[X] Let her decide. It's her find, and her decision.
Aurora holds a book more fearsome than any mortal blade, and it is useless to her.
There's a kind of poetry to that, and perhaps if you were Tamara you would catch the inspiration and enshrine it in a lyric. Rhymes and song are a foreign craft to you, however, beyond the briefest dabbling for the Iron Circle. With nothing kind nor helpful to say, you hold your tongue, waiting for her to make her choice.
It takes her a surprisingly long time to do so, as if it fits poorly inside her mind. After a second, though, she tucks the thin book into her belt, hides it under her cloak, and walks downstairs without a word.
The guards do not question her when she passes- not as friendly as the first squadron, but still respectful of her authority. She makes no more mention of her newfound prize, and so neither do you.
——————————————-
[X] Nothing in particular.
'How do you know what to do?'
As the sun bleeds from its gleaming shine to a softer orange haze, your counterpart seems.. reduced. She's always strangely unobtrusive until she acts, despite being distinctive to the extreme- soft spoken and soft stepped- but without daylight to pin her in place, you can't shake the feeling you might be talking to a mirage. Whenever you look away, all you hear her is the steady tempo of hoof beats, the whistle of her steed's breath- all the sounds of life she seems to lack, their absence made glaring as something intangible bleeds away.
She doesn't respond, and at first you think it's because she doesn't wish to answer. Her non verbal cues, strange at first, were as steady as the tides, and so you stop talking and simply drink in the sights about you. Nociva's haunting sewage-scent hasn't truly lessened in all your time here- you've only gotten better at ignoring it- but if not for that, this district is somewhere you could imagine living here. Compact but neatly tidied homes are slotted next to and above each other like a titan's playing blocks, adorned with splashes of flower pots, dyed cloths and disruptive street art. Well-off labourers avoid meeting your eye as they rush home to their families, and their wives and children draw close the curtains as you pass by, as if you were only a moment away from breaking in…
Although, if you didn't seem to own anything more dangerous than a work knife, you'd be nervous too. You flip the axe over, so the head faces the ground, and it seems to comfort exactly no one.
'I do. I don't understand, but I do.'
Aurora's admission takes you off guard, the apex of at least five minutes of thought. When you face her again, all she has to say for herself is a tired shrug.
'But you mentioned your dreams, earlier?'
'…….I don't understand them, until I must. Until then…. there is always a path. I.. need only the will.'
You tentatively nod, only slightly enlightened. As the hints of fatigue bleed into her normally impassive tone, you decide to leave your curiosities for another day, Aurora seems content to ride in silence, prompting her horse with the slightest movements. You follow her through a distinctively sun-lit path through the city streets, but the fading light does little to refresh her- if anything, she seems just slightly more drained by the time you arrive, as quiet as the dead.
The sun sinks, yet for once you hope stays for just a bit longer.
————————-
[x] - gently extract Aurora. A brick wall would be more amenable; at least, it wouldn't spit back.
You won't waste your breath talking further. Whoever that tiefling was before, she dominates her coterie with a nearly rabid presence- as if eager to score a final, petty victory before being marched to the grave. If Abyssal is a language, then you have no doubt that you could find people who could read it elsewhere; even if you can't, tolerating near-blasphemy isn't worth a scrap of paper.
You take Aurora's hand and lead her out of the holding cells, and she does not resist. Her counterpart lets you go in silence- too surprsied at the sight of you to speak.
'Forget it', you snap once you're out of ear shot. 'I'll find someone else, somewhere else. You have better things to be doing with your time.'
Aurora gives you a look, but what kind of look it really is is, as normal, impossible to tell.
'You owe me nothing', you elaborate, feeling prompted, 'not even for my help; there's no good reason for you to waste your time talking to people who hate you.'
'…nothing to do.'
'…that's not a good reason to do anything. What about your path?'
She goes still for an oddly long moment, before simply shrugging. Before you can question her further, the adept- the same adept from before, increasingly harried- interrupts you.
'If you're quite done-'
You give them a deeply unimpressed look, but they only nervously pale.
'Ah.. then.. we would like you to leave.. Please.'
Before you can reply, Aurora's already walking off and away, and so you follow suit. For objectively not that far of a distance, it's an oddly circuitous route around the complex before you reach the same way you entered. Not the most clever of tricks, but one that'd probably work much better blindfolded.
They close the small gate behind you, an act you purposefully make as awkward as possible with a long and baleful glare. Desperately avoiding eye contact, they shuffle out of sight with barely enough dignity to not quite be fleeing, and it's only when you're quite confident no one's eavesdropping that you turn your attention back to Aurora.
'You can't, or you won't, talk about it?'
'……
…..….
.…. Can't.', she finally admits, oddly strained.
It is what it is, then.
'Something's wrong', she suddenly and uncharacteristically elaborates, suddenly feverishly swift. 'In the cells.. something will happen there. It's a mistake…'
'Why didn't you tell them, then? That adept couldn't have gotten far.' You gesture back, into the complex- the adept had effectively fled, but the winding passageways meant that you were fairly certain you could outright yell for them.
'I don't know what.. only that it is. Nothing to say.'
With that, her sudden vigour leeches away. She slumps back into her saddle, falling eerily silent and still once more.
'…their trial, when is it?'
'In.. two days. I will attend.'
Every sentence comes with a slowly increasing delay- unnoticeable at first, but only more apparent the darker it gets. You prompt her to start moving, and thankfully, she at least seems able to ride- if now oddly stiff, without the easy grace she wore this morning.
'Why?', you press her. After wielding their miracles, apprentice priests often grew.. strange, almost dreamlike, needing continuous attention and stilted conversation until they could be moved somewhere safe. Perhaps this was similar?
'… to plead mercy.'
'…but they hate you. In your place, they'd only show up to your execution. You owe them nothing.'
'… not them. Not you.', she intones with a strange finality. '… you alright?'
'Yes. Why?'
'… seem.. worried.'
You turn another corner, and pausing long enough for the night militia (a somewhat pathetic sort who scatter at the mere sight of you) to inch by gives you the time to deflect.
'Just thinking.', you admit a partial truth. 'Their temple- it seemed.. different.'
That was an understatement. It was more stately than the cluster of homes and offices it nested in, but within, it lacked.. holiness. There was no dominating presence, no impossible purity or eery gleam- only flowers that failed to mask the urban reek, utilitarian walls adorned with strange decorations and well used and well cleaned floor. If someone hadn't told you it was a sacred place.. you're not sure you would have noticed. A question for tomorrow, you had figured earlier.
She huffs, amused, and you mentally pat yourself on the back as she formulates a response.
'…they fear their godheads.', she responds with surprising clarity. Even more surprising is her tone- still largely impassive, yet oddly.. sorrowful, instead of smug. 'Their world is one of lines.. divinity transcends. They fear.. appease, bind. Learn, and shun.'
You nod once, placatingly, before stopping short. Thankfully, she doesn't seem notice you falling just slightly more behind as she leads you further on, somewhere poorer than before.
What kind of lunatic culture sees heaven, and is afraid?
'…pointless', she continues. 'Their mortal order.. it ends. Be replaced… they fight for it, yet they fight time... you'll be staying in a Sanctum?'
…….you honestly haven't considered that.
——————————-
Night falls, and the metaphysics only grows stranger.
Where is Geln sleeping for tonight?
[] In the Sanctum. Taking advantage of their hospitality leaves you with a strange taste, even if you'll stick to eating your food instead of theirs. Still, any friend of Aurora's seems to be a friend of theirs.. strange as it is to be seen as one. [] Common Lodgngs You have grown better at ignoring the stench, but you still don't want to sleep in it.
[] Expensive Lodgings. One Silver for even one night's stay is… quite a lot, actually. More than most could or would afford, and you fit in very poorly with the ones who do. You don't think you've actually slept amongst such expensively made furnishings before either- you wouldn't be surprised if such things didn't exist In all of Haven, barring items foreigners took to Kalastur. However, through some mechanism you don't understand the 'hotel' internal smell of perfume, and that's frankly all you want.
[] Outside Nociva. Leaving probably won't be an issue, unless the hearthguard in your way make a deeply unwise decision. Entering again, with your axe and bow and without Aurora's aid, might be harder.
Geln frankly doesn't mind sleeping on the floor. Given he's trying to sleep, though, he would rather do so somewhere that doesn't endlessly scent of filth.
…..keep in mind where you are also dictates what kind of night troubles you run into if, say, you can't actually sleep during your first night in an enormously foreign environment.
questions welcome. You have at least two days to vote.
If anyone wants to write very short poetry boasting about how dead somebody is about to be
I might actually use it.
Geln has not actually thought about the unfortunate truth that his prospective enemies in his land would not be able to understand Deep Speech, no matter how witty the verbal takedown is.
and yes, that is a Harrow thing. The other cultures a lot more straightforward about it.
[X] In the Sanctum. Taking advantage of their hospitality leaves you with a strange taste, even if you'll stick to eating your food instead of theirs. Still, any friend of Aurora's seems to be a friend of theirs.. strange as it is to be seen as one.
[X] In the Sanctum. Taking advantage of their hospitality leaves you with a strange taste, even if you'll stick to eating your food instead of theirs. Still, any friend of Aurora's seems to be a friend of theirs.. strange as it is to be seen as one.
[X] In the Sanctum. Taking advantage of their hospitality leaves you with a strange taste, even if you'll stick to eating your food instead of theirs. Still, any friend of Aurora's seems to be a friend of theirs.. strange as it is to be seen as one.
I don't trust them, but I don't think they'll kill us in our sleep or anything like that.
[X] In the Sanctum. Taking advantage of their hospitality leaves you with a strange taste, even if you'll stick to eating your food instead of theirs. Still, any friend of Aurora's seems to be a friend of theirs.. strange as it is to be seen as one.
Geln hasn't really yet realised that some places are nicer than others because the inhabitants are literally better off and/ or more wealthy than others, and not because the housing is older and/ or neglected by the state. You haven't actually gone to the Old City, so the disparity hasn't gotten staggeringly striking yet.
The idea of a government, divine or otherwise, that isn't dominatingly powerful is kind of alien.
Not that the Solarists have actually done anything beyond outrageous blasphemy, to be honest. Putting that aside, they're the most 'familiar' foreigners you've met so far…
Keep this up, and outsiders might start suspecting you are a Solarist.
Scheduled vote count started by Shine on May 13, 2023 at 12:07 PM, finished with 7 posts and 4 votes.
[X] In the Sanctum. Taking advantage of their hospitality leaves you with a strange taste, even if you'll stick to eating your food instead of theirs. Still, any friend of Aurora's seems to be a friend of theirs.. strange as it is to be seen as one.
[X] In the Sanctum. Taking advantage of their hospitality leaves you with a strange taste, even if you'll stick to eating your food instead of theirs. Still, any friend of Aurora's seems to be a friend of theirs.. strange as it is to be seen as one.
'I don't have much of a choice', you admit. Without Aurora's intervention, passing the walls with your possessions would be impossible, and you don't know anywhere else to stay- not unless you wished to sleep on the streets.
The tiefling simply nods, a nearly imperceptible motion, and speaks no more of it. Before you can try to lift the silence again, however, a familiar sensation comes over you- the air grows cleaner, somehow, the atmosphere more certain, more defined. A narrow alley, barely large enough for her horse, opens up to face another, different Sanctum, this one not a building at all.
Once, it must have been several small cottages, crammed together like arrows in a quiver. However, whoever was the master of the place that age and neglect wasn't worth repairing. Instead, several small plots of land had been torn and down cleared, replaced with huddled yurts underneath a ship's canvas stretched from dilapidated wall to wall.
At the centre of the grounds, a smokeless, golden flame burns like a beacon, lit preemptively to keep the night away. Around it huddle a strange assortment of vagabonds and adherents, ragged and worn by rough living. Tieflings and humans and a single hobbit alike crowd around the fire- gossiping, playing dice and swapping rotgut, harried assistants doing their best to keep the mood civil. To the side, a tiefling in foreign robes ministers to several fellows, their discussion uninterrupted by the evening chill.
When Aurora arrives, the conversation stops.
Most stare at her in open awe as she rides towards them, as if not quite believing she was real; others, sensing the mood, shy away, suddenly and awkwardly ill fitting in their irreverence. For herself, Aurora seems to find new strength so close to sacred ground. Her fatigue recedes, replaced with a disciplined serenity. Over a dozen confused gazes land on you personally, following just behind; whatever they're thinking, you don't know, and you're not sure you want to know.
'…Don't worry for me.', the Sin Eater comforts you under her breath as you approach. 'It always happens, when he turns away… I follow the sun.'
…seems you weren't as subtle as you thought you were. She doesn't face you as you speak, giving no indicator that she's talking to others, but you don't have the luxury of her mask to return the favour.
Before you can think of a solution, she cuts the issue in half by stopping at the edge of the Sanctum, dismounting to face you directly. If eyes weren't on you already, they most definitely were now.
'….I would like to work with you more.', she continues, thankfully still barely perceptible. 'My story is finished.. but you still have to walk your own. Travelling with me, I can't promise pay or schedule, and I can't promise more than an attempt at answers. Only the call, at any time, at any place- only fighting evil and doing good, even when no one else will care, to.. put them right again, in this world and the next.. yet I believe that matters to you, as well.'
Aurora suddenly focuses, to stare you eye to eyes, unwaveringly steadfast in her stance, as if she were proclaiming something as intrinsic as sunrise.
'If you would not.. I will warn you anyways. You will not find your answers in this mortal world. You will not outrun your foes. You must understand them- and when this path ends, you must face them'.
'…Thank you', you return after a stilted pause, realising she was finished. It's a non-answer, and it's not one you're proud of.. and it's been a long day. You don't want to make these decisions; not yet.
'…there is always a path.', she finishes, with something in between advice, a promise and a warning. 'We need only the will to follow it.'
Then, she turns on her heel and leads her horse around the crowd. Speaking briefly to the priest (Mendicant?), a drawn out yet simplistic miracle is all it takes to steal her from sight- as if she steps through some veil of light.
She's still here, you're certain of that.. but unless it's truly important, you doubt you'll find her easily.
You approach the smokeless flame, and brace yourself for questioning.
DC 2
+2 (Charismatic)
+1 (Veteran)
+1 (War Is)
+2 (Powerful)
DC 8
7, 5, 5, 7
They leave you alone.
When you sit by the fire, the others draws away- even the youngest, most curious, baulking when they see quite who you are. Most of them are shorter than Aurora- most of them barely reach your neck- and she would dwarf them all in confidence.
Someone asks once, who you are, what your business with the Sin Eater is in a near reverent tone. He's thin, decently dressed in a courier's garb, if woefully unarmored. His clothes are finer spun than most, and he seems in similarly better shape, if worn from travel. Whoever he may be, you doubt an intinerant messenger would baulk at mere risk or discomfort.
At this hour, after this day, you care about precisely none of that. You try to tune him out and shoo him away, but he doesn't to take the hint- leaning forwards to tap on your shoulder.
'Excuse me, sir. I woul-'
He cuts off when his hand is caught by your own, steel pressed uncomfortably against his skin.
Whatever he would say to that, puffing himself like a blowfish, he never gets to when you turn around. A well practiced glower reminds him that he quite literally stands in your shadow, the faintest squeeze of his wrist a a soft and bloody promise. When you let him go, he scuttles away, and the rest leave you to eat dinner in peace.
You sit by your corner of the bonfire, and watch the sunset alone.
————————————
A boy is watching you.
His parents haven't noticed; her mother wrangles her daughter, an even smaller baby who can't seem to decide if she wants to be breastfed or bawl at passing strangers, while his father seems more concerned with his hand of cards than where his son is looking. To the boy's credit, he stays within a couple metres away from his sire, and neither says a word nor makes an action. Instead, he seems content to watch you finish the last sandwiches, the bread already going slightly stale- like he's committing every strange detail of this giant foreigner to memory.
You don't think he knows you're watching him in return.
'You have a question?'
The child startles straight in shocked embarrassment, mouth flapping like a dazed fish as he realises he wasn't nearly as subtle as he thought he was. You turn to face him properly while he finds his words, and although objectively you remain metres apart, eye contact seems to make that distance smaller than it is.
'….Can… I… pet your dog?'
'Of course.'
The sled hound in question is curled up a step to your right, half asleep and facing away from the flames. Bred for her native, nearly frozen climate, urban night doesn't seem to worry her at all, and fortunately, neither do small children. Worryingly, his father doesn't seem to have noticed that his son had slipped away, circling around the fire to knead Kora's thick pelt. It doesn't seem like his family has pets- he awkwardly pokes into her back, as if in disbelief that such a large yet docile creature exists. You count it for the better that he can't be older than ten, his prodding too light to really agitate her; the alternative was never something you were fond of dealing with.
'Don't poke her; stroke her. Longer touches. She likes that better.'
'How do you know it's a she?'
'I checked between her legs. Dogs have the same parts we do.'
He gives you a blank look, before trying to look there as well, and you suddenly feel sorry for his parents after tonight. More importantly, however, is that he starts petting Kora properly- even if she hardly registers anyways. His parents still haven't noticed his absence, nor has anyone else- after you scared off the courier man and monopolised your small corner, the rest started conspicuously, then unconsciously, ignoring you.
It won't last, but for now it's just the three of you. Sitting for a foreign child and a foreign dog in a foreign land feels strangely familiar, despite the circumstance.
'..are you from the Dawn Pact?'
'..no. No, I'm not. I'm from very, very far away. Why do you ask?'
The young boy looks up at you, brown eyes squinting at your outline against the fire. Now that you see his face up close, you quietly upgrade your estimation of his age- you forget how small foreigners can be, even when you're amongst them. He's less than five years away from apprenticeship, you'd guess, in that pupal stage when you just start learning how to be mature.
'Aurora is from the Dawn Pact. The sun-souls from outside, they're all from the Dawn Pact. I wanted to…'
He trails off, suddenly shy again, and so you wait quietly for him to find his courage. Eventually, the silence prompts him to speak again- if only to fill it.
'..I want to know what it's like. Papa sold our house; we're going to go tomorrow. He says it's better, there. Safer. But I don't really get it.. and all of the sun-souls, they're always really busy..'
'Do you feel safe here?'
He opens his mouth, then closes it, and repeats that motion several times- furrowing his tiny brow in thought.
'…I don't know.', he finally admits. It's a more complex answer than you expected.
'Do you want to talk about it?'
Again, he seems perplexed that someone's asking that question, putting in vague confusion. Eventually, he nods slightly.
'What makes you feel safe?'
'Home!', he responds immediately- but then you see the sudden doubt and second guessing in his eyes. When worlds fail him again, you prompt him further.
'If you were at home, but your mother and father and sister were gone, would you feel safe?'
He shakes his head with a vigour, the light of understanding in his eyes.
'And even if you were all the way, on the other side of the world- but your family was with you, your parents were confident. You would be safe, right?'
'Mm!'
'Alright. Is there a time recently, when you didn't feel safe?'
You practically see all the connections line up there and then, a sudden flash of inspiration too large for him to easily pronounce. He stutters in excitement, awkwardly trying to force out everything he just realised, and as you've long learnt was best with children, you patiently wait for him to finish on his own time.
' W-When Rhea was sick- that was really scary.', he confides, lowering his voice in a faux- conspiratorial whisper. 'Mama and Papa were up all night watching her, but it was really bad.. and then one day, Mama took her here, and the sun-souls made her better again! It was a.. a.. 'mira-cle'. But… that was a long time ago. I had a name-day since then.'
'So the Dawn Pact is safer, because…'
'…because they have lots of priests!', he triumphantly and probably erroneously concludes. In truth, you hadn't a clue why exactly his family decided to move. Maybe it really was out of grateful fervour, a wish to live in Pendor's native land; maybe they were planning to move in the first place, and the Dawn Pact was merely convenient. It's not like you even knew how far away it was.
You doubt his reasoning was entirely wrong either, however. Saving your daughter's life would be a powerful debt.
'…but I still don't get it.'
'What don't you get?'
'We have priests here too, but the name-priests don't like the sun-souls, and the sun-souls don't like the name-priests. The name-priests say the entire pantheon works together, and that they're all important, but then they said that Pendor wasn't, and the sun-souls don't even talk about all the nine others! And.. the sun-souls are so different, and they have these spells that the name-priests don't.. and.. why couldn't the name-priests heal Ada?'
He was almost babbling at first, over-full with confidence, but the more he tries to wrap his mind around the contradictions, the more he slows down in confusion. He's inched closer to hear you properly, and by now his mother has definitely noticed you- watching in sudden, startling nervousness when she realises exactly who her child is talking to. You don't envy the father.
'I don't know.'
'…oh.'
'Other grown-ups could probably tell you, but you should make sure to ask a few. At least your parents and your grandparents, to start with, but also the priests, and your teachers, and any others you can talk to. I know they look busy, but if you ask them they'll make time for you.'
'…why?'
'Well.. they'll all have different answers to your question, or different things they know. After you hear all of them, you can at least understand them better; if you only hear one, you might end up repeating their mistakes.'
You can tell you lost him somewhere. He stares at you in vague semi-comprehension, and you quietly regret that you're far more child-minder than teacher. Drilling youths was a task you left to others in your cohort, as your talents were better suited for other non-patrol tasks, but you're starting to realise that knowing how to talk to children is a lot harder than it looks- even when they want to learn.
'…do you see your mother, over there? I think she wants you to go over to her.'
'Huh- oh!.. oh. Yeah...'.
He pets Kora one more time, before standing up to leave, waving you a polite goodbye.
'Bye, mister.. uh..'
'Koryson.'
'Goodbye, mister Koryson!'
You watch him go quietly, feeling slightly more enlightened yourself. A child's view, a microcosm of clashing faiths, is not something to write home about, but it's still better than nothing at all.
The bonfire burns all night without pause or smoke or fuel, a sparkling pyre of orange and gold. You fall asleep to the shadows it casts across the walls, flickering spirit-puppets framed in sacred light.
It is not the same as the temples at home. There are no walls, not really a roof, and it's filled with people who've never even heard of Haven.
It's good enough, however.
+1 Common XP.
——————————-
You dream you are very far away, and not yourself.
You lived in Tulane, you've always lived in Tulane. You've lived in Sarvoras, you've always lived in Sarvoras. You live on the borders, between one world and the next, and welcome in neither.
You wield a bow, a powerful piece of yew and wire, and it's one you've practiced with for many years. Your father has no sons, and so you, the eldest daughter, take that place.
Your father has no sons, and his fighting days are done. You take his place.
Never before had you wielded a longbow outside of the range. It was a weapon of war, nearly useless for hunting all but the largest beasts. A broad head that tears through iron would turn small game into so much bloody pulp.
The arrow pierces clean through the farmhand's chest. He wears no chain or breastplate, only homemade gambeson, and that's worth nothing at all at only dozens of metres. The broadhead ruptures his upper torso, shattering bones, pulping organs, and when the fletching catches it almost impales him to the ground. In one second, he had a hatchet raised, about to split your cousin's skull, and the next, he lies in the dirt, impaled, screaming- he is dead, but still has time to weep.
You don't even remember firing. You have practiced for years. Without thinking, you draw again. Arrows fall like hail, wreaking havoc on the brawling mobs. Heirloom bows from your clan shoot first, shoot faster.
There is no knight in sight, only aging bucklers and scavenged ringmail. Your volley struck first, struck harder, struck from cover, and that makes all the difference.
You kill another in the time it takes the first to die, yet you can't remember how. In three volleys, they run, but no one calls for the shooting to stop, and so no one stops.
Practice makes perfec-
————————————————
You don't normally sleep in.
You don't normally wake up feeling parched and drained, or feeling like you were someone else, for just a moment. This time, you grasp for the memories on instinct- and, unlike every other time, they do not slip away. Your arms itch in phantom strain from drawn out archery; your eyes water from the focused aiming they never did.
It doesn't feel like much of an answer at all.
On your feet, you feel somewhat more like yourself- moving is enough of a reminder of who you are. Your steps are comfortingly heavy, the sights around you familiar enough nowadays- but a strange apprehension remains, coiled in your heart like a warning. Kora, having woken hours earlier, ambles over to beg for food- second helpings, you suspect from the smell on her breath. Who she managed to beg off, you'll probably never know- with the morning, most of the travellers here have left, including the boy from last night.
The sun is still high in the sky, at least an hour before midday. You suspect it's been more than two after sunrise, however, when you typically get up. The golden flame from last night is extinguished, leaving no trace of its presence; nor do you see any sign of Aurora, or her horse.
For the first time in a very long while, you have absolutely nothing to do, and being so rudderless, bizarrely, haunts you.
You really are alone in a completely foreign city, nothing to do and no one to follow, and you suspect it's not just homesickness that makes you feel so wary.
———————————-
[] Wander the riversides. [] You explore the slums. [] Explore the regular housing. [] Admire the noble estates.
Uncharacteristically, Geln suddenly has no appetite for adventure.
[] Wander the bazaar. Nociva has more people in one place than you have ever seen, and their districts are swollen to match. Wherever you go, the signs of industry are almost overwhelming to your senses. You can't imagine nothing will interest you, and you have quite a lot of silver to burn.
[] Visit the temples of the Catena Stellarum, as many as you can. 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, investigate their eerie strangeness- and see if they have their own conclusions about your own.
[] Venture into the Sprawl. Nociva's walls are expansive, but the city still strains against them. In one place in particular, it's even burst out- the Mercenary District is officially, for security reasons, outside the walls, but that nexus of hired blades and accompanying artisans is supplemented by a chaotic, lightly patrolled slum, there by choice or desperation. Here is where you could talk to wandering warriors like yourself, perhaps even find employment.. hopefully, anyways. It might be difficult to get back within the walls without Aurora's help, however.
You admit that it would be nice to have a job- but you don't exactly need money, right now. Strange as it is, pillaging the belongings of the dead and defeated has made you an alarming amount of coin. Additonally, if you wish to leave Nociva entirely, then this would be the place to go.
[] Find Aurora. You have no clue where she is or how she spends her quiet days, but you suspect the priest of this Sanctum could likely point you in the right direction. The dreams are getting.. better? Worse? Either way, Aurora might be the only one in this entire, sprawling city who may relate….
-[]…and tell her you accept her offer, after some thought. She seems, by all reckoning, to be a true and earnest champion of faith. The Solars seem to have some intuition on your condition; you could imagine far worse than aiding Aurora as you look for answers, especially as it means you could learn more of who they are.
-[].. and politely refuse her offer. The world is vast and strange, and you suspect the Solars have no special truth or monopoly on enlightenment. Aurora is pious and dutiful, but a permanent alliance may be too far.
-[]… and make no mention of her offer. You still want time to think on it.
Votes for the last option can and probably should include a sub vote. If the last option wins (all sub votes combined), then I count up the sub votes to determine what Geln thinks of her offer.
Solarists seem to treat Aurora like some kind of otherworldy spirit. Having met her in person, something about that strikes you as.. wrong, although you're not sure by who. She reminds you far more of a templar, or perhaps a redeemer, than a priest.
You can't shake the feeling that something bad will happen at the end of the day.
You have at least two days to vote. Questions always welcome.
The interaction with the child was fascinating, both in how he views the world and how the Geln learned from it. Geln felt very wise, which sure an adult would be wiser than a kid but he handled the conversation very well and was able to help the kid. It feels like Geln has grown a bit, sure he's always been strangely wise and eloquent but this time felt a bit different to me in a way. Maybe it was the level of understanding Geln had? But yeah the vibes are starting to change given the tone of this chapter and the ending bits.
[X] Visit the temples of the Catena Stellarum, as many as you can. 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, investigate their eerie strangeness- and see if they have their own conclusions about your own.
Faith seems central to, well, a lot of things really and I'd like to hear more about ones other than the Solars.
[X] Find Aurora. You have no clue where she is or how she spends her quiet days, but you suspect the priest of this Sanctum could likely point you in the right direction. The dreams are getting.. better? Worse? Either way, Aurora might be the only one in this entire, sprawling city who may relate….
-[X].. and politely refuse her offer. The world is vast and strange, and you suspect the Solars have no special truth or monopoly on enlightenment. Aurora is pious and dutiful, but a permanent alliance may be too far.
I do not like the Solars at all, at all, or trust them. Aurora isn't too bad aside from being existentially terrifying, but I don't want to be in bed with these people. Going along with her offer also sort of short circuits the whole 'mercenary' thing in some ways, which seems like a shame.
[] Find Aurora. You have no clue where she is or how she spends her quiet days, but you suspect the priest of this Sanctum could likely point you in the right direction. The dreams are getting.. better? Worse? Either way, Aurora might be the only one in this entire, sprawling city who may relate….
-[]…and tell her you accept her offer, after some thought. She seems, by all reckoning, to be a true and earnest champion of faith. The Solars seem to have some intuition on your condition; you could imagine far worse than aiding Aurora as you look for answers, especially as it means you could learn more of who they are.
-[].. and politely refuse her offer. The world is vast and strange, and you suspect the Solars have no special truth or monopoly on enlightenment. Aurora is pious and dutiful, but a permanent alliance may be too far.
-[]… and make no mention of her offer. You still want time to think on it.
Kinda want an option chasing out specific details of what she'd be up to and where she'd be heading,
[X] Wander the bazaar. Nociva has more people in one place than you have ever seen, and their districts are swollen to match. Wherever you go here, the familiar signs of industry are almost overwhelming to your senses. You can't imagine nothing will interest you, and you have quite a lot of silver to burn.
She has no idea what she'll be doing in a week. She lives from divine mission to divine mission, and said divine missions often have gaps ranging from hours to weeks in between them. Currently, she just finished one, and hasn't received another.
She's not occupied right now, though, and you're not sure what she's doing 'Off the clock'.
The interaction with the child was fascinating, both in how he views the world and how the Geln learned from it. Geln felt very wise, which sure an adult would be wiser than a kid but he handled the conversation very well and was able to help the kid. It feels like Geln has grown a bit, sure he's always been strangely wise and eloquent but this time felt a bit different to me in a way. Maybe it was the level of understanding Geln had? But yeah the vibes are starting to change given the tone of this chapter and the ending bits.
The Islefolk do not believe in infantilising their infants. The world they live in is the one they like, but they have the self awareness to admit it's extremely violent. They want their children to grow up to be cunning, brave and strong, and that means encouraging them to grow up.
They also have free child care, and the Hearthguard are the people who do that, so Geln has both natural talent and some actual training on how to handle (and protect) children.
They also have free child care, and the Hearthguard are the people who do that, so Geln has both natural talent and some actual training on how to handle (and protect) children.
The fact the most professional and dangerous warriors on the Isle are the ones entrusted with looking after children really says it all about their society.
[X] Wander the bazaar. Nociva has more people in one place than you have ever seen, and their districts are swollen to match. Wherever you go here, the familiar signs of industry are almost overwhelming to your senses. You can't imagine nothing will interest you, and you have quite a lot of silver to burn.
WE NEED MOAR DOGGOS TO HAUL A CART FOR LOOT AND TRANSPORT!
also dog barding, Geln armor and supplies for tranquilizing targets of importance.
[X] Wander the bazaar. Nociva has more people in one place than you have ever seen, and their districts are swollen to match. Wherever you go here, the familiar signs of industry are almost overwhelming to your senses. You can't imagine nothing will interest you, and you have quite a lot of silver to burn.
[X] Visit the temples of the Catena Stellarum, as many as you can. 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, investigate their eerie strangeness- and see if they have their own conclusions about your own.
[X] Wander the bazaar. Nociva has more people in one place than you have ever seen, and their districts are swollen to match. Wherever you go here, the familiar signs of industry are almost overwhelming to your senses. You can't imagine nothing will interest you, and you have quite a lot of silver to burn.
There's a joke about retail therapy here, but I don't think I could sell it.
Unfortunately, even in the unlikely occurrence you do manage to bargain for Heavy Armour, it'll take weeks to create, which is somewhat of a logistical issue. A bit of hound armour is doable, thankfully. However, I will draw the line about accumulating too many pets; Geln does not have that time nor expertise, and neither do I.
Anyone else wants something? A wish list would actually be helpful. There's an enormous amount of goods that are both made in or sold to Nociva- some of it from quite distant Lodges, neighbouring Leagues, distant Tulane and even some Sarvorite luxuries. Propose whatever you want, and the worst I'll do is say no.
Scheduled vote count started by Shine on May 17, 2023 at 2:10 AM, finished with 9 posts and 5 votes.
[X] Wander the bazaar. Nociva has more people in one place than you have ever seen, and their districts are swollen to match. Wherever you go here, the familiar signs of industry are almost overwhelming to your senses. You can't imagine nothing will interest you, and you have quite a lot of silver to burn.
[X] Visit the temples of the Catena Stellarum, as many as you can. 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, investigate their eerie strangeness- and see if they have their own conclusions about your own.
[X] Find Aurora. You have no clue where she is or how she spends her quiet days, but you suspect the priest of this Sanctum could likely point you in the right direction. The dreams are getting.. better? Worse? Either way, Aurora might be the only one in this entire, sprawling city who may relate….
-[X].. and politely refuse her offer. The world is vast and strange, and you suspect the Solars have no special truth or monopoly on enlightenment. Aurora is pious and dutiful, but a permanent alliance may be too far.
COMPANIONS!
-A beastmaster companion for hire to teach us better dog combat, horse riding, also wilderness guiding if possible
-A healer that can heal midbattle
-A looter for all those traps, locks, and looting needs!
TRANSPORT AND LOOT CAPACITY
-A sturdy wheel-sled cart able to carry Geln, companions, and loot, comes with harness for a horse(s) to push... or a pack of trained dogs
-if the above is not possible, is there a giant beast available to carry Geln, Korra and loot for long stretches of travel and still be combat capable? A tamed dragon for instance? A triceratops?!
-Dog armor with pouches for loot
-more dogs to carry loot and transport!
ARMS, MAGIC AND ARMOR!
-Books for magic unlocking/improvement?
-A shield with strap (if the situation calls the bardiche too unwieldy for combat) and while slinged to our back, makes attacks from our blindside a lot harder to pull off
-Enchanted arrows?
-maybe another go at a metal mask for incognito?
-Something to deal with daemons quick
-Antimagic trinkets to deal with supernatural/mages
so why not dip into the merchantlife and buy some stuff here to trade at a premium at the next stop?
Especially if we can acquire a big beast of burden to carry loot!
stupid touristy stuff
a larger axe
potions or magical knick knacks.
Honestly I'm browsing to see the place and explore as much as anything. So stuff that you'd never see in the isles even if we'd never actually buy it could be good to Geln react to.
E:
COMPANIONS!
-A beastmaster companion for hire to teach us better dog combat, horse riding, also wilderness guiding if possible
-A healer that can heal midbattle
-A looter for all those traps, locks, and looting needs!
