To Glory or Damnation, a Dresden Files/Alt-Hist Quest
- Thread starter mouli
- Start date
All Over By Christmas
mouli
Terrible QM
- Location
- United States
Event roll is fun:
Calcutta Siege Lines
1919
The city is hot and stiflingly humid. The people are silent and watchful as you walk by, acutely aware of your origin and even more so of the gun at your hip. Calcutta is very much a city under siege as the rations bite into people's diets and scavenging and infighting begins.
Refugees are all over the place, and the begging and emaciated bodies testify to the uneven rationing.
Not your problem is what you tell yourself as you move to meet with officers of the 44th as a volunteer nurse. You've been assigned to work under them in order to 'earn you rations' since you're a nonresident.
You wind up in an aid station near the northern trenches, just behind a salient poking into the Indian lines. It's a natural target, yet your area is understaffed and your orders simply state 'triage' rather than anything more complex.
Raising the point gets you a 'Surely that's too demanding, miss?' from the horse-faced subaltern manning the desk, and before you can hit him your assistant pulls you away.
Anne Greenbaum is an Anglo-Indian resident of Calcutta. Has been for twenty years, and all the shit she's seen can't compare to this.
"Back before the War, things were ideal, dear. We had food and jobs and money, and there wasn't a task to do. We had people for all that, you see. I volunteered in 1916, but after that, well.."
You can fill in the blanks, and stay silent as she natters on while you move to your post.
"I'll tell you, though, I haven't really been in places like this. I do hope you'll help, Sophia?"
Making what assurances you can, you get her to take a position near the tools while you order around your orderlies and stretcher-bearers. By this time that familiar detachment has taken hold, and what will come will be borne - no use in expectation. You wait and wait, for the dead and the dying and the few salvageable. Hope won't come, though - you saw too much for that.
Artillery begins on schedule, the daily hate hitting the forward trenches. A lighter rumble than the Western Front, and for only a few minutes before it halts.
On your inquiring look, one of the orderlies explains, "No ammo on either side, ma'am. No arty or support thanks to that, we just squat in the holes and pray."
Wonderful.
Wounded trickle in, a few dozen wounded and dying. You order their tags and ID separated, names make things worse.
The first man is silent, out from the morphia and blood loss. Half a leg missing, rough tourniquet below the knee. Critical, sent back.
Second man's screaming for mother, for father, for sister. For people who aren't there and can't care right now. You can't either, he's taken shrapnel to the arms and you need to extract. Extract, sedate and send to the cots. You idly note that Anne's crying now, the blood and screaming evidently getting to her. You send her out as well.
Third man gets a shot of morphine and a safe place to die. No use operating on someone burned as badly as that.
Fourth is in shock, you sedate and send back. You note in the haze of action that your arms are aching.
It goes on and on, the endless detritus of war, no glory or rewards here. No thanks from the broken men you operate on, and a few from those you kill painlessly. Funny, that.
There's no gas in this round, and you thank whatever gods are watching for small mercies as you triage all too ruthlessly for your taste - little in the way of drugs and time following the morning hate today, evidently the salient is hard-pressed.
When you leave the aid station, Anne shies away from your bloody form, revolted and shocked. She says something about horror and killing, and you hollowly laugh before pointing out this was morning hate, not an attack.
She curls in on herself, and you leave still in that blessed haze of detachment you learned at Verdun.
Medicine +100
Your time is not always in the lines, though. You can still work for Nair and try to learn things - just not always well.
Pick one ability to improve:
[X]Evocation: Raw force is always useful.
-[X]Elemental evocation, write-in area
[X]Illusion and veils - you've been doing a lot of stalking lately after all.
[X]Alchemy - you still need to find sources of ingredients and set up a lab.
[X]Swordsmanship. You have no teacher, but you may as well practise the forms.
[X]CQC, Nair does owe you for that information you passed.
Pick one mundane option - each is a social/info/training thing:
[X]Medicine: You ran your post well today, and you can meet the other medical corps to try to learn a bit more and improve things.
[X]Firearms, you're a volunteer in a forward aid station. No complaints from trying to learn there.
[X]Try to learn something of the general area and situation - the officers' mess is closed but they do chat outside.
[X]Meditate with some of the natives. The holy men near the Memorial are acting more friendly, you may as well pick up something useful.
Pick one task this week:
[X]Pull another slot at the aid station. The troops need the help, and the army will likely think better of an American from it.
[X]Roam Calcutta and speak to the holy men - from the Hindu swamis to Muslim pirs to the Anglicans here, you may learn more about the situation.
[X]Try to make an overture to the Church. The local Irish community have a Catholic church, and the priest there may be useful later. At any rate, if they know you're here you can always seek aid later.
[X]Set up some sort of free clinic thing - the local natives don't view whites kindly here, and information will not come without trust.
[X]Explore:
-[X]The siege lines away from the attack zone, things have been sighted there.
-[X]The delta downriver. Much fighting has happened there, and there's always loot and business there.
-[X]The jungles of the Sunderbans. They say few come out, but you have a magic escape button. People would pay well for intel here.
-[X]The city itself. It's new and has little spiritual imprint compared to London or Paris. Honestly interesting, and you can definitely find some good stuff here.
Calcutta Siege Lines
1919
The city is hot and stiflingly humid. The people are silent and watchful as you walk by, acutely aware of your origin and even more so of the gun at your hip. Calcutta is very much a city under siege as the rations bite into people's diets and scavenging and infighting begins.
Refugees are all over the place, and the begging and emaciated bodies testify to the uneven rationing.
Not your problem is what you tell yourself as you move to meet with officers of the 44th as a volunteer nurse. You've been assigned to work under them in order to 'earn you rations' since you're a nonresident.
You wind up in an aid station near the northern trenches, just behind a salient poking into the Indian lines. It's a natural target, yet your area is understaffed and your orders simply state 'triage' rather than anything more complex.
Raising the point gets you a 'Surely that's too demanding, miss?' from the horse-faced subaltern manning the desk, and before you can hit him your assistant pulls you away.
Anne Greenbaum is an Anglo-Indian resident of Calcutta. Has been for twenty years, and all the shit she's seen can't compare to this.
"Back before the War, things were ideal, dear. We had food and jobs and money, and there wasn't a task to do. We had people for all that, you see. I volunteered in 1916, but after that, well.."
You can fill in the blanks, and stay silent as she natters on while you move to your post.
"I'll tell you, though, I haven't really been in places like this. I do hope you'll help, Sophia?"
Making what assurances you can, you get her to take a position near the tools while you order around your orderlies and stretcher-bearers. By this time that familiar detachment has taken hold, and what will come will be borne - no use in expectation. You wait and wait, for the dead and the dying and the few salvageable. Hope won't come, though - you saw too much for that.
Artillery begins on schedule, the daily hate hitting the forward trenches. A lighter rumble than the Western Front, and for only a few minutes before it halts.
On your inquiring look, one of the orderlies explains, "No ammo on either side, ma'am. No arty or support thanks to that, we just squat in the holes and pray."
Wonderful.
Wounded trickle in, a few dozen wounded and dying. You order their tags and ID separated, names make things worse.
The first man is silent, out from the morphia and blood loss. Half a leg missing, rough tourniquet below the knee. Critical, sent back.
Second man's screaming for mother, for father, for sister. For people who aren't there and can't care right now. You can't either, he's taken shrapnel to the arms and you need to extract. Extract, sedate and send to the cots. You idly note that Anne's crying now, the blood and screaming evidently getting to her. You send her out as well.
Third man gets a shot of morphine and a safe place to die. No use operating on someone burned as badly as that.
Fourth is in shock, you sedate and send back. You note in the haze of action that your arms are aching.
It goes on and on, the endless detritus of war, no glory or rewards here. No thanks from the broken men you operate on, and a few from those you kill painlessly. Funny, that.
There's no gas in this round, and you thank whatever gods are watching for small mercies as you triage all too ruthlessly for your taste - little in the way of drugs and time following the morning hate today, evidently the salient is hard-pressed.
When you leave the aid station, Anne shies away from your bloody form, revolted and shocked. She says something about horror and killing, and you hollowly laugh before pointing out this was morning hate, not an attack.
She curls in on herself, and you leave still in that blessed haze of detachment you learned at Verdun.
Medicine +100
Your time is not always in the lines, though. You can still work for Nair and try to learn things - just not always well.
Pick one ability to improve:
[X]Evocation: Raw force is always useful.
-[X]Elemental evocation, write-in area
[X]Illusion and veils - you've been doing a lot of stalking lately after all.
[X]Alchemy - you still need to find sources of ingredients and set up a lab.
[X]Swordsmanship. You have no teacher, but you may as well practise the forms.
[X]CQC, Nair does owe you for that information you passed.
Pick one mundane option - each is a social/info/training thing:
[X]Medicine: You ran your post well today, and you can meet the other medical corps to try to learn a bit more and improve things.
[X]Firearms, you're a volunteer in a forward aid station. No complaints from trying to learn there.
[X]Try to learn something of the general area and situation - the officers' mess is closed but they do chat outside.
[X]Meditate with some of the natives. The holy men near the Memorial are acting more friendly, you may as well pick up something useful.
Pick one task this week:
[X]Pull another slot at the aid station. The troops need the help, and the army will likely think better of an American from it.
[X]Roam Calcutta and speak to the holy men - from the Hindu swamis to Muslim pirs to the Anglicans here, you may learn more about the situation.
[X]Try to make an overture to the Church. The local Irish community have a Catholic church, and the priest there may be useful later. At any rate, if they know you're here you can always seek aid later.
[X]Set up some sort of free clinic thing - the local natives don't view whites kindly here, and information will not come without trust.
[X]Explore:
-[X]The siege lines away from the attack zone, things have been sighted there.
-[X]The delta downriver. Much fighting has happened there, and there's always loot and business there.
-[X]The jungles of the Sunderbans. They say few come out, but you have a magic escape button. People would pay well for intel here.
-[X]The city itself. It's new and has little spiritual imprint compared to London or Paris. Honestly interesting, and you can definitely find some good stuff here.
[X]Alchemy - you still need to find sources of ingredients and set up a lab.
[X]Medicine: You ran your post well today, and you can meet the other medical corps to try to learn a bit more and improve things.
[X]Pull another slot at the aid station. The troops need the help, and the army will likely think better of an American from it.
Lets make some more medicine so we can actually help.
[X]Medicine: You ran your post well today, and you can meet the other medical corps to try to learn a bit more and improve things.
[X]Pull another slot at the aid station. The troops need the help, and the army will likely think better of an American from it.
Lets make some more medicine so we can actually help.
[X]Alchemy - you still need to find sources of ingredients and set up a lab.
[X]Medicine: You ran your post well today, and you can meet the other medical corps to try to learn a bit more and improve things.
[X]Roam Calcutta and speak to the holy men - from the Hindu swamis to Muslim pirs to the Anglicans here, you may learn more about the situation.
We do need to know about awakening gods
[X]Medicine: You ran your post well today, and you can meet the other medical corps to try to learn a bit more and improve things.
[X]Roam Calcutta and speak to the holy men - from the Hindu swamis to Muslim pirs to the Anglicans here, you may learn more about the situation.
We do need to know about awakening gods
[X]Alchemy - you still need to find sources of ingredients and set up a lab.
[X]Meditate with some of the natives. The holy men near the Memorial are acting more friendly, you may as well pick up something useful.
[X]Roam Calcutta and speak to the holy men - from the Hindu swamis to Muslim pirs to the Anglicans here, you may learn more about the situation.
[X]Meditate with some of the natives. The holy men near the Memorial are acting more friendly, you may as well pick up something useful.
[X]Roam Calcutta and speak to the holy men - from the Hindu swamis to Muslim pirs to the Anglicans here, you may learn more about the situation.
- Location
- Right Where I Am
[X]Alchemy - you still need to find sources of ingredients and set up a lab.
[X]Medicine: You ran your post well today, and you can meet the other medical corps to try to learn a bit more and improve things.
[X]Set up some sort of free clinic thing - the local natives don't view whites kindly here, and information will not come without trust.
Alchemy is our current area of expertise, and we need to get set up to actually make use of that. After that I think that the free clinic thing will be useful in the long run. People are more likely to trust us, and talk to us, if we're an active force keeping people alive and healthy. If we're doing that we should definitely work on our Medicine skill at the same time. Running a free clinic thing does us no good if we can't actually do medicine well enough to actually help people.
[X]Medicine: You ran your post well today, and you can meet the other medical corps to try to learn a bit more and improve things.
[X]Set up some sort of free clinic thing - the local natives don't view whites kindly here, and information will not come without trust.
Alchemy is our current area of expertise, and we need to get set up to actually make use of that. After that I think that the free clinic thing will be useful in the long run. People are more likely to trust us, and talk to us, if we're an active force keeping people alive and healthy. If we're doing that we should definitely work on our Medicine skill at the same time. Running a free clinic thing does us no good if we can't actually do medicine well enough to actually help people.
Barondoctor
The things I chase come to me.
- Location
- The other side of the mirror
- Pronouns
- He/His/Him
[X]Alchemy - you still need to find sources of ingredients and set up a lab.
[X]Medicine: You ran your post well today, and you can meet the other medical corps to try to learn a bit more and improve things.
[X]Set up some sort of free clinic thing - the local natives don't view whites kindly here, and information will not come without trust.
Set down and get a bit of chill. Let the natives come to us and do some medicine so we can help more people.
[X]Medicine: You ran your post well today, and you can meet the other medical corps to try to learn a bit more and improve things.
[X]Set up some sort of free clinic thing - the local natives don't view whites kindly here, and information will not come without trust.
Set down and get a bit of chill. Let the natives come to us and do some medicine so we can help more people.
mouli
Terrible QM
- Location
- United States
Votes called!
[X]Alchemy - you still need to find sources of ingredients and set up a lab.
[X]Medicine: You ran your post well today, and you can meet the other medical corps to try to learn a bit more and improve things.
[X]Roam Calcutta and speak to the holy men - from the Hindu swamis to Muslim pirs to the Anglicans here, you may learn more about the situation.
Roll 3 d100s and assign, please. Option three gets boost from charisma, two from intellect and charisma both and one from intellect.
[X]Alchemy - you still need to find sources of ingredients and set up a lab.
[X]Medicine: You ran your post well today, and you can meet the other medical corps to try to learn a bit more and improve things.
[X]Roam Calcutta and speak to the holy men - from the Hindu swamis to Muslim pirs to the Anglicans here, you may learn more about the situation.
Roll 3 d100s and assign, please. Option three gets boost from charisma, two from intellect and charisma both and one from intellect.
Barondoctor
The things I chase come to me.
- Location
- The other side of the mirror
- Pronouns
- He/His/Him
Time to roll some dice, I suppose.
EDIT: Ehhhh...I'll let someone else assign these. I get the feeling the 85 is going to meet+greet.
EDIT: Ehhhh...I'll let someone else assign these. I get the feeling the 85 is going to meet+greet.
Last edited:
Things To Come
mouli
Terrible QM
- Location
- United States
[X]Alchemy - you still need to find sources of ingredients and set up a lab.
Rolled: 51+9(INT) = 60, decent supply
Rolled: 51+9(INT) = 60, decent supply
Calcutta's markets are the bustling areas near Janbazar, the shops with freshly painted signboards in Bengali and the shopkeepers instantly raising rates on seeing a European. It's a wonder, how the people immediately know to raise prices by fifty percent when the European isn't even at the shop - or isn't even a European for that matter.
The scent of fish and spices fills your nostrils, and the undercurrent of dung and dust that always accompanies things in the city. The market stalls are packed with merchandise, but little seems to be selling, despite the starving refugee populace.
The markets are crowded with people, and with beggars. Many of the refugees have taken to begging and stealing in order to eat, and remembering the same in Belgium you can't blame them. A beggar girl who can't be more than four asks you for change and you shake your head in apology, moving on.. Giving to one means giving to all, and you can't afford that. You see the subtle indications of poverty amidst the foods and the well-dressed natives. You see a one-legged veteran arguing with a burly Indian, you see beggars eating fish heads and brown rice. You see hunger and falseness in the oily smiles of the merchants and a hard desperation in the poor.
Walking the markets you find most of what you came for. Substitutes for the reagents you'd used in the War are easily found, with the exception of the more esoteric symbols. After all, Alchemy was a symbolic discipline, using the reagents as symbols or substitutes to represent effects - the specific materials were often unneeded.
You find coffee beans for alertness, ammunition silk that 'fell off the boat' for soft containment, coal for fire, eagle feathers for air and more. What you don't find are things like the Victory Rosettes that one could use as a powerful symbol for peace - but peace here is a pipe dream right now.
Shouting and panicked screams make you whip up your head to witness a theft in action. One of the police has caught the man, and promptly hit him on the urging of the shopkeep. This of course made the other vagrants protest and a shouting match developed.
One that looks to turn violent, as the larger refugees move near the cop and the other cops bunch up together. One shove from a rash young-looking refugee gets a whack from a cudgel in the head, and the boy falls to the ground limply.
The policeman's fearful expression will stay with you for a long, long time. It's all he has time for before the gathered crowd rips him apart, blood flying. The remaining police form a line and charge, and you're in the forefront of the receiving mass of people.
Dodge, duck, punch, stab, a long, wearying course of action that sees you struggle out of the crowd near the periphery and exit the bazaar. Walking out, you see a troop of cavalry from Dalhousie Barracks moving to quell the riot. Cavalry in the city. Good God.
The only remaining things you need to set up a basic lab are cutlery and a cauldron. Not really a cauldron, but any large vessel suitable for boiling a large amount of liquid. Scrounging up a cauldron is unfeasible, but a cooking vessel is easily found that while smaller will do in a pinch. The second and larger issue is cutlery. You need knives, measuring instruments and more - all of which are difficult to find in a colonial city under siege.
Measuring cups are found in a glassware shop in Park Street, the owner overcharging you for substandard ware, yet there being no other recourse. You thank him and bill him to the British Army as a petty revenge, paying only half in cash.
Knives and other implements are bought from refugee families in cash and treatment, at what you hope are fair prices for them. It may cost you, but you can't afford ill-will among the natives at this point.
-$80. Basic Alchemy Lab set up (No bonuses for potion yield and quality)
[X]Medicine: You ran your post well today, and you can meet the other medical corps to try to learn a bit more and improve things.
Rolled: 33+9(Charisma) = 42, somewhat weirded out coworkers.
Rolled: 33+9(Charisma) = 42, somewhat weirded out coworkers.
The doctors meet in the faculty club of the old Bengal Medical College, the hospital now overflowing with critical cases beyond the staff's capacity. It's a bare room, most of the furniture dusty from lack of care and the booze has similarly declined. Where British surgeons once drank quality whisky now there's cheap hooch that nobody turns down. Not even Edward Stibbens, formerly head of the surgery and anatomy department in the college.
Evidently war has gotten to all of them.
"This is not a rate we can sustain. Not just materials - I've had multiple nurses quit, and more won't join. Doctors are dying on the front faster than we can train them, too." Stibbens complains again in that bray of his. Maybe you're uncharitable, but those are all problems that had been figured out at Verdun. At the Somme. At Ypres, Passchendaele, Cambrai and a score of other bloody fields.
Your giggle gets his attention and there's a quick "This is no laughing matter, Miss Jones" from the tall, distinguished-looking professor.
Fuck it, you're drunk anyways. "I'm not laughing at you, Doctor. I'm laughing at the fact that it's insoluble. We solved this all on the Western Front." He looks at you, probably what he feels is a stern expression. On the sidelines you see a few younger interns and doctors looking rather more interested, though. For their benefit, then, "We don't assign doctors to the front directly. We don't operate on-site. We don't try to use drugs and anaesthesia in all cases and we don't try more sophisticated operations." When Stibbens turns red, you plow on "Yes, I know we can cure them. But the main factor isn't capability it's time. And supplies, as well."
"Then what would you suggest, Doctor Jones?" From a more polite fellow, you note. Fair enough. "What we did since 1914. Pull 'em out with stretcher bearers to ambulances and trucks. Give the nurses and bearers basic first aid training. We're not divisional medical, we don't need to worry about the troops as much, we're here for the civilians and the Indian troops, right Doctor..?"
"Fitzgerald, and while we are conscripted for civilian and Indian Army medicine, we're unofficially assigned to English sectors more often."
You snort, stupidity if you ever heard it. "So you can't treat the natives, you don't feed them and you beat 'em up by police."
"I beg your pardon, Jones?" From Stibbens again, goddammit. Speaking slowly and loudly, you reply "You beat them. I saw a cavalry charge at a food riot, Stibbens. Supplies are coming in but there's no rationing. No anti-hoarding. Nothing but hundreds of hungry refugees on your streets. Idiots."
Stibbens and the rest are appropriately offended, so you change the subject. Or try to at any rate. A short, rather fat man interrupts you before you can start.
"Doctor Brian Lumley, miss. Leaving the issues out of our authority aside, any suggestions, Doctor Jones? Given your experience, there must be something we can do?"
Then the floodgates open, you make suggestions and illustrate procedures till your arms ache, yet the glares of Stibbens and the senior faculty have not abated one bit. Looks like you have foes to contend with, then.
Mixed impression on civilian medical auxiliaries. The seniors dislike you while the younger and more pragmatic ones find you interesting and useful respectively. Further options next turn.
[X]Roam Calcutta and speak to the holy men - from the Hindu swamis to Muslim pirs to the Anglicans here, you may learn more about the situation.
Rolled: 85+9=94, excellent success
Rolled: 85+9=94, excellent success
"Magician. What brings you to my abode?" The swami isn't the old and wise man you'd half-expected after talking to the priests in Calcutta. He's young and quite hale, albeit rather short. Put him in uniform and he'd pass for a soldier.
...Which he is, quite likely. "Holy one, I'm here to inquire into something I was told. Something about waking up."
His eyes suddenly sharpen, and he barks out a few words in Bengali. His disciples scatter and he leads you into his hut, the floor bare dirt and the interior unfurnished. Only a stone bench and a hearth indicate occupancy, along with a cot and trunk.
"Waking up you say. May I ask who told you this, Miss..?"
"Jones. Sophia Jones. I heard it from a source who is directly involved. One of the Three." Give out as little as possible, let him work for it. Better not to tell him who your patron is.
A nod, and a hand held out to you. "I can hear them on occasion. I receive commands. I am an agent of the Trimurti, insofar as they have them. As such, I can guide you."
He gets a suspicious look before he cuts the spiel. "In your mind, Jones. I can act as a link for the gods to speak to your mind. Nothing more, my oath in blood on it and may I be reborn a worm if it breaks."
Fair enough. You take his hand and again the world vanishes. This time there's no cityscape, no possible future-that-was. No people or works of man, you simply see a primordial wilderness. The Ganges Delta - you instinctively know it's the Ganges - flows among vast forests, great flocks of brightly coloured birds flying overhead.
It's almost beautiful, at least until a gigantic seven-headed serpent rises from the bay beneath. It's massive, a colossus of glittering scale bigger than a battleship kept upright, and he towers above even your perch in the air. As the snake eyes you, you're uncomfortable aware that you're standing on air right now.
Speak, manling. Explain your trespass into a god's domain. The voice in your mind is the slithering of a thousand snakes, a thousand scaly tongues whispering in unison. Steeling yourself, you speak. You speak and desperately hope that you won't die.
"I am Sophia Jones, mage of the White Council. I met the lord Preserver -" Names have power, and you're not using any until you have permission. "-a few days prior. He spoke into my mind and asked that I pass on a warning. One of awakening and grave tidings to come."
The serpent nods, hoods like a cobra's flaring open. I know of this. He has spoken of it. How then does it pertain to your current intrusion?
Barely controlled impatience there, damn. You lick your lips nervously - pleasedon'tkillme - and begin again, "I have found...changes...in myself after. I was told that I had the interest of a god, and that such things were deadly. I wished to know more, and swami Padmanabhan offered himself as a bridge. Then, well.." You spread your arms and indicate that this was as unexpected for you as for it.
I see. Whether my lord does as well will be known soon.
"Soon?"
He comes, manling. Watch the star fall.
You look up, wondering what the fuck that meant when a blazing comet appears in the 'sky' above, spearing down towards your perch like a stooping hawk.
You flinch, and a wave of heat and overpressure almost blasts you off your feet before settling. You open your eyes and see..something. He has one head and three. He has two arms and six and four. He holds a conch, chakram, and mace, then only two of them then none. His eyes are brown then black then red then blue, and ocean of colour.
The one constant in that ever-shifting presence is the sheer presence. One that speaks of an immovable object, something impossibly hard to kill and yet slow to act.
Being the ever diplomatic individual, you raise one hand and wave at the god before you, "Hi."
He laughs. He laughs, and the tension breaks like glass, his form stabilizing into the familiar tanned, handsome face of the man you met in not-Calcutta is before you once again. "I see you have made yourself at home, Sophia. Convincing one of mine to aid you, no less."
The great snake he stands on twitches, and a raised hand stills it once again. "I am honestly impressed. I would like to know why you have intruded here, and what you hope to gain."
That's rather oddly merciful, actually. "That's all?"
His eyes glint with amusement, "No, Sophia. Then we haggle. Begin, and refresh yourself if you feel the need."
A pitcher of water, golden and bejeweled appears next to you on a tray. You don't take a sip, and instead speak once more, "I came because of your warning. Things- beings - waking up. Old gods, creatures long since asleep. An great awakening and reshaping of the Nevernever. All this can cause a massive upheaval in the balance of powers right now, and that'll make things worse on the mundane side.
I fought in the greatest war there has ever been. The War to end all wars. I was there from start to finish, and I saw what the supernatural can do if unleashed. I want to minimize that upheaval so I don't have to see that again."
He nods, eyes flaring gold for a moment. A heavy presence settles on you for a moment, assessing you before withdrawing. "Honest. You wish to preserve the lives of the mortals you walk among, unlike your fellows. I am sympathetic to that, but you must remember that I am one of those who are awakening. I am one of the first, in fact."
Damn. He speaks on, failure hammering in with every word. "I sympathize, Sophia. But I cannot give up a chance to do my duty once more. Not when I am so close to true life again."
But it is not me that will cause the most damage."
That last sentence makes you look up again.
He continues, inclining his head to you as he speaks, "I am the Preserver, the balance-keeper. I intervene only if the scales must be redressed. It is Shiva and Brahma, the Destroyer and the Fateweaver who you must contest. Not I."
"Contest? I can't fight a god."
He laughs, "Not with that attitude, no. But I don't ask for you to fight them. Delay them long enough that the more hot-headed reactions are avoided and that I have a chance to speak. I can hold them back, given time."
He's utterly serious, every inch the rock of ages as he finishes, and you believe that. Still, there is one last thing. "The price for this information?"
"No price for this. I have killed a dream of yours, Sophia, and for that this information is free. You have aided me in responding to your Council and setting up a net to catch the waking ones, and for that I grant you a boon."
You raise a disbelieving eyebrow, and he nods. "Yes, no lies here. You have done me a favor and your aims overlap mine. As such, I can make use of you and you of me."
That's more like it.
"There is little I can offer, but I am a god. They will help, if I may be so conceited. Choose well, Sophia."
Pick one minor boon:
[X]Luck: They always spoke of Krishna's luck, and a little can find you. +25 to next event roll.
[X]Grace: Healing and aid was not a province of Vishnu, but knowledge is there. Gain Magecraft: Healing at D.
[X]Wisdom: The land is rich and varied, and to know this land is to know the wisdom of the ancients. Raise Lore:India to B.
[X]Wrath: The Preserver is slow to anger, and in war is wise and merciful. But powerful nonetheless. Gain Mundane:Archery at D, gain Basic Shortbow (can be enchanted).
[X]Courage: To face one's fate with courage earns much in the next life. To fight on in the name of the right more so. Raise CQC to C-.
Votes open for 24 hours.
Barondoctor
The things I chase come to me.
- Location
- The other side of the mirror
- Pronouns
- He/His/Him
[X]Wisdom: The land is rich and varied, and to know this land is to know the wisdom of the ancients. Raise Lore:India to B.
Lore to B will help us make better decisions. Combat can be trained, healing skills can be learned, if we can find individuals and make better decisions.
Lore to B will help us make better decisions. Combat can be trained, healing skills can be learned, if we can find individuals and make better decisions.
[X]Wisdom: The land is rich and varied, and to know this land is to know the wisdom of the ancients. Raise Lore:India to B.
Barondoctor
The things I chase come to me.
- Location
- The other side of the mirror
- Pronouns
- He/His/Him
Unwelcome Awakenings
mouli
Terrible QM
- Location
- United States
Event roll = 1d100 = 7 -> Major complications on the road back.
"Wisdom, then. Better to know one's enemy, after all." You aren't half as confident as you sound, but one has to keep up appearances, after all.
The god before you simply nods once, acknowledging your choice before handing you a cup of curds and telling you "Drink, then."
You do, and the world dissolves around you, blackness spreading in your vision. You awaken back in the ashram, in front of Padmanabhan as he looks at you with no little respect. Throat hoarse, your first action as one touched by the gods is to call for water and cough.
Your second is to collapse on a cot, almost dead from exhaustion and mental stress. You black out for close to a day, from what the acolytes say. You were near-dead and unconscious, and when you ask after Padmanabham you find that he's not here.
Dammit.
The ashram is empty save for a few of the acolytes, and on cornering one you hear the news. "A rakshasa, miss. An awoken terror, one that hunts the blood of worshipers. Flee while you can, the touch of a god is upon you." The acolyte is clearly terrified, and packing as much as he can into a bundle and leaving, hopefully somewhere safer.
You assure him you will, and you move. Dress, pack, take as much food and whatever utensils are there, and try to pinpoint the rakshasa with the Sight.
You succeed, and wish you hadn't. It is a fountain of blackness, a void in the world. A hungry one, eating the fabric of this plane in order to grow. Yet there is light, silver and pure before it - and as you begin to walk you realize that you're seeing all this from possibly miles away.
March or die, as old Caporal Danjou would say. March you do, the miles passing in grime and mud as you move towards what is surely a rakshasa, and an old one at that.
The battle is all too apparent as you reach what is to your mind several miles southwest of Calcutta, well beyond a day's march should you be unable to continue here. The demon has taken the road, and the city is cut off on the west bank of the Ganges. Precarious indeed, and playing to one side.
One side that needs is more, for they were always good at bargains whispers your mind.
What.
Well, about time. Knowledge pours in, the basics of the rakshasa, the legends surrounding them, their weakness for debauchery and hedonism. Their poor skill at dissembling, save for the eldest of them.
And it is an elder one you face here, with nothing more than a swami to bar the way. Clearing aside the brush, you move to see what you can with the Sight. It's worse than you thought.
The forest burns black, countless tiny daggers of shadow piercing the jungle. The beasts attack formless beings of light and flame, the trees themselves twisted against the gods that grew them. Padmanabham seems serene, facing what you can only call a titan. In the Sight, the elder rakshasa looks like a massive bearded brute, wearing little more than a loincloth. Malice drips off him like dew in grass, and the souls of his victims circle him, bound in fire and pain.
You may be able to tip the balance, a shot in the demon's vessel can perhaps distract it, and you do have an escape potion. Once you're done, the holy man can sweep it up.
But do you risk it?
[X]Yes. Take a shot at the mortal shell it wears, and use the potion after. Combat miniturn.
[X]No. Too risky, swing around on the road to Calcutta. Will begin detour miniturn, due to length of march.
[X]Write-In plan to distract the thing so that Padmanabham and the god acting through him can end it. You are a half-decent evoker with force, and have a rifle and bayonet. You have two escape potions.
Votes open for 24 hours.
[X]Yes. Take a shot at the mortal shell it wears, and use the potion after. Combat miniturn.