Sleeping Gods Quest #34

The final – and largest – section of the news is a long, too long, list of those declared missing. Anyone with information regarding them, news of their survival or confirmation of their death, is being asked to present their claim. Skimming the list, Aya's name leaps out at you – officially, as Ra suggested, a missing person. Her father was the one to report it, you recall. Either Aya managed to get in contact with him, asking for his help in covering up her survival, or he truly does not know about her fate.

Standing there, leaning against the noticeboard, you try not to imagine what the old man must be going through. Fear, uncertainty and grief at the very least, on top of whatever despair he must feel over the destruction of his livelihood. You're going to meet up with Aya – that is not going to change – but... it might not hurt to roam a while longer. If you happen to run into him, well, that will be the grace of the gods.

You empty your mind as you take off into the quiet city streets, passing the few people you see in the same sombre silence with which they carry themselves. Nobody seems much in the mood to converse with random strangers, especially not ones that lurch and clutch at their sides every so often. At the same time, though, your wounded pace doesn't attract much attention – you're far from the only person to boast a wound or two. Letting the world flow around you, eye wide open for any disturbance or irregularity, you roam the streets until you find yourself at your lodgings. Last time you were here had been the night of the party. In your haste to prepare for the journey south, you had carelessly discarded your new suit. Now, with the air of a man committing blasphemy, you cram it into a cheap pack and pay the innkeeper what you owe.

Keep moving forwards.

[2/3]

Scanning the meagre crowd, you see nothing that suggests a tail as you leave the inn. Finally allowing some of that dogged suspicion to leak from your body, you set off towards the Low Residential quarter, and the forgotten shrine that lies at its heart. You just hope Aya has had the good sense to remain there, safe and silent.

A sudden thought diverts your pace, leading you to the burned out remains of Aya's office. If there are any spies searching the city for her, they would be watching here as well. Where else, after all, would Aya return to? Taking a look around for any lingering strangers might well prove useful. When you arrive at the ruins, however, there is only one person sitting on the street opposite it. Tark Hinamaru, Aya's bald and bulky father.

His face is blank, solemn, and his gaze only wavers from the ruins when you approach. “You...” he mutters, scanning your face, “Aya brought you here once, didn't she? You had questions about... oh, I forget. What does that matter, now?”

You remain silent a moment longer as Tark sighs heavily. “If she's still...” the burly man begins, pausing soon after, “She'll come back here. If she can.” Then, finally noticing you – really recognising you as another person – he shakes his head slowly. “You're here for a reason, are you?” he asks, before a faint light blooms in his eyes, “Do you have any news? Anything, confirmation either way...”

He doesn't know, then. Could he be trusted to keep her secret?

>I'm sorry, but I don't know anything. I came here hoping to find out
>Aya is still alive, but her life is in danger here
>I have bad news, I'm afraid...
>Other

>Aya is still alive, but her life is in danger here

>I need to know that you can keep a secret before I tell you anything.
>Aya is still alive, but her life is in danger here.

>I have bad news, I'm afraid...
>Other
Speak quietly and wink with a smile when you say she is 'dead'. Tell him that this must be very hard for him and if he ever needs some guidance, he should come to the Nameless Temple sometime. We have ways to boost one's spirit.

OP, you should use the new >>>/qst board

This

>wink with a smile

Hard to do that with only one eye, user.

Fuck. I totally forgot about that. Use subtle air quotes then?

This. We already told Hirohito that Aya was dead. This sticks with the story but it still offers him some hope.

>Minor delay, I'm afraid, writing the next post now. Looks like we'll be telling Tark that Aya is "dead".

Sighing, going through all the motions of a man preparing the deliver the worst news imaginable, you ease yourself down until you're sitting next to Tark. You have news, you begin slowly, but it isn't good.

“...Tell me,” Tark manages to say at last, “I need to know. Tell me.”

Aya, you tell him in a low voice, is not going to be coming back.

“She's not... she has passed?” a faint note of confusion enters Tark's voice as he thinks on your deliberately vague wording, “This is no time for games, so please...”

Death, you continue, is something you've come to see from a more philosophical angle. That's how they teach it at the Nameless Temple. Of course, this must be a very difficult time for him, which is why you'd like to offer him guidance. If he ever feels the need to speak with someone, to come to terms with things as they are, he should travel out to the temple. You have no doubt that he would benefit from it, and Aya, no matter what has happened to her, would appreciate it in her own way.

Slowly, a light seems to come on behind Tark's glassy eyes. A realisation, a light of inspiration as he puts the pieces together. “I don't understand all that fancy talk,” he grunts, “But I'd be happy to come visit. Any friend of Aya's is a friend of mine, after all. We can... keep her memory alive.”

That's right, you give the man a careful smile, that's the best thing for her now.

“Well, I owe you thanks,” Tark heaves himself to his feet, brushing down his crumpled clothing, “It might not be the news I was hoping to hear, but at least it puts my heart to rest. Please, I need to think this over for now.”

Of course, you bow slightly, you'll leave him. Before you go, however, you stop to give him one last piece of advice. Aya, you warn him, had enemies. He should watch his back as well, just in case.

“I understand,” Tark nods gravely, “Safe travels, friend.”

[1/2]

Leaving Tark behind, the unenviable task of trying to piece together some kind of life lies ahead of him, you enter the warren of tight streets once more. If you were being followed at all, this would be the perfect place to lose the tail. A few looping turns and false paths just gives your trail that little extra twist to infuriate whoever might seek to follow you, but soon you find yourself at the old, crumbling temple.

Keeping your pace light, you let yourself in and take a slow look around. Such is her stillness, you miss Aya on your first glance around. It's only when she lifts her head – still mostly hidden beneath your wide hat – that your eye falls upon her. Pale with despair, her eyes seem to make up most of her face, the thin slash of her lips taking up the rest.

She looks tired. You can understand that.

“I never was much of a religious type,” she begins slowly, her voice brittle, “But I can see why you like this kinda place. It feels... safe here, like someone was looking down on me.”

Maybe someone was, you suggest, this place might not be completely deserted. Even here, some small spark of divinity might stubbornly cling to waking life. Not enough to take physical form, perhaps, but-

Your words are cut off as Aya barks out a loud sob, the sound escaping her. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” she manages to say, “I just... I must look like the biggest fool in the land, right about now. All that talk of being prepared, of taking risks, and I fold at the first punch. I guess I'm pretty pathetic, huh?”

>You played with fire. You should have expected this
>Come with me to the Nameless Temple. Show the land that you're not finished yet
>The Aya I know wouldn't waste time on self pity
>Other

>The Aya I know wouldn't waste time on self pity
>Come with me to the Nameless Temple. Show the land that you're not finished yet

>The Aya I know wouldn't waste time on self pity
>Come with me to the Nameless Temple. Show the land that you're not finished yet

"I wouldn't call going through with taking shots at two influential groups for the sake of the truth pathetic Aya. Quite the opposite. Yeah they hit back, but you know what? They failed. You're still alive and that's a win for you. Buildings and machines can be replaced."

>Come with me to the Nameless Temple. Show the land that you're not finished yet

>The Aya I know wouldn't waste time on self pity

> Besides, you got some pretty good punches in yourself. Maybe you have a few more left in you.

The Aya you know, you tell the despairing girl, wouldn't waste her time on self pity. She'd get up, brush herself off and move on.

“Keep moving forwards,” she murmurs, parroting back your familiar words, “You really think it's that easy? I don't know if you noticed, Ira, but I'm not very popular at the moment. The moment I show my face again...”

So she doesn't need to show her face, you argue with a shrug. Right now, the world seems to have written her off as dead – missing, certainly. With a little care and discretion, she has the chance to make a clean getaway. It might feel like running away, but-

“Running?” Aya finally pushes back your hat and looks you full in the eye, “Where would I run?”

She could come with you to the Nameless Temple, you say simply, just like you offered not so long ago. The Emperor's reach doesn't extend that far, and the cult's influence has been largely cut out. If anywhere in this land is safe, you press, it's the Nameless Temple. Once she's settled there, she can show this land that she isn't finished yet.

“Maybe...” Aya hesitates, biting her lip, “Maybe I am finished, Ira. Look at what happened because of me – my old man, how is he going to get by? I told you – I'm pathetic, causing all this trouble for everyone else. I don't-”

For the sake of telling the truth, you argue, she landed some damn good punches on two of the most influential groups in the land. That's not even close to pathetic. They might have got in a good hit of their own, but she's still breathing. As long as she's alive and hasn't given up, you urge, they've not beaten her yet. She's got a fair few punches left in her – if she's willing to get back up. So, you finish, how about it?

It doesn't take Aya long to decide. “When do we leave?” she asks, a faint but determined smile tugging at her lips.

>Now, if you're ready
>Stay here for now. I have a few last bits of business... (Write in)
>Other

>>Now, if you're ready
"Already got a boat waiting."

>Now, if you're ready

>Now, if you're ready

You could leave now, you tell her, if she's ready to make a move. You've already got a boat waiting, one that can take you both straight to Garuna.

“A boat, huh?” Aya's smile takes on a familiar joking note, one that you are glad to see after hearing her bleak words, “To go with your private island, I suppose.”

Not exactly, you admit as you straighten her hat so that her face is hidden once more, but that's close enough for now. Just one perk, you add, of knowing the right people.

“And I know you,” Aya remarks, “So I guess I'm part of the team, huh? Good thing I never wrote anything that pissed you off. I kinda feel like burning down my office would be the least of what you'd do.” She might be able to crack jokes – poor ones, admittedly – but Aya's voice still cracks at the mention of her office. It will be a long time, you suspect, until those wounds are fully healed – if they ever truly close. The young reporter falls silent as you emerge from the shrine, shrinking down into your baggy coat and practically disappearing from sight.

It's not what you'd call a subtle disguise – more like total concealment – but it should work until you reach the docks, and the Hijiri. Once you're out on the open sea, you can relax a little. Unless Hirohito has an agent among Murasa's crew, you consider darkly, but that's not something you can change now. The time to change plans has passed.

Sticking to the backstreets and darkest alleyways, you lead Aya towards the docks. You literally lead her – often, the brim of your hat slips down to cover her eyes completely – but she offers no complaint. Perhaps she fears to speak entirely, for Aya remains stubbornly silent for the duration of your hasty flight. Soon, the scent of salty air and rotting fish reaches you, announcing your arrival at the docks.

[1/2]

>he's a QM
>on the internet
>on a traditional games board
>he does it for free
>he takes his "art" very seriously
>he does it because it is the only amount of power & control he will ever have in his pathetic life
>he reports posts he doesn't like because whenever he gets upset he has an asthma attack
>he reports posts he doesn't like because they interfere with the large backlog of little girl chinese cartoon waifus he still has to write trash erotica about for other questfags to smack it to
>he will never have a real job
>he will never move out of his parent's house
>he will never be at a healthy weight
>he will never know how to cook anything besides a hot pocket
>he will never have a girlfriend
>he will never have any friends

The Hijiri is guarded by a motley assembly of armed sailors, the rough men brandishing their rifles at anyone who lingers too long in their presence. At least the fine ship seems to have survived the attack on the city without any damage. Still, you can't blame Murasa for keeping her prized vessel safe, even if this level of protection borders on the paranoid.

But then, do you have any right to lecture people about paranoia?

Perhaps the sentries recognise you, for the stand at ease when you approach the ship. There are a few odd looks cast towards Aya's swaddled form – not surprising really, considering that she resembles a pile of clothes that learned to walk – but the guards have enough discretion to hold their tongues. When Captain Murasa herself spots you, she marches to greet you.

“Ira, glad to have you aboard!” she shouts, slapping you on the arm – a strangely masculine greeting, “Are you here to deprive me of my shore leave, then? I don't get it very often, you know.”

You've got permission, you point out as you hand over Ra's letter, but if it's going to be a problem...

“Nah, it's all good,” Murasa glances at the signature at the bottom of the note before handing the letter back, “Never cared much for dry land, speaking plainly. I'm more than happy to get out on the open waters. Might be a problem, though – I wasn't told to expect passengers.” She laughs, a loud bark of mirth, before you can say anything. “I'm kidding,” she explains, “Get below deck, friend, and find something to eat. You look half-starved.”

An impressive guess, considering how little of Aya is actually visible. Garuna, you ask, how long would it take to sail there?

“With the wind at her back, the Hijiri should have you there by noon,” Murasa boasts, “Room below deck for you as well, if you want. Otherwise, you're welcome to stay here, if you wanted to speak with a sea dog like me.”

>I'd better rest
>I'll stay and talk awhile
>Other

>I'll stay and talk awhile

Ask her about unusual shipping movements. As a privateer, she should be used to paying attention to those kinds of things.

>I'll stay and talk awhile
Aya though needs food and rest. Assure her that she is safe now and can get some shut eye.

>>I'll stay and talk awhile

>I'll stay and talk awhile

You'll stay and talk for a while, you decide, it might be a good chance to get a new perspective on things. Murasa's rather unique position likely offers her the opportunity to learn a great deal, especially about the darker elements of the land. Murasa wanders away, returning to the helm of the ship and beginning the long process – the details a mystery to you – of getting the Hijiri out to sea. As the vessel lurches into motion, you catch Aya by the arm and speak to her, your voice low and hushed.

She should be safe here, you assure her, Murasa is an ally. You hesitate from using the word “friend”, but the implication is there. In either case, you'll take care of things up top – Aya should focus on resting and getting something to eat. When you've arrived at Garuna, you'll come to wake her.

“Sounds good to me,” Aya nods eagerly, pulling your hat off and handing it back to you, “Garuna, huh? It's been so long since I saw it. I guess we won't have time to take in the sights, huh?”

Probably not, you agree. After all, you're not going there on holiday. You can talk later, you add with a stern note, rest.

“Fine, fine,” Aya flaps her billowing sleeves at you, “I'm going. Can't say I don't need it...” Still muttering to herself, she descends below deck. Now alone, you wander the length of the deck for some time, watching as the capital slowly grows more and more distant. Suddenly, you realise why Murasa enjoys the open water so much – out here, the conflict looming over the land seems far away, insignificant almost.

“It's not all fun and games, you know,” Murasa says suddenly, appearing by your side, “Saw that look on your face. I got plenty of stuff to worry about, now more than ever. I didn't want to say, in front of your little friend, but the seas aren't as safe as they used to be.”

[1/2]

Why, you ask, something to do with the war?

“That's a factor,” Murasa admits, “I've seen the occasional ship sailing without colours, and I know – from experience, you understand – that they're up to no good. After all, it's what I used to do!” She laughs at that, although her voice is tinged with a kind of nostalgic regret. “No, I'm talking about storms. I don't know why, but the northern seas have been rough lately – very rough indeed. We should be safe enough now, since we're not going too far out, but I wouldn't want to venture far. Then again, what's the point in going that far north?” Falling into a kind of fearful silence – the fear of someone coming face to face with the void – Murasa shudders slightly. “There's nothing out there,” she murmurs to herself, “Nothing at all.”

Silence again. She mentioned suspicious ships, you ask to break the awkward pause, what else can she tell you about them?

“Sometimes, ships will send messages to each other – on birds, you know?” Murasa nods at the scattering of birds perched on the rigging above, “But these ones never do. Dead bloody silent, they are. I always took them for smugglers, maybe, or people trying their luck at exploring. Then again, they might be moving people around – a good ship is a damn quick way to travel, and you'll avoid a lot of attention you might attract by marching an army down the roads. I heard about one ship coming out of the south-east, heading straight north. Didn't stop for anything, and didn't come back.”

Did she hear anything about why it went north?

“Reckon they had business there,” Murasa shrugs, “Big island up there, a good place to hide out. Might be I did some business there myself, in another life.”

>Tell me about that life. What got you started?
>Those storms, are they around Dumas?
>I should go and get some rest. Thanks for talking
>I had a question for you... (Write in)
>Other

>Tell me about that life. What got you started?
>>Those storms, are they around Dumas?
Nodens...

>Those storms, are they around Dumas?

> These things might need a wanderer. The gods are being riled by humans with less scruples than normal, even taking pirates into consideration. They're not just arguing where to steer the boat, they're willing to drill a hole in the bottom if they don't get their way.

So we have mysterious ships coming from the Southeast, which is where the cultists are based, going up to Dumas and Nodens and now the seas are getting choppy.

This sounds like what they tried to do with Titanos.

>>Tell me about that life. What got you started?
>>Those storms, are they around Dumas?
>>I happen to own that cursed piece of rock

That past life of hers, you ask, what got her started down that path?

“Oh boy,” Murasa pulls a delicate pipe – carved from some animal horn – out and taps a generous measure of powdered herbs into it, “I'm warning you, it's not a very interesting story. Let me guess, you're thinking I had some grudge against the Emperor, and started taking his guns as a way of getting revenge. Something like that, right?”

You might have been considering the idea, you admit, but now you're less certain.

“Truth be told, I just sorta wandered into the life,” lighting her pipe, Murasa shrugs, “Figured there'd be good money in selling guns to folks who wanted to cause trouble. I never planned to make a life out of it or anything. Had me a little fishing boat, a few dumb friends and more bravado than good sense. We pulled our first job – and we were damn lucky not to all get shot dead in the process – and suddenly we had more money than we knew what to do with. Things just... went from there, it never got personal. Speaking plainly, I never even thought about the Emperor much when I was young. Not as, you know, a person. I guess I'm not what you'd call “political” or nothing.”

Huh. She's right about one thing – that was kind of a let down.

“I warned you, friend,” grinning, Murasa punches your shoulder, “Hey, here's a thing – see that rock out there?” She points to a fairly dismal little island in the distance, a flat rock with a few blocky buildings perched on it. “You won't find it on your map. You know why?” Murasa presses on before you can give her an answer, “One of the Emperor's secret stockpiles. Better to keep them distant, see, and sent a ship when you need the supplies.”

Better to keep them distant, you guess, because...

“Put them on land, someone might steal the goods,” Murasa widens her eyes, putting on a theatrical expression of innocence, “Put them at sea, and nobody will loot them!”

[1/2]

Laughing a little at that, and her exaggerated sincerity, you look away from the drab island and turn your eyes north. True enough, there does appear to be a thick blanket of clouds hanging in the sky. Hard to say if they're centred over Dumas, but they would certainly cover your island. At least, according to your inexpert eye. Glancing across, you ask Murasa for confirmation.

“Yeah, I reckon you'd be right,” she muses, “I wouldn't say they were centred on it, but they're damn close. Maybe a little ways offshore. Man, that place is a dump...”

That dump, you tell her with mock severity, belongs to you.

“Huh, that right?” Murasa refuses to be cowed, “Then I don't think much of the place, good friend. I passed it by not so long ago – damn place looked like a building site. Still, I don't figure that for the reason behind the storms. The gods round these parts aren't that petty.” At the mention of the gods, Murasa fishes a small charm out of her clothes and kisses it. It vanishes again before you can study it.

Sounds like they might need a Wanderer to look into things, you suggest, if there's something getting the gods riled up. If it's people doing it, they're the types to have even fewer scruples than your average pirate.

“You sure about that?” the captain asks, “Because I've known some pretty dodgy sorts in my time, they types that would steal the ship right out from under you.”

And these ones, you counter, would sink the ship if it looked like they weren't getting their way. That's a whole other kind of danger. Pirates, you might be able to deal with – not these fanatics.

[2/3]

“Could be that you have a point there,” Murasa admits, “Folks like that, men who aren't afraid to die, they terrify me. You can't deal with them – you don't have anything they want.”

“Rough seas ahead, captain!” a voice shouts from the helm. True enough, the skies ahead are starting to look particularly black and angry, and the waves are topped by crests of white foam. The seas are churning, and no mistake.

“Duty calls,” Murasa grins ruefully, “I'll need to steer us out of this. You reckon you can find your way below deck, Ira? I don't want to have to tell Ra that you got swept overboard.”

That... would be inconvenient. Nodding, you let Murasa hurry back to her post at the helm and head down below deck. Inside, the ship almost has the air of a tavern – albeit one that rocks steadily back and forth. Nothing you can do now, you figure, except wait it out.

>Rest until arriving at Garuna
>Check on Aya again
>Find some other way of killing time (write in)
>Other

>Rest until arriving at Garuna
>>Check on Aya again
Check if she is sleeping then get some sleep ourselves

>>Check on Aya again
>>Other
If "detect magic" is up check the storm if we get close enough

This. Checking for magic is a good idea.

Also, a question for you, Moloch: does captain Murasa have an ass anchor?

First check on Aya, then rest.

>I assumed that was a tattoo at first, and then I googled it. I'll have to offer no comment on that one!

Yeap. Supporting detect magic.

It can't hurt to find Aya and check on her again, you figure, just to see if she's actually settled down to rest. From what you've seen of her, it's damn near impossible to get her to sleep more than a few hours at a time.

Then again, things are different now.

Taking a few moments to check the various cabins you pass, you find Aya curled up – wrapped up, with your coat for a blanket – and sleeping fitfully. She tosses and turns, mumbling and whimpering to herself as whatever dark dreams she endures assail her. Feeling strangely guilty – as though you were intruding upon an intensely private moment – you back away and find a cabin of your own to rest in. She looked young, you think as you leave, too young to be involved in a mess like this.

This was a path she picked for herself, you remind yourself as you settle in your own cabin, and now she'll have to live with the consequences just like anyone else. Harsh, perhaps, but you can't take everyone's burdens onto your own shoulders. So, putting her out of your mind as best you can, you settle down to meditate. You thought it might be difficult, but the rocking motion of the ship actually helps, soothing your mind and allowing your senses to grow vast and sharp. Before you've fully realised it, you slip into a deep trance and listen closely to the pulse of the world.

There is magic at work here. Great and powerful magic. The storm hums with power, while a yet greater power lies deep down beneath the waves. It's hard to focus on that strange power, with the turbulent storms serving to mask it from your senses, but maybe you can...

>Please roll 1D100, aiming to beat 50/70/80. I'll take the highest of the first three!

Rolled 69 (1d100)

Rolled 83 (1d100)

Rolled 13 (1d100)

Well done

Rolled (1d00)

Dice

You can reach out, casting the net of your senses further than you've ever managed before. Something about the storm, about the magic howling within those ink-black clouds, seems to carry your mind far and wide. First, savouring this moment of inhuman power and perception, you delve low, your thoughts plunging beneath the waves to study the power that sleeps there.

It sleeps, that is true enough, but it won't sleep for much longer. You can sense a building strength, something that threatens an awakening, an arrival upon the waking world. Something about that power strikes you as ancient, a truly timeless intelligence. Nodens, perhaps? Yet, that drowned god isn't the only other presence you can sense down there – loathsome sparks of life surge and writhe there, like worms feeding on a corpse.

Like a man brushing against red hot metal, you snatch away from those blasphemous sparks of sorcery, drawing away before your mind can sink into a killing rage once again. There are things beneath the waves, waste left behind by some ancient sorcery. As you retreat back to the surface, sending your perception back above the waves, something else catches your attention. It's small – barely noticeable beneath the storms, in fact – but it snares your curiosity. Roaming far to the east, you follow that faint trail.

Then, stung by some intangible barb, your senses snap back into your body. A gasp escapes you as reality slams back into place, but then you look down into your lap. The map – when did you draw it out? - is in your hands, one of your fingers seemingly locked to the parchment. Lifting your finger from the map, you look at the island it had fallen onto. A large place, east of Dumas. The source of that strange magic? Something strong enough to be felt at this distance could only be a god – and a powerful one, at that – but you know nothing about the gods of that region.

Strange.

[1/2]

...

If and when we go down there we'll probably go on a killing spree with all those abominations down there.

As the afternoon sun hangs high in the air, the Hijiri glides into Garuna's port. The storm was rough, true, but it didn't stop you sleeping. The thought of that unknown barb gave you more reason to toss and turn, wild ideas flying through your mind as you consider your options. Garuna, the temple city, has a grand archive of information – it has been said, in fact, that every god in the land is represented here – that you might consult. Then again, the Nameless Temple has its own archives, and many friendly faces to help you search them.

Murasa, electing to stay aboard the Hijiri, waves you and Aya off. Entering the city, you notice an incredible change in Aya's entire mood – while she was distraught before, now she is as excitable as a child.

“Is that the temple of Selene?” she asks, pointing up at the great white needle, “I remember it, sort of, but I never realised it was so tall!”

She's been before, you ask, hasn't she?

“Once, as a child,” Aya shrugs, “It hasn't changed, you know. Not like the capital has. Feels like I'm walking through history, you know?”

Grunting an agreement, you return your eye to Selene's temple. Does Maab know of the attack yet, and the danger her daughter was once again plunged into? More importantly, does she know what her daughter did to you?

“So what do you say, chief?” Aya speaks up once more, “Should be easy enough to get to your temple from here, right? We might even be able to hitch a lift on a cart or something – easier than riding.”

>Visit Maab. You want some answers
>Find the archives. It's time to do some research
>Take some time off to roam the city. You've earned it
>Arrange transport to the Nameless Temple. There's no time to waste
>Other

>Find the archives. It's time to do some research
>Other
Ask one of the priestesses if Maab could meet us there. We could use some answers. And she should know her daughter is safe as well.

And we can take the scenic route to the archives if Aya wants to sight see.

>Find the archives. It's time to do some research

I don't see Maav help is us out much, especially with her daughter. But this god thing needs to be checked on while we're here, and Aya can help.

>Arrange transport to the nameless temple

First things first.

>>Arrange transport to the Nameless Temple.
then
>>Find the archives. It's time to do some research

With Aya ready and willing, you've got the chance to cover a fair amount of ground. While you do need to get back to the Nameless Temple soon, it would be a waste to ignore the archives you have access to here. Likewise, now is a good time to try and get in contact with Maab – even if the chances of getting a satisfactory answer out of her are close to zero. At the very least, you can see if she's available.

So, taking Aya aside, you share your plans with her. If she focusses on arranging some kind of transport to the Nameless Temple – anything would do, really – you can make contact with a few of your local sources.

“I'll see what I can do,” Aya nods eagerly, “When I'm finished...”

She should meet up with you at Selene's temple, you tell her as you point up at that white spire, it's the best landmark around. You'll try not to be long, you promise, but there is always a degree of uncertainty when dealing with... some people.

“Got it. Make the arrangements, then meet up at the tower. Easy, what could go wrong?” again, Aya shows that wounded smile, “I'll, uh, I'll try not to get any more buildings burned down along the way, okay?”

That would be good, you answer with a faint wince. Some things, you consider, shouldn't be joked about. You don't get the chance to press the issue, however, as Aya turns and hurries off into the city streets, racing in the direction of the outskirts. She'd better not see this as a race, not when your guts feel like they'd fall out as soon as you break into a jog. Fixing your own eye upon the tower looming above you, you set off at a determined pace.

At the front desk, the priestess listens to your request with an expression of absolute neutrality. Could the head priestess meet you at the grand archives, you ask formally, at her earliest convenience? There are important matters that you need to discuss with her.

“Two hours,” the answer comes promptly, “Do not be late.”

[1/2]

>“Got it. Make the arrangements, then meet up at the tower. Easy, what could go wrong?”
>panic.gif

Aya is only just arriving at Selene's temple as you're leaving, her youthful pace quickly closing the distance between you. She grins, a bright smile free from any of her earlier brittle attempts at cheer. A natural smile, when you get down to it – in fact, you almost take it for genuine.

“We're in luck, chief,” she tells you, “I've got a wagon, no cargo, heading down south that we can hitch a lift in, no problem. It leaves in the evening, so I wager we've got plenty of time to get that information for these contacts of yours. In fact, since we've got plenty of time...”

Fine, you sigh with a faint smile, you can take the scenic route to the archives. You can't guarantee her a tour of the city or anything, but she can see a few of the shrines. After all, you add as you pass a street corner decorated with a particularly gaudy example, there are plenty of them to see. What you don't tell her is that the aimless wandering is just as much for your benefit as it is for hers – roaming like this puts your mind at ease, and the local colour makes a welcome change from the capital.

[2/3]

So, you lead Aya through the city streets, pointing out shrines at random and offering small pieces of trivia. Just as you're finished correcting her – when you announced one shrine as devoted to a fertility goddess, her only reaction had been a filthy laugh – she comes up with a question of her own.

“Hey, chief,” she asks, “Are any of these your god? I mean, is there a god you hold above the others?”

Such a thing is considered bad for a Wanderer, you remind her, a breach of duty. Wanderers should hold all the gods sacred, but also be willing to deliver judgement when required. Worshipping one god above the others would endanger that neutrality.

“Yeah, but you guys still do it, right?” Aya presses, “C'mon, I won't tell if you don't!”

You consider, then, the gods you've met so far. Are any of them really that special to you?

>No. The gods don't mean that much to me, personally
>I told you, it's a bad omen. Drop it
>Why do you ask?
>There is one god, maybe... (Write in)
>Other

>>Why do you ask?

>Well, I know a few cute goddesses, but...
>Why do you ask?

"Hold above all others? Not particularly, I don't really spend a lot time with one at any given time. Usually fix the problem and then move on. And when I deal with them I usually treat them as a person as opposed to worshiping them you know?"

>There is one god, maybe... (Write in)
"I will admit though, I do feel secure at that broken shrine you were at recently. Don't know why, but I do."

>Why do you ask?

>Well, I know a few cute goddesses, but...
>The gods don't mean that much to me, personally
>Why do you ask?

Why, you reply, does she ask? Is this something she particularly wants to know about, or is she just making idle conversation?

“Can't a girl be curious?” Aya retorts, her voice light and almost carefree. Too carefree, of course, for this to be a matter of no great interest. If she wasn't looking for a real answer, she would have dropped the subject already.

Can't you be curious, you shoot back, about why she's curious?

“You do realise that we could spend all day going around in circles, right?” wearing a weary smile, Aya sighs, “Alright, fine, maybe I DID have a reason for asking. You remember what I said, right, about hiding out in that shrine? I felt safe there, protected almost. It just got me thinking that maybe that's the kind of thing that turns people religious. So, I wondered if maybe you had an experience of your own, something that really caught your attention.”

She has, you realise, a fair point. Still, that's no reason to give up and give her an answer quite so easily – you're going to make her work for it. Well, you offer in a sly voice, you DO know a few cute goddesses...

“C'mon,” Aya slaps your arm lightly, “Be serious. This is a serious question.”

Oh, you raise your eyebrow, it's a serious question now? Fine, you sigh a moment later, you'll give her the answer she's looking for. In truth, you don't really hold any one god above all others – but then, you tend not to stick around one single god very often. You solve the problem, and then you move on. What's more, you seem to find yourself dealing with them as people rather than divine beings. As gods, they don't mean much to you, personally. Maybe that means you're not very faithful, but...

“I think that's a pretty good stance to keep,” Aya nods slightly, “I mean, you can't let them get away with everything, right? So, I guess that's it, huh? It sounds like a pretty lonely life, if you ask me.”

[1/2]

Maybe it is, you admit, but it didn't bother you until recently. Things are different now, and maybe you're getting to be different as well. There is one thing that stands out a little, you think aloud, compared with all the other things you've seen. That broken down shrine she was hiding out at, you try to explain, you feel secure there as well. You can't explain why, but you do. What's more, you seem to find yourself drawn back to it time after time, like someone finding their way home after a long time away.

“Tell you what, chief,” Aya laughs suddenly, “When you're running things, you can have that old place rebuilt from the ground up, and I'll be the high priestess. How does that sound?”

You're still trying to get past what she meant by “when you're running things”, you admit. At the moment, you don't think you could run a race. Still, you think to yourself, it's good to see her smiling and laughing like this. Even if nothing else comes of this conversation, it seems to have cheered her up a little. So, swapping jokes and tall tales of what you'd do if you were ruling the land, you press on towards the grand archives. When you arrive, Maab is waiting outside, a wide parasol casting her into darkness.

“My, Ira, what brings us out here?” she asks when you approach, “I hear that you have important news for me. It's not...” a pause, as a flash of concern – genuine fear, even – darts across her painted face, “It's not Miura, is it? I sent her away to the capital, but...”

>Miura is safe... and unnatural. What have you been teaching her?
>The capital was attacked, but Miura is unharmed
>I brought you here for another reason... (Write in)
>Other

>The capital was attacked, but Miura is unharmed
"Ishida is good at what she does. Ra is okay too if you were wondering."

"But I have to ask. Miura saved my life by preforming magic."
>Miura is unnatural. What have you been teaching her?

>The capital was attacked, but Miura is unharmed.
>That said...

>>Miura is safe... and unnatural. What have you been teaching her?
That's a pretty harsh way to word it though.
>>The capital was attacked, but Miura is unharmed

The capital was attacked, you tell Maab gravely. It's impossible to say if she grows pale or not at your bleak announcement – not with that layer of chalky powder covering it – but she gasps softly. Considering how closely the high priestess keeps her emotions, that slight breath could be closer to the desperate cry of a more outspoken woman. Miura is safe, you stress, she was never in any danger.

A small lie, perhaps, but that's a privilege you're allowed.

“She's safe,” Maab repeats, her voice low. To your side, Aya lingers awkwardly, keenly aware that the conversation she bears witness to is a deeply personal one. “Tell me again, Ira,” Maab asks, orders almost, “Tell me she's safe.”

Miura. Is. Safe. You stress each word, making sure that they are heard. Ishida did her job well, you continue, she is as capable a bodyguard as any girl could wish for. Just in case she was wondering, as well, Ra is unharmed.

“Oh, I knew that old goat would walk away without a scratch,” Maab tugs a fan from her sash and flicks it open, wafting cool air across her face, “He leads a charmed life, in many ways – not least that he knew me, of course.” With her moment of concern passed, Maab is back to her imperious self. “Really, Ira, I don't see why you needed to bring me out here to tell me this,” Maab sighs heavily, “I appreciate your concern for my privacy, but-”

You've got to ask, you interrupt. Miura saved your life using magic, you tell the high priestess, and that's unnatural. Just what has Maab been doing, what has she been teaching that girl?

“She really used magic?” Maab's eyes widen in surprise, in genuine shock, “Why, I had written that little test off as a failure. You were dying, you say? Hmm, perhaps that was the trigger, some kind of traumatic moment...”

This conversation is going nowhere you like, and it's going there fast.

[1/2]

“Don't give me that dirty look, Ira,” Maab scolds, “I never harmed her, if that's what you think. I gave her the best upbringing I could, teaching her how to live a virtuous life. Is that really so wrong?”

If she was doing it out of some twisted curiosity, you argue, maybe it is wrong.

“Well, I won't deny that a certain amount of curiosity was involved,” Maab admits graciously, “But really, I did nothing that the Mentor didn't do to me – I just started it at an earlier age, teaching little Miura the ways of solemn study and meditation. You know as well as I do that magic is a gift, one with so much potential to help people. Why, then, does the Mentor hold his secrets so close to hand?”

Because magic is just as capable of injuring and killing, you remind her. For all the good it could do, magic can ruin lives and destroy men. When the Mentor teaches his students in the ways of magic, he ties the lessons into his own ethical lessons, lectures designed to teach patience and diligence. The power he gives, you continue, is inseparable from the responsibility to use it wisely. Can she say the same about this... experiment of hers?

“It certainly helped you, didn't it?” Maab reminds you delicately, “And Miura doesn't seem to be causing many problems, either. Really, I have to ask again... what harm was there in giving the girl a few lessons and seeing what came of them?”

>Did you ever ask her what she wanted?
>It's not right. You don't have the perspective to hand out these gifts
>Perhaps you have a point. The Mentor shouldn't have a monopoly on this power
>Either way, it can't be changed now
>Other

>>Did you ever ask her what she wanted?
>>Either way, it can't be changed now
I don't think we're qualified to decide this one.

>Did you ever ask her what she wanted?
"Listen. I trust Miura and know she is responsible enough to handle her new powers. But I don't have that trust for all the potential people you might teach. If one person uses it for ill, there's a big problem."

>Either way, it can't be changed now
"Talk to Mentor before continuing this experiment Maab, if you do."

Shaking your head, you sigh in exasperation. Perhaps you're not qualified to pass judgement on Maab. As she's said, Miura could hardly be help up as a failure or a troublemaker. If Maab's teachings are based off those that the Mentor uses, they would point the way to a good life, a life rooted in careful thought and contemplation – and, perhaps, inaction. Maybe it's not such a bad thing for them to be viewed through another perspective.

It's just, you're not sure if Maab's perspective is the best one to use. What insidious wisdom has she been pouring into Miura's ears all this time?

Sighing again, you look Maab in the eye and ask a single, simple question. Did she ever ask what Miura wanted, before she started this whole process?

“I'm her mother, Ira, I think I have the final decision on how she's raised,” Maab replies primly, “Do you really think a child – a child, not even into their tenth year – is fit to decide how they are raised?”

So, she didn't ask. That's what you thought. Listen, you tell Maab sternly, you trust Miura enough not to abuse her new powers. She's young, but responsible. On the other hand, you don't trust any of the others who might end up benefiting from this process, now or in the future. If even one person uses their magic for ill, that's too many.

“Please, Ira, credit me with some caution,” Maab sniffs with what might be disdain, “I've not been generous with these teachings. Just how many children do you think I have access to?”

Considering that Selene's priestesses are often teachers, you point out, is that really a question she should be asking?

“Hmm, I never thought of that,” Maab touches a finger to her chin as she thinks, “No, it would be too much trouble, too much work for one person. A shame, though.”

You didn't raise that issue, you think angrily, to give her ideas.

[1/2]

Either way, you snap angrily, it can't be changed now. Miura has proved this... this experiment – and that word fits poorly into your mouth, sickening you with it's awful weight – to be a success. Now, though, she shouldn't proceed without at least talking it over with the Mentor. That is, if she decides to continue with it at all – and you'd advise against that.

“The Mentor?” Maab raises a brow in surprise, “Oh, I suppose. What harm could it do? He won't lift a finger to stop me, in either case. After all, when has he lifted a finger to stop anything lately?”

He might send you to stop her instead, you point out, and that's much worse.

“You know, I can believe that,” Maab covers a sly smile with her fan, “Ah, Ira, I do so enjoy our conversations. You know, you remind me a little of Ra when he was younger. We could spend hours fighting... and then hours making up.”

You dearly wish you hadn't heard that.

“Ah, but those days are long gone,” Maab lets out a wistful sigh, “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get lost in the past. Really, I should be leaving – it wouldn't do for me to be away from the temple for too long. I have duties, you understand.”

>I won't keep you. Good day, Maab
>I had a question for you, actually... (Write in)
>Other

>I won't keep you. Good day, Maab

>>I won't keep you. Good day, Maab

>We could spend hours fighting... and then hours making up.
Gross.

They were young once.

>I won't keep you. Good day, Maab

You won't keep her, you reply coolly before wishing Maab a good day. Stepping carefully to the side, you offer her a formal bow to see her along her way.

“My Ira, all that time in the capital has taught you some manners,” Maab gives you a warm smile, one with a faint edge to it, “I like it. Come back again, won't you? We can always argue some more.” Then, making sure that you can't steal the last word away from her, she sweeps away into the streets beyond. As she leaves, you realise that she never addressed Aya at all – never even looked at her, not once.

“You know,” Aya says in a deliberately casual voice, “I don't think I like her very much.”

Maab, you attempt to explain as you lead Aya into the archives, is a very unique person. She doesn't exactly attract many friends, but her authority within this city is undeniable.

“Hmm,” Aya grumbles, wisely choosing to say nothing else on the subject, “So, we're here to look something up, right?”

That's right, you tell her, you're here to research a god. What might be a god. You hope it is a god – if not, it's going to be serious trouble. Not that gods aren't also trouble, of course...

“I'll help,” the young reporter decides, “You learn a few things about searching out official records, the line of work I'm... I used to be in.” Her smile wilts slightly, but she rallies quickly. “Remember those archives at your place? I was able to find those maps, even with the wrong directions. Maybe I should get a job there, huh?”

That might not be such a good idea, you offer carefully, but maybe you should both focus on the task at hand. These books won't read themselves, after all.

“If I didn't know better, I'd think you were changing the subject,” Aya gives you a curious look, “Ah, no matter. I wouldn't mind taking a poke around this place myself – not much news here, but I can keep myself amused.”

[1/2]

As Aya heads off to find a book that catches her interest – so much for helping – you start with the maps. In a particularly thick, leathery tome - “An Exploration of the North-Eastern Seas”, or so the flowery script reads – you find a vague mention of what you believe to be the correct island. It's strange, your map suggests that the island is one of the largest in the region, but the books are unusually reluctant to mention it. Still, it seems to have a name – Black Rock.

A generic name, true, but it's a start.

From there, you track down a worn journal, written by one of the countless failed explorers that risked their life on a journey north. Upon reaching Black Rock, the explorer landed and ventured inland. Barely escaping with his life, his journal speaks of terribly violent natives, warriors who sought to sacrifice him to a bloodthirsty god. The god remained nameless, but was said to resemble a vast serpent with glittering metal scales. Wise and cunning, despite the infinite hunger for death, this serpent god was said to teach men the ways of war. Even the natives that died were content to throw their lives away, their blood feeding their god as much as anyone else's.

A god of total and absolute war, one whose followers were happy to throw their lives away in desperate battle. One who might yet have followers – a gathering army, even.

“Hey Ira!” Aya calls as she emerges with a small volume, “You found anything or-” She stops, the dark look on your face stilling her tongue. “You, uh, you okay chief?” she asks slowly, “You look like you've read some bad news.”

Probably, you reply quietly, because you just learned some bad news.

>I think I'll leave things there for tonight. Next thread on Friday, and I'll stick around for a while in case of any questions!

Thanks for running.

Is this serpent God in league with Seer or is this some third faction?

So we'll have to beat a metal snake then?
I may have an idea how to do that...
youtube.com/watch?v=1-0hL1vhTzU

I would call them allies of convenience. Their goals are currently aligned, but that might not last forever.

Who said we have to beat it? It might be a friendly god of bloodthirsty conflict!

So if Nodens woke up would he kill all the sorcery abominations leeching off him?

Saves us the trouble if so.

He'd certainly try! I can't guarantee that we won't have to fight anything at all, but we won't need to cut our way through hundreds of sorcery worms. They have spent a long time feeding off Nodens, though, so he won't be at his full strength.

What was Nodens the God of by the way?

Nodens is most often associated with the oceans, knowledge - typically of the occult and esoteric kind - and the past. Not quite history, but that is often included in his areas of influence as well.

Did you ever think that little broken shrine in the early threads would keep coming up as it has?