Cult Creator - The Pilgrims Journey
- Thread starter HeroCooky
- Start date
- Original Mature
Thors_Alumni
Proud member of Thors Class VII from Liberl
- Location
- Liberl Zemuria.
that makes sense if they are that dangerous. Still, Finding one would go a long way to advancing our interests including building various kinds of buildings everywhere. and getting a Knights chassis for the second one.
[Canon] - (Must Read) - How To Catch A Lion
How to catch a lion
Tahmid stretched as he reentered the Consensual after dumping a basket of laundry with the team in charge of washing that week. Business may have slowed ever since the gangs took offense to their recent expansion, but their kind of work always created a lot of dirty sheets. He took a quick peek into the bar floor; as it was mid-morning, they had yet to open, and it was essentially empty if you ignored the gaggle of people clustered around the windows.
He idly scratched his side as his mutation rearranged the patterns on his skin. Then, stepping up, he joined the group shamelessly ogling one of the few good things to come out of the gang debacle. Said thing was tall, built like a shit brickhouse, and currently running exercises with the rest of his squad in the courtyard. It was hilarious how Wiljem could turn a group of professional entertainers who seduced their clients out of every coin in their possession into a bunch of debutantes facing their first crush. Not that Tahmid had any room to judge; he also wanted to climb that man like a tree. Their current object of adoration was sparring with another of his Unit, an equally muscled woman; they were not wearing their iconic heavy armor; instead, simple light armor was apparently deemed enough. They were also using regular spears rather than electrified ones. Despite working up quite a sweat, he had a smile on his face, giving his handsome features a roguish edge.
Tahmid heard a dreamy sigh coming from beside him. It came from his fellow worker Phistia, who was prone to fantasies more fitting to a little girl than a full-grown woman despite their profession. Said fantasies had only gotten worse since the Wall had been stationed here, he knew since she had heard them often enough over breakfast. Or at lunch. Or at night. And while working.
He gently bumped hips with her, bringing the smaller woman out of her daydream. "Still waiting for a prince in shining armor to sweep you away into the sunset?"
Phistia pouted in a way some people would call cute. "I'll have you know that I keep my feet on the ground and my expectations realistic" Ah, so she had tried and been rebuffed like everyone else. "Besides, I'll happily settle for a gallant knight right now. A much more reasonable goal, don't you think?"
He hummed, thinking it over. He could see it; while there were rumors that the woman currently sparring with Wiljem was pining for her own lady love, some of the other members of the Wall would be much more receptive. Of course, they weren't bad-looking either, but going after such safe bets was hardly a challenge at all.
Phistia must have figured it out from his expression since she poked him hard in the stomach. "Look who's chasing fantasies now, Mr. Pot." She said with a smile. "Did you not get enough after being rejected once?"
Now it was Tahmid who was smirking. "Well, I wouldn't know anything about rejection; I have not spoken to him yet." His words had the desired effect, and Phistia looked at him, startled.
"Wait! You, of all people, did not do anything yet? Why?!" She questioned, surprised.
"First rule of seduction," He began while gently poking his colleague's nose, "be memorable." And you could not be that as just another pretty face in a crowd. No, if he wanted to make an impression, he would need to wait for the right opportunity.
Luckily, said opportunity presented itself that very evening. He had decided to have an early night, so he was loitering on the bar floor after seeing off his last client. That was when he spotted Wiljem sitting in a quiet corner by himself, reading a book. The rest of his Unit was nowhere to be seen, now was his chance.
He practically sauntered up to his table and delicately put his hand on one of the empty chairs. "May I sit here?" He asked with the most innocent he could muster, fluttering his eyelashes for greater effect.
A pair of unimpressed golden eyes rose from the book and went straight for his own. They stayed there until whatever inspection of his very soul was finished. "I know what you want to ask, and the answer is still no." Wiljem was direct, looking to stonewall him from the very beginning. "But sure."
"Good thing I wasn't planning to ask anything." He had, after all, done some research. Tahmid knew his target was not wholly disinterested in sex; he had heard the Madam comment on previous visits made by the warrior. So a direct approach would not work; he needed to get his quarry used to his presence so that he would be the obvious first choice when it was time to scratch that itch.
"Is it so strange that someone else would seek a quiet corner to relax?" He continued as he sat and pulled out his own preferred timewaster that he picked up at the crafts class. The small sewing kit was indeed a blessing, plus his fellow workers seemed to enjoy the patches he made. He looked back at his table partner and saw the arched eyebrow the other was giving him. "Really. The background bustle of the bar is preferable to distant moaning and bumping upstairs."
Wiljem snorted at that and returned to his book, seemingly done with him. Tahmid also took it as his cue and turned his attention to the flower he had been working on.
First step: complete.
Their little hangouts became a regular thing over the following weeks, and Tahmid had gotten Wiljem comfortable enough with his presence that they could now speak freely with one another. For a military man, Wiljem was an adept conversationalist. While not the most intelligent person the escort had ever talked to, he had passing knowledge on a wide variety of subjects beyond the typical boastful Necropolis adventure.
He was also surprisingly sweet, as Tahmid would soon discover.
Tonight had been rough; everyone in his line of work knew of and feared the wrong clients, the kind that would beat you or pop a hardcore kink mid-coitus. Thankfully, they had guards here to deal with that sort. But no one talked about the boring clients, the ones that were just bad lays in general. Now having just one he could deal with, he was a professional, but he had had three in a row on a single night. He had not been able to finish even once, and to say he was frustrated was an understatement.
He collapsed into his usual seat with a bone-weary sigh, letting his head thump on the table. Wiljem looked up from his book, a look of concern on his face.
"Bad day?" The handsome Mutated asked.
Tahmid merely moaned pitifully in response, drawing a chuckle from his table partner. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, as they often did during their hangouts. He propped his head on his hand as he focused on the book the sergeant was reading. The few times he had peeked, the pages had been packed with words well beyond his meager level. Before, he didn't want to push in fear of undoing the progress he had made so far, or worse, make him look like an ignorant idiot.
"What's so interesting about that book?" Tahmid finally asked after Wiljem waved down a waitress, probably to get a drink. "You've been reading it non-stop for weeks."
"It's a book on strategy and tactics." Came the reply from the sergeant as he turned the page, frowning at something written on the page.
"Huh, I didn't think officers had to study to do their jobs." In fact, from what he knew of those who thrived in the military, opening a textbook might as well be a novel form of torture.
"We don't. It's mostly nobles or those commoners who reach positions like General or Sub-General that are required to study stuff like this." Wiljem scoffed, then stared back at the book, his mind seemingly elsewhere. "But if I am to keep the people under me alive, I need to be able to see the bigger picture. And so I asked a friend if he could pass me a copy of some of his old books."
Tahmid hummed with a slight smile on his face. Honestly, it was getting a little unfair, a handsome face, athletic and responsible on top of it. "No wonder you have a crowd of lovestruck fanatics after you." He couldn't help but say out loud. Judging by the glare he received, the remark had not gone over well, so he explained further.
"Really. Think about it. You have a handsome face, you're young, in a good, respectable career, and have a good head on your shoulders." He marked each point with a finger as he continued. "You are the best catch anyone short of a noble can realistically hope for."
The sergeant groaned and thumped his head on the table. "Then I'll have to deal with the mass of horny for the rest of my fucking life?" He truly made it sound like a form of divine punishment.
"You could get a partner." There, plant the idea in his mind. People like him only saw relationships from the outside, so they usually saw only the negative side of them. "Even if it's just for a little while, having a partner would get about seventy percent of the mob to give up, and the rest you wouldn't want to approach anyways."
"And you're volunteering for the role, I imagine?" Wiljem shot back with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, I always look to please my fellow man." Tahmid winked and made a kissy face for greater effect. But, unfortunately, he only lasted for a couple of seconds before dissolving into giggling and laughter.
Sadly, Wiljem's resulting snort was cut short by the return of the waitress, who placed a pint of ale and a small bowl of Frin in front of him. Frin was a popular dessert in the region, consisting of grain pudding sweetened with fruit syrup or, if you had money, honey. He enjoyed it occasionally but not as often as he would like since the kinds that actually tasted sweet cost more money.
Which was why he was surprised when Wiljem pushed the bowl towards him. He looked down at the bowl, then back at Wiljem, confusion written clearly across his face.
The Mutated scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "You seemed to have a bad day. And my sister always says that you can't have an awful day if you finish it with something sweet."
Tahmid blushed, then desperately tried to darken the color of his face to hide its severity. He had been a prostitute for more than five years; he would not blush like a girl receiving her first compliments at the market. However, despite the embarrassment, he grew up poor enough to not look a gift lizard in the mouth, so he took the spoon and scooped up a mouthful of pudding. Letting the sweet taste wash down his throat and calm his nerves.
"Your sister is wise." That was all he finally said when he could trust himself to speak.
"Don't let her hear that, or her head won't fit through any doorways anymore," Wiljem replied, bringing the pint to his lips.
They both chuckled at that, continuing to enjoy their evening.
Truly, it was unfair.
Unfortunately, life had a way of reminding everyone how shitty it could be.
It had been Tahmid's turn to go to the market to restock on makeup and other toiletries that were running low. Sadly, due to the current situation, he had to be partnered with another girl, and they had to stick to the main roads and return as quickly as possible.
Everything had gone well at the beginning. They had made their purchases with minimal haggling and had even managed to avoid getting stuck in the crowd during a hot day. However, when they exited the main avenue to return to the Consensual, he noticed they were being followed. Apparently, the girl had noticed as well since she started to tremble and looked on the verge of tears.
They could try to increase their pace, but that wouldn't work; Tahmid could see another pair of thugs ahead of them. However, looking to the sides, it seemed like there were only the thugs in front behind them. They were far enough away that they could make a break for it, but he didn't like their chances of outrunning them.
"When I tell you, I want you to take the alleyways and run straight to the Consensual and get the Wall. Do you get it?" He whispered to the girl. It was their only chance. If they split up, there was a higher chance one of them would make it back and get help. When she gave a jerky nod, he turned to look ahead as they kept walking. He waited until they passed an alley many had used before as a shortcut to avoid cramped streets.
"Go! I'll distract them!" He waited until the girl had started running before he also shot off down the street. He hoped they focused on him instead of the girl, and by the sound of hurried footfalls behind him, it seemed he was right.
He apparently took the ambushing thugs by surprise since he was able to run past them before they could block him off. However, he was not the most athletic of individuals, so he needed to lose them quickly if he wanted to get away. Turning into another sidestreet, he heard his pursuers approaching fast. He managed to keep ahead of them as he ran through the winding backstreets, leading them ever closer to the Consensual. Unfortunately, his luck ran out when he found himself blocked off by an upturned debris cart on the next bend, he could not climb over it fast enough, and by the time he turned around, panting heavily, the three thugs were already upon him, blocking any way out. Shit.
The thugs seemed like the standard scumbag fare omnipresent in every gang in Mirn. But, he recognized their tattoos, the Gutter Rats. Double shit.
The two thugs on the side were smirking with sneers on their faces, while the larger thug and possibly the leader had a pensive look on his face. Oh no…
"Wait… I think I remember you." Triple shit! "You used to be one of ours, didn't you?" Tahmid didn't like the look on his face at all.
He needed to keep them talking, to buy time. "Well, it is a business after all, so if someone starts offering better rates and benefits, it's only logical to make the jump, isn't it?" He sassed with confidence he did not have, but the last thing he wanted was for these bunch of dickheads to know he was terrified.
The head thug scoffed. "Bah! Y'all talk of improvements, and yet here you are still being whores." He spat in Tahmid's direction. What actually stung was that he was somewhat correct. "Listen here, bitch. The boss wants us to teach you traitorous whores a lesson, but I'll cut you a deal since you used to make good decisions. So, you come quietly and apologize properly," The pervert chuckled at that. "And we can put a good word in with the boss to spare you a beating."
Three years ago, Tahmid would have done it with no hesitation; hell, three months ago, he would have done it if only to spare himself the pain and wait for a chance to escape. But now, all he could think is the face Wiljem would make if he went with them, he would never be able to face him again. He took a deep breath; this was going to hurt.
"Go suck a dick." He could barely spit out his defiance before a hit to his ribs sent him to the floor.
A flurry of kicks to his head and ribs followed as the thugs discharged their fury at his insolence. They also spewed insults between hits, but Tahmid could not distinguish what they were saying over the ringing in his head from all the pain. He didn't know how long the beating lasted, but by the time they finished, he was struggling to stay awake, and he could taste blood on his mouth.
He could feel himself being picked up but could do nothing but weakly moan in protest. He was being carried somewhere when he heard a loud noise nearby. Whatever it was, it caused him to be jostled around and dropped entirely after a few moments. He hit the ground face first and finally lost the battle to remain conscious, his mind fading into darkness.
When he next awoke, Tahmid was on a bed, and his entire body hurt. Thankfully he recognized the room as his own, so he had been rescued in the end. Light streamed in from his window; it looked like morning, so he probably slept through the night. He tried to sit up, but the sharp pain in his chest immediately dissuaded him from the idea. It'd be better to just lay there until someone came to check on him.
Lucky for him, he didn't have to wait long before Phistia came through the door. "Tam!" She cried once she noticed he was awake and coherent. She rushed to his side and stood there, visibly shaking from restraining herself from jumping on him and enveloping him in a hug. Instead, she settled for grabbing his hand in a bone-crushing grip.
"I'm s-so glad you're alright" The waterworks were going to start any moment now. "You looked so bad when they brought you in a-and I thought that-"
Not wanting to see his friend cry, Tahid put his hand on top of her head, gently rubbing her hair. "Hey, it's okay." No, it wasn't, his throat was drier than the Wastes, and his body hurt like it had been dragged to hell and back, but she didn't need to know that. "I'm a little banged up, but it's nothing that time won't fix."
That seemed to do the trick as Phistia raised her head and lightly slapped her own cheeks. "Right, right. I'm useless if all I do is sit here and cry." She stood up and began to make her way to the door. "I'll let Madam Hebi know you're awake; she'll tell you what the doctor said." With that, she left the room.
It wasn't long after Phistia left that Wiljem entered the room. The man was out of his armor, though he still had the suit worn underneath; the bags under his eyes and the look on his face spoke of a rough night. Nevertheless, he didn't say anything, just pulled up a chair and all but collapsed beside the bed.
He stared at him for a few seconds, an odd look on his face, before he spoke in a quiet voice. "How're you feeling?"
"Like shit." No need to sugarcoat things with him.
They lapsed into an awkward silence. It looked like Wiljem had something on his mind, and he had a lot on his mind from the ordeal. But, in the end, it was he who broke the silence.
"You know, it sucks when the past refuses to stay there." He began but was forced to stop as his throat protested being used in such a state. Wiljem immediately unclipped a small canteen from his belt and helped him lean up so he could take a couple of refreshing sips of lukewarm water.
"I used to work for the Gutter Rats." He stared at the ceiling as he continued, not able to look at Wiljem in the face. "It's the most cliche story out there. An orphan with nothing to his name and nothing else to offer but his pretty face doing what he could to survive." He snorted. "To be honest, I didn't have it as bad as some of the others. I wasn't forced to use drugs and managed to keep myself clean. The pay sucked, though, the main reason why I came here in the first place." He let a sardonic smile spread on his lips. "Still have enough pride in me to want to be paid fairly for my work."
"It was a brave thing you did. No one would have blamed you if you had gone with them." Wiljem was trying to comfort him, and he even believed him. But knowing that would not have stopped the shame if he had folded.
"Still, it sucks when they have a point. We are just whores trying to make something of ourselves." He tried to laugh but gave up with a groan when pain shot up from his ribs.
"Now you're just letting their bullshit get to you. No one is 'just anything,' and I know for a fact many people who used to work here were able to move on and make a life for themselves." Wiljem sounded strangely upset over this. He didn't think he would care.
"Well, those people had either skills or family to help them; I have no family, no education, and no skills other than looking pretty." So there, now he would get it. Some people were better off settling for what they had rather than betting everything on the vague hope of getting somewhere better.
"What about sewing? I've seen your work; you're good at it." It seemed Wiljem was not going to give this up.
"That's just a hobby. There's no self-respecting tailor in Mirn that would take a former whore as an apprentice." Never mind the fact that he was a Mutated.
"So you're just going to give up without even trying? What about Norqod? That's an option, now more than ever." The lion man was getting more and agitated, his tail lashing behind him.
"Oh, sure. Let me just drop everything and move to a new town alone with nothing but hopes and dreams." He knew nothing of the newly built village. He would not even know where to begin if he went there.
"You'd not be alone! I'd-" Whatever else Wiljem was about to say was cut off when the door to his room opened, and Madam Hebi stepped in. The woman looked from one man to the next before deciding that Wiljem would be dealt with first.
"Wiljem, a captain of the Guard is looking for you. Go and see what he wants." She ordered in a tone that would brook no argument. Wiljem stared at her for a couple of moments before huffing loudly and stomping out of the room.
Once the man was gone, the Madam turned to look at him. "Do I want to know what all that was about?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.
"No," Absolutely not; he did not want the Madam to begin meddling.
Fortunately, the Madam let him off and took a long drag of her cigarette. "You've gotten yourself into quite a mess, haven't you?" She commented as she breathed out the cloud of smoke.
Tahmid was to stay bedridden until his cracked ribs healed. It was a little humiliating to have to be washed by other people, but the pain in his chest kept him from complaining much. At least he could remain standing without help so he could relieve himself unassisted. Being cooped up in his room also had the unfortunate side effect of being left out of the loop, with any news coming from second-hand rumors and gossip from the people tasked with taking care of him.
Wiljem had not visited once.
Apparently, whatever the Guard had said to him, it had spurred the Wall into action. Every day he heard stories of them going out to strike at the gangs directly. The Guard was doing a massive round-up, and they had enlisted the Wall and extra muscle. It seemed to keep them busy, Phistia had told with a conspiratorial smile, as she had barely seen hide or hair of them since they began to help the Guard.
And this state of affairs continued even after he was allowed to move around. Even if he could walk, Tahmid was only allowed as far as the courtyard, and that was only to get some sunlight. He was never able to meet with Wiljem at all; he was always gone before he woke up and returned long after exhaustion forced him to sleep if he returned at all.
And so it continued for an entire month, people cheered as more and more gangs were dismantled, but Tahmid could only feel a growing sense of dread. He didn't know why he felt this way. He was twenty-three, not ten. He knew that Wiljem was only staying here temporarily and that his relationship with the man would not last, so why was he feeling this anguish at the thought of him leaving?!
He couldn't find an answer, and he still couldn't find it as the last gangs were rounded up, and the Wall declared that they would be going back to Norqod by the end of the week. Madam Hebi had let most of the workers take the night off for an impromptu celebration before they left. Tahmid joined in, keeping to the periphery of the revelry while nursing a mug of ale. He kept an eye on the Unit at the center; he wanted to talk to Wiljem but not in the middle of a crowd with dozens of eyes on them. He tried to catch the sergeant's eyes, but the man kept his head down, ignoring everyone but his squadmates.
Thankfully he did catch the woman's, Chiedi?, attention. She did him an absolute solid and said something to her leader, which caused the man to stand up and weave through to the crowd to begin heading to the dorms. Though he could do without the wink and thumbs up she gave him as he followed Wiljem.
He caught up to him in the hallway leading the bedrooms the Wall had been using, and his approach did not go unnoticed as Wiljem turned around to face him. At first, they just stood in silence, neither knowing what to say. Tahmid was fighting back the tears, and Wiljem had a frown on his face.
"So you're leaving?" Tahmid spoke first.
"Yeah, it's time for us to go home." Wiljem sighed. "It's not like I'm never coming back; I'll try to visit when I can, and I'll send letters regardless."
"But what if you get sent to the ass-end of nowhere, and you can't write?" What if he died out there? Fuck, he was now crying. Would anyone even remember to tell him, or would he just keep waiting for a letter that would never arrive like a character in those cheap novels?
Strong hands cupped his cheeks, and claw-tipped thumbs wiped the tears off his face. "Shh, you know that's how life is." He crooned in an attempt to console him. He stayed like that for a few moments before a small smile bloomed on his face. "Let us enjoy what little time we have left, so we can have some nice memories."
And then he was kissing him. Tahmid wrapped his arms around his neck and let himself be pulled into the bedroom.
It was truly not fair.
The man was even good in bed.
Wiljem left the following morning, and Tahmid tried to return to how life was before, but it had ended with him sitting in the bar drowning his longing in alcohol until he could no longer feel the sorrow in his chest.
He had just downed another glass of liquor and asked for a refill on the second night when Madam Hebi sat on the stool next to him. She leaned back on the bar and took a deep drag of her cigarette, exhaling the smoke in a long puff of air.
"You know, five years ago, I would have encouraged to forget about all this and use it as a lesson on why prostitutes should never fall in love." She began in her lecturing tone.
"N't drunk enuf." He was in no mood to listen to whatever nugget of wisdom the hag wanted to shove down his throat.
"Shush, child! Let me finish." She admonished him before shooing off the barman with a glare; it looked like he was being cut off for the night. "Now? Now things have changed, and for once, it's for the better. One can realistically hope to leave this line of work and make a better life for themselves."
"But what happens if he doesn't want me anymore? Or if I fail to find any work?" Fuck, the buzz was fading, and he was able to think more clearly.
"You do what everyone else does. You get up again." She gave him a fond smile. "The doors of the Consensual will always be open to you; you are not banned for life after you leave."
She stood and pulled him by the shoulder until he did the same. "So, I want you to go to bed and think about what you want to do in the morning, sober." With that, she pushed him in the direction of the dorms.
Cut off from the bar, and with her words rolling around in his head, Tahmid wordlessly made his way back to the dorms.
He woke up the following day with a hangover and a mission. Before he could talk himself out of it, he went to the Madam to end his contract. The older woman smiled knowingly and handed him a receipt for a spot on a caravan leaving to Norqod later that day. He then spent two stressful hours packing all his clothes and his meager personal possessions into a pair of large duffel bags with the help of a teary Phistia. He gave his friend a tight hug before hefting the bags over his shoulders and exiting the Consensual for the final time.
He forced himself to not look back as he walked away. Instead, it was time to look towards the future.
Tahmid stretched as he reentered the Consensual after dumping a basket of laundry with the team in charge of washing that week. Business may have slowed ever since the gangs took offense to their recent expansion, but their kind of work always created a lot of dirty sheets. He took a quick peek into the bar floor; as it was mid-morning, they had yet to open, and it was essentially empty if you ignored the gaggle of people clustered around the windows.
He idly scratched his side as his mutation rearranged the patterns on his skin. Then, stepping up, he joined the group shamelessly ogling one of the few good things to come out of the gang debacle. Said thing was tall, built like a shit brickhouse, and currently running exercises with the rest of his squad in the courtyard. It was hilarious how Wiljem could turn a group of professional entertainers who seduced their clients out of every coin in their possession into a bunch of debutantes facing their first crush. Not that Tahmid had any room to judge; he also wanted to climb that man like a tree. Their current object of adoration was sparring with another of his Unit, an equally muscled woman; they were not wearing their iconic heavy armor; instead, simple light armor was apparently deemed enough. They were also using regular spears rather than electrified ones. Despite working up quite a sweat, he had a smile on his face, giving his handsome features a roguish edge.
Tahmid heard a dreamy sigh coming from beside him. It came from his fellow worker Phistia, who was prone to fantasies more fitting to a little girl than a full-grown woman despite their profession. Said fantasies had only gotten worse since the Wall had been stationed here, he knew since she had heard them often enough over breakfast. Or at lunch. Or at night. And while working.
He gently bumped hips with her, bringing the smaller woman out of her daydream. "Still waiting for a prince in shining armor to sweep you away into the sunset?"
Phistia pouted in a way some people would call cute. "I'll have you know that I keep my feet on the ground and my expectations realistic" Ah, so she had tried and been rebuffed like everyone else. "Besides, I'll happily settle for a gallant knight right now. A much more reasonable goal, don't you think?"
He hummed, thinking it over. He could see it; while there were rumors that the woman currently sparring with Wiljem was pining for her own lady love, some of the other members of the Wall would be much more receptive. Of course, they weren't bad-looking either, but going after such safe bets was hardly a challenge at all.
Phistia must have figured it out from his expression since she poked him hard in the stomach. "Look who's chasing fantasies now, Mr. Pot." She said with a smile. "Did you not get enough after being rejected once?"
Now it was Tahmid who was smirking. "Well, I wouldn't know anything about rejection; I have not spoken to him yet." His words had the desired effect, and Phistia looked at him, startled.
"Wait! You, of all people, did not do anything yet? Why?!" She questioned, surprised.
"First rule of seduction," He began while gently poking his colleague's nose, "be memorable." And you could not be that as just another pretty face in a crowd. No, if he wanted to make an impression, he would need to wait for the right opportunity.
Luckily, said opportunity presented itself that very evening. He had decided to have an early night, so he was loitering on the bar floor after seeing off his last client. That was when he spotted Wiljem sitting in a quiet corner by himself, reading a book. The rest of his Unit was nowhere to be seen, now was his chance.
He practically sauntered up to his table and delicately put his hand on one of the empty chairs. "May I sit here?" He asked with the most innocent he could muster, fluttering his eyelashes for greater effect.
A pair of unimpressed golden eyes rose from the book and went straight for his own. They stayed there until whatever inspection of his very soul was finished. "I know what you want to ask, and the answer is still no." Wiljem was direct, looking to stonewall him from the very beginning. "But sure."
"Good thing I wasn't planning to ask anything." He had, after all, done some research. Tahmid knew his target was not wholly disinterested in sex; he had heard the Madam comment on previous visits made by the warrior. So a direct approach would not work; he needed to get his quarry used to his presence so that he would be the obvious first choice when it was time to scratch that itch.
"Is it so strange that someone else would seek a quiet corner to relax?" He continued as he sat and pulled out his own preferred timewaster that he picked up at the crafts class. The small sewing kit was indeed a blessing, plus his fellow workers seemed to enjoy the patches he made. He looked back at his table partner and saw the arched eyebrow the other was giving him. "Really. The background bustle of the bar is preferable to distant moaning and bumping upstairs."
Wiljem snorted at that and returned to his book, seemingly done with him. Tahmid also took it as his cue and turned his attention to the flower he had been working on.
First step: complete.
Their little hangouts became a regular thing over the following weeks, and Tahmid had gotten Wiljem comfortable enough with his presence that they could now speak freely with one another. For a military man, Wiljem was an adept conversationalist. While not the most intelligent person the escort had ever talked to, he had passing knowledge on a wide variety of subjects beyond the typical boastful Necropolis adventure.
He was also surprisingly sweet, as Tahmid would soon discover.
Tonight had been rough; everyone in his line of work knew of and feared the wrong clients, the kind that would beat you or pop a hardcore kink mid-coitus. Thankfully, they had guards here to deal with that sort. But no one talked about the boring clients, the ones that were just bad lays in general. Now having just one he could deal with, he was a professional, but he had had three in a row on a single night. He had not been able to finish even once, and to say he was frustrated was an understatement.
He collapsed into his usual seat with a bone-weary sigh, letting his head thump on the table. Wiljem looked up from his book, a look of concern on his face.
"Bad day?" The handsome Mutated asked.
Tahmid merely moaned pitifully in response, drawing a chuckle from his table partner. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, as they often did during their hangouts. He propped his head on his hand as he focused on the book the sergeant was reading. The few times he had peeked, the pages had been packed with words well beyond his meager level. Before, he didn't want to push in fear of undoing the progress he had made so far, or worse, make him look like an ignorant idiot.
"What's so interesting about that book?" Tahmid finally asked after Wiljem waved down a waitress, probably to get a drink. "You've been reading it non-stop for weeks."
"It's a book on strategy and tactics." Came the reply from the sergeant as he turned the page, frowning at something written on the page.
"Huh, I didn't think officers had to study to do their jobs." In fact, from what he knew of those who thrived in the military, opening a textbook might as well be a novel form of torture.
"We don't. It's mostly nobles or those commoners who reach positions like General or Sub-General that are required to study stuff like this." Wiljem scoffed, then stared back at the book, his mind seemingly elsewhere. "But if I am to keep the people under me alive, I need to be able to see the bigger picture. And so I asked a friend if he could pass me a copy of some of his old books."
Tahmid hummed with a slight smile on his face. Honestly, it was getting a little unfair, a handsome face, athletic and responsible on top of it. "No wonder you have a crowd of lovestruck fanatics after you." He couldn't help but say out loud. Judging by the glare he received, the remark had not gone over well, so he explained further.
"Really. Think about it. You have a handsome face, you're young, in a good, respectable career, and have a good head on your shoulders." He marked each point with a finger as he continued. "You are the best catch anyone short of a noble can realistically hope for."
The sergeant groaned and thumped his head on the table. "Then I'll have to deal with the mass of horny for the rest of my fucking life?" He truly made it sound like a form of divine punishment.
"You could get a partner." There, plant the idea in his mind. People like him only saw relationships from the outside, so they usually saw only the negative side of them. "Even if it's just for a little while, having a partner would get about seventy percent of the mob to give up, and the rest you wouldn't want to approach anyways."
"And you're volunteering for the role, I imagine?" Wiljem shot back with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, I always look to please my fellow man." Tahmid winked and made a kissy face for greater effect. But, unfortunately, he only lasted for a couple of seconds before dissolving into giggling and laughter.
Sadly, Wiljem's resulting snort was cut short by the return of the waitress, who placed a pint of ale and a small bowl of Frin in front of him. Frin was a popular dessert in the region, consisting of grain pudding sweetened with fruit syrup or, if you had money, honey. He enjoyed it occasionally but not as often as he would like since the kinds that actually tasted sweet cost more money.
Which was why he was surprised when Wiljem pushed the bowl towards him. He looked down at the bowl, then back at Wiljem, confusion written clearly across his face.
The Mutated scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "You seemed to have a bad day. And my sister always says that you can't have an awful day if you finish it with something sweet."
Tahmid blushed, then desperately tried to darken the color of his face to hide its severity. He had been a prostitute for more than five years; he would not blush like a girl receiving her first compliments at the market. However, despite the embarrassment, he grew up poor enough to not look a gift lizard in the mouth, so he took the spoon and scooped up a mouthful of pudding. Letting the sweet taste wash down his throat and calm his nerves.
"Your sister is wise." That was all he finally said when he could trust himself to speak.
"Don't let her hear that, or her head won't fit through any doorways anymore," Wiljem replied, bringing the pint to his lips.
They both chuckled at that, continuing to enjoy their evening.
Truly, it was unfair.
Unfortunately, life had a way of reminding everyone how shitty it could be.
It had been Tahmid's turn to go to the market to restock on makeup and other toiletries that were running low. Sadly, due to the current situation, he had to be partnered with another girl, and they had to stick to the main roads and return as quickly as possible.
Everything had gone well at the beginning. They had made their purchases with minimal haggling and had even managed to avoid getting stuck in the crowd during a hot day. However, when they exited the main avenue to return to the Consensual, he noticed they were being followed. Apparently, the girl had noticed as well since she started to tremble and looked on the verge of tears.
They could try to increase their pace, but that wouldn't work; Tahmid could see another pair of thugs ahead of them. However, looking to the sides, it seemed like there were only the thugs in front behind them. They were far enough away that they could make a break for it, but he didn't like their chances of outrunning them.
"When I tell you, I want you to take the alleyways and run straight to the Consensual and get the Wall. Do you get it?" He whispered to the girl. It was their only chance. If they split up, there was a higher chance one of them would make it back and get help. When she gave a jerky nod, he turned to look ahead as they kept walking. He waited until they passed an alley many had used before as a shortcut to avoid cramped streets.
"Go! I'll distract them!" He waited until the girl had started running before he also shot off down the street. He hoped they focused on him instead of the girl, and by the sound of hurried footfalls behind him, it seemed he was right.
He apparently took the ambushing thugs by surprise since he was able to run past them before they could block him off. However, he was not the most athletic of individuals, so he needed to lose them quickly if he wanted to get away. Turning into another sidestreet, he heard his pursuers approaching fast. He managed to keep ahead of them as he ran through the winding backstreets, leading them ever closer to the Consensual. Unfortunately, his luck ran out when he found himself blocked off by an upturned debris cart on the next bend, he could not climb over it fast enough, and by the time he turned around, panting heavily, the three thugs were already upon him, blocking any way out. Shit.
The thugs seemed like the standard scumbag fare omnipresent in every gang in Mirn. But, he recognized their tattoos, the Gutter Rats. Double shit.
The two thugs on the side were smirking with sneers on their faces, while the larger thug and possibly the leader had a pensive look on his face. Oh no…
"Wait… I think I remember you." Triple shit! "You used to be one of ours, didn't you?" Tahmid didn't like the look on his face at all.
He needed to keep them talking, to buy time. "Well, it is a business after all, so if someone starts offering better rates and benefits, it's only logical to make the jump, isn't it?" He sassed with confidence he did not have, but the last thing he wanted was for these bunch of dickheads to know he was terrified.
The head thug scoffed. "Bah! Y'all talk of improvements, and yet here you are still being whores." He spat in Tahmid's direction. What actually stung was that he was somewhat correct. "Listen here, bitch. The boss wants us to teach you traitorous whores a lesson, but I'll cut you a deal since you used to make good decisions. So, you come quietly and apologize properly," The pervert chuckled at that. "And we can put a good word in with the boss to spare you a beating."
Three years ago, Tahmid would have done it with no hesitation; hell, three months ago, he would have done it if only to spare himself the pain and wait for a chance to escape. But now, all he could think is the face Wiljem would make if he went with them, he would never be able to face him again. He took a deep breath; this was going to hurt.
"Go suck a dick." He could barely spit out his defiance before a hit to his ribs sent him to the floor.
A flurry of kicks to his head and ribs followed as the thugs discharged their fury at his insolence. They also spewed insults between hits, but Tahmid could not distinguish what they were saying over the ringing in his head from all the pain. He didn't know how long the beating lasted, but by the time they finished, he was struggling to stay awake, and he could taste blood on his mouth.
He could feel himself being picked up but could do nothing but weakly moan in protest. He was being carried somewhere when he heard a loud noise nearby. Whatever it was, it caused him to be jostled around and dropped entirely after a few moments. He hit the ground face first and finally lost the battle to remain conscious, his mind fading into darkness.
When he next awoke, Tahmid was on a bed, and his entire body hurt. Thankfully he recognized the room as his own, so he had been rescued in the end. Light streamed in from his window; it looked like morning, so he probably slept through the night. He tried to sit up, but the sharp pain in his chest immediately dissuaded him from the idea. It'd be better to just lay there until someone came to check on him.
Lucky for him, he didn't have to wait long before Phistia came through the door. "Tam!" She cried once she noticed he was awake and coherent. She rushed to his side and stood there, visibly shaking from restraining herself from jumping on him and enveloping him in a hug. Instead, she settled for grabbing his hand in a bone-crushing grip.
"I'm s-so glad you're alright" The waterworks were going to start any moment now. "You looked so bad when they brought you in a-and I thought that-"
Not wanting to see his friend cry, Tahid put his hand on top of her head, gently rubbing her hair. "Hey, it's okay." No, it wasn't, his throat was drier than the Wastes, and his body hurt like it had been dragged to hell and back, but she didn't need to know that. "I'm a little banged up, but it's nothing that time won't fix."
That seemed to do the trick as Phistia raised her head and lightly slapped her own cheeks. "Right, right. I'm useless if all I do is sit here and cry." She stood up and began to make her way to the door. "I'll let Madam Hebi know you're awake; she'll tell you what the doctor said." With that, she left the room.
It wasn't long after Phistia left that Wiljem entered the room. The man was out of his armor, though he still had the suit worn underneath; the bags under his eyes and the look on his face spoke of a rough night. Nevertheless, he didn't say anything, just pulled up a chair and all but collapsed beside the bed.
He stared at him for a few seconds, an odd look on his face, before he spoke in a quiet voice. "How're you feeling?"
"Like shit." No need to sugarcoat things with him.
They lapsed into an awkward silence. It looked like Wiljem had something on his mind, and he had a lot on his mind from the ordeal. But, in the end, it was he who broke the silence.
"You know, it sucks when the past refuses to stay there." He began but was forced to stop as his throat protested being used in such a state. Wiljem immediately unclipped a small canteen from his belt and helped him lean up so he could take a couple of refreshing sips of lukewarm water.
"I used to work for the Gutter Rats." He stared at the ceiling as he continued, not able to look at Wiljem in the face. "It's the most cliche story out there. An orphan with nothing to his name and nothing else to offer but his pretty face doing what he could to survive." He snorted. "To be honest, I didn't have it as bad as some of the others. I wasn't forced to use drugs and managed to keep myself clean. The pay sucked, though, the main reason why I came here in the first place." He let a sardonic smile spread on his lips. "Still have enough pride in me to want to be paid fairly for my work."
"It was a brave thing you did. No one would have blamed you if you had gone with them." Wiljem was trying to comfort him, and he even believed him. But knowing that would not have stopped the shame if he had folded.
"Still, it sucks when they have a point. We are just whores trying to make something of ourselves." He tried to laugh but gave up with a groan when pain shot up from his ribs.
"Now you're just letting their bullshit get to you. No one is 'just anything,' and I know for a fact many people who used to work here were able to move on and make a life for themselves." Wiljem sounded strangely upset over this. He didn't think he would care.
"Well, those people had either skills or family to help them; I have no family, no education, and no skills other than looking pretty." So there, now he would get it. Some people were better off settling for what they had rather than betting everything on the vague hope of getting somewhere better.
"What about sewing? I've seen your work; you're good at it." It seemed Wiljem was not going to give this up.
"That's just a hobby. There's no self-respecting tailor in Mirn that would take a former whore as an apprentice." Never mind the fact that he was a Mutated.
"So you're just going to give up without even trying? What about Norqod? That's an option, now more than ever." The lion man was getting more and agitated, his tail lashing behind him.
"Oh, sure. Let me just drop everything and move to a new town alone with nothing but hopes and dreams." He knew nothing of the newly built village. He would not even know where to begin if he went there.
"You'd not be alone! I'd-" Whatever else Wiljem was about to say was cut off when the door to his room opened, and Madam Hebi stepped in. The woman looked from one man to the next before deciding that Wiljem would be dealt with first.
"Wiljem, a captain of the Guard is looking for you. Go and see what he wants." She ordered in a tone that would brook no argument. Wiljem stared at her for a couple of moments before huffing loudly and stomping out of the room.
Once the man was gone, the Madam turned to look at him. "Do I want to know what all that was about?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.
"No," Absolutely not; he did not want the Madam to begin meddling.
Fortunately, the Madam let him off and took a long drag of her cigarette. "You've gotten yourself into quite a mess, haven't you?" She commented as she breathed out the cloud of smoke.
Tahmid was to stay bedridden until his cracked ribs healed. It was a little humiliating to have to be washed by other people, but the pain in his chest kept him from complaining much. At least he could remain standing without help so he could relieve himself unassisted. Being cooped up in his room also had the unfortunate side effect of being left out of the loop, with any news coming from second-hand rumors and gossip from the people tasked with taking care of him.
Wiljem had not visited once.
Apparently, whatever the Guard had said to him, it had spurred the Wall into action. Every day he heard stories of them going out to strike at the gangs directly. The Guard was doing a massive round-up, and they had enlisted the Wall and extra muscle. It seemed to keep them busy, Phistia had told with a conspiratorial smile, as she had barely seen hide or hair of them since they began to help the Guard.
And this state of affairs continued even after he was allowed to move around. Even if he could walk, Tahmid was only allowed as far as the courtyard, and that was only to get some sunlight. He was never able to meet with Wiljem at all; he was always gone before he woke up and returned long after exhaustion forced him to sleep if he returned at all.
And so it continued for an entire month, people cheered as more and more gangs were dismantled, but Tahmid could only feel a growing sense of dread. He didn't know why he felt this way. He was twenty-three, not ten. He knew that Wiljem was only staying here temporarily and that his relationship with the man would not last, so why was he feeling this anguish at the thought of him leaving?!
He couldn't find an answer, and he still couldn't find it as the last gangs were rounded up, and the Wall declared that they would be going back to Norqod by the end of the week. Madam Hebi had let most of the workers take the night off for an impromptu celebration before they left. Tahmid joined in, keeping to the periphery of the revelry while nursing a mug of ale. He kept an eye on the Unit at the center; he wanted to talk to Wiljem but not in the middle of a crowd with dozens of eyes on them. He tried to catch the sergeant's eyes, but the man kept his head down, ignoring everyone but his squadmates.
Thankfully he did catch the woman's, Chiedi?, attention. She did him an absolute solid and said something to her leader, which caused the man to stand up and weave through to the crowd to begin heading to the dorms. Though he could do without the wink and thumbs up she gave him as he followed Wiljem.
He caught up to him in the hallway leading the bedrooms the Wall had been using, and his approach did not go unnoticed as Wiljem turned around to face him. At first, they just stood in silence, neither knowing what to say. Tahmid was fighting back the tears, and Wiljem had a frown on his face.
"So you're leaving?" Tahmid spoke first.
"Yeah, it's time for us to go home." Wiljem sighed. "It's not like I'm never coming back; I'll try to visit when I can, and I'll send letters regardless."
"But what if you get sent to the ass-end of nowhere, and you can't write?" What if he died out there? Fuck, he was now crying. Would anyone even remember to tell him, or would he just keep waiting for a letter that would never arrive like a character in those cheap novels?
Strong hands cupped his cheeks, and claw-tipped thumbs wiped the tears off his face. "Shh, you know that's how life is." He crooned in an attempt to console him. He stayed like that for a few moments before a small smile bloomed on his face. "Let us enjoy what little time we have left, so we can have some nice memories."
And then he was kissing him. Tahmid wrapped his arms around his neck and let himself be pulled into the bedroom.
It was truly not fair.
The man was even good in bed.
Wiljem left the following morning, and Tahmid tried to return to how life was before, but it had ended with him sitting in the bar drowning his longing in alcohol until he could no longer feel the sorrow in his chest.
He had just downed another glass of liquor and asked for a refill on the second night when Madam Hebi sat on the stool next to him. She leaned back on the bar and took a deep drag of her cigarette, exhaling the smoke in a long puff of air.
"You know, five years ago, I would have encouraged to forget about all this and use it as a lesson on why prostitutes should never fall in love." She began in her lecturing tone.
"N't drunk enuf." He was in no mood to listen to whatever nugget of wisdom the hag wanted to shove down his throat.
"Shush, child! Let me finish." She admonished him before shooing off the barman with a glare; it looked like he was being cut off for the night. "Now? Now things have changed, and for once, it's for the better. One can realistically hope to leave this line of work and make a better life for themselves."
"But what happens if he doesn't want me anymore? Or if I fail to find any work?" Fuck, the buzz was fading, and he was able to think more clearly.
"You do what everyone else does. You get up again." She gave him a fond smile. "The doors of the Consensual will always be open to you; you are not banned for life after you leave."
She stood and pulled him by the shoulder until he did the same. "So, I want you to go to bed and think about what you want to do in the morning, sober." With that, she pushed him in the direction of the dorms.
Cut off from the bar, and with her words rolling around in his head, Tahmid wordlessly made his way back to the dorms.
He woke up the following day with a hangover and a mission. Before he could talk himself out of it, he went to the Madam to end his contract. The older woman smiled knowingly and handed him a receipt for a spot on a caravan leaving to Norqod later that day. He then spent two stressful hours packing all his clothes and his meager personal possessions into a pair of large duffel bags with the help of a teary Phistia. He gave his friend a tight hug before hefting the bags over his shoulders and exiting the Consensual for the final time.
He forced himself to not look back as he walked away. Instead, it was time to look towards the future.
Last edited:
HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
Replace gods with Divinity, and add "the rightful leaders of" before humanity.
The Followers of Light follow a non-gendered Divine Will (Slatnan) which inhabits the True Imperial Family at all times.
Emperor to Slatnan.
Change member to Shepherd.
Why are you calling me out like that?
Lizard, horses are extinct.
This. This I like.
If you have any questions regarding any future omakes, feel free to ask! I'll be more than happy to talk about it!
Choose your Lore:
[] Born In The Faith
[] Thinking Crystal Mind
[] This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Canon, and I am loving this. Right in my feels!
Choose your Lore:
[] Prostitution Among Pilgrims
[] Sexuality Among Nobility And Commoners
[] InSec Report On Tessen Clean-Up
Ambit
Help me
- Location
- Third Circle of Hell
Edits have been made, thank you.
[X] Born In The Faith
[Canon] - InSec Report On Tessen Clean-Up I [Canon] - Born In The Faith
HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
InSec Report On Tessen Clean-Up
[We estimate that around 7.300 criminals, bandits, and other non-citizens remain within Tessen, scattered around the Region.
An estimated 4.000 are suspected of living within various bandit enclaves and hideouts in Yellow-Zones, with around 600-800 in various proscribed cults hiding in Red-Zones. The rest are concentrated in gangs and criminal enterprises within Green-Zones, all of which are currently being targeted by the round-up efforts initiated by the Guard.
In addition, the percentage of Mutated in criminal gangs or outcast societies has dropped to 34%, the lowest ever recorded within Region Tessen. Consequently, we suspect Norqod is acting as a viable alternative to illegal settlement and criminal activity to those Mutated who would otherwise join bandits, gangs, or cults.]
-Excerpt of a communication between Mark and Mark
Born In The Faith
As the Pilgrim faith grew and started to settle down, children began to appear as expected when two humans of the opposite gender lived near each other. For a while, these children were a source of joy and a reminder of why these early Pilgrims had chosen to walk the path they walked, yet they soon began to become a problem for the nascent faith.
Many saw it as imperative that their children have the best education possible, so they can read, write, and do math. If not in a highly learned way, then enough to comfortably read a book and calculate their needed food and water rations for any given journey. Yet, it was also seen as critical that the faith supported those efforts by communally raising the children or helping the parents with reduced tasks to spend more time with their children. However, as these things were discussed, the wealth of the Pilgrims increased enough to offer a third alternative: setting aside funds for daycare and a nascent schooling system. Both of which would only grow as time progressed, in quantity and quality they offered.
As an example, why don't we take a look at the young child of Samantha and Gregor, Scavengers which had recently married, however informal, and been blessed by a healthy boy, Minatau. The young child was a Mutated, his skin painted by bioluminescent lines swirling to and fro, while curled horns slowly poked out from the side of his head, growing like that of a bull. His back was protected by armored bone plating, lending a fearsome note to the tiny child. In any other village, there would have been a coin toss from the parent's whether the child would have been given to an orphanage or the slums, with the possibility of setting out the boy in the wilderness. With the Pilgrims, the child could instead enjoy two seasons with his parents, as they were given this time to make the needed arrangements for when they would slowly return to their voluntary duties.
His first few years would be spent being watched over by either one of his parents while the other was away, or within the daycare, living there until his parents returned from their work. Here, he would spend his time playing, socializing, napping, crying, laughing, and other things, all watched by caretakers dutifully taking care of him and others. Then, as he would turn five, he would be given over to the first stage of the Pilgrims nascent educational program, enjoying time in classrooms learning reading, writing, math, history, and more with his classmates. Though, to be fair, they would, in this stage, not learn more than the absolute basics, more concerned with making friends, having fun, and learning essential skills like cleaning wounds, navigation, and how to find or procure water when lost.
However, once they turned 10, the second stage would begin, for, four years, in which they would be given an education only the wealthy could surpass in thoroughness. Yet, even in this, trained and educated teachers would ensure that their charges would have everything they could need in their future while never smothering their flame of curiosity in the process. And once this stage was done, young Minatau, 14 years of age, would have finished his primary education, ready to enter life as an apprentice or laborer in one of the many branches of work the Pilgrims were involved in.
God, we are going to become the prime backbone of administrative recruitment for the next generation. An empire's endless thirst for secretaries and functionaries will be fed by the mass of hard working literates we produce who are willing to work for less than a lord's pay demand.
Lurking_Badger
Cheese Enjoyer
- Location
- Wisconsin
Everyone: How do we get rid of criminals and gangs? Do we need to get more guards and harsher laws?
*Pilgrims set up legal ways to make a living and support those in need*
Everyone: Wow, that is a steep decline in crime.
Children are the greatest treasure of them all. They are the flames of hope that are passed into the future. By educating them and giving them a good childhood, the Pilgrims are making the world a brighter place.
Also, having the best educated population in the empire is going to pay dividends. You need a clerk, a trader, someone to do math, a person to write a letter, anyone to do a job that requires even a bit of education? Well it looks like the Pilgrims have people to fill those roles. Not to mention all of the benefits from having an educated population. Less unemployment, improved health, more wealth, societal change, political participation, and many more.
Edit: I just had an idea but don't want to double post.
Currently there isn't a name for the faith of the Pilgrims. The collective faith of a religion usually has a similar name to the people who practice it (i.e. Christians practice Christianity, Buddhists practice Buddhism, Jews practice Judaism.) So what does a Pilgrim practice? Well, Pilgrimage, the journey of a pilgrim or in this case, the practice of a Pilgrim.
Last edited:
I wonder if Insec or the empire at large will try to create more villages like Norqod in other regions. Either by poking us in that direction or making their own towns.
It might devolve into a giant ghetto but it would be interesting if the Pilgrim start making changes on societal level.
It might devolve into a giant ghetto but it would be interesting if the Pilgrim start making changes on societal level.
HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
WoG, 95% of your positive impact on the life of the Mutated came due to raising the opinion on Mutated.
Mark is confusing corellation and causation in his report to Mark. Mark is however smart enough to know this.
cryptoam
building an 1980s encrypted protocol
- Location
- in lockdown waiting and bored...
<jk>But how does this work?
If Mark is aware that Mark is committing a logical fallacy, then wouldn't there have been a warning or caveat included in the report to Mark? And in that vein, why does Mark need to make a report to Mark himself?</jk>
Wow, the Yellow-Zone cleaning effort will hit over half of the criminals in Tessen.
Given that Mutated are usually used as muscles in Adventurer groups, and I suspect by criminals too, that's going to have an interesting effect on the criminal organizations.
And that is how many of the criminal gangs recruit Mutated. Or how the local wildlife gets a taste for human blood.
I'm surprised hiding from wildlife isn't considered an essential skill, alongside cleaning wounds, navigation, and finding water.
Hahaha.
We're going to do horrible things to the local labor market, won't we?
HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
It is generally assumed that if you need to hide from animals/mutants/machines at that age, you're already dead, as nobody with a brain would allow anyone under ten away from sight in the wilderness.
Eeeeh, you currently have around ~200 children in your classes (not all are/will be Pilgrims), and Norqod alone has already more children than you can educate.
But once you get schools started there...
HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
Way later, and locked in faith's "Home Away From Home"-tree.
- Pronouns
- He/him
.........Oh my humanity how did we not think of this before?! It's sooo obvious that I am actually pretty sure this is exactly what the guy who created the pilgrims vote at the beginning of the quest had in mind in the first place 🤣 🤦
It is not where you are going that matters, but the journy itself. The real reward is not treasure, but the friends you made along the way.
Ambit
Help me
- Location
- Third Circle of Hell
@HeroCooky My next omake will hopefully involve my omake viewpoint character finding his (first) job within the ranks of the Pilgrims--naturally, he'll end up gravitating towards the Administration Center this early on, but I'm not entirely sure how it's set up.
How is administration handled exactly among the Pilgrims? Are there "Departments" dedicated to different things like scheduling jobs, handling logistical networks, and the like? Do the administrators handle negotiations over acquiring supplies from the outside or is that a different side of the Pilgrims? Are administrators split across regional/city lines or by what they handle? What does a low-level Pilgrim administrator do compared to a high-level administrator?
I hope this isn't too much to ask, sorry.
EDIT: Actually as a side question, what is a layperson of the Pilgrim faith called? I'd imagine that there are quite a couple in Tessen at this point who've come to believe in the teachings they've been spreading around without actually dropping everything from their old lives and running off to actually join the Pilgrims.
How is administration handled exactly among the Pilgrims? Are there "Departments" dedicated to different things like scheduling jobs, handling logistical networks, and the like? Do the administrators handle negotiations over acquiring supplies from the outside or is that a different side of the Pilgrims? Are administrators split across regional/city lines or by what they handle? What does a low-level Pilgrim administrator do compared to a high-level administrator?
I hope this isn't too much to ask, sorry.
EDIT: Actually as a side question, what is a layperson of the Pilgrim faith called? I'd imagine that there are quite a couple in Tessen at this point who've come to believe in the teachings they've been spreading around without actually dropping everything from their old lives and running off to actually join the Pilgrims.
Last edited:
If you need any characters for it, Willow works in admin. Though no one's sure exactly what she does but at this point Wiljem is too scared to ask.
HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
Well, depending on if he goes through Norqod first, you may want to spend some time there having him react to the massive difference in the lives of the Mutated they enjoy there. From their wealth, to the lack of hostile or disctiminatory practices, to Human/Mutated couples walking around and being open about it. As well as the breath of Mutations that are present. One of the snippets from Norqod has a Women with a lower snake-body and a human man as a couple, I'd imagine that they'd be informally married by that point with a child either on the way, or one already there with another in the making.
Well, to explain that, I have to explain the organization of the Pilgrims a bit. It, in essence, resembles a mix of anarchist, communist, and syndicalist themes. Every Pilgrim is, by either profession or choosing, part of a team/group who does a thing. Cooking, washing, excavation, the militia, being a mendicant preacher out and about, a scholar, etc. All of those groups choose one among their numbers to represent them in a council for [Location], which in turn are directed by someone they choose to represent them in the Pilgrims Council (this is you). A local council focuses on their problems, successes, and gives reports on their doings and problems to the PC, along with any Pilgrim's ideas, problems, complaints, and praises. The PC then directs and creates a general plan for the season which reflects what happened in the last season, current happenings, and future plans. Then they hand that to the Administration.
This is where the High Administration (jokingly called the "Department of Everything/Miracles") dissects the orders they have been given, and starts breaking down tasks into their components.
For example, building a new Consensual.
The High Administration figures out that it needs permits, workers of both kinds, materials, money, guards, etc., and passes those tasks off to the Low Administrations, who then tell the various Branches of the Pilgrims that there is work to do.
Getting the permits, both kinds of workers, and any needed contracts, would be the task of the Diplomatic Branch (Selene works/rules here) of the Pilgrims. Gathering the materials, money, and laborers to build the Consensual would be the task of the Infrastructure Branch (Marxcim's hunting grounds). Guards and Adventurer contracting would fall to the Security Branch (Needle is the undisputed head here).
After that, individual teams would be assigned their tasks, the location of the teams which have tasks that interject/play off of their's, and told to organize.
Mind, there are Administrations for Learning, Archeology/Scavenging, and more there, but they weren't relevant in my explanation. For example, Martyris is the Head of the Adjudication Branch that ensures nobody conks each other over the head or spreads corruption/is corrupted.
The needs, wants, and happenings are given up the ladder, with the solutions, actions, and ressources given down the ladder.
Depending on his Branch, Tahmid could be told: "Hey, grab a Diplo-Team and hammer out a deal for silphium with [Person] for the new Consensual, here's the details." Or: "We need more militia, help to organize a competition to get some teams."
High Administration gets told what to do and breaks the work down, Low Administration assigns teams, and the teams then complete the projects.
Hey, I told you to ask me if you had any questions, no need to apologize!
Believer.
As a side note; the Pilgrims progression, due to your Humanist Origin, is Believer-Follower-Faithful, while any other would have given you Follower-Faithful-Zealot.
Oh, she definitely works in Security then.
Last edited:
Ambit
Help me
- Location
- Third Circle of Hell
Noted, thanks.
Thank you, this is really helpful.
- Location
- colombia
Im curious if we can include sortation into our voting system for leaders
Step 1) make a pool of capable candidates
Step 2) roll dice
Step 3) one of the members of the candidate pool is voted,if he passes the treshold he is accepted as leader if not repeate step 2 and 3
The idea is that adding sortation/luck means that you get rid of a lot of democracy issues with populism (people promising wild shit to get support as no amount of populism influences a dice roll)
@HeroCooky how would an action for modifying votation system be like?
Step 1) make a pool of capable candidates
Step 2) roll dice
Step 3) one of the members of the candidate pool is voted,if he passes the treshold he is accepted as leader if not repeate step 2 and 3
The idea is that adding sortation/luck means that you get rid of a lot of democracy issues with populism (people promising wild shit to get support as no amount of populism influences a dice roll)
@HeroCooky how would an action for modifying votation system be like?
HeroCooky
Unverified Monstergirl
A Faith write-in.
Also, kinda not needed at the moment. The only Councillor who'se been on the Council for more than a consecutive year is Needle, and that is because she know what she is doing. And most Pilgrims can smell political lizardshit from a mile off, as most are from the getthos/slums or low-class backgrounds.
Do our military units fall under this? Or are they separate?