice breaker you could imagine is lost. The wretched scent seems to fade with exposure, at least to the point you can put it aside to marvel at the sights you can see poking past the eaves, distant buildings that seem improbably large; every street seems new, every crowd shocking in its density, each assembled for yet another novel, clamorous purpose. Dozens- scores- of the same kind of stall or hawker in a single settlement seems wildly improbable, yet as you follow the Sin Eater through bouquets and eateries, butcheries and docks, drinking halls and tinker-shops and once the faintest hint of Artificery before you're pulled away, you find yourself unconsciously questioning how many of your native towns you could fit within those looming walls…
You come to the riverside, but your brief marvel at the scores of river-craft fades as you realise that they really are only that. Merchants from near and far hawk and bargain to a frankly incessant degree, bickering and haggling with each other, with prospective customers- even with the dock workers! Aurora rides through it all, patiently guiding her steed through a crowd that sees her and parts like water before a ship's bow, whispers too swift for you to understand preceding her like the foam of a wave- some shocked, some awed, too many.... hostile, in a way you struggle to place.
You and Ophelia can only follow in her wake, a dozen attempts to start a conversation between the two of you aborted by her own mounting fear. For the sake of her nerves, you've started to just leave her alone- it's hardly as if there isn't enough to see. Humans and hobgoblins and even a small band of brawny naga (?) seethe around the waters, the endless flow of commerce and transport a beating pulse around the wharfs.
Kora follows behind you, ever faithful, and it's only because of her sudden barking that you even think to look down. A glance finds a child, surely less than ten, who breaks into a sprint when they realise your eyes are on their back, desperately trying to disappear into the crowd. They're dressed in threadbare cloth and 'shoes' little more than glorified sacks, sun-marked skin and wiry frame somehow at odds with how young they must be, to be so small...
In their hands you see a glint of gold, the gleam of an earring in the afternoon sun. As you look around, no one meets your gaze- some outright looking away. Kora almost takes off, but you bring her short, stroking her head, and-
——————————-
[] You let the child go. You won't run them down for an earring. Idiot kids will be idiot kids... and, from the look of it, their family needs it more than you.
[] You pursue. Why is this child alone? Where are their parents? What are they doing, making trouble on the streets?
[] Something else?
—————————
Second part of the update.
Took longer than I would have liked…
You wonder who Aurora was, what she did.
You did ask her, about the Abyssal message. She said she'll talk more about it later.
You're not sure what they actually took, but you're fairly certain it's just the earring.
'Investigating' is actually proving really boring right now… it's fascinating to see how Aurora functions, and the answer seems to be 'to a bewildering degree of incredibly specific focus'.
Geln has legitmately never had to deal with pickpockets before, or, at least, never pickpockets more serious than kids with too much time making trouble.
Oh, right.
Also, side story in about a month or so, so… what would we like to see?
You have probably most of the week.
Questions always welcome.
It was not a question; it was a statement, and it was not wrong. You nod in admission, although you still don't speak until you swallow the last of your lunch. Johannes finished slightly before you, although, strangely enough, he discards the orange skin. Why would a fruit have an inedible shell?
'You still haven't explained what Sin Eaters do, or where they come from.'
'Sin Eaters do as they wish.', he admits, shrugging noncommittally. 'The only commands they take are Heaven's own; we can ask, but it is never certain. And where do they come from… we don't know why, or how. They appear one day, and we do not pry- their pact is for them and them alone.'
'They have to come from somewhere, however- how else can you tell if someone is a Sin Eater?'
'They do, and sometimes we realise who they must have been. However, we still do not act on it- it doesn't matter who they were. They are Sin Eaters now, living martyrs, and their affairs are beyond us.'
He takes a draught of water, pausing to consider how to steer your curiosity.
'What have you seen Aurora do?'
'I know she can fight, that she receives visions, and that she can channel Miracles- although I didn't see what they do.', you admit. It must have been important, to draw on such a power.. but you were far from a sorcerer, to have sight beyond sight.
'There are several ways we can know, but I can only tell you two. Firstly, they receive prophetic visions, direction they should have no way of knowing; secondly, their blessings all share similarities. If you travel with her more, you may even have the privilege of seeing it!', he unsubtly suggests.
The two of you sit in silence for just slightly longer, before, as all things must, the conversation ends. As you stand up and retrieve your rucksack, you hear the faint crinkle of parchment under pressure, and a final question occurs to you.
'Would you know', you ask the priest, retrieving the week-old message, 'what this means? I found it upon an agent of the Eyes, but I cannot read it.'
He takes it, yet even as he reads it at a glance his expression visibly darkens.
'I'm sorry, but I can't read it either. No one here could.'
He hands it back to you, looking up to meet your faint confusion.
'It is in Abyssal. There are less than a handful of people in Nociva who could read this, and the Syndicate members will soon be executed.'
———————-
[X] Accompany Aurora and Ophelia. In return for not handing her over to the law, Ophelia has apparently been recruited as an aide- blackmailed, it almost feels like, if not for her evident, terrified relief. Apparently she's on half-pay until she redeems herself, whatever Aurora means. The pair of them are investigating the Syndicate's former hideouts, although the actual inhabitants have long fled. They don't need your help, but the Sin Eater would appreciate it. You are curious to what they'll find.
It's strange, looking at Aurora now, and remembering the story of Anselm.
Despite Suarez's best 'subtle' hints, you remain loitering near the Sanctum, if now out of the way, watching the empty streets. The monotony's only broken by a single supplicant, another tiefling who spared you only a wary look before rushing straight past.
Despite the templar's best hopes, you truly didn't have anything better to do than linger at the edge of the temple's protective aura, waiting for the Sin Eater to reappear. For a woman you've known for less than half a day, the mysteries between you have piled startlingly swiftly, and disappearing into the sprawling city on some half-hearted adventure would help you resolve exactly none of them. You had no need for coin for now, and no desire to rent a room within Nociva, while the untranslated message in your hand, the invisible target on your back painted by people you did not know and never wronged proved to be a far more driving concern.
(…and a part of you wondered what you would tomorrow, the day after. Pursue this selfish quest forever?
You remember Aurora's certainty, a never-ending journey, and you're mature enough to admit jealousy- but a sudden lack of direction is only one more symptom of your mistakes, and so you stop thinking about it. Another day, when you don't have a target on your back.)
Whatever Aurora was expecting, you'll never know- her literally iron expression smooths over any sense of surprise or satisfaction, her posture still statue-perfect despite being only hours past her injury. She nods to you once, before nudging her horse until it stands astride you, the beast giving you a spiteful side-eye.
'.. want something, Geln?'
'Do you mind if we work together more? I still have questions that need answering, and no one to answer them but you.'
'I would like that very much. Can you ride?'
Perhaps she's smiling under her mask, but she certainly doesn't sound like it- speaking still in that solemnly, softly impersonal tone. You shake your head in response- even if you did, the impressive levels of disdain her favoured steed was practically gutting you with killed any desire to try.
'It's alright. I'll walk alongside you- both of you.'
Behind Aurora, Ophelia slowly canters to a halt, carefully nudging the reigns of a far less impressive beast. Even focused on not dashing her skull on the floor, she sees you soon enough, and the poor girl's face sprints through an interesting flurry of emotions, before finally settling into one of visible stress, visibly and awkwardly nudging her horse to place Aurora between the two of you.
'Do you want to walk?', the tiefling asks her, but despite her visible difficulties in commanding the former carriage horse, she's surprisingly quick to insist she's fine.
You place yourself between Aurora and Kora, and your dog seems ever grateful for it.
————————-
It takes a third of an hour third of an hour to reach your destination by your estimation, and most of it is spent by Ophelia explaining to you what they were attempting- a task Aurora seems content to leave largely to her new aide, only nodding along at appropriate moments.
Despite the visible terror you evoke in her, she gets the point across well enough. The Eyes of Tamaril were, for now, defeated- their central cell crushed in a battle Ophelia refuses to speak of, and any other agents either long fled or hunted into irrelevancy with the captured intelligence. Now bereft of active opposition, Aurora was making the rounds around their abandoned properties, although what exactly she intends afterwards, Ophelia admits she doesn't know.
What Aurora needs the two of you for, no one seems to knows but herself.
To get there, the Sin Eater leads the pair of you in a completely new direction, and although Ophelia knows Nociva well, you get lost within minutes of leaving the Sanctum. The three of you pass away from the run-down slums into a mercantile district, if one far emptier than normal. Taverns and cafes and stores you have no name for line the street, many stooped beneath the households of their owners, yet despite chiming of hired buskers and warm scent of fresh food, your fellow pedestrians seem… tense. Most visibly blend in (and fail) at the sight of you; some flee entirely, while others- all humans, the new majority in this community- give Aurora unashamedly hostile glares.
The woman in question rides past them as if they did not exist, and it's not long before you find the source of this district's problems. You find an entire street blocked off by a barricade, foot traffic and wagons alike directed around and past no matter who and what they are. At least two dozen hearthguard swarm around a gutted inn, its contents fatally spilt across the street- removed, tagged, organised like spoils of war. Aurora leads your party to the impromptu palisade, and at the sight of her the sentry bows.
'Lady Aurora! Did Lord Mason send you?'
'I am resolving my promise. I would like to search the house.'
The young man nods as if that means something to him, although you suspect he might just be used to it.
'Of course- although.. we've searched, and I'm afraid we haven't found anything. These two are with you?'
'They are assistants.'
The sentry takes another look at the two of you, but a second look still brings him no closer to concluding who in the world you're meant to be.
'They assist me.', Aurora elaborates unhelpfully.
Demonstrating an impressive tolerance for strangeness, the unnamed sentry descends from his perch and muscles some manner of gate inwards, the mechanics obscured by its bulk. As you pass, more hearthguard give greetings and respectful gestures at the sight of your leader, in a sharp reversal from the atmosphere outside. She responds with a single nod, before dismounting aside the assorted furniture- beds, chairs, tables and the like, splayed out onto the street.
When she starts inspecting them, the hearthguard seem to take in stride, apparently inured to the sight of a masked tiefling glaring intently at carved wood. Ophelia produces from a saddlebag parchment, ink and a quill, giving you a rather helpless shrug, and so for lack of anything better to do, you join Aurora- working from the other end.
'…We're looking for hints about the Eyes.', Ophelia suggests unhelpfully. At least the Syndicate has decent taste.
It doesn't take long at all for the two of you eventually conclude that it is, indeed, furniture. Ophelia records that valuable insight, showing shocking literacy for a hired sword, before you move on to the building itself- still perplexed at what exactly Aurora was hoping to find.
You enter a building already near-completely emptied- stripped of decor and furniture until it's little more than a hollow shell. Still, Aurora approaches her self-set task with a stubborn insistence, and for lack of anything better to do, you follow suit.
Despite your severe doubts you'll find anything the guard haven't already apparently salvaged to oblivion, you do your best to aid Aurora in quite carefully prodding every wall and floor. Watching a woman give her full and complete attention to inch after inch of quite literally blank surfaces is a fascinating sight- but after half an hour, even she must admit it's a hopeless search.
Ophelia jots down another brief symbol- a cross, the ends of each line facing diagonal- and then you take your leave.
———————-
DC 2
+2 (Charismatic)
DC 4
10, 7, 6, 2
You pretend you're not gawking.
+2 (Charismatic)
DC 4
10, 7, 6, 2
You pretend you're not gawking.
Nociva, you know intellectually, is large.
Nociva, you now on some more fundamental level understand, is enormous.
Aurora leads you in a weaving path, switching between straight lines and sudden backtracking at a moment's notice, and pausing to insist you carefully pry through a frankly egregious amount of locations, never once indicating she has any sort of map. Outright clueless at where you're going, you and Ophelia can only follow briskly, and any clever report or ice breaker you could imagine is lost. The wretched scent seems to fade with exposure, at least to the point you can put it aside to marvel at the sights you can see poking past the eaves, distant buildings that seem improbably large; every street seems new, every crowd shocking in its density, each assembled for yet another novel, clamorous purpose. Dozens- scores- of the same kind of stall or hawker in a single settlement seems wildly improbable, yet as you follow the Sin Eater through bouquets and eateries, butcheries and docks, drinking halls and tinker-shops and once the faintest hint of Artificery before you're pulled away, you find yourself unconsciously questioning how many of your native towns you could fit within those looming walls…
You come to the riverside, but your brief marvel at the scores of river-craft fades as you realise that they really are only that. Merchants from near and far hawk and bargain to a frankly incessant degree, bickering and haggling with each other, with prospective customers- even with the dock workers! Aurora rides through it all, patiently guiding her steed through a crowd that sees her and parts like water before a ship's bow, whispers too swift for you to understand preceding her like the foam of a wave- some shocked, some awed, too many.... hostile, in a way you struggle to place.
You and Ophelia can only follow in her wake, a dozen attempts to start a conversation between the two of you aborted by her own mounting fear. For the sake of her nerves, you've started to just leave her alone- it's hardly as if there isn't enough to see. Humans and hobgoblins and even a small band of brawny naga (?) seethe around the waters, the endless flow of commerce and transport a beating pulse around the wharfs.
Kora follows behind you, ever faithful, and it's only because of her sudden barking that you even think to look down. A glance finds a child, surely less than ten, who breaks into a sprint when they realise your eyes are on their back, desperately trying to disappear into the crowd. They're dressed in threadbare cloth and 'shoes' little more than glorified sacks, sun-marked skin and wiry frame somehow at odds with how young they must be, to be so small...
In their hands you see a glint of gold, the gleam of an earring in the afternoon sun. As you look around, no one meets your gaze- some outright looking away. Kora almost takes off, but you bring her short, stroking her head, and-
——————————-
[] You let the child go. You won't run them down for an earring. Idiot kids will be idiot kids... and, from the look of it, their family needs it more than you.
[] You pursue. Why is this child alone? Where are their parents? What are they doing, making trouble on the streets?
[] Something else?
—————————
Second part of the update.
Took longer than I would have liked…
You wonder who Aurora was, what she did.
You did ask her, about the Abyssal message. She said she'll talk more about it later.
You're not sure what they actually took, but you're fairly certain it's just the earring.
'Investigating' is actually proving really boring right now… it's fascinating to see how Aurora functions, and the answer seems to be 'to a bewildering degree of incredibly specific focus'.
Geln has legitmately never had to deal with pickpockets before, or, at least, never pickpockets more serious than kids with too much time making trouble.
Oh, right.
Also, side story in about a month or so, so… what would we like to see?
You have probably most of the week.
Questions always welcome.
Last edited:
- Location
- Leeds
The etomology of words can be hard to decipher sometimes.
[X] You pursue. Why is this child alone? Where are their parents? What are they doing, making trouble on the streets?
-[X] Do they more?
Playing around with the:
except I think its more amusing to chase down the their to give them the missing coins.
leave not lead
Let's see if Aurora's Pendor guided divination works as advertised…
[X] You pursue. Why is this child alone? Where are their parents? What are they doing, making trouble on the streets?
-[X] If the pickpocket's caught, ask if she's available for hire. She can get way more money playing informant/tourist guide for us.
Why steal from us for a pittiance when stealing for us gets you way more?
Either way, chad and his doggo coming through people!
- Location
- Leeds
Being sarcastic about why she needed to say more.
Update probably on Friday.
Where did everyone go? Is something wrong with the update format?
Ah well. It is what it is.
Good times and bad.
Thy hast achieved a comfortable state for all magickers except warlocks.
The numbers may need tweaking with testing, but the concepts satisfies me well and good. However, Warlocks are more… grey.
It is a problem I am not quite sure how to since without Playtesting, however. Pact magic is inherently strange.
Where did everyone go? Is something wrong with the update format?
Ah well. It is what it is.
Good times and bad.
Thy hast achieved a comfortable state for all magickers except warlocks.
The numbers may need tweaking with testing, but the concepts satisfies me well and good. However, Warlocks are more… grey.
It is a problem I am not quite sure how to since without Playtesting, however. Pact magic is inherently strange.
Last edited:
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I'm still here just feeling very ambivalent on this specific vote.