Alaric
⠀
(Oh no. Good thing it was bo3 lol)
Catalyst Quest: Wild Growth
- Thread starter Alaric
- Start date
- Original Mature Fantasy Horror
Chapter 5: Retribution
Alaric
⠀
Chapter 5: Retribution
"Wait." Before anyone can begin to react, your long limbs and obscene strength makes quick work of swiping both glasses out from Father Pevrel's and Father Wilhelm's hands.
They look at you like you're insane, which you are, and that's fine. Making a show of licking your lips, you boast, "this is far and away some of the most phenomenal liquor I've ever had. It embodies all of Agriculture's domains."
Father Pevrel instantly gets it. The man knows you just recently courted the Goddess of Poison, and flicks an almost imperceptible glare towards Rolfe. The two of you have fought together and worked together often enough this month to then wordlessly communicate the rest. You return his gesture by putting a hand over his glass— in a motion to show Mercy to the man and to wait just another moment.
Meanwhile, Father Wilhelm seems to get it, and leans back in his chair. "Little known fact about the leader of the Church of Mercy! He's a man of all of the Gods. Agriculture included. No excuses for any impropriety, Rolfe. On the contrary!"
"Absolutely," you murmur, placing your hands together in prayer. "Nothing short of blessing this entire bottle will suffice. Please pay me no heed. You all go on ahead. I'll let you know the moment that I'm finished." You bow your head, and make an absolute show of sneaking another sip of one of the glasses.
Father Pevrel's drink was also poisoned. You sneak another sip of the last glass. Father Wilhelm's was poisoned, too. You safely assume that it was the entire bottle, and that the poisoner keeps a crop of lily of the valley somewhere in the area. It wouldn't be hard to hide, given the proximity of the forest.
You launch into a convoluted prayer to your Goddess, in a small and quiet voice, making sure to catch every word of the rest of the conversation. "Agriculture, we thank you for this refreshing reminder of your domains. Forgive me for partaking of your gifts before thanking you for this, the embodiment of life..."
"So! Rolfe!" Father Wilhelm leans further back on the bench, arms crossed, puffing away at a cigar you did not see him acquire or light. "The entire reason we've arrived here in this clean little village— it is quite nice, by the way—"
"...for the vim and vigor which you do often restore, permit me to thank you once more for your bounty..."
"Thanks." The man has yet to let go of the bottle of whiskey, and though he isn't visibly sweating, you can see his jaw tense as he speaks.
"...the vibrancy of which is only rivaled by the depth of your taste, the richness with which you grace us..."
"—not a problem! We're here to investigate some missing persons. It's quite peculiar. Not a soul has been named, but normally with situations like this, you'd have people plainly talking about who've they lost. It's very odd."
"...or the death that I pray shall never take me from such substantial gifts..."
"That is peculiar." Rolfe scratches his beard, eyeing you intently.
You sneak another gulp of the second glass, finishing it off completely, and continue to grin to yourself. A hiccup escapes you from drinking so quickly. Hamming up the performance is likely only aiding the illusion that you're becoming intoxicated.
"...though returning to your earth would be worth partaking of such exquisite pleasures..."
Turning to face Rolfe, Father Pevrel adds, "we're heading out from the city as soon as this is cleared up, and I'd really rather not have to go through the hassle of interrogating half the town. This is a lovely community you all have here, Mr. Robson. I take it that the Rakestraws were only frightened by my appearance."
The man shrugs, laughing a little to himself. "What can I say? They scare easily." He waves the bottle towards you, the question for more written all over the psycho's face.
You slide the first glass towards him, muttering to yourself all the while. "Thank you. O Goddess, let us celebrate our host's generosity. Let us celebrate Your harvest..."
"Things haven't been dark around here for a very long time. I think they're willing to do whatever it takes to keep things that way."
Father Wilhelm yawns behind the back of his hand, somehow managing to keep his cigar in place through the motion. Your head is swimming from the spice on the air, and your desire to bash in the skull of the man who's pouring more poison right into your glass, but you restrain yourself for a moment longer. (Generally speaking. A quick swig of the glass does confirm that the entire bottle is poisoned.)
"I don't mean to make any leading suggestions," Father Pevrel says, "but it's late, and I hate mincing words. The way you are referring to the Rakestraw's behavior is damning. Are you implying that they're involved with this entire affair?"
A confident glance goes from you, to a man who's known for divine retribution. "I wouldn't go that far. In fact, I'd say there isn't a person in Yellow Hallows who's really to blame."
"Not a single person?" Father Pevrel asks.
"Nope."
"...above all other things, Agriculture, we wish to thank you for your most under appreciated domain..."
"It's a demon."
You cough and splutter for a few seconds. "Exc-cuse me?"
The man goes to pat your back. "Are you alright?"
"Could I see the bottle?" A miserable look goes to the three empty glasses before you. "Before I share this with everyone else—"
"Of course." He hands the item over without question.
You calm down enough to finish the prayer. "Let us extol the virtues to be had in all of this drink..."
A quick glance is given towards Father Pevrel that you're going to give him an opening. His hand slowly moves towards the hilt of his sword.
In one fell motion, you kick back the bench, pivot as hard as you can towards Rolfe, and smash the bottle over his head with both hands.
"Poison!"
The small, thin, green-glass item bursts into a shower of razor-sharp shards in all directions. Half of its contents intermingle with an immediate outpouring of blood, as the impact cleaves a gash from Rolfe's temple back to the rear of his skull. He doesn't let out a cry, which strikes you as borderline inhuman.
The man staggers, and nearly falls— but Father Pevrel is behind him in the blink of an eye, grabs the man by his neck, and has the point of his sword to Rolfe's throat.
"Don't move." The gravel of your ally's voice carries no pretense of what will happen if he disobeys.
You shake your wrist— it's throbbing from the shock of the blow— and set down the fractured glass cap onto the table beside you. Your vision is swimming from exhaustion, hunger, and anger. There's a huge gash across your palm. Normally, it would be a non-issue to use something as an improvised weapon, but you're far from at the top of your game tonight. You make a note to take better care of yourself, and finish the prayer.
"Thank you, Agriculture, for granting me the will to see through this falsehood. To illuminate how quickly our host's gifts would lead to our deaths, should anyone but I drink it. To share is to grow."
A quick glance to Father Wilhelm. He's shaken, but gives you an incredibly grateful look, and stands back to let Father Pevrel do what he does best.
A jet-black, lethally sharp sword rests right against an artery.
You stride over, and immediately settle into what you do best. "Stay your hand. I need answers."
The sadist can't help but dig the tip of his blade into Rolfe's neck, but he eases up just enough to let you both speak.
Rolfe swallows a few times, hard. Rivulets of blood drip into the top of his fine linen shirt. He's still reeling from the blow you dealt, and nearly collapses in Father Pevrel's arms.
You stride up, drag the man to his feet by his bloody collar, and keep him there. "You can poison me. You can try to poison Pevrel. But I draw the fucking line at poisoning Father Wilhelm."
Your blue-eyed ally is looking to you with some serious gratitude, and no small measure of worry.
Shoving the poisoner back towards Father Pevrel's hold leaves a huge imprint of blood on the man's shirt. You're so pissed, you hadn't even noticed how deep the gash was.
It can wait another moment.
The tone of your voice could kill. It's woken up Rolfe, who's staring at you now with serious fear for his life in his eyes. "Don't make this any uglier than it already is. Who put you up to this? Was it this demon? Speak quickly. I'm going to see to your injury in a moment. You'll be lucky if none of the poison got in your own system."
"No." The hold on the man's neck tightens considerably. You fire a warning look to Father Pevrel— who's grinning like the maniac he is— but he relaxes his grip. "I mean yes. Just let me explain—"
"Start explaining." You snatch a huge swatch of bandages from your things, and start applying pressure to your hand. It's going to leave a serious scar, but you can't be assed to care.
Blood trickles down the poisoner's face, snaking around his brow and down past either side of his nose. It's not that you want the man to suffer— you just seriously have to address your own injury before you can see to his.
"You don't understand what you're doing just by being here. There's a demon. I was going to tell you about it before I killed you— so you'd at least know that it was for good reason. We've kept the monster at bay for a generation. All of us— everyone—" He hisses in, obviously in severe pain from the blow you dealt.
You say, "Mercy forgive me, but fuck this," toss aside the soaked bandages from your hand, and start cleaning and dressing the man's wound while he's still in a choke-hold. "You're not going anywhere," you mutter. "Keep talking."
Father Pevrel could not look more excited at the prospect of keeping his captive from going anywhere. He whispers, "you know I'll be happy to break your legs, if you try to escape."
"That was completely unnecessary." You're seething. It's fine.
"Look— it would be Mercy if you did kill me—" Rolfe is barely able to speak while you set about stitching the wound on his scalp shut. His tenacity is commendable— if nothing else— as he grits out the rest.
"This is a demon of dread. It takes in anyone that gets close to it, and we've never seen anyone come back. Most people have left Yellow Hallows by now, save for the— hhsss— for the families who are praying they'll see their loved ones again. We found out that if it feeds on dread, it grows weaker if we don't give it any. So we've tried to make the happiest place in the whole fucking country—" He's tearing up from pain on multiple levels, and keeps pressing on.
"And even right now, you all are making it stronger. I can't let anyone undo everything that we've done here—"
The hold on Rolfe's neck shifts.
There's a loud sound, like lightning snapping a tree branch in half.
The man standing before you crumples at the knees, though he's still alive.
A knife clatters to the floor.
You connect the dots, and realize that Father Pevrel broke one of Rolfe's wrists in a split second.
The lord of retribution clicks his tongue, quickly slides the weapon away with one of his feet, and expertly keeps the killer standing. A thin trail of sweat is on his brow. "Shame about that."
Father Wilhelm gets up, crosses the room, and keeps well over an arm's length away from the scene. "You won't make a sound because you're frightened of disturbing your neighbors...? Is that it?"
He's in too much pain to speak, but nods his balding head several times, eyes screwed shut, fighting as hard as he can to brace his broken limb against something.
You're cringing, having had your bones splintered and fractured more times than you can count. It's all you can do to shove away Father Pevrel, and to ease the man down to the floor. "Swear to me that you won't run out into the street. A scene is only going to make matters worse, right?"
Another few nods. You talk while shooing away Father Pevrel, and fastening a makeshift splint from a few extra pieces of slim wood in your things. "If this demon is as volatile as you're implying, we don't have much time, then. I do not want to have to keep repeating myself, Rolfe. What have you done here? Speak swiftly."
He's trying as hard as he can not to scream. Each word is forced, and horrible, and he still powers through it.
"We've killed anyone who's come into town— who's brought any trouble with them. Innocents— gone free. Even killing you three would have been worth it. Easy to get rid of the bodies. The demon takes them. The demon takes anyone who gets near to it. It's in the house down this street. Don't go at night."
Ensuring that the man's limb is completely secure, you still keep his legs pinned under one of your knees. You're so much more imposing than he is, it's effortless to keep him from moving. He's wincing in pain, but you don't let up. "How many, Rolfe? How many have already died by your hands?"
"At least ten." It looks like he's going to cry. "I'm sorry." A terrified glance goes to Father Pevrel, who is literally sharpening his sword. "Please don't kill me. All I've been trying to do is help us get back who we've lost. My wife and daughter were taken five years ago." He's crying. It's rough, and ugly, and you don't look away for a second.
"What about the others?"
"I have no idea. We're not workin' together, aside from everyone just trying to do their part."
"For how long?"
"It's only been in the last few years that any of this has gotten so out of hand. The demon has been here for at least thirty years, though. There's no telling how many lives it's taken."
"Thirty—" Father Wilhelm can't help himself, and looks completely mortified. It occurs to you that he's also lost a son in the last few years, and is infinitely softer than even you.
"I won't kill you, Rolfe." You fire a warning glare at Father Pevrel. "No one here needs to die." Back to the man below you, who's fighting with everything he has to get a hold of himself. "I need you to tell me everything you know about this demon."
"That's all I know. I've never gotten close enough to it. My girls were just on a walk, one day, and it took them. Like a shadow. We cleared out every other house on the block, and draw straws for who keeps the candles lit at night. It hates the light. There's a festival tomorrow, where they're going to do it again. The drawing. We—"
He folds in on himself, crying like a man who hasn't been permitted to feel in thirty years. "I'm so sorry. Please stop it. I'm just making things worse, but I can't help myself. You might as well just kill me now."
The Justiciar of Corcaea has been standing right behind you this entire time, and motions for you to get up. "Get your own wound looked at, for fuck's sake."
The two of you switch positions quickly, though all the warning in the world is in your voice. "Don't you dare kill him."
The same knife that Rolfe tried to stab Father Pevrel with is now levered at the man's face. You get back to applying pressure to your own injury, and fight against the heat in your hand and face to focus. It's a haze of incoming pain and pleasure that has absolutely no place in this disaster, but it's there, and you are just going to deal with it.
"Where did you get the poison, Mr. Robson?"
"G-garden outside. It's away from the village, so no kids or pets get into it."
"What kind is it, and what would it have done to us?"
"Lily of the valley. You probably know it as glovewort. Your heart would have given out before morning. With any luck, you'd be asleep through most of it. Maybe all of it."
Or none of it.
"No one hired you?"
"No."
"You attempted to kill us all with no ulterior motive? This demon hasn't ever bargained with you?"
Rolfe sounds like he's going to scream, but he keeps his voice down to a murmur. "No."
"You have never seen this demon?"
"Only its shadow, at night. I know better than to get too close."
"And you were willing to divulge this information to us freely, before Father Anscham deduced that you were poisoning us?"
A hard glance is fired at you, then to the leader of the Church of Vengeance. "If I'm to be honest? Only when I knew you were all going to be dead come morning."
The point of the knife has yet to waver. Father Pevrel speaks with a voice that's even more level. "Four counts of attempted murder. At least ten counts of cold-blooded murder. Conspiracy to murder on behalf of the entire village of Yellow Hallows. Flippant disregard for the number of lives taken on behalf of a demon. Dishonesty in the face of the lord of truth. Obstruction of justice on behalf of the Church of Vengeance, the Church of Mercy, and the Church of Dream."
"As the blade of the King, I must mete out an appropriate response to such sins of heresy and treason, Rolfe Robson. Not even exile to the Fulgurous Wastes would be appropriate punishment for this insult you have paid to the Gods Themselves."
An eyeless, psychotic smile is pointed directly towards you. "In the name of the God of Vengeance— with due respect paid towards the leader of the Church of Mercy, and in honor of the presence of the Lord of Night— I propose that we have Mr. Robson lead us to this demon's den after dark. If he is taken before any of us, he will have seen an end befitting of both his wife, his child, and his own mortal soul."
The man rips himself away from Father Pevrel's grasp, shouting slightly as he aggravates his broken wrist, and begs.
"Mercy, Father. Please. Mercy."
Father Wilhelm legitimately looks too horrified to comment.
The lord of wrath snatches the man by his broken wrist, eliciting a shout from Rolfe and you simultaneously.
"Ow—!"
"Let him go—!"
The sadist releases Rolfe's wrist, but keeps him pinned to the ground. That crooked smile is flashed to his victim, instead. "If you aid us in putting a stop to this demon, you'll have put an end to this murderous affair throughout your entire village. The number of lives you'll have saved will equal or exceed that which you have taken. As such, I believe that if you survive the night, releasing you from my custody would be fair judgement."
The vacant holes that your ally has for eyes narrows into slits. "And my judgement is always fair."
>The majority of these prompts are mutually exclusive.
>Majority vote will decide in the event of conflicting votes.
>Write-ins are subject to QM discretion, as always, but particularly in this situation. Prompt D has more information.
>A] This is honestly a good proposition, no matter how ugly it may seem. Agree to the plan, and head out. The lord of justice has done what he does best, and you're not about to argue with him about how to respect his God, his church, and his life's work.
>B] Rolfe had better get comfortable, because he's getting tied down for the night. You are the lord of the day, and not a sadist. You will stick to Father Pevrel's plan, but you're dealing with this demon come morning— and some of you are getting some sleep in the meantime. You're willing to argue with Father Pevrel for half the night to make it happen, too. (Write-ins to support this prompt may help increase the amount of sleep everyone gets.)
>1] You'll keep watch the entire night. You don't trust Father Pevrel at all with this man alone, and Father Wilhelm might not have the nerve to keep him in check. You can sleep when this demon is put to rest.
>2] You'll take turns with Father Wilhelm keeping watch. You've seen him kill a dozen demons back-to-back. He can handle himself.
>3] Take turns with both of your allies keeping watch. Father Pevrel is a sadist, but he's also an honorable man. You know he'd keep his word to not harm Rolfe if you can make him swear not to.
>C] You'll stick to Father Pevrel's judgement, but this will be carried out tomorrow night. You all need some sleep.
>1] You'll keep watch the entire day and night. Better start brewing up something energizing! You're going to need it. (Feel free to write-in if you want to ask Rolfe about anything else, small things you want to do like experimenting with your abilities, or if you just want to try and get some rest.
>2] You'll take turns with Father Wilhelm keeping watch.
>3] Take turns with both of your allies keeping watch.
>D] You are willing to overstep your boundaries, and will tell Father Pevrel how to handle his God, his Church, and his life's work for the first time ever. It's not going to be easy, and he's going to be furious, but you have a better solution that you're willing to propose. (Write-in. Strong arguments in favor of modern terms of justice may not apply to Father Pevrel's medieval logic. As the leader of the Church of Mercy, you also are beholden to a number of creeds that are directly opposed towards punishing anyone at all. Your QM will try to provide guidance if you all would like to ask questions, but be prepared to be told no by the lord of wrath— or FAR worse— if your argument gets out of hand.)
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>B] Rolfe had better get comfortable, because he's getting tied down for the night. You are the lord of the day, and not a sadist. You will stick to Father Pevrel's plan, but you're dealing with this demon come morning— and some of you are getting some sleep in the meantime. You're willing to argue with Father Pevrel for half the night to make it happen, too. (Write-ins to support this prompt may help increase the amount of sleep everyone gets.)
>3] Take turns with both of your allies keeping watch. Father Pevrel is a sadist, but he's also an honorable man. You know he'd keep his word to not harm Rolfe if you can make him swear not to.
We'll divide the night into three watches, early evening, midnight, and early morning. Father Wilhelm gets first watch as Dream is easier to invoke at night, Father Pevrel get middle watch when it is darkest since he can see demons and sinners in the dark, and we get the early morning so we are up and ready for dawn and can tend to Rolfe's wounds in the morning light and maybe spark some hope in him to push away the dread.
If Father Pevrel has an issue with waiting till morning as being unfair punishment for Rolfe, we could maybe alter it to a forced cloister in Eadric's Church of Mercy for a month (year?) per person who died at his hands as penance during which he must assist in assuaging the suffering of others. I assume we can negotiate a fair amount of time with Father Pevrel. It gets him out of danger and might keep him from running if he knows he won't get pushed in front of the demon that destroyed his life.
Also, ask him why would he think to poison not one, but 3 Fathers, who are each the most powerful invokers of their respective Churches, capable of fending off multiple demons each by themselves and already made it clear they are here and willing to save the town which has a single demon in it?
>3] Take turns with both of your allies keeping watch. Father Pevrel is a sadist, but he's also an honorable man. You know he'd keep his word to not harm Rolfe if you can make him swear not to.
We'll divide the night into three watches, early evening, midnight, and early morning. Father Wilhelm gets first watch as Dream is easier to invoke at night, Father Pevrel get middle watch when it is darkest since he can see demons and sinners in the dark, and we get the early morning so we are up and ready for dawn and can tend to Rolfe's wounds in the morning light and maybe spark some hope in him to push away the dread.
If Father Pevrel has an issue with waiting till morning as being unfair punishment for Rolfe, we could maybe alter it to a forced cloister in Eadric's Church of Mercy for a month (year?) per person who died at his hands as penance during which he must assist in assuaging the suffering of others. I assume we can negotiate a fair amount of time with Father Pevrel. It gets him out of danger and might keep him from running if he knows he won't get pushed in front of the demon that destroyed his life.
Also, ask him why would he think to poison not one, but 3 Fathers, who are each the most powerful invokers of their respective Churches, capable of fending off multiple demons each by themselves and already made it clear they are here and willing to save the town which has a single demon in it?
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Mar
Web Novel Addict
- Location
- USA
>B] Rolfe had better get comfortable, because he's getting tied down for the night. You are the lord of the day, and not a sadist. You will stick to Father Pevrel's plan, but you're dealing with this demon come morning— and some of you are getting some sleep in the meantime. You're willing to argue with Father Pevrel for half the night to make it happen, too. (Write-ins to support this prompt may help increase the amount of sleep everyone gets.)
>Thebutternut
>3] Take turns with both of your allies keeping watch. Father Pevrel is a sadist, but he's also an honorable man. You know he'd keep his word to not harm Rolfe if you can make him swear not to.
>Thebutternut
>3] Take turns with both of your allies keeping watch. Father Pevrel is a sadist, but he's also an honorable man. You know he'd keep his word to not harm Rolfe if you can make him swear not to.
>B] Rolfe had better get comfortable, because he's getting tied down for the night. You are the lord of the day, and not a sadist. You will stick to Father Pevrel's plan, but you're dealing with this demon come morning— and some of you are getting some sleep in the meantime. You're willing to argue with Father Pevrel for half the night to make it happen, too. (Write-ins to support this prompt may help increase the amount of sleep everyone gets.)
>3] Take turns with both of your allies keeping watch. Father Pevrel is a sadist, but he's also an honorable man. You know he'd keep his word to not harm Rolfe if you can make him swear not to.
>3] Take turns with both of your allies keeping watch. Father Pevrel is a sadist, but he's also an honorable man. You know he'd keep his word to not harm Rolfe if you can make him swear not to.
Florin
Priest of Yech
>B] Rolfe had better get comfortable, because he's getting tied down for the night. You are the lord of the day, and not a sadist. You will stick to Father Pevrel's plan, but you're dealing with this demon come morning— and some of you are getting some sleep in the meantime. You're willing to argue with Father Pevrel for half the night to make it happen, too. (Write-ins to support this prompt may help increase the amount of sleep everyone gets.)
>3] Take turns with both of your allies keeping watch.
For the sake of operational safety we need to get as much rest as possible, a night attack against this demon is likely going to be suicide as we just learned that it is weak to light. This thing feeds on dread not terror, keeping everyone in this demented panopticon is not reducing the dread, it is increasing it. The only cure for this is hope, actual honest to the Gods hope. Come morning I propose going around and speaking to all of the residents about what we are going to do, about the things we have done and how this time the faith they put into us will have a tangible result on the coming fight. Bolstering the spirits of all the remaining villagers is worth it, we could even promise them clemency from the crimes they have committed to protect themselves. It is our fault they had to endure this for amount of time they have, I refuse to let them dread us in the same way they dread this demon. Richard is a priest of Time AND Mercy, I propose we attempt to attack this demon at midday when the sun is at it's highest point. It should give us enough time to rally the village folk and make plans.
>3] Take turns with both of your allies keeping watch.
For the sake of operational safety we need to get as much rest as possible, a night attack against this demon is likely going to be suicide as we just learned that it is weak to light. This thing feeds on dread not terror, keeping everyone in this demented panopticon is not reducing the dread, it is increasing it. The only cure for this is hope, actual honest to the Gods hope. Come morning I propose going around and speaking to all of the residents about what we are going to do, about the things we have done and how this time the faith they put into us will have a tangible result on the coming fight. Bolstering the spirits of all the remaining villagers is worth it, we could even promise them clemency from the crimes they have committed to protect themselves. It is our fault they had to endure this for amount of time they have, I refuse to let them dread us in the same way they dread this demon. Richard is a priest of Time AND Mercy, I propose we attempt to attack this demon at midday when the sun is at it's highest point. It should give us enough time to rally the village folk and make plans.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
I would oppose Pevrel's plan as it exists solely for the reason that it scares the life out of our victim unwilling ally, complicating the ensuing confrontation unnecessarily.
No one has seen the demon up close and lived, huh? Looks like it thrives on the fear of unknown. No need to go out at night, let's go in broad daylight and make it show its face. A danger you can see plainly doesn't hold a candle to the terrors of one's imagination.
>B] Rolfe had better get comfortable, because he's getting tied down for the night. You are the lord of the day, and not a sadist. You will stick to Father Pevrel's plan, but you're dealing with this demon come morning— and some of you are getting some sleep in the meantime. You're willing to argue with Father Pevrel for half the night to make it happen, too. (Write-ins to support this prompt may help increase the amount of sleep everyone gets.)
>3] Take turns with both of your allies keeping watch.
I support a declaration to the village. Somehow I suspect the demon really hates observers, witnesses, or any kind of exposure. Let's make a show out of it then.
...still on Chapter 75 of the last thread. I suppose I got saved by our departure that allows me to follow this plot separately from the last one.
No one has seen the demon up close and lived, huh? Looks like it thrives on the fear of unknown. No need to go out at night, let's go in broad daylight and make it show its face. A danger you can see plainly doesn't hold a candle to the terrors of one's imagination.
>B] Rolfe had better get comfortable, because he's getting tied down for the night. You are the lord of the day, and not a sadist. You will stick to Father Pevrel's plan, but you're dealing with this demon come morning— and some of you are getting some sleep in the meantime. You're willing to argue with Father Pevrel for half the night to make it happen, too. (Write-ins to support this prompt may help increase the amount of sleep everyone gets.)
>3] Take turns with both of your allies keeping watch.
I support a declaration to the village. Somehow I suspect the demon really hates observers, witnesses, or any kind of exposure. Let's make a show out of it then.
...still on Chapter 75 of the last thread. I suppose I got saved by our departure that allows me to follow this plot separately from the last one.
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>B] Rolfe had better get comfortable, because he's getting tied down for the night. You are the lord of the day, and not a sadist. You will stick to Father Pevrel's plan, but you're dealing with this demon come morning— and some of you are getting some sleep in the meantime. You're willing to argue with Father Pevrel for half the night to make it happen, too. (Write-ins to support this prompt may help increase the amount of sleep everyone gets.)
>3] Take turns with both of your allies keeping watch.
>3] Take turns with both of your allies keeping watch.
Alaric
⠀
(Alright everyone, the unanimous vote for B3 is locked! I'll be incorporating just about everything you guys suggested and taking a few liberties where appropriate. Great stuff all around!
I'm really under the weather tonight (threw out my back this morning, ouch!) so apologies if the update is a bit briefer than usual. I'll do my best to keep it up to my standards of quality!
Writing now.)
I'm really under the weather tonight (threw out my back this morning, ouch!) so apologies if the update is a bit briefer than usual. I'll do my best to keep it up to my standards of quality!
Writing now.)
Chapter 6: Demented Panopticon
Alaric
⠀
Chapter 6: Demented Panopticon
"This man didn't destroy his own life." Just as much conviction is in your voice as there is in the hand that Father Pevrel keeps on his blade.
The lord of righteousness snaps his glare to you. "Watch yourself, Anscham."
"Are you going to argue with me that this catastrophe— this— this twisted, claustrophobic den of paranoia and sin— isn't the fault of the demon? That this man's life would be better served by leading him straight into darkness and certain death?" You lower the tone of your voice to one nearly as grave as your furious ally's. "Are you willing to deny me the opportunity to grant this man Mercy and to honor your patron?"
The knife is lowered, but Father Pevrel remains on the ground, still pinning Rolfe with all his strength.
Your unhappy host looks to you with gratitude and blood in his eyes— until you resume speaking.
"I propose that we find a means of relocation. An apt length of time spent in the halls of the Church of Mercy, where Rolfe will be required to atone for his misdeeds."
"An apt length of time?" Father Pevrel sneers, mocking the softness of your speech. "He robbed these men and women of decades—"
"So you argue that it would be best to waste yet another life? If we were to keep Rolfe imprisoned for an equal length of time as the lives he's taken, his own life might as well be forfeit. That is no way to handle the last of humanity, Father Pevrel. Or need I remind you that our ultimate goal is to serve our nation, the peoples within it, the will of the King— the Merciful— and all of the Gods—"
Your fellow preacher snaps, "FINE. Fine, Anscham." His glare flickers over Rolfe. "The ages and occupations of everyone you've killed. Now. Don't try to be cute. I'll know if you're lying."
With extreme difficulty, the killer manages to relay well over one dozen ages and titles. All of his victims were travelers, and most were well into their 20's or 30's.
"A month for every year of their lives, then." The lord of wrath seems pleased with the arrangement. "A total of twenty-five years in the Church of Mercy, to atone for your sins."
It's a lot less than you were expecting. No complaints on your end.
"This is an unprecedented offer, Rolfe. Do you understand the leniency you are being offered?" Father Pevrel lowers the damn knife, if only to get a better look at his victim's face.
He's trying with everything he has not to cry. "Y-yes." It's obvious that the man is still scared out of his wits over confronting this demon. His desperate, wide-eyed, and pleading stare goes up to you. "If my girls make it out alive...?"
"I would not deny you their company," you murmur. "Any and all denizens of Corcaea are welcome in the city of shields— and the halls of my home are open to any who seek safe refuge there."
The grown man curls back into himself, clutching onto the break in his wrist. "Thank you, Father."
You call to Father Wilhelm. He takes a few shaky steps forward, and you both come to an arrangement for him to stay on first watch through the night. Further arguments are made with Father Pevrel over the next two hours, while you completely secure Rolfe, ensure everyone actually has something for supper, and finally talk the lord of wrath into not laying a finger on your captive for the remainder of the night. He swears not to.
The poison is cleaned up by your careful hands, and everyone gladly agrees that you're first to taste any food or drink anyone else has for the remainder of the trip.
Exhausted beyond belief— your hand still throbbing, with a deep headache to accompany it— you crawl into your makeshift sleeping arrangement on the floor of the dining room. The table was shoved aside so that everyone could be available in the event of an incident, and so you could be available at a moment's notice if any poison did made contact with anyone else.
With Rolfe tied down with half the rope you possess, Father Wilhelm standing by in the throes of an invocation of Dream, and Father Pevrel reclining against a nearby wall (he swears he doesn't need any sleep), you close your eyes, and drift off into the dark.
Roughly an hour later, Father Wilhelm shakes you awake. You snap upright, breathing hard, and wildly look around for any source of danger.
The room is pitch-black. Father Pevrel is asleep standing up, and Rolfe has drifted off as well.
You're able to see thanks to the man beside you. Father Wilhelm has every painted crack in his skin swimming with visions of the night. Cerulean streaks across the nonexistent whites of his eyes. Stars swim in a reverie for the eyes of a God and His partner alone.
In a whisper, the leader of the Church of Dream speaks with the Night. "You were snoring."
You fight not to laugh, and whisper in reply, "is that all?"
"Nonsense. You were also about to have a night terror. Let me show you a few things. I'll go open a window, and you go ahead and lay on your side..."
The lord of rest walks you through a simple series of suggestions to improve your sleep quality. It's too wholesome and well-intentioned for you to refuse. Most of the suggestions will have to be followed before you lay down on future nights, but you thank your mentor excessively for his kindness, and get back to a few brief hours of rest.
No one visits you in the darkness.
Rising before the sun is second-nature for you, so it's hardly an issue for you to relieve Father Pevrel from his watch, and to make a few quick concessions for yourself. You genuinely feel more well-rested, though your hand is still throbbing, and the damn ache in your soul is incessant.
A quick inventory is ran over all of your weapons and gear. There's no telling what you're going into today, but you feel like you at least have ample options at your disposal. The injury on your hand is seen to as best as you're able— which is with the finest care anyone in the nation possesses— so you take further comfort in knowing you'll heal rapidly. It's still going to compromise your ability to keep a firm grip on a weapon without causing you undue pain, but you also have options for pain relief, and try not to dwell on it too hard.
After getting ready for the day and making a quick prayer to all of the Gods, you settle down next to Rolfe. He stirs in his sleep only once, in a fit of pain. You get the man to stop putting pressure on the break in his wrist, and gently rouse him.
"Rolfe. Rolfe. Wake up. It's Father Anscham."
No reply, though the man roughly shifts to sit up. You help him into a more comfortable position, and set to work on treating his injuries further. A pair of red, exhausted eyes drift open to greet you. The gash on his head is nowhere near as severe as the slash on your hand, but the break Father Pevrel caused is going to be a serious pain in the ass. It turns out that it's above Rolfe's dominant hand, and he won't be able to use a weapon or shield with effectiveness as a result.
The moment his wounds are treated, you move to unfasten the man's legs.
"What are you doing," he hisses.
"I thought you might appreciate a little light. Come here."
Helping the man to his feet— keeping a firm hold on his good arm— you lead Rolfe to the nearest window, just as the sun rises.
The town's namesake makes a lot more sense. As dawn pulls over Yellow Hallows, golden light splashes across the peaks of every roof in the village. Rays bask over the little winding roads, across the lovely little flower beds, and into the faces of your sleeping companions.
Still standing, Father Pevrel moves as if he had never rested at all. That is to say, his wavering motions are jerky, and he's immediately fishing for a drink from his hip flask. "'morning. The fuck do you think you're doing?"
The small measure of politeness almost throws you off-guard. You murmur, "blessed be the day, Father Pevrel. Rolfe and I were appreciating a little more Mercy this morning."
With significantly more care than you'd expect, the lord of shadow moves to rouse your sleeping ally. The elderly man calmly sits upright and removes his ridiculous eye-mask. It has little embroidered sheep all over it, which you can't help but love.
A weary smile goes out to the rest of the house you're inhabiting. "Good morning. Dream was particularly kind to me last night. No visions of anything foul in the dark! I take it we're traveling by day, then?"
Everyone looks to you.
You look to Rolfe.
The three of you look to Rolfe. He cows away from the intense scrutiny.
You're baffled. "I have to ask, why— why would you think to poison not one, but three fathers— who are each the most powerful invokers of their respective Churches, capable of fending off multiple demons each— and had already made it clear that we are here to save your village...?"
No reply. Misery stares to the floor.
Father Wilhelm frowns. "Grief can bring the strongest of men to their knees. I don't believe he was thinking with his mind, Richard. He was surely thinking with his heart."
The way that Rolfe is clutching onto his broken arm looks like it must be hurting him. "Somethin' like that."
You tighten your fists, and fire a glare at Father Pevrel in particular. "This demon does not feed off of terror. It feeds off of dread. I'd like to rally the village, and truly weaken this creature as much as possible." There's hope in your heart, and all the morning's sun in your eyes. "We'll enter its domain at noon, when the sun is highest."
"And just how do you suppose you'll do that? We can't leave him here like this. I suppose you'll want me to be on babysitting duty, while you go getting attacked by a mob of people? The first couple we spoke to were fighting to not be openly hostile. This is not the only man in Yellow Hallows who is guilty of serial murder. As much as I would like to address them all this instant, it is a fool's errand to tackle them all first."
The priest has the audacity to stride up to you, and pokes you once in the chest. He instantly grimaces at how soft you are. "As YOU said before, we are not here to fight mankind. You are playing with fire, Anscham. They will have no reason to fight us or antagonize us in any way if we head straight towards their problem."
He backs up before you can bat his fingers away, and keeps sneering. "They will not follow us, if we are heading straight towards this demon. I can't even imagine how capable the three of us will be together, as you just said. We also have someone invested in keeping the demon distracted, and escaping with any potential lives we save. Waiting until noon is not a bad idea. But getting the entire village involved is idiocy. What are you thinking?"
Unable to stand by another second, Father Wilhelm gives a disparaging stare to your more irritable ally. "They are holding a festival this morning, just a little ways away. It's unlikely that the peoples of Yellow Hallows will want to cause strife so close to the demon's home." A hopeful glance fires to you, with a completely unhinged smile. "I'm sure if things got too out of hand, we could simply make a run for the house."
A bark of a laugh escapes from Father Pevrel. "You want to use the demon's lair as shelter if we have a mob coming after us? And how do you suppose we'll drag this one along for the ride?" He's referring to Ralph, but continues to leer only at you. "To say nothing of the issues it will cause if you rile up everyone before we get into the demon's lair, or what lives could be lost if they come after us."
>A] Father Pevrel is on babysitting duty. You'll go to the festival with Father Wilhelm, and will try to rally the people there. You're not welcome, so you'll crash the party, and will give a speech before you're ran off. Make a show out of it, and really try to sell Yellow Hallows on how misguided their work has been over the last thirty years. (Write-ins may SERIOUSLY help your success or failure.)
>B] Do your best to find anyone willing to listen. Go around the entire village, if you must. You'll not hold back, and will keep up the effort right up until noon. (Write-ins may SERIOUSLY help your success or failure.)
>1] You won't lay a hand on anyone, even if they try to come at you. More conflict will only feed this demon, and you know you can take whatever anyone has to dish out. Insist that your companions resort to violence only if absolutely necessary.
>2] You will all defend yourselves if necessary, by any non-lethal means you can.
>C] This is actually a really terrible idea, now that you're thinking about the logistics of it. It should be completely sufficient to leave the townspeople to their own devices, and to go confront this demon under the full light of day. Rally your ally's hopes instead of a hostile village!
>1] You'll have all morning to plan and prepare yourselves, and might even get some more rest, if you leave at noon with everyone in tow. A more cautious approach is definitely the safest one.
>2] Have Father Pevrel go ahead with Rolfe to the demon's home, just before noon. You'll stay behind with Father Wilhelm, and will try to give a compelling speech to everyone nearby before approaching the demon's lair. You'll make a break for it then, and only then, if you have to.
>D] There's probably a way to make this work. You've done crazier and more ill-advised things before! (Write-in any other ideas you have, suggestions to bolster the plan to rally the village, contingency plans if you're chased with torches and pitchforks, etc.)
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Alaric
⠀
Happy 2nd Year Anniversary!
I can't believe it's been two years already. We started our journey on /qst/, and I spent 3.5 months out of this year transferring our entire archive here to Sufficient Velocity to bring you guys all the best quality story and community that I can. It's only been three months since we started running here on SV, but I can't thank everyone enough who made that jump with us, and to all of our new readers and voters as well.
I polled our Discord for something sweet to make to commemorate the date! They wanted a wallpaper made with ALL of the art I've made of the demons you've seen thus far, the entire pantheon, every character you've seen, or your favorite items from your inventory. So, in classic Catalyst fashion, I went ahead and made all of them. (These are some large images, so I put them all behind spoilers! Give 'em a minute to load if you're on a slower connection.)
Thanks again so, so much to each and every one of you that's made this unbelievable roller coaster of a journey possible. I've lost count of how many images we're at, but we've clocked over 1.8 million words, have shared over 645 songs, are now into our 9th arc, and are far and away beyond anything I had originally imagined! I'm sincerely looking forward to continuing this chapter of the quest, and to all of the adventures you all will have hereafter.
Regardless of whether you've been with us since the beginning, or if this is your first time visiting the thread, thanks for taking time out of your busy day to drop on by and share part of this journey with me. None of this would have been possible without you all!
QUOTE="Alaric, post: 21283759, member: 62169"]
"Nonsense. You were also about to have a night terror. Let me show you a few things. I'll go open a window, and you go ahead and lay on your side..."
[/QUOTE]
Already, Father Will is such a boon!
It's also a good thing that we're very good at solving problems head-on!
A special speech befitting the anniversary!
>D] There's probably a way to make this work. You've done crazier and more ill-advised things before! Formally invite yourselves into the village festival by having each of the Fathers bless the festivities. Save your speech for the last as you recall your first ever lecture inspiring that burning village except now that speech is tailor made for the new situation, begin by greeting the village, apologise for the apparent lack of guidance the Theocracy has given the flock. Despite the dire times we are all in, this is still no excuse to leave them all to the mercy of demons. But no more.
Then you begin.
"The year is 606 and the souls of mankind belongs to demons."
This time, incite the village to stand on its own with their faith against this demon of dread. In brief share them of your experiences grappling with your own terrors, but in the end return triumphant with the bonds you have with not only the Gods, but with your fellow men. Reiterate your desire to see mankind free of what blights them now and your foremost desire: The Cure of the Catalyst, The Salvation of Man. Bring your hands together towards them all in the traditional gesture of mercy as you share with them that even in the end, demons are just shells of fellow men left to their singular obsessions that is their catalyst.
Today is the day Yellow Hollows will stand no more of the abuse this demon has of their village. For today, the three fathers of the Churches of Dream, Vengeance, and Mercy has come to rectify the crimes that has been done to their men.
Leave an open invitation of only the most resolute of the village able to follow the Fathers' orders to the letter in joining them on this most holy of missions. Before we leave, there will be a resolution one way or the other and have them respect whatever aspect this may come. Reiterate to them all the dangers of what you will face and would not want to further burden this village with more corpses. Humanity has done enough of dying these days.
"Nonsense. You were also about to have a night terror. Let me show you a few things. I'll go open a window, and you go ahead and lay on your side..."
[/QUOTE]
Already, Father Will is such a boon!
It's also a good thing that we're very good at solving problems head-on!
A special speech befitting the anniversary!
>D] There's probably a way to make this work. You've done crazier and more ill-advised things before! Formally invite yourselves into the village festival by having each of the Fathers bless the festivities. Save your speech for the last as you recall your first ever lecture inspiring that burning village except now that speech is tailor made for the new situation, begin by greeting the village, apologise for the apparent lack of guidance the Theocracy has given the flock. Despite the dire times we are all in, this is still no excuse to leave them all to the mercy of demons. But no more.
Then you begin.
"The year is 606 and the souls of mankind belongs to demons."
This time, incite the village to stand on its own with their faith against this demon of dread. In brief share them of your experiences grappling with your own terrors, but in the end return triumphant with the bonds you have with not only the Gods, but with your fellow men. Reiterate your desire to see mankind free of what blights them now and your foremost desire: The Cure of the Catalyst, The Salvation of Man. Bring your hands together towards them all in the traditional gesture of mercy as you share with them that even in the end, demons are just shells of fellow men left to their singular obsessions that is their catalyst.
Today is the day Yellow Hollows will stand no more of the abuse this demon has of their village. For today, the three fathers of the Churches of Dream, Vengeance, and Mercy has come to rectify the crimes that has been done to their men.
Leave an open invitation of only the most resolute of the village able to follow the Fathers' orders to the letter in joining them on this most holy of missions. Before we leave, there will be a resolution one way or the other and have them respect whatever aspect this may come. Reiterate to them all the dangers of what you will face and would not want to further burden this village with more corpses. Humanity has done enough of dying these days.
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Mar
Web Novel Addict
- Location
- USA
>D] There's probably a way to make this work. You've done crazier and more ill-advised things before! Formally invite yourselves into the village festival by having each of the Fathers bless the festivities. Save your speech for the last as you recall your first ever lecture inspiring that burning village except now that speech is tailor made for the new situation, begin by greeting the village, apologise for the apparant lack of guidance the Theocracy has given the flock. Despite the dire times we are all in, this is still no excuse to leave them all to the mercy of demons. But no more.
Florin
Priest of Yech
I will second this.
>D] There's probably a way to make this work. You've done crazier and more ill-advised things before! Formally invite yourselves into the village festival by having each of the Fathers bless the festivities. Save your speech for the last as you recall your first ever lecture inspiring that burning village except now that speech is tailor made for the new situation, begin by greeting the village, apologise for the apparant lack of guidance the Theocracy has given the flock. Despite the dire times we are all in, this is still no excuse to leave them all to the mercy of demons. But no more.
Going with this.
Going with this.
Chapter 7: Bravery
Alaric
⠀
Chapter 7: Bravery
"Those brave enough to fight by my side will always be welcome there." You shoulder your things, release Rolfe from your grasp, and head for the door. "I'm blessing the festival. Does anyone need more time before we go?"
There's not a single coward among you. Not truly.
Rolfe has yet to run for the door. He likely knows he could be killed the instant he tries, but he still holds his ground, and looks to your company for permission to move.
Still sneering, Father Pevrel takes the killer by his arm, and heads straight after you. No complaints, beyond what he's muttering under his breath. "I never said we wouldn't get the job done, Anscham. For Mercy's sake."
"I heard that." You fire a chipper look to Father Wilhelm, who stretches broadly, and rises to his feet. You realize he slept in the same pajamas he hiked in all day, and gets to his feet with zero indication of changing now. You quickly move and gather everyone's things. "I meant it, if you need a little more Time...?"
"No, no, never you mind me." His yawn sets off everyone else in the room to do the same.
The door is opened to a bright and beautiful new day. "Come on." Father Pevrel shoves his way past you, heading towards the rising sound of merriment. "We don't have all day."
Shaking your head, you follow suit. Rolfe doesn't even lock his front door. It's a short walk down the way, before you're greeted by bright yellow banners all done up with the likeness of the sun. Streamers dance in the morning breeze. It's brisk outside, just past dawn, and there's already thirty-something odd citizens preparing for the day's festivities. Booths flank the newly swept road, each one adorned with more bits of yellow paper and fabric. Many are painted with more emblems in honor of Mercy's image, though you know well enough by now that these people are simply obsessed with keeping the dark at bay.
Every last soul standing around has a smile plastered on their face. "Good morning!" can be heard through tired, but sincere calls all around. That is, until you and your company come completely into view.
You can tell that several people stiffen, even from a distance— so you gladly close the gap between you all with long strides, and a broad smile. "Good morning!" A little wave is given to a nearby man who's gripping onto a pitchfork with white knuckles.
He's shoveling hay bales onto and around a large, makeshift wooden stage. The whole back of the structure is painted with candle light and sun beams. You strongly suspect that this is where the drawing will take place later today, but it will do nicely for your purposes.
The man who stopped moving gives a forced, "good morning, Father," before promptly returning to his work.
No one is really acknowledging your presence, which is unusual, but refreshing. You cast another quick look around. No authority figures in sight. It's obvious that no one in particular is in charge, which also suits you and your company just fine. Father Wilhelm skips up onto the stage, and calls out to every person present with the loudest voice you've ever heard from the man. (It's easy to forget that most of your friends are preachers, too.)
"Good morning, Yellow Hallows!" He pauses, begging a reply in return.
Half of the citizens stop what they're doing, and half of those kind souls call out with fake enthusiasm, "good morning!"
"Please don't let us hold up today's festivities! We'll be keeping our service brief, and would hate to slow down anyone's fun. If you any of you could kindly direct us to where we could be kept out of the way...? Until our work is required—?"
Five women instantly answer the call to action. The flock of skirts gladly ushers Father Wilhelm off-stage ("my, what a welcome! Thank you, ladies!") and gets you all situated on some over-turned logs off to the side.
The four of you while away the dawn. You can't help but go inspect a few of the food carts that are set aside for the day's events, and conclude that nothing is poisoned before getting your friends situated with an early breakfast. Rolfe refuses anything (you compulsively have his share), before your attention is called back to the task at hand.
A giant banner is unfurled over the center of the road. It's just a hand-painted strip of cloth strung up between two opposing houses, but there's obviously a lot of love put into it. Little swirls of yellow dyes and paints must have been arduous to produce, even with the proximity of the forest's resources. There's no script. Most citizens of Corcaea are illiterate, after all. But the mural of illuminated imagery is easy enough to understand, even for the gaggle of small children that comes running from down the street.
They're swiftly followed by their families. Over the next few hours, the rest of the village comes to life. Girls with yellow ribbons in their hair can be seen dancing in faded, hand-me-down dresses. Their mothers and fathers sport the same grin as everyone else around. Not everyone is making only a show at appearing happy! The boys at play with their friends, the street merchants that quietly call out their wares, and most of the citizens inspecting games set up for play are eager to find a way to forget their troubles.
Before the sun is at its highest point in the sky, a serious conversation is held with Rolfe over the consequences of him turning tail and fleeing— if the idea were to suddenly take him. The man seems to understand the gravity of the mission you're on— or believes in your ability to kill this demon completely— as he has yet to intervene with the day's events.
"I've fought my entire life to keep 'Hallows safe. Why would I go ruinin' all that now...?"
Even Father Pevrel is satisfied, and moves with you and Father Wilhelm to gather the crowd's attention. It's not necessary to make a scene. After all, the formality of blessing the event is purely an excuse to be here.
The sun climbs high into the sky. Heat bakes down in what feels like an unprecedented gift from Mercy. There's sweat on everyone's brow. Dance, games, and drink flows freely, through your peers' speeches.
Those eerie smiles persist through it all.
It takes a matter of minutes for your colleagues to say their piece (the three of you are really used to the pomp and procedure), before you set to take the stage.
"I'll be set to make a clear a path, if we need it," Father Pevrel mutters, just as he passes you by on the rickety wooden steps.
You catch him by his arm. "That will not be necessary."
Without lingering, you catch him smiling to himself just as you step up to the stage.
The stairs creak a little. You straighten your collar, cross into the center of the precarious structure, and get hit with a wave of nostalgia. A couple hundred people occupy the makeshift town square, in revelry, and merriment. Every last one of them is as repressed as the worst villagers you've known in Corcaea.
"You know," you start, with a crack in your voice, and no pretense of formality. "This reminds me a great deal of my first sermon."
No one's listening, save for a few people who are pretending to be dutiful citizens closest to the stage.
"But this town square is nowhere near as silent as the grave."
A few people's heads turn. One or two mortified women seem to be bothered just by the notion of anything bleak.
A nervous smile cracks across your face. "It feels like a lifetime ago, back in the year 600. I'm not in the little town of Pontos anymore, nor am I accused of having become a monster. But the situation could not be any more alike."
"The year is 606, and in our home— the country of Corcaea— the souls of mankind belong to demons."
The entire festival skids to a screeching halt.
A few bean bags flop uselessly in the silence that overtakes the town square.
Birds sing in the forest beyond.
Your smile has yet to falter.
"We had three demons at our backs, then, with more on the way. The men who fought by my side were scarcely prepared for what dangers lay in wait. But we came together just the same. It was supposed to be a test, you see. I was as eager then as I am now to serve, but I had no idea what it meant to truly help a nation in turmoil."
The tone of your voice drops, but you project to every last mortified soul paralyzed in the town square.
"My mentor at the time— Father Edmund— cautioned me about those who were at the back of the crowd. Just at the back. He tried to help me understand that oftentimes, we can get lost looking to the bigger picture. But I know that we all need one another. These are dire times. My first mentor was right about many things, but not in this regard. Not when I REFUSE to lose sight of any single one of you. The theocracy's guidance has been absent from your village for far too long, and I'm sorry."
White knuckles clutch onto makeshift weapons in all directions. So many men in the crowd are debating rushing the stage, or are sharing terrified looks with their neighbors.
Do they want to shorten the amount of time they're locked in their personal dread? Are they frightened for their wives and children alone?
"I know you are afraid."
Many of these people are your age, if not younger. This could be the first time in their lives that they've ever had their perceptions challenged— for someone to suggest the notion that it's okay to talk about the dark.
Most of them look like they want to smile sincerely, one day.
A grin breaks out over your features as you lift your eyes over the crowd, and call out to them with all the light you possess.
"There is no need for fear! The Churches of Mercy, Dream, and Vengeance are here with you today. On behalf of the King, the Gods, and the city of light: My name is Father Richard Anscham, and I am here to tell you about the Catalyst."
Scanning the crowd for dissenters, you confirm the best-case scenario.
Everyone is too frightened to move.
"Listen!" A demon somewhere in this village is growing stronger by the second, and you won't stand idly by. No doubt those still asleep in their homes can hear you. Dread is thick in the air, but you spread your arms out in front of you, commanding their attention. "The Gods— in their infinite wisdom— saw fit to create us. They made us as shells. To serve them. To project their will! We are hosts! You all may be aware that as vehicles for sin, we can become monstrosities through Magic— and even become demons. But..."
The pause in your speech cuts through dread like a knife.
"There is another kind of shell in our world. Demons are shells of our fellow man. Husks, left to the singular obsession that IS their Catalyst!"
Even the most battle-hardened fighters in the crowd look to you in shock.
You call out with conviction, all the nerves and waver gone from your tone. "Long ago, before King Magnus 'the Merciful' brought salvation to this land... in a time before there was time, there it STILL was: the Catalyst. This phenomenon is not caused merely by restraining our emotions, or by letting them run free! It is the ABSENCE of humanity! The presence of one, all-consuming element! In all my many travels, I have yet to find a soul who was unwilling to accept this ultimate truth! We know it just as dearly as we know our very names. What matters most to each and every one of us is nothing to fear— but to lose sight of oneself? To lose sight of one's family? To abandon the very Gods, and to fall into despair unlike any other?!"
Several men and women bring their hands to their faces in horror. There's no need to muffle their cries. They've been restraining themselves all their lives, and likely couldn't exclaim if they tried.
"You know what I speak of. What I describe is precisely what it is to become a demon. That is what I seek to CURE! This absence of humanity is what I have spent my LIFE pursuing! To set mankind FREE of what ails us!"
You bring your hands together, in the traditional symbol of the Church of Mercy. The symbol of compassion, selflessness, and love. Two open palms, there for any who wishes to hold them.
"We are far more than shells, and dread, and despair. I am not alone in my hope to set us free of these trappings. For today, the three Fathers of the Churches of Dream, Vengeance, and Mercy have come to rectify the crimes that have been done to our fellow man."
The tremor in your hands is completely gone. You look around to the morning sun casting over thoughtful faces, and speak from the heart.
"This is an open invitation to you all. For any one of you who has spent your life hoping for a brighter future. For every one of you who has ever feared the dark. To anyone with the bravery to face their innermost demons— who possess the courage to acknowledge the monsters we face in our day-to-day lives: Do not merely HOPE for a brighter future! Do not DREAD the dark! You have ALREADY spent your entire life fighting our innermost weakness!"
Your gaze goes from brighter eyes and lighter faces, all the way to the end of the street. Towards gloom that feels like it's encroaching on the edges of the crowd.
"I'm certain that just around the corner, a demon has grown a little weaker." The hope that you've instilled in minutes flickers and wanes. You can easily see fear built up over three decades across each and every face before you.
You need to tread carefully, and lower your hands from the symbol of Mercy.
Your hand clutches tightly onto your Relic. The throbbing pain in your palm instantly vanishes, and is replaced with a warm and gentle heat.
The same warmth is through your voice. "It is the Gods who are Merciful. Not demons. Oftentimes, not even our fellow man. Many of you will wish to stop me and my allies from going after this demon here today. Please think to yourselves of how your loved ones might have survived for days, or months, or years without the light of day. If we can save them, think of how long they've missed you, and how you've missed them in turn. Think of what is at stake if you truly wish to live without hope for another day."
You turn to leave the stage. "Not a soul needs to come with me. I have no idea what danger I'm going to face. But if any one of you wishes to risk your life in the name of doing what's right— if you are willing to place your trust in three men who are willing to lay down our lives for those who are not given the same opportunity— I will be taking my leave."
At the steps to the end of the stage, you call out one last time to the village of Yellow Hallows.
"Please take care of yourselves. Humanity has done enough dying these days."
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Chapter 8: Inflamed Emotions
Alaric
⠀
Chapter 8: Inflamed Emotions
The town square seems to remember what it is to move and breathe the moment you step down from the rickety stage. Arguing has broken out among the people of Yellow Hallows. It starts quietly, with a few heated murmurs at the back of the crowd. You only catch angry faces, and men who seem to not want to let the other get by.
Father Wilhelm, Father Pevrel, and Rolfe are waiting right at the base of the steps, looking incredibly tense. Things escalate the closer to the stage you look. One woman with yellow ribbons in her hair is practically snarling at her husband. They start snapping at each other dead-center of the festival.
"Are you just going to let them GO?" The wife's teeth are bared. She's got sandy-brown hair that's neatly pinned back, with one hand to her young son's head, holding him close to her hip. Maybe she thinks he isn't going to listen. Maybe she's terrified for her child. You have no way of knowing.
Her husband snaps back with the fury of a man who's been repressed his entire life. His clean-shaven face twists in anger. "Yeah. He's got a point. I'm not some kind of coward, either."
"You think it makes me a coward to want to DO something about this?!"
"We should go," Rolfe mutters, looking frantically down the road. There must be three hundred people between you and the end of the street.
A hulking, bearded woodsman— armed with an axe— starts elbowing his way towards you all. "WAIT!"
"Oh, for fuck's sake." Father Pevrel groans at you. "He's going to want to join us."
At least fifteen other men conveniently form a human wall to block the fighting man's approach.
"Will you lot let me BY—?!" He seems polite enough to stop his shoving. Maybe they're all friends.
"Sorry mate." They certainly sound friendly enough.
"No can do." And terrified for his life.
"Gonna have to mow me down if you want to go off to yer death." And dead serious about fighting him to keep him from getting by.
And on it goes.
The festival gradually reaches a low roar. An equal number of people who have broken out into petty bickering are being placated by their neighbors to try and keep their voices down, or to go pack their things if they're so terrified of what might happen.
Plenty more voices on the air can be heard warning everyone to keep it together. There's an equal blend of fear and optimism.
Some are brazenly discussing the demon, and trying to cheer the spirits of everyone else.
You've actually put some hope in these people.
Father Pevrel and Rolfe seem to have gone off to the side of the crowd, and beckon you and Father Wilhelm over. It looks like there might be a side street you all can take around the ruckus— though not a single soul has come out of the chaos to join your company.
This is an incredibly dangerous situation. You know better than anyone what a threat a large gathering of people can be in Corcaea. You've not incited a mob, but ANY inflamed emotions can cause someone to turn to their Catalyst. It would behoove you to not make the situation any worse, and you did want to make sure that no additional lives were risked today.
>A] You'd like to see anyone try and keep you from helping out in the crowd. Go wade in there, and extract anyone that seems like they're trying to make their way to the front of the stage to fight on your behalf. You will straight up invoke Mercy to pacify the crowd, if need be. It's abusive to an extreme, but you are desperate to make the best of this situation. (Unanimous vote required. Even without invoking, this can damage your pact with Mercy, and may damage your personal relationship with Her.)
>B] You aren't naive enough to think that a single speech will win over every adult here who's fought their entire lives to keep this demon placated, but you can see when you've done some good, and trust that the village of Yellow Hallows knows how to keep themselves in control. No need to go sneaking off. Disengage from the situation, and head off for this demon's lair with Rolfe as your guide. You'll deal with the fallout in the village when all of this is over, if this situation even has any fallout.
>C] You REALLY trust Yellow Hallows to keep themselves in line. Ask Father Pevrel to buy you a few more seconds, to grant anyone trying to follow you an opening. You'll sneak away after that, and should still arrive at the demon's lair by high noon. It's going to inflame the crowd— and people might get hurt— but your ally will be happy, and it might bolster your chances against this demon. If nothing else, it could grant a few more citizens some catharsis.
>D] Write-in.
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>B] You aren't naive enough to think that a single speech will win over every adult here who's fought their entire lives to keep this demon placated, but you can see when you've done some good, and trust that the village of Yellow Hallows knows how to keep themselves in control. No need to go sneaking off. Disengage from the situation, and head off for this demon's lair with Rolfe as your guide. You'll deal with the fallout in the village when all of this is over, if this situation even has any fallout.
Florin
Priest of Yech
>B] You aren't naive enough to think that a single speech will win over every adult here who's fought their entire lives to keep this demon placated, but you can see when you've done some good, and trust that the village of Yellow Hallows knows how to keep themselves in control. No need to go sneaking off. Disengage from the situation, and head off for this demon's lair with Rolfe as your guide. You'll deal with the fallout in the village when all of this is over, if this situation even has any fallout.
Anger is better than dread, and if anything breaks out all of those brave souls that wanted to kill the demon are sure to handle it. If anything, these people care about each other and I am willing to put my trust in that.
Anger is better than dread, and if anything breaks out all of those brave souls that wanted to kill the demon are sure to handle it. If anything, these people care about each other and I am willing to put my trust in that.
DEEP LORE! DEEP LORE! DEEP LORE!
A willing volunteer! But in hindsight, if they are really so few in number- they maybe best served protecting the rest of the village from whatever retaliations the demon has when we get inside.
>B] You aren't naive enough to think that a single speech will win over every adult here who's fought their entire lives to keep this demon placated, but you can see when you've done some good, and trust that the village of Yellow Hallows knows how to keep themselves in control. No need to go sneaking off. Disengage from the situation, and head off for this demon's lair with Rolfe as your guide. You'll deal with the fallout in the village when all of this is over, if this situation even has any fallout.
>D] Address the people one more time taking a stock of everybody. Again relay to them of your respect to their desires to be free of this demon and to retake their lives. Truly they are blessed to have neighbours looking after each other, the devotion shone in restraint! To those who have been incident with a fervent desire, thank them for putting their trust in you. It is not cowardice to stay out of harms way of the demon. You will not tear those with bonds with families and friends to this place and as such your will is known; to those whose bonds have held them from joining you, you task them in protecting Yellow Hallow, whether it be to keep order themselves or to prepare contingencies in a possible attack. Those that have no other bond physically restraining them to you may join you battle the demon in the depths. (this is ok even if there will be no one among their number joining you).
It is after all, important to be unified in the face of this demon. It will not do however, that when you return you find people harmed in your absence. The Gods are Merciful you chime to the crowd before you set off preparations into the Demon's territory.
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>B] You aren't naive enough to think that a single speech will win over every adult here who's fought their entire lives to keep this demon placated, but you can see when you've done some good, and trust that the village of Yellow Hallows knows how to keep themselves in control. No need to go sneaking off. Disengage from the situation, and head off for this demon's lair with Rolfe as your guide. You'll deal with the fallout in the village when all of this is over, if this situation even has any fallout.
Chapter 9: Dread
Alaric
⠀
Chapter 9: Dread
You aren't naive enough to think that a single speech will win over every soul here. Not those who have spent thirty-odd years fighting to protect their families lives, and not those who are willing to fight against them now. It would be enough to recognize that you've done some good here— but you're never satisfied, and hop back to the stage as quickly as you can.
Taking quick stock of the situation, you can see from above that the festival is hardly ramping up into a mob. There is conflict, there is strife, but there are no souls on the verge of turning to their Catalyst.
You call out, "this village has mastery over restraint! It is no doubt thanks to the way that you all have lived your lives— and so it comes to me as no surprise that you look to my sudden, reckless motions as if I were no greater than a wild animal!"
The ruckus dies down a great deal. No disagreements, save for the more heated arguments that continue towards the back. You bellow over them.
"You all demonstrate the greatest bonds imaginable: those of family, of friends, and of trust in your fellow neighbor! I see no cowardice among men here. I see no shame to be had in staying out of reach of a demon!"
Already moving to leave, you make your urgency as visible as possible, and put just as much anxiety through your tone. "Even if not a soul among you joins me, I WELCOME you to stand by, and to shield your friends and loved ones. Do not venture forth blindly! Do not go where they cannot follow! I ask those who are able, with or without these precious bonds, to go where they are needed most! Protect your homes! Protect your families! Mine and my companion's efforts will have been for NOTHING if we return to find ANYONE harmed in our absence!"
The sun is at its peak, and you've already spent far too much time talking. Descending from the stage, you quickly call out to a quieter crowd.
"The GODS are Merciful!"
Your willing volunteers redouble their efforts to move with the crowd. It looks as if a mass exodus is in the works, moving the young and mobile denizens of Yellow Hallows out of the congested town square, and towards some unseen location within the woods. Terrified murmurs resonate from the young and innocent. Many more of their elders retain those plastered-on grins, reassuring the youth that there is nothing to fear but fear itself. Arguing is still in full force near the center of the crowd, but it's far from the threat that it was even moments before.
You breathe a little easier, under the blistering heat of the day. Rejoining Rolfe and Father Pevrel takes seconds, while Father Wilhelm keeps close to your back. The resident of this psuedo-merry village has to be nudged along by the lord of wrath, but complies in taking you all towards the opposite side of the town.
The sun bakes hot down your neck and back.
The further you walk, the more color drains from your surroundings.
It's a matter of moments before you're awash in a sea of grays and blacks.
The gloomiest member of your company doesn't address the stark change in your surroundings coloration, save for the hand he's now got glued to the hilt of his sword. The pits that Father Pevrel has for eyes are twitching about at a rapid pace. The impression is nowhere near as disconcerting as the tone of his voice.
"Do your sermons always incite the public to turn on the spot, Anscham—?"
"Anger is better than dread." There's no anger in your tone whatsoever. You're trying your best to keep your gaze to the bleak little houses all around, and the low candlelight flickering on every porch. It creates no cast of amber or orange on the low, squat, well-preserved housing. Only more gray. "If anything breaks out, all of those brave souls that wanted to kill the demon are sure to handle it."
"With their bare hands?" Your fellow invoker whips his head around, greasy hair practically standing on end. "Do you have any idea what you're implying? We don't even know what this demon is capable of—"
"If anything, these people care about each other— and I am willing to put my trust in that."
Father Wilhelm gently taps your back and tugs on your sleeve to bring you to a stop. "I'm going to be a bother and interrupt." A glance, over to Rolfe. "I take it this is the place, then?"
At the end of the cul-de-sac lies a single-story house with a dead front yard. There are no candles on its porch. There are no people in its window. There are weeds, and there is a shadow in an unseen window, no matter how you focus on the building.
Rolfe is sweating bullets, and takes a full step backwards. Too frightened to speak, the man nods once, gulps, and takes another step backwards.
Without a porch or awning to speak of, the front of the wooden structure juts out towards a narrow walkway of stone. There are no footsteps in the dirt, nor any dust on its windowsills. It's untouched by Time, and seemingly untouched by Mercy.
The sun glares off from every nearby home's windows but this one. No sunlight reflects off from the interior of the home, or the matte glass obscuring it. The black tiled roof (have you ever seen a roof made of tiles before?) is an oddity beyond oddities. More so than the absence of plant life in the heart of a forest, or the complete silence that's overtaken the street.
"It's a demon of Vengeance," you presume. The absence of all color and completely ominous sense that's drenching the street is easy enough to pin.
Father Pevrel gives the house a stern look. "A fair guess. I'd say it's the entire house, too."
"I beg your pardon?"
"The demon. It's the entire house." He sniffs, and rubs at his nose. "Starts about five feet out from where we're standing. I can't tell how it's operating, just where it's located." He gestures vaguely towards the road dead-ahead, where the beginning of the dead grass and dry dirt begins.
"Rolfe?" Father Wilhelm is whispering— possibly out of habit, and possibly to ease the petrified man's nerves. "Is there anything else you can tell us about this demon? Anything you may have forgotten?"
"Well—"
A sudden, sharp motion flits from the front lawn to just a few feet away. It's like a bad spot in your eye from staring at the sun for too long—
>All of the following are mutually exclusive.
>If it makes sense to, any write-ins that can be combined will be merged.
>All discussion will be taken into full consideration, as will any vocal (and well justified) opposition to any votes.
>Please feel free to ask questions about any of the prompts below.
>A] Take no chances. Invoke Mercy. You'll do everything in your power to shield everyone present, and will leave it to your allies to figure out how to proceed. (Feel free to also write-in any strategy you want to employ.)
>B] Tackle everyone back and away from the reach of this demon's lair. A minor injury or two is no big deal, and you have a plan of attack that doesn't require invocation at all. (Write-in.)
>C] You've learned a thing or two from the priests of retribution you've encountered. Invoke Vengeance to redirect any attack poised at your allies back onto this demon. It will trigger your Catalyst, and you're ready for whatever comes with that experience.
>D] This demon is built from wood and stone. The idea of you dreading what it's capable of is laughable. Invoke Agriculture, knowing that you can take it head-on. This could take a lot out of you— or add a bit onto you— depending on how events unfold. Experimenting with ALL of Agriculture's domains could negate effects on your weight entirely.
>E] You suspect that this demon is bluffing. Do nothing and fear nothing. If something happens to you or your companions, you're willing to live with the consequences.
>F] Write-in.
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