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>>45655051

“So you're the specialist,” Musari grumbles, “What's your plan here?”

Like you said, you remind him wearily, you're going to try to restore Melancholia – the new god of this lonesome region – to her older form. A less harmful form, one that spreads hope rather than despair. If you can achieve that, the disease should clear up by itself – it is, after all, born out of the sorrow that grips the slowly shrinking number of sufferers. Once you've done that, you can both go home successful.

“I see,” Musari thinks things over for a moment, “So what's your plan? Specifics, please, I don't have much stomach for vague comments.”

You know many different blessings and ceremonies, you explain patiently, for all kinds of different occasions. The least of these is little more than an affirmation, a reminder to a god that their name is still known amongst men. At the other end of the scale, you know a ritual that might wake a sleeping god, requiring knowledge of their true name and a suitable offering – something symbolic, and extravagant enough to catch the god's eye once more. A god that has been sleeping for countless generations, you explain, is far harder to wake one that has recently slipped away.

“An offering,” Musari says bluntly, “You mean, what, gold?”

Rarely, you tell him, are offerings that simple. The destruction of something valuable – yes, gold included – is definitely a sacrifice, but many gods prefer prayers said in their name. Lots of prayers, occasionally paired with acts of devotion. Anything that suggests men bowing down, you remark with a trace of bitterness, and accepting their lower role. Gods, even the well-meaning ones, can be arrogant.

“Great,” the soldier complains, “So where do we start?”

>We tell the god who she really is
>Her worshippers need to find hope once more
>Research, we look for any information we've missed
>Other

>>45655056
>Research, we look for any information we've missed

>>45655056
>>Research, we look for any information we've missed
Time to hit the books.

Research, you tell Musari, it's always best to start with research. Gathering as much information as possible before committing to a course of action. Of course, up until now you were working under the uncertain confines of time – having a gang of armed soldiers waiting in the wings can do that – so you were focussed on getting the bare minimum. Now though, that you've bought yourself some time, you can take a closer look at those engravings in the palace. There might be answers found within.

“Fine, it's somewhere to start,” Musari grunts, “I knew this mission was too good to be true. Ever since that promotion...”

You wondered about that, actually. It's strange to see a man of faith achieving any kind of rank or status in the army – it's not forbidden, but worshipping a god is a serious obstacle to any promotions. Normally, you'd think that Musari reached his rank through sheer skill or achievement but, well, nothing you've seen from him suggests that. His troops are sloppy, and the man himself is... uninspiring.

“Took me by surprise as well,” Musari explains, “I'm usually stationed a few outposts over, but then I was given command of these rogues and sent over here – we were to be briefed, and given new equipment, when we arrived.”

And the man who briefed him, you guess, he wore a steel ring didn't he?

“Huh, how did you know about that?” Musari scratches his head, “It kept shining in the sunlight, whenever he pointed or gestured. Annoyed the hell out of me. Anyway, he was the one that gave us that flamethrower – he said we'd need it.”

Things just keep getting stranger and stranger. As more facts come to light, you're starting to suspect a deeper matter. This is bigger than just Solitude and a few monks, that's for sure.

[1/2]

Don't stare at anyone, you warn Musari as you both enter Solitude once more, and don't act like they're contagious. Unless he's got all kinds of hidden depths, he's under no risk from them. Even so, you catch Musari staring at Monk as you pass, the robed man busy applying a new layer of reddish clay to the blemishes that mark his face. Soothing an itch, you suspect, and providing some faint comfort to that angry, diseased skin.

He won't need to do it for much longer – you hope.

Passing another one of the despairing men – this one has his head bare, shaven like a penitent – you march up the stairs to the palace. The worshippers don't come here, you recall, out of some mix of dread and respect. Melancholia, the god of this place, can't enter it either, barred by some terror or pain. What would happen, you wonder, if you forced her in here? Dragging her, say, or carrying her. Hardly a dignified way to treat a goddess.

The air inside, at least, is a little less choking than it once was. Some of the dust your footsteps kicked up has dispersed, and you can breath with only a slight hint of trouble. Now, you think as you light your lantern, time to see if there's anything useful among these scrawled ramblings...

>Please roll a 1D100, aiming to beat 50 or 70. I'll take the highest of the first three results.

Rolled 46 (1d100)

>>45655335

Rolled 82 (1d100)

>>45655335

Rolled 10 (1d100)

>>45655335

The best place to start, you decide, is with the oldest inscriptions you can still read. From there, you could potentially work your way backwards and see if there's anything you can translate. They don't seem to be in different languages, so much, as degraded or primitive versions of the current tongue. It might take a little bit of work, but a working translation isn't completely impossible. In fact, you realise, it might be easier than you first thought – other than some peculiar letters and ideograms, there isn't a whole lot of difference.

It takes about an hour of work, during which your eyes grow strained with the effort of poring over tiny letters in a darkened room, but you slowly piece together something useful.

“We performed the ritual today,” the message reads, “For Elpis' pleasure, we took the leaves of this forests and wrote upon them our sins and regrets. Piling these curses up upon the sacred bonfire, we put them to the torch. In this way, our sorrows were cleansed. As they burned, we praised her name and wished for her eternal strength. In this way, our ancestors will never need to suffer the way we have done.”

Perfect – a complete ritual, recorded down where anyone with a little education could find it. Yet, the fact that nobody was able to read it depresses you somewhat. Despite the Mentor's best efforts to spread education and literacy, it seems that more and more knowledge is lost with each passing day. Even as the language itself evolves, the wisdom of the past grows distant and forgotten.

But that's a complaint for another time. You've got a solution here – it's time to put it into practice.

>Gather the worshippers and see if you can get their cooperation
>Go to Melancholia directly
>Consult with Musari about this new knowledge
>Other

>>45655516
>Gather the worshippers and see if you can get their cooperation

>>45655516
Gather the worshippers and see if you can get their cooperation

>>45655516
>>Gather the worshippers and see if you can get their cooperation

Let the sleeping gods lie

>>45655516
>>Gather the worshippers and see if you can get their cooperation
should we like, carry the fire into the temple or something? Maybe the temple repels them because it normally needs to be alight.

If this ritual calls for people burning their regrets and sorrow – symbolically, obviously – then you'll need to gather Melancholia's worshippers together and see if they'll be willing to cooperate. The chance of a cure, for both their disease and their grief, should be enough to motivate them. If not, then you'll need to get creative. If the worst comes to the worst and they refuse altogether, you could always try performing the ritual by yourself.

You've got your fair share of regrets, after all.

You start with Monk, kneeling down next to the slumped figure. Ever since the soldiers started their short lived advance, he hasn't moved from his position before the gates. The fact that they've retreated for now seems to have passed him by completely. So, you begin, you might have found a cure for his disease. For everyone suffering from the disease, you add, Melancholia included.

“Have you?” Monk's thick voice is somehow listless, “I thought death would be our cure.”

Not today, you reply, you've managed to get the soldiers to back off. You'll need his help though, to gather the rest of the worshippers together. This ritual stands the best chance of success if everyone throws their weight behind it. Is he willing to help, you ask, and would everyone else be willing as well?

Monk thinks this over for a long time, long enough that you almost have to prod him to check that the withered man hasn't died where he sits. Eventually, the answer comes. “Perhaps,” Monk sighs, “If you believe we can be cured, the others may be willing to listen. We have not, I think, lost all hope – we still cling to life, do we not? Come, stranger, I shall gather my brothers close.”

It's a start, you think as Monk lifts himself up and slouches towards one of the stone houses.

[1/2]

>>45655765

“These bells are normally used to announce a death,” Monk explains as he carefully lifts a bronze bell from a table, one of the few pieces of furniture in the barren room, “If we feel the end approach, we are to ring these. That way, our brothers will be able to take the body and burn it upon the bonfire. Leaving a body to rot, after all, would be unpleasant,” Monk leers at you with blackened teeth and you realise that he is, amazingly, joking, “The smell, you see...”

You could mention that the smell is already pretty damn bad, but what would be the point? He knows it as well as you do. Instead, you just take up the bronze bell and ring it, loud and clear. That should, in theory, alert the procession of tainted cultists. When they arrive to ferry their departed brother away, you'll be able to speak with them all.

It's a long wait – they certainly don't hurry to get here – but soon you have a shuffling, coughing crowd of noisome cultists waiting outside the house, some staring at you with filmy eyes. Those gazes hold a tentative curiosity, as if unsure how to react to this break from their routine. Gathered by the sound of a death, they have instead found a living – and healthy – man.

You won't waste their time, you begin when the last of them has arrived, you need their help. They all have their share of regrets and sorrows, you ask, do they wish them to be taken away? Do they wish to find absolution, peace and new life?

If you were expecting a rousing cheer, you'd be disappointed. Then, a voice from the crowd.

“You say you can make us well again?” one cultist, the shaven penitent, asks.

>Explain the ritual as best you can
>Stay vague, yet encouraging
>Attempt to sway them away from Melancholia
>Other

>>45655831
>>Stay vague, yet encouraging
By the way I think there might be another way to restore her. If feeding her with despair is what caused her to take this form wouldn't feeding her hope cause her to recover?

>>45655831
>Challenge them to do their own small part
to recognize their regrets and sorrows, enough to write them down. That's plenty difficult for some people, we have the comparatively easier job of.....logistics.

>>45655831
>>Stay vague, yet encouraging

>>45655853
>>45655872
both of those

You think there might be a way, you explain carefully, and you're something of an expert in these matters. It's too early to say for sure, of course, but you think the situation is not as dire as they first thought. Your words, vague as they are, seem to have an effect on the crowd – a small one, true, but a hushed murmur ripples through it. Although their faces are mostly hidden from you, shrouded behind clay masks or low robes, you seem to detect the first flickerings of optimism amongst them,

It might also help Melancholia, you add, and restore her to her previous radiant form. Rather than feeding her despair, you suggest, why not try offering her hopeful thoughts to speed her recovery along? But that's getting ahead of yourself, there was something else you wanted to know. Do they have quills here, and ink?

“We do,” Monk tells you, his voice stronger than you've ever heard, “Some of us thought to record our thoughts, and any revelations that our meditations might have brought.”

Excellent, you nod, then you've got a challenge for the cultists before you – a way for them to prove their strength and earn their cure. They need to face up to reality, enough to record their sorrows and grief – anything they can remember – down. It will be hard, you admit, but you have faith in them.

Again, your words have a faint yet noticeable influence on the mood. There are no cheers or bursts of enthusiasm, but as the group separates and filters away, they move with an undeniable sense of purpose. It is as if they've all been waiting for someone to take charge and give them directions, orders for them to obey.

When the last of the cultists have left, there is one figure remaining in the courtyard. Melancholia herself, her arrival silent and discrete.

>Explain what's going on. You need her cooperation
>Avoid a conversation. You can't let her interfere
>Other

>>45656035
>>Explain what's going on. You need her cooperation

>>45656035
>Explain what's going on. You need her cooperation
Call her by her real name.

"You felt something was wrong haven't you? That you weren't exactly the God you think you are?"

>>45656035
>>Explain what's going on. You need her cooperation

>>45656035
>Poke at her confused memories
Elpis, was it? Maybe name-dropping will draw out more hints for the ritual.

It would've been so much easier to simply kill her

>>45656138
>wanting to pass on a free as in free beer spell

>>45656138
>not wanting to restore her and try to get some hot goddess ass

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Nodding for Musari to stand down – the nervous looking soldier slowly returns his sword to the sheath when he realises that the walking corpse before him is not an enemy – you take a step closer to Melancholia. She needs to know what's going on here, and she might even be able to help a little. Her true name, first off, might be enough to trigger some kind of reaction.

Hello Elpis, you begin cautiously as you watch her face for a reaction, you were hoping to see her here. As the name leaves your lips, Melancholia reaches up to touch her forehead and flinches slightly. Something in her face flickers, warm colour spreading out from her eyes in a short lived wave. When the moment has passed, she can only stare at you in confusion. She felt like something was wrong wasn't there, you guess, like she wasn't exactly the god she should be?

“Elpis,” Melancholia repeats slowly, “That name... it sounds familiar. Yes, that was... me. My other self. I felt something, a moment ago. Neither sorrow nor regret. Nor was it guilt, grief or despair. Tell me, priest, could it have been hope? It warmed me like a fire, like the fires that I remember.”

It was hope, you confirm quickly, the hopes of her worshippers. But what she just remembered, those fires – can she tell you a little more about them?

“I can show you,” Melancholia offers, holding out her hand to you. Hesitating for only a moment – you're certain you can see something moving beneath those bandages, like maggots – you reach out and take her hand. Closing your eyes, foggy and distorted images flicker into your mind. You see Solitude, in an older and better time. Cloaked worshippers have gathered at the palace entrance, throwing handfuls of painted leaves onto a great fire.

[1/2]

>>45656288

That's the same place you burned the body, you realise, as if the monks here had been following some perverted version of those older rituals. Knowledge, passed down and distorted by generations of increasingly distant worshippers, taking on a new form. The sins that were once burned symbolically, written onto dry leaves, were now etched into the flesh of the diseased monks.

Closing your eyes again, you watch more of the images unfold. As the fire burns brighter, something in the air changes. You can't feel it, of course, but the change is obvious in the wave of excitement that passes through the worshippers. A few voices are raised in prayer as a hand emerges from the palace entrance, the skin golden and flawless. The hand emerges first, followed by-

Melancholia gasps, pulling away from you and clasping her hand to her breast, as if your touch had burned her. Turning her hand over, she is silent for a long while before finally speaking up. “Priest,” she murmurs, “You know what to do now, do you not?”

>I think so
>Is there nothing else you remember?
>I'm lost here
>Other

>>45656308
>>I think so

>>45656308
>>I think so

>>45656308
>>I think so
We got this.

>>45656308
>>I think so
>>Is there nothing else you remember?

You think so, you decide, you think you've got this all straightened out. As you say this, the first of the diseased worshippers – standing that little bit taller, if you're not mistaken – emerges from his dwelling with a few sheets of stained paper clutched in his withered hands. He's not the only one to return either, with more and more of the cultists emerging into the courtyard. Some of them have only a few small scraps of paper, while one of them has an entire scroll tucked under his arm. They all look more... human, less like piles of rags that learned to walk.

As Melancholia nods gracefully, you stride out into the crowd of gathered worshippers and begin to direct them, urging them up to the palace doorway. Reluctantly at first, they follow your instructions with increasing vigour. Despite their mournful nature, there is a natural enthusiasm in the air now – the product of a small group, all working together for some higher purpose. Throwing their papers onto a pile, the same pile of charcoal and ash that was once their cremated brother, they share an uncertain yet excited murmur.

Before you begin, you ask Melancholia, is there anything else she remembers?

“When I have reclaimed my old form,” the sickly goddess decides, “I will return to my palace. Perhaps I should never have left – yet as I weakened, I needed to be closer to my worshippers. I needed to walk amongst them, and then gradually I started to walk as they walked, slumped under the weight of my own failure.”

But not for much longer, you assure her as you prepare a flint and tinder, you're putting an end to this.

[1/2]

>>45656550

Striking sparks onto the pile of dry paper, you glance down and catch glimpses of the regrets scrawled there. They are written in a mixture of scripts, some printed with painfully neat letters – you can almost imagine the cultist bent over the paper, inscribing it with the exact torment he has suffered – while others are scribbled wildly onto the paper, as if the writer was desperate to let out every drop of the poison that had gathered in his veins.

Crimes committed, lovers lost and families abandoned all vanish into the fire as the sparks take hold and begin to consume the papers. As the scraps burn, the monks begin to murmur. Too quiet to hear at first, their voices grow clearer and clearer until the name they chant reaches your ears – Elpis, they chant, praise Elpis.

“Praise be,” the goddess says, approaching you and placing her hand on your shoulder. Turning to look at her, you see colour returning into her muted form, new life filling out her hollow eyes. She pulls a long string of bandage free from her hand, revealing pristine flesh beneath, and holds it out to you. As it drops into your hands, the bandage becomes a coil of light – new magic, to be carved into your soul.

>New spell card gained
>[Melancholia] Hopeless Man's Respite
>“Let your mind grow still, your flesh grow numb, and your heart grow cold. Have no fear, Wanderer.”
>Until the end of the current combat, maximum Health is reduced by 20. All damage taken, however, is reduced by half.

When you look at her once more, there is no trace of sickness in her noble form. Melancholia, the hollow queen, is no more – Elpis, queen of hope has returned.

[2/3]

>>45656614
Now we fugg

>>45656642
Anon no

>>45656642
It goes against heaven's law.

>>45656642
Anon, pls.

>>45656658
Fuck that noise, we goddess lovers now.

>>45656642
Failure of a human! failure of a human!

>>45656614

As she passes you by, walking untouched through the fires, Elpis touches her worshippers one by one, her fingers slipping across foreheads and stroking palsied hands. Wherever her touch falls, new life and vitality comes to the flesh that her other self tainted and corrupted. When Monk, the last of her worshippers, has been freed from his affliction, Elpis approaches the doorway to her palace. Pausing, she turns to look out over the town of Solitude. For a moment, she looks like she's about to say something but then she changes her mind, sweeping down through the entrance.

The mood grows sombre, introspective almost, now that she has gone into her palace. A few of the healed monks linger at the threshold, but one by one they turn away and return to their dwellings.

“It has to be this way,” Monk decides, speaking directly to you, “You saw what happened when she walked among us – we can accept her blessings and raise our voices in praise, but we should not walk the same paths. Thank you, stranger, for bringing us this revelation. I can only hope that you find what you are seeking in turn.”

You weren't seeking anything, you tell him with a deadpan voice, you were just here on holiday. Now, though, perhaps it's time for you to leave.

>Monk, what will you do now?
>Musari, what are you going to do about your orders?
>It's time for me to leave here
>Other

>>45656742
>Musari, what are you going to do about your orders?

>>45656742
>>Musari, what are you going to do about your orders?

>>45656742
>>Monk, what will you do now?
The people here should probably make this Ritual common knowledge, transcribe it, and make sure newcomers learn it when they are allowed to join Solitude.
>>Musari, what are you going to do about your orders?

>>45656742
>monk what will you do now
>musari what are you going to do
>leave

>>45656782
This
Make sure this shit doesnt happen again

>>45656742
>>45656782
This

So, you ask Monk, what's he going to do now?

“I'm going to stay here,” he decides, “What we learned here needs to be recorded, passed down to future pilgrims. This mistake should never happen again. I'll see that it doesn't. In time, I might leave this place – but not until I've trained a worthy successor and left a record of what happened. Perhaps in time this place will become a place of learning, of organised study.” Shaking his head, he offers you his hand, “But that's all in the future. A future that we have, thanks to you.”

Just happy you could help, you tell him as you shake his hand, and you're glad to hear that he's taken these lessons to heart. Musari, you ask as you let Monk's hand go, what's he going to do about his orders?

“I don't see any plague here,” the officer decides, “And neither did any of my men. Those lesions on the man the aviary clerk saw? Ritual scarring, and nothing more,” shaking his head, he gives you a rueful smile, “You know what these religious types are like.”

Right, you reply with a bitter smile, a bunch of lunatics. Now that the matter has been put to rest, though, it's about time you left. You'd appreciate it if...

“We never saw you?” Musari asks with a knowing smile, “Count on it. No point mentioning a lost tourist in my report.”

Thanking the officer – a decent sort, once you get past the bluster – you turn and march out of Solitude. Maybe you'll return here one day, if you too seek the town's namesake. Privately though, you'd be happy to never see the place again.

You'll spend your next holiday somewhere else, you decide, the mountain air doesn't really agree with you.

[1/2]

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>>45657005

Taking your horse from the outpost – for obvious reasons, you decide against sending your report back via the pigeon post – you grimace at the thought of the long ride ahead of you. You'll stop at the first town you come across, no matter how terrible it is, and rest for the night. When you rise with the sun in the morning, you'll feel ready to face the open road. You always do.

Except, you think ruefully as you wake up the next morning, when the sun is hidden behind grey cloud and rain. It's a miserable day for a long ride, but what choice do you have? And so, after lingering over breakfast in the nameless roadside tavern, you pull your coat tight around you and mount up, trying to ignore the incessant beat of rain tapping against the wide brim of your hat. Riding hard, you soon get a fleeting glimpse of the central mountains – however bad the weather might be over your area, it's nothing compared with the howling storm that has engulfed the mountain summit.

Not at all good, you think to yourself as you ride away. The god of the central mountains is Titanos, you recall as you dredge up old knowledge, usually seen as a benevolent guardian. Something must have got him riled up for the weather to be acting up like this. You think of the writ waiting at the Nameless Temple and grimace – apparently nobody else has done something about it. Still frowning as you enter the temple itself, you're surprised to see a familiar figure.

Aya, your reporter and ally of convenience, is reading the missing posters with an unhealthy level of interest. She's got her notepad out, scrawling rapid fire notes with a charcoal stick. “Ira!” she calls as you approach, “Got time to talk?”

>Sure, I've got time
>Pretty busy right now actually
>What are you doing here?
>Other

>>45657060
>>Sure, I've got time
>>What are you doing here?

>>45657060
>>Sure, I've got time
>What are you doing here?

>>45657060
>Sure, I've got time
>What are you doing here?

Sure, you say with a degree of caution, you've got time – but what's she doing here, anyway?

“Oh, you know me,” Aya winks, “I'm just as much of a wanderer as you are, even if I can't call it a job. Besides, I brought you a present!” Tucking her notes under one arm, heedless of the charcoal smudges it leaves on her light jacket, she bends down and picks up a box, offering it to you. Taking it from her, you open it and look inside. It's... some kind of pottery. Ugly pottery.

“It's a drinking cup... I think,” Aya's cheer dips only slightly as she sees your confusion, “Remember the Asahisaki family, those pottery freaks? Interesting times, for them. The artistic community pretty much put them on a blacklist, but they managed to turn their whole business around. They put out some whining statement about how sorry they were, and how they've learned their lesson. Now they make this stuff, humble goods for humble pilgrims.”

Huh. That's not exactly what you were expecting. Some people, you suppose, will always find a way of getting by.

“Right?” the reporter agrees, “But hey, never mind that old news, what's this about murders and disappearances? You've been holding out on me, chief!”

That, you explain carefully, is a delicate matter. The Mentor discourages idle chatter, at least until he's learned the root cause of all this. Too much noise and attention, you tell her, might force the attackers to go underground. If they vanish, they might never be found.

“I don't like it,” Aya decides, “People send their kids here, you know? They think it's safe, but if this kind of thing is going on...”

It's not your decision, you remind her, it was the Mentor that decided-

“I think I'd like to speak with this mentor of yours,” Aya muses.

>Forget it. No chance
>I can take you to him, but I can't guarantee anything
>Maybe you're right, maybe people should know about this
>Other

>>45657269
>I can take you to him, but I can't guarantee anything

>>45657269
>>I can take you to him, but I can't guarantee anything

>>45657269
>I can take you to him, but I can't guarantee anything

>>45657269
>>I can take you to him, but I can't guarantee anything
He's smart, he'll know what to do

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Frankly, you're not sure that the Mentor would be very happy about speaking to a reporter, but Aya doesn't strike you as the type to be so easily deterred. Turn her down now, you think to yourself, and she'd just plough right ahead and interfere with things. It might be easier just to cut out the middle man and take her to see him – and let him throw her out personally, if that's what he chooses to do.

“C'mon chief, this is the interview of the year,” Aya presses, “You've got to hook me up with this!”

You can take her to him, you sigh, but you can't guarantee anything – not an interview, not even a meeting. Your warning seems to fall upon deaf ears, with Aya's face lighting up at the more optimistic interpretation of your words. Her relentless good cheer, if nothing else, is admirable. All the while you lead her to the Mentor's chambers, she hammers you with eager questions, anything from what the Mentor looks like to highly specific matters of personal philosophy. You're still trying to explain everyone just calls him “the Mentor” when you arrive, spying Howa sitting behind the front desk. Initially smiling at you, Howa's face stiffens when she spots Aya.

“Interesting company you keep these days,” she says coolly when you arrive, “I'm surprised you can keep up with a young girl like her.”

What's her problem? You're just here to see the Mentor, you tell Howa, with a guest. That's not going to be a problem, you ask, is it?

“I can't imagine why that would be a problem,” Howa scrutinises Aya for a moment, like a cat eyeing up a particularly nice looking mouse, “Why not? Go right ahead – he's been waiting for you, Ira, although I imagine it might have to, ah, wait.”

[1/2]

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>>45657523

>>45657523
>I can't imagine why that would be a problem
oh fuck mistakes were made

>>45657523
Enough jelly for my toast, eh?

>>45657523

Giving Howa one last strange look, you lead Aya past her desk into the Mentor's chambers, hardly relishing the prospect of explaining this. The Mentor is more restrained than you expect as you explain who Aya is and why you brought her here. He listens patiently, before finally nodding at you. Not a hint of emotion passes across his ancient face as he considers her – but you've never been very good at reading that lined face, even when he's wearing his emotions openly.

“Very well,” he says evenly, “I've made no effort to keep recent events a secret. Quiet, perhaps, but I've never tried to deny them. This may, in fact, offer a chance to send a reassuring message to the people.”

“So,” Aya says, leaping straight into the fray, “Wanderers, your highly trained specialists, are being murdered and their apprentices – often young teenagers – are going missing. Some might say that you're remarkably unconcerned about all this, or even that you're allowing this to happen. What can you say to that?”

“I have agents investigating,” the Mentor's voice never wavers, even as Aya wastes no time on innocent questions, “And already, we have had promising results. Would you care to hear them?”

He's... really being quite open about this. More so than you were expecting, in fact.

“By all means,” Aya nods, her charcoal poised to take notes.

“We believe an organised group is responsible for the attacks,” the Mentor say calmly, “And that the Emperor has nothing to do with it. In fact, we are cooperating with the Imperial palace to investigate this troubling matter.

That's news to you.

“That's a political answer,” Aya remarks, “Very nice from someone isolated from the rest of the world, but what about the families out there who are missing their children? What do you have to say to them?”

>Interrupt. This is too far
>Let things unfold
>Other

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>>45657647
>Let things unfold

>>45657647
>>Let things unfold
Hey, if he's telling, no skin off our backs.

>>45657647
>Let things unfold
Sup Loch

“I fear you are mistaken about what it is that we do here,” the Mentor replies coolly, utterly unconcerned with the ferocious questioning, “We are not some private institution where rich youths are taught magic tricks. The children we take are orphans, pariahs and survivors – we take them because they have nowhere else to go, nobody else to fall back on. We give them a home, we give them a family, and we give them a purpose. It is regrettable, yes, that these incidents are taking place, but risk is an unavoidable factor in this life – a fact that all our students are taught from their first day here.”

In the silence that follows, you swear you can hear Howa chuckling softly from outside. Aya is silent for a moment, reeling back as if slapped. Slowly, the life returns to her face and she turns to glance at you. You just shrug – what, exactly, what she expecting?

“Now,” the Mentor says with a hint of a smile, “Perhaps you would like a brief tour of the temple? I can have one of the apprentices show you around.” Still unable to speak, Aya can only nod to the Mentor's offer, turning and jerkily walking from the chamber. “Ira, could you stay a moment longer? We have matters to discuss, I believe.”

Nodding, you wait until Aya leaves the room entirely before you give your report to the Mentor. As you speak, he allows far more feeling into his face – relief, interest and open joy as you finish your explanation. Elpis' return, in particular, seems to please him immensely.

“Masterfully handled,” the Mentor tells you with satisfaction, “And well worth a reward. What magic would you like to study today?”

>Fire
>Earth
>Water
>Air

>>45657738

>Hello!

>>45657870
>>Air

>>45657870
>Earth
Don't think we have one yet, though Skin of Porcelain has been our main defensive magic.

>>45657870
>>Earth
Get some buffs.

>>45657870
Water since we seem to have taken the diplo approach

>>45657870
>>Fire

>>45657870
>Earth

>>45657870
>>Earth
We can only use the doll card once so having an extra defense would be useful.

>>45657913
>>45657915
>>45657943
>>45657943
>>45657948
But guys we just got a defensive buff card

>>45657870
>Fire

>>45657968
Double edged sword with the HP loss. We'll get fire next time around. I am just curious what straight up Earth magic is like since we don't have one yet.

>>45657870
>>Fire
We need attack cards too, we just got another defense card.

>>45658007
We do Mandy gave us one.

We have
>3 earth cards
>1 fire card
>1 air card
>1 water card

I rest my case that we need more water cards since that's the option we always go for

>>45657870
>Air

I don't know what Air dies, though

>>45658120
>0 Earth Spells
>1 Fire Spell
>2 Air Spells
>1 Water Spells
>3 Goddess Spells

>The voting period is now over, and Earth has it. I'll write the next post now.

>>45658140

>Air concerns magic that doesn't fall into any of the other three categories. Mobility, enhanced senses and healing magic all fall under Air.

>>45658140
* does

>>45658162
Thanks. I think Air would help us a lot, though I doubt most other players will agree.

>>45658201
We've already got two air spells

>>45658201
We got Air last time anon. Did you just randomly join in thread 7?

You'd like to learn the ways of Earth, you decide, the way of stoic defence. You just hope this isn't going to be painful – you looked in on a class once, only to see an apprentice being beaten with a willow branch. Admittedly, you never found out for sure if that was part of an Earthly meditation, or if the apprentice had just been acting out. In either case, you'll go with Earth.

“A wise decision,” the Mentor says, leading you down a corridor and along one of the many twists, “There is a story often associated with the ways of Earth, you know. An ascetic monk sought out only the harshest, most hostile environments to practice meditation. He knelt beneath tides of freezing water, walked across burning coals and climbed the highest mountains. All the while, he sought strength from the soil beneath his feet – the earth bore all this and more, he thought, so why should a man be any different?”

He's not going to make you walk over hot coals, is he?

“In the end, his connection with the earth grew so strong...” the Mentor pauses, nodding for you to heave open a heavy door. Pushing it open, you look upon a stone statue that depicts a kneeling monk, his face cast in a serene expression, “He became one with the earth,” the old man finishes, “And turned into a lifeless statue.”

That's... not the same statue, you ask, is it?

[1/2]

>>45658355

Chuckling, the Mentor pats the statue's bald head. “It's only a story, Ira. Men can endure anything, don't you see? Anything the mountains can endure, men can as well – if only they can adopt the right frame of mind.”

You're not sure about that, but the lesson takes effect anyway. As you touch the statue, you feel new magic waking within your heart.

>New spell card gained:
>[Earth] Saint's Perseverance
>“Bear suffering with nobility, and you will be blessed with endurance.”
>Activate while suffering from a hostile environment, such as fire, extreme cold or deep water, to gain immunity to the negative effects of that environment until the danger has passed.

“Now, Ira,” the Mentor tells you, still offering you a mysterious smile, “To business. No doubt you've seen the weather gathering around the central mountains. I sent another Wanderer out to investigate, but they've yet to return. If you wish to look into this matter, the writ is yours. Otherwise, you are free to take rest – real rest, and not another “holiday” like your most recent one. The choice, as always, is yours.”

>Tell me about this writ
>Were you telling Aya the truth about your investigations? The Emperor isn't involved?
>I think I will take some time off
>Other

>>45658373
>Were you telling Aya the truth about your investigations? The Emperor isn't involved?

>Tell me about this writ

>>45658373
>Tell me about this writ
>Were you telling Aya the truth about your investigations? The Emperor isn't involved?

>>45658373
>>Tell me about this writ
>>Were you telling Aya the truth about your investigations? The Emperor isn't involved?
So does that new spell just let us walk off being set on fire? That's pretty brutal.

>>45658373
>>>Tell me about this writ
>>Were you telling Aya the truth about your investigations? The Emperor isn't involved?
Are we still at 80hp ? If so
>>I think I will take some time off [enough to heal, not enough to let the writ pass]

Also does that mean we can breath underwater ?

>>45658373

>Tell me about this writ


>>45658216
I've been here since the first vote of the first thread. I skipped last thread.

>>45658452
You're supposed to read the archive if you miss a thread.

>>45658447

>We are still at 80 health, so taking a brief break would let us heal up. Also, our new spell does let us breath underwater, yes. It doesn't protect against magical damage though, just hostile environments.

>>45658504
>>We are still at 80 health, so taking a brief break would let us heal up.
Alright we should do that then before setting out.

>>45658504
What if the magical attack consists of hurling fire at us?

>>45658544

>It would damage us as normal, unfortunately. A burning building, on the other hand, would offer no danger.

>>45658563
That sounds overly broken.

>>45658593
Thats sounds like something to use if we need to play firefighter.

>>45658593

>It's powerful, yes, but it has limitations. It won't protect against being strangled, for example, and it won't protect anyone else from a source of fire.

Our next spell should be fire.

>>45658669
Sure. We should get a rotation going.

Fire then Water then Air then Earth.

Or something like that. All of these are useful, it's good to have lots of options and utility.

You'd like to hear about this writ, you tell the Mentor, although you think you've got an idea of what it might involve already.

“You'd be correct,” the Mentor tells you, “It was a request to take a sacrifice up to Titanos, the old man of the mountains. Normally, the local priest would take care of it, but he's getting old – his legs, you see, aren't up to the hike. When none of the other locals stepped forwards to help, he was forced to send a writ. This should be a simple matter – take an offering to the temple at the summit. Not easy, of course, but simple.”

Then you should have no trouble, you decide, you'll leave once you're rested up and ready. But there is one thing you've been wondering, you add, was he telling Aya the truth about his investigations? He's certain that the Emperor isn't involved?

“We have concluded that a group is responsible,” the Mentor says slowly, “An individual wouldn't manage some of what we've seen, attacks across a wide area, and the details are too similar for it to be several unconnected incidents. However...” he lowers his voice, even though you're alone, “I've not ruled out the Emperor, not completely. I cannot imagine what motive he might have, but we've seen nothing to disprove his involvement either. Without concrete proof, though, I'm unwilling to throw accusations about.”

You can see his point, there is little to gain from stirring things up with the Emperor. Especially now, you think, that relationships are growing strained. Adding baseless accusations to the mix could only make things worse. You'll head out, you tell the Mentor as you put the matter aside, once you're ready to leave.

“As you wish,” the Mentor nods, “Titanos can bluster and blow, but Tenngaru will survive a little rough weather. He can wait as long as he needs to.”

[1/2]

>>45658748

“So,” Howa calls after you as you're leaving to return to your quarters, “You're famous now, are you? Followed about by reporters and everything... or is she just a fan of yours?”

You're detecting a trace of bitterness here, you reply, but that couldn't possibly be true.

“I'm just poking fun,” Howa retorts, “Did you really think I was that shallow and insecure? I'm just concerned – she looks like a troublemaker, that one, and we're giving her a guided tour. We're lucky she's not working for the secret police – it's a good cover story, you know, a reporter. You've got an excuse for showing up at all the right places, asking difficult questions...”

You've got to admit, there is a certain logic to the idea. Of course, you're not paranoid enough to think that Emperor Tatsuhiro has a member of the secret police dedicated to following your every move – you're not that important. Thanking Howa for her “helpful advice”, you turn to leave.

“Don't forget your gift,” Howa reminds you, nudging the ugly bit of pottery, “It'll look lovely in your room – on the few occasions that you ever sleep there.”

Some people, you think as you're leaving, aren't suited to a desk job. It does strange things to their head. With the ugly gift under your arm, you return to your bare room, dump it on your desk, and collapse into bed. You could sleep for a hundred years, and still wake up feeling tired.

When you wake, after a mercifully dreamless sleep, you find yourself uncertain of how to proceed. Normally, you'd just head out straight away but this writ – or rather, the god involved – is a little unusual. Titanos is a big deal, one of the more important gods in Tenngaru. There's certain to be some material on him in the archives...

>Head out, you can ask the local priest any questions
>Stop by the archives and do some reading
>Other

>>45658989
>Stop by the archives and do some reading
Must. Gather. Information.

>>45658989
>>Stop by the archives and do some reading

>>45658989
>Stop by the archives and do some reading
Can't hurt to do some research, like Mentor said this isn't super time sensitive.

>>45658989
>stop by the local archives

As mentor said, we have time or do we ?

>>45658989
>Stop by the archives and do some reading

>>45658989
>>Stop by the archives and do some reading
Make sure Howa isn't around

>>45659086
Why? In all honesty she'd probably give some insights.

>>45659086
Why? Is it because she has cooties?

>>45659114
Because if I just woke up I wouldn't want to deal with an "older sister" teasing me with info I'm going to look up. What she tells us we're gonna validate and check but first let's see it straight then we could ask for her opinion or insights.

I bet Titanos has his tits in a twist becaus of some railway related shit
>>45658989
>Stop by the archives and do some reading

>>45659192
>Not wanting your 'older sister' teasing you.

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>>45659247
>>45659192

You're here, and you've got a pretty vast archive of information at your disposal – it would be irresponsible, you decide, not to take advantage of that fact. So, after wolfing down a quick breakfast of cold meat and rough bread, you descend to the archives beneath the Nameless Temple. As always, the air down here is cool and dry, utter silence dominating at this early hour. Later, the rows of bookshelves will echo with the sound of hushed voices and footsteps but now, rarely, you've got the place to yourself.

You don't do this often enough, you decide as you take in the still air, you should do this more often. It's relaxing, in fact, just to wander the aisles and let your gaze fall wherever it lies. Even Howa isn't here yet – you'd hear her coming a mile away, with that cane of hers. In the end, though, you're not quite sure where to start. After a while, you decide on a relatively new book – a bound copy of “Gods of Tenngaru”. You're not looking for any deep secrets yet, so this should be good enough.

Flipping through the book, you get a decent idea of what you're up against. Titanos, the old man of the mountain, is a god of both air and the earth – a contradiction, an irregularity. Perhaps that's why he has a mercurial temper, quickly shifting between portrayals as a conquering tyrant and a benevolent protector. He takes living sacrifices, usually goats, and they must be slaughtered within his true temple – located at the summit of the central mountains. You won't need to climb – there's a path – but it'll be a hell of a hike.

A long hike, carrying a live goat on your shoulders all the while. That sounds like... fun.

[1/2]

>>45659192
You must be a woman

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>>45659310
>A long hike, carrying a live goat on your shoulders all the while. That sounds like... fun.

>>45659310

The book, a new volume, also mentions the current priest of the closest town, the place where most pilgrims usually stop. You're a little surprised to recognise the name – Garl Yamada – as a Wanderer that used to teach at the Nameless Temple. He certainly taught you a few things. Respect mainly, after he smacked you over the head with a wooden training sword hard enough to leave a scar.

Good times.

Closing the book, you sigh heavily and lift your old bones out of your chair. Time to leave, you think. You've got enough of a head start that you won't need to ask too many questions on site. You won't need to embarrass yourself, either, if Garl gives you a surprise exam. As you're heading back into the rows of shelves to return the book – you don't want to provoke Howa by leaving a book out, not after the last time – you hear a strange noise. A soft scuffling sound, like padded footsteps. A rat, perhaps, but it would need to be a damn big rat...

>Investigate the sound
>Ignore it, you've delayed your mission long enough
>Report the sound as you're leaving, let someone else deal with it
>Other

>>45659378
>Investigate the sound
I'll bite.

>>45659378
>>Investigate the sound
Pop that wind sensory spell?

>>45659378
>>Investigate the sound
>>45659418
seconding

>>45659378
>>Investigate the sound
Sidequests

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Taking a slow, steady breath you let your senses expand to their fullest, your nerves tingling with the effort of filtering out unimportant details. There's something else here – and something is definitely the right word for it. Something feels magical, disturbing the mystical tides with every movement they make. Closing your eyes for a fraction of a second – like a blink, but slightly longer – you open them to see a phantom string floating before you, leading you off on a wild chase. It trembles with very footstep its source makes and you have a strange sense of growing distance as you look at it.

No question, then, something is leading you deeper into the maze of shelves. Without a further thought, you begin to follow the phantom red string. Barely noticing the world around you – although you'd know if some danger reared its head – you press on. Generations recede around you as the books shelved either side of you get older and older, until they are little more than clumps of dust held together by leather bindings and cobwebs.

Turning one last corner, the trail leads you to a collapsed stack of books, and a faint sobbing sound. Hunched over an open book – one of the few intact books – is a... what could be an apprentice. A young form, their back to you. Except they couldn't be an apprentice, could they? Not with the air of magic surrounding them.

Something else, then. Swallowing an irrational rush of fear, you approach the sobbing teen and reach down to touch their shoulder. The instant you make contact with them, they twist around to face you, their sobs rising to a hideous scream.

That face!

>>45659596
Now that don't seem right.

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>>45659596

>>45659596
Quick, tell her she looks average.

>>45659596

You wake a moment later, lying as sprawled out as you can get in the tight space. Of the... the thing that you saw, there is no sign. You can't sense it either, suggesting that it has vanished somehow, disappearing back into whatever other realm it originally came from. Truly, it was not a thing of this world, after all.

Rubbing your head, wincing at a pain in the back of your skull, you pick yourself up and look at the collapsed pile of books. That one, the open book, was the one that the creature had been reading. Bending down, you pick it up and frown – this is an ancient language, although the pages themselves seem far newer. Unlike the script you were able to decipher back in Solitude, this isn't something you can work with. There are perhaps a dozen people in the land that might be able to help with reading this. Scholarly types, like the kind of person you came down here hoping to avoid.

Tucking the book under your arm, you begin to stagger back to the entrance to the archives. This deserves further attention.

Glancing back, you give the collapsed stack of books one last look. The faintest of sobs can still be heard – or maybe your mind is just playing tricks on you.

You're not sure which one you prefer.

>I'll end things there for tonight. Next thread on Sunday, and I'll stick around in case of any questions!

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>>45659596
That's a face only a mother could love.

>>45659707
>'Guys we have a Banshee in the Archives again...'

Thanks for running Moloch.

Is Aya already sprinting back to the capital to publish Mentor's statement?

>>45659707
That was a thing. Now place your bets on how many people will try to waifu it.

>>45659746
Failure of a human.

>>45659737

As soon as she was able to get her wits back, the news was on the first bird back to the capital. She followed not long after on horseback, so she's already left.

>>45659746
why? We have a perfectly good Doll, Mandragora, Elpis, Howa or Aya.

>>45659830
So how rocked was she? Why'd she come out swinging like she did?

>>45659934
>Why'd she come out swinging like she did?
She's a reporter. They have to ask the tough questions, even if it gains ire or isn't so tactful.

>>45659934

Aya doesn't like attempts to cover up the truth, even when they're well meaning. She also reacts pretty badly to the kind of cautious answer the Mentor usually gives - those are signs of a cover up, in her experience. Plus, generally speaking, she gets pretty enthusiastic about things.

She certainly wasn't an old man to react quite like that, though. She learned her lesson, I'd say!

>>45659934
Mandragora is still best girl.
Aya a shit.

>>45659994
I meant her presumption that nobles and wealthy people send their kids here.

>>45660134

Ah, well, she took that kind of personally. Tenngaru isn't a great place for education, so a lot of the poorer people go without learning much more than the bare minimum they need to scrape by. The wealthy, landowners and such, can afford a more illustrious education, often sending their children to the Garuna, the religious/academic center of Tenngaru. Since the Nameless Temple is quite close to Garuna, Aya assumed it was the same affair - taking money for a better standard of education. That kind of inequality doesn't sit right with Aya, so she kicked off.

Apologies if I've misunderstood your question.

>>45660259
So she made the biggest mistake a reporter can make, assumed something not in evidence. Oops. So how jealous is Howa? and how smug was she when Mentor delivered a verbal smackdown to Aya?

>>45660295

Howa is totally fine. Why would she be anything other than perfectly fine? Perfectly. Fine.
Not really. She's pretty salty.
On the other hand, she was very smug about the Mentor giving Aya a good scolding. Not that she needs to prove anything, of course!

>>45660346
SO how in denial is Howa? Is Ira shonen protag level dense?

>>45660392

Ira sees Howa as a sister above everything else, to the point where he'd need a pretty blatant sign that Howa doesn't see him in quite the same way.

Howa isn't especially in denial so much as she is jealous of Aya. After all, Howa is stuck inside most of the time while Aya can roam wherever she likes. It's only natural that they clash a little, even before involving anyone else.

>>45660514
So Howa got sister zoned? Is there a god or gods native to the area?

>>45660770

Unfortunately, there are no gods in the sister zone. Once you've entered that wasteland, not even the gods can help you!

>>45660835
Kek.

I meant around the temple. Also the god of sister zoning is obviously Petra.

>>45660878

Well, that's a misunderstanding! There was a god native to the area of the Nameless Temple, but they've long since gone dormant and been forgotten. That's where the temple gets its name - it's a temple devoted to a nameless god. Of course, some say that the original god was forgotten for a very good reason - struck from history and MADE to be forgotten. Just stories, of course!

>>45660948
So just spitballing here, Mentor is the opposite of the other god like Melancholia was Elpis. He trains the Wanderers to keep his other self from coming back and wrecking shit.

>>45661106

That's a very plausible idea. After all, the Mentor is very, very old - and with the kind of devotion he commands among some of the Wanderers, he'd never be short of faith or believers. I'd certainly consider it an interesting theory!

>>45661197
Were the mentors who died very faithful/respectful of him?

>>45661232

The Wanderers? Generally, the ones that died tended to be the more aggressive ones, the kind that chose to fight gods rather than talk. In terms of the Mentor, though, they were a fairly mixed bunch. None of them were fanatical followers, but there weren't any particular critics either.

>>45661324
I meant the ones who died while apprentices got stolen.

>>45661407

Then yes, that's what I was talking about. No particular link between who died and how loyal/faithful they were to the Mentor.

>>45661457
So anyone besides Howa and Mentor noticing Ira mellowing?

>>45661766

Not so much. He doesn't tend to mix with many other people in the Nameless Temple, so most of the other apprentices and don't have the chance to tell the difference. The fact that he's not home very often doesn't help that though.

>>45661860
So what's his reputation? Scary old dude?

>>45661877
Its weird thinking that mid thirties is an old man.

>>45661877

Yeah, he's got a reputation for being pretty grumpy and unapproachable. He earned it though, in a previous life.

>>45661903

People don't live as long without modern medicine, of course, and the wandering life isn't good for staying youthful.

>>45661937
Is there a spell card out there that would temporarily give Howa a serviceable leg? Long enough for a battle, at any rate.

Part of me wanted to keep bottled samples of Melancholia's maggots.

>>45662969
>Part of me wanted to keep bottled samples of Melancholia's maggots.
eww

>>45662969

If there is, it has yet to be discovered. That said, I have considered how it might work, transforming it back into living tissue for example. In out of character terms, I'm not sure if something like that will ever be introduced. At the moment, I've not decided one way or the other.

>Bottled samples of Melancholia's maggots

For research?

>>45663100
H-haha yes of course

"research"

>>45663100
>For research?
yup. Are they normal maggots? Divine maggots?

We either have a potential gateway to learning how divine matter works, or are better equipped to treat ailing gods as we'll know that medicine can at least treat the mundane symptoms.

>>45663144
eww?

>>45663144

>Worry.jpg

>>45663146

Interesting line of investigation. I imagined the maggots, as they were never actually seen apart from Melancholia, were little more than an extension of her own body. A symbolic part of her corruption, essentially, like the bandages that covered them.

>>45663144
>Hey Howa, what's that?
>Ira says I need a hobby, so he got me....a maggot farm, as if that's the same as an ant farm.
>Maggots.
>Apparently they were harvested from a god. I'm really not sure what he wants me to glean from this line of study, aside from some perverse indirect revenge on gods in general by making one a pet
>....Hey, maggots grow up into flies, right?
>OH GOD THEY'RE EVERYWHERE

>>45663196
Maybe there should be a Wanderer completely dedicated to Linguistics and updating/maintaining each village's records to preserve knowledge.

>>45663296

In a perfect world, there would be but skilled translators are hard to come by. Ultimately, it's one of the "themes" that I keep in mind while working on the quest - by moving forwards, you're always going to leave something else behind.

But that'll have to be that - I need to head offline. Next thread on Sunday!

>>45663422
Adios Loch. See you next time.