Basically, we should try to recruit as many support units ASAP because the sooner we get the extra actions and bonus the better...
[X] Plan: Recruitment Drive and Pest Control
-[X] Search for Knight Commander Finlay
-[X] Meet with the soldiers of the Haligtree
-[X] Take stock of Miquella's library
--[X] Knight Loretta
-[X] Dispatch the remaining Kindred of Rot
--[X] Cleanrot Knights
Gonna go ahead and close it here. Update should be out in a day or two. Since we took the learning and stewardship options, we'll also be seeing two new mechanics: magic (sorcery and incantations) and resources (and how to accumulate and spend them).
Scheduled vote count started by dmclain2 on Jan 8, 2024 at 12:02 PM, finished with 11 posts and 8 votes.
[X] Plan Trust in there Loyalty.
-[X] Take stock of Elphael
-[X] Search for Knight Commander Finlay
-[X] Take stock of Miquella's library.
--[X] Loretta, Knight of the Haligtree
-[X] Dispatch the remaining Kindred of Rot
--[X] Cleanrot Knights
[X] Plan: Taking Stock and Rounding Up
-[X] Take stock of Elphael
-[X] Meet with the soldiers of the Haligtree
-[X] Take stock of Miquella's library.
--[X] Knight Loretta
-[X] Dispatch the remaining Kindred of Rot
--[X] Cleanrot Knights
[X] Plan: Recruitment Drive and Pest Control
-[X] Search for Knight Commander Finlay
-[X] Meet with the soldiers of the Haligtree
-[X] Take stock of Miquella's library.
--[X] Knight Loretta
-[X] Dispatch the remaining Kindred of Rot
--[X] Cleanrot Knights
[] Take stock of Elphael. Once, the Brace of the Haligtree was the capital of Miquella's realm and a promise to all. It now a shadow of a shadow of that munificent promise, but it need not remain so. [Stewardship. On success: gain a deeper understanding of the issues plaguing Elphael.]
DC 45 vs 70 = 41 + 29
The cracked streets, broken by the uncontrolled growth of root and branch were easy enough to see. As were the shattered facades, the toppled statuary, and the topiary long since reverted to wilderness. But all that was, to you, superficial. Or at least of far lesser import when compared to the supplies needed to keep the residents of a city alive and thriving.
In the years before what would become the Shattering, your brother had undertaken a task of such terrifying complexity that you had fled for the relative safety of the Consecrated Snowfields and the monstrous beasts that dwelled within. Perhaps, if you had stayed by his side in those months, you would have a better understanding of what it meant to prepare a city the size of Elphael for a siege. But then both you and your brother had walked different paths and found different gifts. And where you had found yours in the blade, he had found one of his in a far stranger art. Logistics.
"To feed a city, Mal we must know many things. To feed one whose denizens are as varied as Elphael, we must know even more." your brother's lecture had been accompanied by a sly grin that had spoken far louder than words that he knew you were attempting to flee this battle of sums for something more sensible. Just as he had known—as he had always known—that you would never ignore him. "In fact, instead of a city like Leyndell, where we can model food consumption based upon a primarily… Golden Order approved… type of humanity, here we must instead…"
The memory draws a smile to your face, one that only widens as you see Miquella's childish face screwed up into a look of intense focus forms in your mind's eye. It was only a shame that he had learned early and well just how adorable he was—and that he had never been hesitant to use it—even after the youthfulness of his appearance no longer matched the years since his birth.
"I suppose I should have listened closer, dearest Miquella," your whisper, more a sighed exhalation than spoken words, nevertheless echoes loudly in your ears.
Still, you had listened close enough to remember a hidden lift that led down to the very deepest roots of the Haligtree. A location where a warehouse was built and stocked to serve Elphael in case of siege by… Fundamentalists. And here, at the end of a seemingly endless descent into the earth, you find yourself in a cavernous room lit by seemingly hundreds of torches that bathe the warehouse in a pale, ashen light. Long, graceful strides take you down an aisle crowded by jars of myriad different shapes and sizes. Each one is sealed in wax and marked by your brother's graceful calligraphy.
Smithing stones. Glovewort. Grain. Corn. Beans. Hundreds of jars, labeled with everything from from alchemical supplies to choice cuts of meat. And at the far end of the sprawling space, stacks upon stacks of stone and wood and metal.
A crimson eyebrow raises as you take in the bounty set aside by your brother. "How much of all of this did you foresee, Miquella?"
Food (400)
Required to keep living and/or mortal beings alive and happy. Each full turn (starting with Arc 2) requires 100 food. Food is consumed automatically, though an option to ration supplies will be available as a free action (once Arc 2 starts).
Alchemistry (100)
Required to upgrade arms and armor as well as develop certain alchemical mixtures. Actions using alchemistry are locked until a smith or a perfumer is recruited.
Construction (300)
Required to build or repair infrastructure and vehicles. Actions using construction require a character with the stewardship stat.
[] Search for Knight Commander Finlay. When you lay insensate upon the swamps of Aeonia, torn in body by the Starscourge's attacks and in mind by the Rot that you let Bloom, Finlay managed to carry you back to the safety of the Haligtree. [????. On success: gain Knight Commander Finlay, improve bonuses of Cleanrot Knights.]
DC 65 vs ??? = 72 + ??
Tracking the resting place of a knight that hadn't been seen in years was, perhaps, not a trivial task. But, not only did you have the gifts of your birth and the grace granted by becoming an empyrean, you had lived in this city since its beginning. More than that, you knew your missing knight. She had, after all, spent centuries under your command, serving as your hand and voice in places where you could not be.
So it was, that after a few missed guesses. You found her…
Or rather…
"Was this the answer you chose, Finlay?" fingers of flesh and blood trace along lacquered wood and golden inlay as a heavy weight settles within your chest. "To reject the grace of rebirth and persist here instead in this forgotten corner of Elphael?"
"I am sorry I did not reach you sooner." You exhale deeply, slowly. Regret and recrimination flow through your thoughts as your eyes are drawn to a bowl containing the Spirit Ashes of your lost knight. "But belated as it is, I am here now."
"And so I ask," your voice quavers ever so slightly as unalloyed gold reaches out to touch Spirit Ash.
There were many things you wanted to say. Many questions you wanted to ask. Yet the time for that was not now. Not as you intruded upon the rest your knight had chosen for herself. Perhaps, if the light of your brother's presence had still radiated from the Haligtree you could have left her to her rest. Or perhaps if the needle he had once wrought to silence the seething of Rot was still embedded in your flesh. Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps. But so many things had changed since you had fallen into slumber and anything that could remind you of those better days was… You sigh once again, banishing regret and recrimination as unworthy companions of the decision you had made, and reach out.
A mote of your will flows along the golden runes of your prosthesis and into the ashen remains of Finlay. It is not the tolling of a bell crafted by spirit-callers to guide a soul back from the Spirit World, but then you are not a lesser being to need such support. The radiance of your soul alone would be sufficient. "Are you willing to serve once more?"
In answer to your call, a figure, limned in ghost flame and garbed in the flowing azure of their soul materializes in front of you. For a long moment, you simply stare, your eyes drinking in the familiar shape of armor and even more familiar features. And then you wait, silent and motionless, for despite the certainty of your decision to wake your knight from death, you would not force her to serve.
"Lady Malenia?" The voice whispers across your senses, an ethereal caress that had far less to do with sound than intent and desire. "You're back…"
"I am," you reply simply, for those were all the words you could force out through the knot forming in your throat.
"My Lady, I…" Finlay trails off, seeming just as lost for words as you were. The silence reverberates, stretching out into infinity as you stare down into eyes that flicker with a pale inner light.
You cannot find words for the mixture of emotion that floods through you as your knight smiles softly and drops gracefully to one knee. Fortunately, your body remembers the rites and acts even as your thoughts are frozen.
A hand extends—the golden one, the pure one—and Finlay reaches out to grasp it. Ghostly lips press down on a ring fashioned into your prosthesis. Azure eyes filled with some unnameable emotion look up at you, "Until the Erdtree burns and all turns to the ash, I will follow you, Lady Malenia."
Finlay's hands fall from your own, as you raise your blade and let it fall upon your knight's shoulder. "Then rise once again, Dame Finlay, Commander of the Cleanrot Knights. We have work to do."
Even when compared to the storied devotion the Cleanrot Knights have for their leader, Knight Commander Finlay's loyalty stands out. Indeed, it was she who carried Lady Malenia back across countless miles from the fetid battlefields of Caelid to the sanctuary of the Haligtree.
Knight Commander Finlay attaches to the Cleanrot Knights. Cleanrot Knights improve to:
When assigned as either a solo unit or the most powerful unit in a group, Cleanrot Knights use the following stats
Combat: 10 -> 18
Martial: 14
When assigned with a more powerful unit, Cleanrot Knights provide the following bonuses
Combat: +5 -> +9
Martial: +7
[] Take stock of Miquella's library. Once, Miquella had a library containing books gathered from the far corners of the Lands Between and even from those beyond the fog. Time has doubtless worn them down, but perhaps some may yet be recovered. [Learning. On success: gain a rudimentary library.] (Can be assigned to a support unit)
--[] Loretta, Knight of the Haligtree
DC 40 vs 30 = 10 + 20
The glintstone light hanging above Loretta's crested helmet illuminates the suite of rooms Lady Malenia had told her had once been Lord Miquella's private study. In better times, it had clearly played host to the trappings of a mind that was, perhaps, unequaled amongst all the children of Marika.
Loretta could see maps of both the Lands Between and the realms beyond the fog pinned to the walls alongside diagrams of arcane complexity such that even her own extensive training couldn't make heads or tails of them. And crammed in every corner and stuffed near to overflowing upon seemingly dozens of bookshelves are scrolls, books, and journals that had proven the foundation of Lord Miquella's own development of a new Golden Order.
Unfortunately, it was all in a state of immense disrepair. Paper had been torn from books and crumpled to provide bedding for rodents. Insects had eaten through entire volumes of leather-clad notebooks, defacing priceless collections of research into the crafting of incantations. More than their pestilential touch was the near-overwhelming stench of mold and mildew emanating from piles of books that must have sat for years in puddles of stagnant water.
Loretta is too well trained to let the loss of so much knowledge bow her shoulders, but it is a near thing. Still, she had once re-taught herself to walk when the curse of the albinaurics had paralyzed her legs. Compared to that, what were a few waterlogged books? "I refuse to let Lord Miquella's legacy fall to something as trivial as neglect."
[] Dispatch the remaining Kindred of Rot. Some things cannot be abided. Some creatures cannot be allowed to live. Purge them with fire and blade and unalloyed gold. [Combat. On success: all Kindred of Rot purged from Elphael.] (Can be assigned to a support unit)
--[] Cleanrot Knights
DC 30 vs 33 = 23 + 10
Cadoc scowls down at the disemboweled corpse of an insectoid creature Lady Malenia had called a Kindred of Rot. He resists the urge to spit upon it, but only barely. That such a malformed creature would dare to claim fealty to his Lady was an insult that could not be tolerated. Still, knowing these things needed to be eradicated and accomplishing the task were two completely different things.
"Sir Cai, your thoughts?" Cadoc addressed the nearest of his compatriots. Sir Bryne was busy standing lookout and Dame Eira was incanting a soothing golden light over a gaping wound in her thigh.
"Bastards can think," the other knight growled out, his voice flat with repressed anger. "Got us clean when we were trying to secure the chapel."
"Dame Eira?" Cadoc asks as he notices the knight's flesh seal up and scab over. The incantation was no substitute for rest and recovery, but it would do… for now.
"I concur. Armed with mere animal cunning their attacks would splash futilely against our consecration, and yet..." she stands with a quickly suppressed grimace before pointing down at a knee joint that had been punctured straight through, revealing the torn gambeson beneath. "They knew how and where to hit to take me out of the fight in one shot."
"Sir Bryne?" Cadoc raises an eyebrow as the last of the group of knights walks over to the impromptu strategy session.
"Weak." Sir Bryne chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment before continuing, "Uncoordinated. Cowardly. Ambush predators."
"So there are, perhaps dozens of intelligent ambush predators capable of piercing through our armor, and only four of us..." Cadoc pauses to look each of his fellow knights in the eye. Grim satisfaction crosses his face as he sees not a single mote of hesitance or fear. "We have faced worse odds before. And if they wish to hide in the shadows and strike as the cowards they have proven themselves to be, then we shall purge them with flame and golden light."
Cadoc tilts his haloed scythe into the middle of the circle between the four knights. His weapon is soon joined by Dame Eira's sword and the spears of Sir Bryne and Sir Cai. As one, four voices speak.
"For Lady Malenia."
[Cleanrot Knights are still a bit occupied eliminating the Kindred threat, unit is tapped until next turn.]
Support units can be used in one of two ways, either assigned to actions tagged as (Can be assigned to a support unit) or added to a task to provide a bonus to that task. Units that are assigned to a task without Malenia do not count against the number of actions she can take in a turn. Multiple units may be assigned to the same task.
Golden Order Fundamentalism is a philosophy created by Queen Marika. It is an order of alloyed gold (perhaps reflective of the various powers incorporated into her rule, or perhaps reflective of some more esoteric truth). It systematically oppresses and shuns any who do not fit into its order including the albinaurics and people who display traits of a time before the golden order (non-human traits like wings, feathers, tails, horns, etc.). Importantly, it is not synonymous with the Greater Will (as we can see from the endings that repair the Elden Ring, the Greater Will 'accepts' any number of variations of Order), but rather is Marika's own interpretation.
Turn Options
Malenia has Two actions she may take this turn. Please vote by plan. Please note that bolded options are either new or have updated text.
One success from the previous quest rolls over to the current quest.
Quest: Secure the Haligtree [1 of 6 tasks completed]
While your efforts have rendered Elphael safer than it has been since you retreated into slumber, there is more work to be done before the imminent threats to the Haligtree are completely resolved.
[] Welcome the misbegotten refugees of the Haligtree. These refugees have sought shelter beneath the welcoming boughs of Miquella's tree, even as they have never been allowed into Elphael itself. In order to live up to your brother's dream, this must change. [Diplomacy. On success: gain unskilled workforce.]
[] Organize patrols of the Haligtree. It isn't enough to merely slay all the threats to your brother's beloved city. You must put into place the infrastructure to ensure those threats never return. [Martial. On success: increases DC of hostile incursion into the Haligtree.] (Requires soldiers of the Haligtree.)
[] Catalog the damage done to Elphael and the Haligtree. You have a stock of resources found in the ancient cellars of Elphael which you could put to use in restoring the broken buildings and streets of your brother's city. Before that, you have to survey the damage. [Stewardship. On success: new turn action generated once the current quest is resolved.]
[] Search for hidden paths. The cowards that stole Miquella reached his cocoon unseen and left without alerting a single soul. Such a weakness in the defenses of Elphael cannot be borne.
[Intrigue. On success: shore up hidden pathways into and through the Brace of the Haligtree.]
[] Save what books can be saved. Upon noticing the sorry state of Lord Miquella's library, Loretta knew that time would be critical to ensure that as much of his knowledge could be saved as possible. [Learning. On Success: restores ruined library to rudimentary] (Action must be taken this turn and assigned to Loretta, Knight of the Haligtree as either primary or support. If assigned as primary, will tap Loretta until the quest Securing the Haligtree is complete.)
[] Meet with the soldiers of the Haligtree. In the early years of the Shattering, countless men and women swore themselves to the light of your brother's benevolence. Time has doubtless worn down all but the stoutest of them, but any who have kept the faith these long years deserve a place under your wings once again. [Piety. On success: gain a platoon of soldiers.]
[] Personally patrol the Haligtree. It is almost certain that various threats have made themselves at home in Miquella's city. It would be a trivial task to put them to the sword. [Combat. On success: eliminate one or more major threats from the Haligtree.]
[AN]
I think the system makes sense so far. Things that would be trivial for Malenia are not necessarily so for others. Though, to be fair, Loretta and the Cleanrot knights did get a bit unlucky on their rolls. As a result of her unfortunate luck, though, we'll have another turn or so before we get to sorcery and incantations.
As always, feel free to @ me if you have any questions or comments or whatever.
[] Catalog the damage done to Elphael and the Haligtree. You have a stock of resources found in the ancient cellars of Elphael, you could put them to use in restoring the broken buildings and streets of your brother's city. Before that, you have to survey the damage. [Stewardship. On success: new turn action generated once current quest is resolved.]
DC 45 vs 77 = 47 + 30
From the topmost boughs of the Haligtree, you could see many things. The hazy shimmer of what looked like land an almost unfathomable distance to the north. The cherry red glow that was all that remained of the Giant's Flame. The ruins and forts and outposts that dotted the lands, the last remnants of those that had once thrived in this mountainous land.
With a sigh, you set aside gazing at the horizon and the call of exploration made by its many far-distant landmarks, and instead turn to look down upon the almost ruined city sprawling out below you. There didn't seem to be a building or road or high arching bridge that had survived the intervening years since your slumber and your brother's abduction intact.
Even the great bulwarks that had been driven into the ocean by sorcery and trollish hands were in tatters and no longer could you see either the piers or the siege weaponry that had once bristled from those great walls. Elphael had once welcomed all who arrived before its walls, and countless thousands had braved the journey to stand before its gleaming walls. Compared to the pittance that had braved the overland routes north, teeming masses had arrived upon those piers, carried to sanctuary by shallow-bottomed river craft and great-sailed galleys alike.
In your mind's eye, you could see Elphael as it had once been: a shining monument to your brother's vision, a vibrant place where all were welcomed. A city full of life and vigor and color. That memory was a far cry from the pale drabness that now unfurled beneath your gaze. Memories of high-arched bridges and spires that had once stood tall and glittering clash with broken masonry and neglect.
As it must ever do, memory fades, defeated by reality. For you would once again see Elphael a match for what it had once been, a task that could not be completed while you let yourself remain trapped in the nostalgia of a time long since gone. And so, as you stare down from the highest boughs of the Haligtree, a list of repairs begins to form in your mind. One that grows and grows as your inspection continues.
[stewardship actions unlocked for Arc 2]
[] Save what books can be saved. Upon noticing the sorry state of Lord Miquella's library, Loretta knew that time would be critical to ensure that as much of his knowledge could be saved as possible. [Learning. On Success: restores ruined library to rudimentary] (Action must be taken this turn and assigned to Loretta, Knight of the Haligtree as either primary or support. If assigned as primary, will tap Loretta until the quest Securing the Haligtree is complete.)
DC 50 vs 54 = 12 + 32 + 10
Miquella's study is in far worse shape than even you could have imagined. That much was clear almost the instant you had stepped through the doorway and into his former suite. Your estimation of the situation drops as you take in the grim, almost angry look gracing Loretta's face.
"Your Highness, thank you for coming," pale silver hair spills loosely as the former Carian knight tilts her head in a respectful bow.
Your eyes flicker across the room, taking in the damage and devastation in the same way you had surveyed hundreds of battlefields. For a moment, you allow your gaze to settle on the knight, just long enough to issue an order, "collect the least damaged books and scrolls and place them somewhere dry. I will see what I can do to draw the rot from their pages."
"As you command."
Loretta departs with a bow and a swirl of her deep blue coak, but your focus has already moved. Your eyebrow twitches as you take in a rat's nest that had been fashioned out of the thick parchment of your brother's journals. Rot lashes out, formless and deadly as it soaks through stone and mortar, unnoticed by either Loretta or the pests that had dared breach Miquella's sanctuary.
Long, graceful strides take you from study to antechamber to bedroom, and all the while, your Rot hunts. It flows between the walls and floors, an invisible miasma searching hungrily for life. A target that it finds in a water-worn recess between irregularly shaped stone blocks: a colony of rats squirming and seething amidst the evidence of their crimes.
A single touch is all it takes to infect, to turn rodent flesh into a viscous liquid that sloughs from bone like melted candle wax. A second touch turns steaming puddles of melted flesh and viscera into dust and ash. A final touch consumes even ash, leaving behind not a single trace of life.
"There may be more that can be salvaged, but these are the best of a sorry lot," Loretta's metal-clad boots announce her presence and you watch as she spreads half a dozen books across a stone hearth framing a massive fireplace. It wasn't much, but when compared to your worst expectations when you had first seen the dilapidated state of your brother's study, it was enough.
"My brother would have protected his journals against the most common ravages of time," you kneel, picking up the most intact of the journals, your voice soft as you muse to yourself almost as much as to Loretta. "Inks that were resistant to water. Pages specifically bleached of any contaminants. Wards set to repel pests and the overly curious alike. Though I suppose we see how well the last one worked in the end."
"His Highness was wise to do so," Loretta's equally soft voice responds as she joins you in closer inspection of Miquella's journals.
A single thread of Rot unspools from your finger and weaves its way through your brother's journal. With a feather-light touch, you dissolve growths of mold that had worked its way between pages. A second brush with your power disintegrates spots of mildew that had found purchase in the binding glue and leather bound covers.
With the contamination dealt with, all that remained was the water damage, and for that, an even more delicate touch was needed. A gossamer-thin strand of Rot flows out from your hand and you watch, with senses granted by your Great Rune, as the book in your slowly begins to dry. Soon a second strand of Rot joins the first, carefully dissolving the first Rot before it could grow too bloated upon water and cause further damage.
Even for one with your inherent mastery of Rot, a mastery that had been strengthened a hundred-fold upon absorbing your Great Rune, the process was slow. The glow of the Erdtree rises and falls and rises again as you kneel, motionless save for the slightest twitch of flesh and blood fingers. Eventually, though, it is done.
You stand, graceful despite having spent days without moving. The creak of armor accompanies your rising, and you look over at Loretta, as she staggers slowly upright.
"I have done what I can here." You glance down at the golden prostheses decorating your form and a wry smile crosses your face. "Restoring something that has been broken is my brother's gift, not mine own."
"As you say, Your Highness," the knight dips her head in acknowledgment. "If you have no further need of me at the moment, I will begin weaving what wards as I can around Lord Miquella's library and also begin transcription of any scraps of information that I can find."
You nod, accepting her request to continue working in the library, and turn to leave. There was much and more that needed to be done before Elphael could be restored to even a fraction of its former glory, but restoring what knowledge could be restored from your brother's library was a worthy task indeed.
A library allows units to improve their combat score by learning incantations or sorcery and to create magic effects (either temporary or permanent) by researching them. A unit may learn different types of magic equal to its rank (to be discussed in Arc 2). A library may be improved by either finding new spellbooks or by existing units codifying their own spell knowledge.
The rudimentary library allows units to learn the following:
Golden Order Incantations: Journeyman (rank 3 of 5)
Support units can be used in one of two ways, either assigned to actions tagged as (Can be assigned to a support unit) or added to a task to provide a bonus to that task. Units that are assigned to a task without Malenia do not count against the number of actions she can take in a turn. Multiple units may be assigned to the same task.
War in the Lands Between. It's worth noting that battles in the Lands Between were won by the might of individual champions and elite units of soldiers rather than massed troops. There were fewer than 20 Carian knights that held off the invasion of the Golden Order. Similarly, Godfrey commanded 16 Crucible Knights as he went to war with Marika's enemies (at least the Stormlord and perhaps also the Giants).
Elphael having a port. This is really the only way I can square people (re: Gowry/all the misbegotten) actually making it to Elphael when in game it requires two halves of a (well-hidden) medallion and solving that fucking black-knife infested evergaol to get there.
Turn Options
Malenia has Two actions she may take this turn. As we now have some burgeoning complexity in how votes work, please vote by plan. Please note that bolded options are either new or have updated text.
Locked actions can be added to turn votes, so long as the pre-req actions are also included. Failing the pre-req action means the action does not occur and the action is not refunded. This also applies to locked actions assigned to support units with the same limitations.
Quest: Secure the Haligtree [3 of 6 tasks completed]
While your efforts have rendered Elphael safer than it has been since you retreated into slumber, there is more work to be done before the imminent threats to the Haligtree are completely resolved.
[] Welcome the misbegotten refugees of the Haligtree. These refugees have sought shelter beneath the welcoming boughs of Miquella's tree, even as they have never been allowed into Elphael itself. In order to live up to your brother's dream, this must change. [Diplomacy. On success: gain unskilled workforce.]
[] Organize patrols of the Haligtree. It isn't enough to merely slay all the threats to your brother's beloved city. You must put into place the infrastructure to ensure those threats never return. [Martial. On success: increases DC of hostile incursion into the Haligtree.] (Requires soldiers of the Haligtree.) (Can be assigned to Cleanrot Knights)
[] Search for hidden paths. The cowards that stole Miquella reached his cocoon unseen and left without alerting a single soul. Such a weakness in the defenses of Elphael cannot be borne.
[Intrigue. On success: shore up hidden pathways into and through the Brace of the Haligtree.]
[] Meet with the soldiers of the Haligtree. In the early years of the Shattering, countless men and women swore themselves to the light of your brother's benevolence. Time has doubtless worn down all but the stoutest of them, but any who have kept the faith these long years deserve a place under your wings once again. [Piety. On success: gain a platoon of soldiers.]
[] Personally patrol the Haligtree. It is almost certain that various threats have made themselves at home in Miquella's city. It would be a trivial task to put them to the sword. [Combat. On success: eliminate one or more major threats from the Haligtree.]
[AN]
I think we'll end this quest in another turn or two depending on how things go. Then we'll get into longer turns and some of the way turn options are structured will change to reflect this.
I've got to say it took me a second to remember that the "arc's" of this quest are called quest's but for a second or two I was wondering what I missed for this quest to reach its end in two turns when it barely began.
[X] Plan: Halgitree Opening Soon
-[X] Meet with the soldiers of the Haligtree
-[X] Search for hidden paths
-[X] Organize patrols of the Haligtree
--[X] Cleanrot Knights
This turn we finish some last minute prep stuff, with next turn being where we open the tree up to the Misbegotten outside, that way when they come in things won't be a mess.
've got to say it took me a second to remember that the "arc's" of this quest are called quest's but for a second or two I was wondering what I missed for this quest to reach its end in two turns when it barely began.
Gonna close it here. Update should be out in a day or two. I think we'll have a lot more options to play with as we move into arc 2.
Scheduled vote count started by dmclain2 on Jan 13, 2024 at 12:16 PM, finished with 7 posts and 5 votes.
[X] Plan: Halgitree Opening Soon
-[X] Meet with the soldiers of the Haligtree
-[X] Search for hidden paths
-[X] Organize patrols of the Haligtree
--[X] Cleanrot Knights
[] Search for hidden paths. The cowards that stole Miquella reached his cocoon unseen and left without alerting a single soul. Such a weakness in the defenses of Elphael cannot be borne. [Intrigue. On success: shore up hidden pathways into and through the Brace of the Haligtree.]
DC 50 vs 127 = 98 + 29
To be continued in interlude: An Empyrean's Shadow
[] Meet with the soldiers of the Haligtree. In the early years of the Shattering, countless men and women swore themselves to the light of your brother's benevolence. Time has doubtless worn down all but the stoutest of them, but any who have kept the faith these long years deserve a place under your wings once again. [Piety. On success: gain a platoon of soldiers.]
DC 40 vs 67 = 27 + 40
You look out at the crowd before you. Pale golden eyes take in surcoats worn by time and age, weapons failing against rot and rust. For a long moment, you study them. And they, in turn, stare silently up at you.
Ninety-seven men and women had responded to your call, to the tolling of the great cathedral bells. Not even a hundred soldiers had come, where once the ranks of those who served the Haligtree had numbered ten times that.
Still, you felt not a mote of disappointment that the numbers were so few. Rather, it was relief and gratitude that flowed through you as you stared down into the faces of those who had not broken faith even as you had failed them.
"I come here before you not to demand your obedience," your words silence the faint susurration flowing through the crowd. Nigh on a hundred soldiers stare up at you, motionless in a way that would put a statue to shame. "For loyalty compelled is mere tyranny. And it was to escape from Queen Marika's tyranny that brought each one of you to shelter in the shade of the Haligtree."
"No. Loyalty must be earned, and as I have squandered so precious a gift, so too will I work to once again earn yours." Statue-like figures seem to straighten and you watch as motes of long-forgotten pride begin to stir within them once more.
You don't smile, for you know how easy it would be to regain their trust with a word and a smile. You weren't Miquella, to so easily compel loyalty. But there were few indeed who could remain unmoved in the face of your regard. And so, you refrain from such empty things and instead offer them truth.
"We have fallen far from our heights, from our goals and dreams and ambitions." you glance away from the crowd of soldiers before you and toward the simple runes inscribed upon your prosthetic arm. "And I carry the blame for that fall."
You ignore the muffled sound of what could have only been Finlay's protest, "And so, I promise. To each of you standing here. To all those who have or will one day seek shelter beneath the boughs of the Haligtree. I will never again retreat into slumber. I will never again leave you bereft of the protection of my wings."
The crowd is still and utterly silent, but then you don't need them to voice aloud the emotions you can feel stirring in their hearts. "So I ask you, soldiers of the Haligtree. Will you allow me to lead you once again, to war and death and the promise of better days?"
[Gained soldiers of the Haligtree unit]
[] Organize patrols of the Haligtree. It isn't enough to merely slay all the threats to your brother's beloved city. You must put into place the infrastructure to ensure those threats never return. [Martial. On success: increases DC of hostile incursion into the Haligtree.] (Requires soldiers of the Haligtree.) (Can be assigned to Cleanrot Knights)
DC 40 vs 57 = 43 + 14
Finlay materializes with a swirl of ash right beside a soldier clad in a pale yellow and white surcoat and matches her stride with the soldier. For half a city block she prowls behind the feckless soldier, waiting for a response, for awareness, for any sense that the figure in front of her is more than just flesh and dead eyes. She gets nothing, not even the slightest twitch that would indicate they were intentionally ignoring her—as foolish an idea as that would be.
For a moment, she's tempted to perforate inattentive flesh with sword and spear. Though whether that temptation was to eliminate one who would so flaunt the abasement offered to them by her Lady, or merely to remind this soldier of their responsibilities, she couldn't say for sure. Eventually, though, the urge to kill subsides and she disappears with the same swirl of ash as she arrived.
Cadoc raises a closed fist and barely suppresses a scowl as the clank of armor and weapons behind him continues for another breath. His scowl deepens, almost etching his annoyance clearly on his face as he turns around and views the ragged line made by the trio of soldiers assigned to this patrol.
He exhales audibly, almost a growl. It doesn't help. A second growled exhale and he feels calm enough to speak without shouting… or stabbing. "Do you fools not understand the honor granted upon you?"
One of the soldiers, one who still carries the deep golden glow of youth in his eyes moves to speak.
"You do not!" His words crack like a whip. The youngster flinches and his mouth snaps shut. Cadoc nods, satisfied.
"Our Lady Malenia has awoken from her slumber and has decided to preside over Elphael once more. You and others like you were chosen to ensure that her Blessed city will never again fall prey to monsters or malign influence."
He is not Lady Malenia, to draw devotion and reverence from all who see her. Nor is he Commander Finlay, to silence fools with the weight of her regard. No. He will not reach such hallowed heights, but he has been a knight of his Lady for longer than these fools have been alive. And he knows how to train fools.
"An urban patrol follows three criteria distinct and different from any other," A pale golden stare pierces each of the would-be sergeants in front of him in turn. "First, are the vectors of infiltration. You must routinely inspect every potential weakness."
With a second gesture, he directs his sergeants in training toward an open storm grate. "Sewage systems are a favored point of infiltration, primarily because inept and lazy guards will typically close and lock any openings without properly investigating the tunnels beneath."
Cadoc grins as he watches understanding flicker across his sergeants' faces. "Indeed. Into the sewers. One by one. I will teach you how to reconnoiter in underground spaces like this."
Eira finishes scrawling a simple golden rune upon a paving stone set at the center of a four-way intersection. She looks up with an idle sort of amusement at the bored figure of Cai twirling his sword in an intricate clover-leaf pattern. "I'm surprised you decided to attend to the task of marking out patrol routes, Sir Cai."
Cai responds with a half-attentive grunt and spins his sword in a flourish before sheathing it at his side. "I don't think any of us really measure up against Sir Bryne and his… Bryne-ness and I hardly wanted to drag around some wet-behind-the-ears sergeants, so…"
"Ahh, was it not the pleasure of my company that drew you here?" Eira tilts her head in mock consternation.
"Dame Eira, please," Cai's focus turns toward her, and with it comes what had once been a charming smile. It still was, in all honesty, but now that smile was lent a more menacing cast as it pulled at a jagged scar carved through the meat of his cheek. "You are the fairest of us all, how could I not be drawn to the pleasure of your company?"
"I do believe that is damning with faint praise, Sir Cai," despite the words, Eira returns his smile with one of her own. "Though, perhaps if we can finish marking the patrol routes early, we might be able to find a place more amenable to… enjoy the pleasure of each other's company."
Cai's smile shifts to something slyer, but it is belied by the warmth in his eyes. "Well, how could a true knight decline such a generous offer?"
Bryne's boots land against the paving stones with a barely audible crunch. A noise that is nothing compared to the dull thunk of the blunt end of his spear colliding with an unprotected skull with a force that was just shy of killing. Just.
He disappears, vanishing back into the shadows before the guard he had ambushed finishes dropping bonelessly to the ground. Amusement flickers across his face as he watches the other two members of his patrol spin around, hands grasping frantically for sheathed weapons.
These guards were no match for him. A dozen guards wouldn't be enough. But then, his goal wasn't to overwhelm them with sheer martial brilliance, it was, instead, to train them until their vigilance never slipped. And how better to do that than to teach them to fear the shadows?
Perhaps Commander Finlay would disapprove. She was the kindest and in many respects the gentlest, of them all. But this mission had come straight from Lady Malenia, and he doubted the commander would spare a mote of sympathy or mercy for any would-be guards who couldn't measure up to the tasks assigned them.
Bryne tosses a stray pebble against a nearby wall, his lips twitching into a wolfish grin as a fearful guard moves to investigate. And far be it from him to not ensure that these prospective guards were tested to the utmost of his abilities. Surely Lady Malenia would accept nothing less.
[AN]
Wasn't expecting a crit (unmodified 95 - 100) here, but since it happened, we'll start the associated interlude next and then move on to Arc 2 afterward. So we've got a short update today and an interlude chapter or two coming up in a day or two.
You stare down at the bottom of a dried cistern, eyes picking out a thin layer of sand covered by seemingly thousands of cracked and misshapen bones. You frown, golden eyes narrowing to pinpricks of light. The Rot within you seethed, alive within you in a way that it had only been in the instant after you had bloomed over the swamps of Aeonia.
Something waited at the bottom of this cistern, something touched by the Scarlet Rot. Whatever it was lurked within shadows so thick that even your empyrean eyes could not pierce. But while you could not see the beast, you could hear it. Its heart beat loudly in your ears. A staccato rhythm that mirrored your own.
For a moment, you consider leaving. You had followed a strand of instinct and intuition down tunnels and corridors that had not seen a living soul in ages, searching for even the faintest bit of evidence of your brother's abduction. And throughout that search, you had found not a single thing.
To turn the flicker of irritation at your failed search upon the beast that dwelled at the bottom of this cistern seemed… unjust. After all, the carpet of bones that covered its lair more than proved the truth of its skill, a skill that you felt no real desire to eliminate. More than mere recognition of skill, though was another truth. The beast was an agent of decay, an ending that sparked a new beginning.
Indeed, you may well have left the beast alone to predate these forgotten ruins in peace, were it not for one thing. The pools of Rot within you were churning, reaching out as though to embrace a long-lost friend.
It was that... awareness that spurred you to action. Once, in the days after the Eternal Cities had been banished underground, your mentor had fought and sealed the progenitor of Rot deep beneath the earth. Your brother had broken with the Golden Order in search of tools to brook the touch of all eldritch beings. And you. You had fought against the influence of Rot upon you with every breath and every act since the moment of your birth. Whatever it was that so resonated with the Rot within was something that you would not allow to live.
Your Hand flickers, appearing clenched between golden fingers even as you glide gracefully down from your perch.
Golden prostheses land lightly on a thin layer of sand and bone, and you're in motion, sprinting toward the mass of impenetrable shadow before a lesser being could even blink.
Great Enemy:
Maeve, Shadow of Malenia
-[████████████████████████████████████]-
"BeTrAyEd. AbAnDoNeD. KiLl." A voice like the grinding of stone upon stone cries out as the mass of shadow explodes into motion.
You dance to the side of a needle of shadow as it lances toward you, a frown crossing your face as your Hand slices through it without resistance. Your frown deepens as the tendril of shadow seemingly bounces off an invisible surface and arcs back toward you.
The faint air of melancholy that had engulfed you since you had awoken from your slumber fades from your mind. In its place rises the battle-forged intellect that had seen you undefeated through a thousand duels and as many more battles. For some, an endless array of shadowy attacks that could not be parried or blocked would be a fatal challenge. But for you…
Despite no longer desiring the thrill of battle, you cannot quite help the smirk that forms on your face. If you could not cut through the shadow you would simply have to avoid each one of its attacks.
Still waters turn foul, stagnation leads to decay and a warrior must remain ever drifting.
Your mentor's words ring in your ears as you drift toward your opponent. You duck below a pair of shadow blades, glide over a tentacle attempting to wrap around your ankles, and twist through a hair-thin gap in an oncoming wall of shadow as you approach the beast's unguarded flanks.
Your Hand flicks twice before you dart away from your opponent. A mote of intrigue filters through your thoughts as the wounds left by your Hand are slowly sealed by shadow.
DC 80 vs 106 = 21 + 85 (combat)
Maeve, Shadow of Malenia
-[████████████████████████████—————]-
The mass of writhing shadow resolves into a massive beast wreathed in tenebral armor and stone explodes into shrapnel as it smashes one massive paw into the ground. Your Hand flickers, batting a jagged piece to the side, while your prosthesis rings with a soft sound as a fragment pings harmlessly off of unalloyed gold.
Your legs shift, an almost imperceptible flexing of muscle and gold, as you explode forward. In a fluid motion, your Hand flickers as you weave through the ethereal tendrils, striking toward the beast's heart.
Runemarked gold slices through layers of shadowy armor as easily as parting paper, sending up sprays of rapidly dissipating darkness in its wake. The creature roars in agony, tendrils recoiling with a frantic speed as it retaliates.
Spears of darkness hurl toward you like a flight of arrows, reminding you momentarily of an attack that your knights had once unleashed upon the Starscourge. Unlike that maddened demi-god, who had warped gravity and let those spear-sized arrows fall upon his massive back, you glide through the rain of falling shadows without so much as a faltering step.
As you drift, unimpeded by countless shadowed attacks, the mote of enjoyment that had been forming within you begins to fade. Your opponent was a formidable one indeed. More than a match for what your knights had been at their peak, let alone what they had fallen to in the years since. Even Loretta, scion of Caria and all that entailed, would be hard-pressed to manage so many attacks without fully depleting her magic reserves.
Yet for all that, it was no match for you.
Your Hand, now an almost invisible blur, leaves an almost negligent set of wounds on the creature's shifting form that nonetheless leak thick plumes of shadowy smoke where it had been carved open. As the beast roars in pain and rage, you take a single gliding step back to the far end of the arena.
This has been an interesting diversion, but it was time for it to end. There were things that yet needed to be done, and indulging any further here would not see Miquella returned to you a moment quicker.
DC 100 vs 115 = 30 + 85 (combat)
Maeve, Shadow of Malenia
-[████████████—————————————————]-
You flourish your Hand at your opponent and tilt your head in a gesture of appreciation for the fight. The shadow roars something on the verge of intelligible and charges forward.
Your Hand drops loosely to one side and you place your right foot out to the side and slightly angled in. It was a deceptively open stance, one you had learned from your mentor back when you were still crafting your Dance beneath his watchful gaze.
You were far greater than you had been back in those days, honed by countless battles and your brother's gifts. As you had grown stronger, so too had your Dance improved, until it reached such heights that none could withstand its steps.
"Farewell, beast. You fought with skill."
Your Hand flashes, a whirlwind of steel surrounding you as you step. Once. Twice. Three times.
Shadow dissipates, revealing the pale flesh beneath. The no-longer a beast falls to the sand. Defeated. Dying. Your heart clenches.
You recognized that face.
DC 120 vs 146 = 61 + 85 (combat)
Enemy Felled
Maeve, Shadow of Malenia
-[—————————————————————————]-
"You never left me, did you?" your voice is whisper-soft as you approach the dying figure of your Shadow. "Maeve."
You kneel to her side, ignoring the spatter and hiss as the Rot which leaks from a dozen lacerations comes into contact with the unalloyed gold of your prostheses. "When you and Eamon disappeared as the Haligtree began to flourish, we thought it a repudiation of our transgressions against the Golden Order."
"Wasn't… you," Maeve coughs a spray of blood and phlegm that drools wetly down her chin. "Never you. Rot… whispers…"
You reach out with mortal fingers wipe her face clean and tilt her head up so that it rests against the flesh of your thigh. "Hush, my Shadow. I am not my brother, to offer succor and sleep, but I do have some skill in healing. You will live, though I fear it will be unpleasant."
"No!" A feeble hand lifts in an attempt to stop you only to fall limply across her chest. Still, the urgency of that motion was enough to stop you. "The Rot… it whispers… rather die… than betray…"
"Hmm…" you set aside, for the moment, the emotions roiling within you at finding Maeve here and look deeper at the state she was in.
Most evident was that she was slowly dying from the scores of wounds you had inflicted upon her. Beneath that inevitability, though, you could feel something more.
The Rot within her throbbed, a malignant pulsation that beat in perfect time to the same thrumming beat that existed within you. Underneath that, you could see stagnant pools of Rot that had gathered within her and were slowly, almost infinitesimally growing larger with each beat. And finally, stretching out from those pools to every part of her body were hundreds of branching, angry red lines.
A heart of Rot and the blood vessels to carry its malefic touch throughout her body. It reminded you of your own infection. One held at bay only by the touch of unalloyed gold and adamant will. As you study the infection within your Shadow, an idea begins to form, accompanied by a mote of some emotion forming in your chest that could almost be called rueful.
After all, to one already so besieged by the foul touch of Rot, what was a little more?
"I will not allow you to die while I still have need of you, my Shadow." The matter-of-factness of your words is offset by the soft, half-smile on your face. "Malign forces have stolen my brother from his cocoon and I will need your strength to see him returned."
"Malenia… I…" you can see the moment the realization of what you intend to do crosses her eyes, but as she is now, she is far too weak to do aught but lay there. "You…"
"Hush, dear Shadow." Golden fingers begin to trace a complex symbol across her forehead. As the Greater Rune of Decay flares into life, Maeve collapses, boneless and unconscious. "You will feel better before you know it."
You reach into your Shadow, spectral threads traveling along the bond wrought between you by the Greater Will itself, and begin to pull. For a moment, the Rot resists. Then, perhaps sensing the sheer power coming for it, it begins to flee from your questing threads. Retreating into spaces formed far more from soul and metaphysics than mere flesh.
Despite that frantic retreat, the Rot is as familiar to you as your hands. Far more than that even. Every moment of your life has been accompanied by the inscrutable and chaotic motions of the Rot as it flowed through you. And so, despite its attempts to flee, it cannot escape.
Next come barriers. Flesh crafted by the Two-Fingers upon templates designed by the Greater Will begins to warp and shift into bastions of putridity and pestilence. A smirk flickers across your face, baring sharpened teeth.
In your life, you had stormed a hundred forts, both alone and at the head of great armies. While striving to cleanse your Shadow the taint of Rot wasn't the same as that, it was still a battlefield. And in battle, you have not once known defeat. A truth which you almost gleefully carve upon the walls raised to stop you.
With its barricades left in steaming ruins and pale, unbroken flesh, the Rot within her turns at last to fight. Burning pustules and fetid streams of liquid scythe toward the anchor of the connection between you and Maeve. It was a final mistake, the desperate lashing out of a cornered animal, for what threat could there possibly be in a mere puddle of Rot when compared to the ocean that dwelt within you?
Your smirk widens triumphantly as that onrushing tide of Rot is buried beneath a deluge of your own. Chased, stymied, and then utterly routed. The Rot infesting your shadow flees, flooding out of her body in geysers of viscera and gore.
A mote of that vile stream attempts to infect you, only to be cast aside almost contemptuously by the Rot that already resided within you. With a final, vindictive sort of satisfaction, you lash out with tendrils of Rot, disintegrating the last remains of that which had dared to take what was yours.
You lean back, a content sigh escaping you, as Maeve's labored breathing slows into something more normal. It would take time for her to fully recover. But delaying your plans for a day or two was a small price to pay indeed for returning her to your side.
DC 100 vs 106 = 66 + 40 (piety)
You managed to remove the Scarlet Rot from Maeve, Shadow of Malenia without incurring a penalty to either her or you.
Gained: Maeve, Shadow of Malenia
In a last act of loyalty, Maeve fled for the deepest, oldest recesses of Elphael rather than allow the Rot that infested her to turn her into a weapon to feast upon those who dwelt within the city. Before the Rot grew to the point it could no longer be contained, Maeve exemplified the traits Malenia needed in a shadow. Someone to watch for hidden attacks and eliminate threats to Miquella's rule before they could grow.
When assigned as either a solo unit or the most powerful unit in a group, Maeve, Shadow of Malenia uses the following stats
Intrigue: 24
Combat: 20
When assigned with a more powerful unit, Maeve, Shadow of Malenia provides the following bonuses
Intrigue: +12
Combat: +10
[AN]
This took a bit longer than I had expected, mostly because I wanted to have the turn options for the next arc written as well. I'll post that either later today or tomorrow to give this update a moment to breathe on its own.
There's nothing that I can find in the game that speaks to what happens to Malenia and Miquella's Shadows (which they should have by virtue of being empyreans). It's possible they went crazy (which happens when an empyrean defies the Greater Will), but given that Malekith and Blaidd stayed loyal despite the plotting of their respective masters, I think it unlikely. And so, here's my explanation: Malenia's shadow was tainted by the Scarlet Rot through whatever links empyrean and shadow together and left to hide in its mindless state rather than go berserk in Elphael.
