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Previous threads: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Sleeping%20Gods%20Quest
Character journal: http://pastebin.com/kuwEtm6c
Character sheet: http://pastebin.com/z4MpU1Zu
https://twitter.com/MolochQM
https://ask.fm/MolochQM

It's not uncommon for you to have trouble sleeping. Often, the fault lies with your dreams – nightmares that drag you, clad in a cold sweat, back to the waking world. On some rarer occasions, though, you don't even get the chance to fall asleep in the first place. Usually, it's because you're thinking hard about something.

Like, for example, why the Mentor would lie to you about something so serious. He knows something about the cult pushing Tenngaru slowly towards the brink of war, something that he refuses to tell you. Of all people, he should be prepared to do anything to stop the cult's plans – so why conceal the truth? It's a thought that keeps churning in your mind, keeping you from any hope of a restful night.

It's not the only thing bothering you. The real problem is far simpler – the Mentor lied to you. It hurts, no less than a slap across the face would. Whatever he is keeping from you, he should have trusted you enough to share. You thought he trusted you enough to share.

Restless and discontent, you wandered the halls of the Nameless Temple for a while until you found yourself here, standing outside Howa's room with a jug of wine – to buy her hospitality – held out before you like an offering.
>>
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>>46177978

“You know,” Howa remarks once you've explained the situation to her, “This isn't the first time he's lied in order to protect you. There was that whole...”

The human sacrifice thing, you finish for her, you remember. That was different – he kept the truth from you, yes, but he didn't specifically lie about it. Worse, this is an ongoing, important issue that he's lying about. If he has some secret knowledge about the cult's motivations or intentions, you need to know that. Keeping it to himself will only help them – and you can't bring yourself to believe that the Mentor would be willing to aid them.

“No, of course not,” Howa agrees quickly, “He's desperate to keep the peace, to bring the two sides in this growing struggle together. He wouldn't... couldn't be one of the ones trying to stir up trouble.”

So, you ask after a silence, what does she think about it?

“He was willing to tell you about this... lens,” Howa points out, “Maybe he wants you to make up your own mind? It could be that he doesn't trust himself to give you an unbiased view. If he wanted to bury the matter completely, he could have just lied about the lens and told you that it was worthless.” Sighing softly, she fills both your glasses up once more and leans back in her chair, the thin robe she wears slipping down to reveal a pale crescent of flesh at her shoulder. “I can't fault you for this, Ira, but I think things are getting to you. All this scheming and plotting... remember when we used to do honest work?”

Things were a lot more simple, you agree, when you were younger. Even the dangerous times were more straightforward.

“The Mentor, though...” Howa dips her finger in her glass of wine and runs it around the rim, “It's not like we've got a better choice though, is it?”

>You're right there
>I don't know. The Emperor, maybe?
>I wonder. Maybe I should hear what the cult has to say
>Other
>>
>>46177987
>>You're right there
>>
>>46177987
>>You're right there
>>
>>46177987
>>I wonder. Maybe I should hear what the cult has to say
AFTER getting Mentor's permission. This tackles things on several fronts.

One of the main problems with dealing with them is that we don't know what they want. If we really DON'T know(as in Mentor refuses to say), then we'll find out and get one step closer to resolving things.
This also serves as an "answer" to Mentor's lie, give him the option to explain why it's important to "not know".
And we need a lead on those guns...
>>
>>46177987
>You're right there
>>
She's probably right there, you sigh, who else can you turn to? Tawn might be happy working for the Emperor – or, more accurately, the Emperor's “advisor” - but you couldn't face signing yourself completely over to their service. As for the cult itself...

Maybe, you think, just maybe it might be worth speaking with them. If the Mentor won't tell you what he knows about their plans or intentions, where else could you turn to get the answers you're seeking? Of course, the cult would put their own spin on things, glossing over their violence and fanaticism, but they might actually be willing to share their information with you – doubly so if they thought it might sway you to their side.

“You're not serious,” Howa breathes, “Tell me you're not seriously considering this.”

Of course not, you reply quickly, but if you spoke with the Mentor about it first...

“It might be a good place to get some fresh leads,” Howa finishes for you, “I can see that, but... it sounds like a real risk. You're too willing to throw yourself into danger, Ira.”

It was just an idea, a passing thought. Things aren't quite desperate enough to resort to that yet, but they might reach that point. In either case, you might bring it up when you see the Mentor tomorrow – even just putting the idea across might force his hand and encourage him to speak more freely.

“Hey, I just remembered something,” Howa remarks suddenly, with the light tone of someone trying to bring the conversation back onto safer ground, “Did you have a boy named Milo sent here? He arrived yesterday to work in the archives.”

It's not like Howa to avoid an issue so blatantly. She'd normally have a better excuse, or at least one that was more smoothly delivered.

>How was Milo looking?
>Don't change the subject, Howa. This is important
>Other
>>
>>46178373
>How was Milo looking?
I suppose that's enough 'work' talk for now.
>>
>>46178373
>How was Milo looking?
Not much else to say about the topic anyway.
>>
>>46178373
>>How was Milo looking?
I'm in favor of asking the Mentor about this but I know it might not make for a comfortable discussion.
>>
Shrugging slightly, you let Howa steer the conversation back towards a more comfortable matter. What could would it do you, in either case, to press the issue? There's hardly anything else to say about it, let alone anything to discuss, and it would just drag the mood even lower. How was Milo looking, you ask instead, did he seem healthy?

“He was very eager to get started,” Howa's voice reveals her relief as you play along, “So whatever work he was doing before must have been pretty terrible. I drove him hard - you know, so I could get an idea of what he was capable of – but he never complained once. As for healthy... he didn't have a limp or any kind of disease, so there were no problems there.”

Somehow, you were expecting Kurasu to have taken some petty revenge on the boy – shattering an ankle, say, before having him released. This time, you're glad to be wrong.

“He's certainly a better assistant than Sanae, at least,” Howa chuckles, “But that's not difficult. That girl spends more time reading books than she does organising them. I might take her on as a research assistant instead, now that I've got someone to handle the fetching and carrying... oh!”

What, you look up from your wine as Howa cries out softly, something wrong?

“No, but when I mentioned research, it reminded me of something. Sanae found a reference to Nodens – and his city – in one of the older books. The story claimed that the god himself was the one to sink the city, because his people began to worship a different god than him. Their new faith was a bloody one, and on the night of a great and terrible festival... the ocean rose up and took the city! Spooky, right?”

You've seen the sunken city, off the coast of Dumas. When the Mentor told you about the three lenses, he said Nodens' lens was lost. Maybe...

[1/2]
>>
>>46178373
>>How was Milo looking?
>>
>>46178767

“Thinking deep thoughts, Ira?” Howa asks, waving a hand in front of your face to drag your mind back to reality, “You're not thinking about running off and doing anything dangerous, are you?”

What else, you ask her with a weary smile, would you be thinking about?

“I don't know,” she sighs, leaning back and dividing the last of the wine between your glasses, “How nice it was to spend some time with me, perhaps? Come on, admit it – you would have spent the night brooding in your room if you hadn't shown up at my doorstep, right?”

Thinking of the time you spent back at your room, brooding, you decide not to answer that question. Maybe, you decide, it's time you headed back anyway – if you hurry, you add with a smile, you could get in a quick sulk before getting to sleep. Now, in either case, you don't think you'll struggle to find rest.

“So be it,” Howa nods, “You'll be wanting to get some sleep, I imagine, before speaking with the old man tomorrow. I won't keep you here, then – I should be in bed myself.”

That's enough to pass for an exchange of goodbyes, and so you rise to show yourself out. At the doorway, you pause for a moment before turning to say one last thing to Howa.

>See you later
>I'm glad I came to see you, Howa
>Keep this discussion private. Tell no one what we discussed
>Other
>>
>>46178931
>I'm glad I came to see you, Howa
I'll let my inner waifu fag come out just this once
>>
>>46178931
>>I'm glad I came to see you, Howa
>>Keep this discussion private. Tell no one what we discussed
But be less stiff, goddamn. Just tell her we'd appreciate it if she kept it to herself.
Then
>See you later
>>
>>46178931
>Thinking of the time you spent back at your room, brooding, you decide not to answer that question.
Heheh

>I'm glad I came to see you, Howa
>>
>>46178979
To be honest I don't think we need to tell her. She knows how sensitive this matter is and knows how to be discreet (probably especially if Ira's well being is on the line.)
>>
>>46179067
Eh, you're probably right. If anything, she'll regret telling us at all when we inevitably go deep sea diving for artifacts.
>>
>>46179097
At least we breathe underwater indefinitely.
>>
You're glad you came to see her, you say quietly from the doorway, it really did help to share your troubles with a friendly face.

“Well,” Howa gives you a warm smile, “That's what I'm here for, isn't it? Is there anything else I can do for you, before you leave?”

Considering the current mood, you suggest, it might be best if she keeps this discussion quiet. For her safety, as much as your own. Things are uncertain right now, and you're all too aware of how important secrecy can be.

“My lips are sealed,” Howa promises, “If anyone asks, I'll tell them we were doing something far more scandalous. That should keep their attention elsewhere, don't you think?”

...That's not quite what you were hoping to hear.

“Goodnight, Ira,” Howa finishes with a coy smile.

Shrugging, treating her to the last word, you leave and return to your own room. It's not far away, and it isn't long before you're stretched out on the rough sheets of your familiar bed. Come the morning, you'll visit the Mentor and see if he's willing to share anything more. Maybe, maybe not, but it's worth a try. That thought is still lingering at the back of your mind as you fall asleep, your dreams haunted by countless variations of the conversation that might await you.

And so, as the “secrets” that the Mentor reveals to you grow more and more outlandish, your dreams descend beyond anything that resembles reality. It seems like you wake only a few minutes later, but the sun is already high in the sky outside. Tasting stale wine on your tongue, you rise from the bed and glare at the blank wall of your plain room.

No time to sit around and complain about the faint ache pulsing at your temples – you've got work to do.

[1/2]
>>
>>46179255
>That thought is still lingering at the back of your mind as you fall asleep, your dreams haunted by countless variations of the conversation that might await you.

God that's the worst. I've had that when I had college presentations the following morning.
>>
>>46179255

As you're heading towards the Mentor's chambers, you are stopped by the typically nervous young man behind the desk. The chamberlain – a perfectly bland apprentice whose name you can never quite remember – explains that the Mentor is currently busy with another visitor. This isn't the first time such things happen, of course, so you know the procedure. Sit down, shut up, and wait for your turn. Stretching your legs out as you sit on a low bench, you wait to catch a glimpse of the visitor. Ra, maybe?

You were close to being correct. Although the cold-faced man that strides from the Mentor's domain isn't the Emperor's spymaster, it's obvious that he works for the Emperor as well. Only an Imperial agent, you think, would have such a stick up his ass. He looks pained, as if being around superstitious peasants like you was a burden that civilised men had to endure.

Bastard.

Putting him out of your mind, you enter the Mentor's private chambers and bow to the old man. He looks well this morning, if a little irritated. Even he isn't immune to dealing with insufferable manners, it seems.

“Ira, I believe I promised you a justly deserved reward,” the old man says immediately, eager to move onto better matters, “Tell me, what morsel of power would you like to accept?”

>Fire magic, the ways of aggression
>Earth magic, the ways of defence
>Water magic, the ways of society
>Air magic, the diverse ways of magic
>Healing, regaining your full strength
>>
>>46179389
>>Healing, regaining your full strength
>>
>>46179389
>>Healing, regaining your full strength
I think we're doing okay for spells at the moment.
>>
>>46179389
>Healing, regaining your full strength
an eye would be nice
>>
>>46179389
>Healing, regaining your full strength
>>
>>46179576
The lost eye isn't coming back. This is getting our HP back to max.
>>
>>46179618
And probably netting us some sweet scars.
>>
>>46179658
That too. If I remember right we still had some bad scratches around our remaining eye too, since we came out of the trance right before we were going to scrape that one out as well.
>>
You would be healed, you tell the Mentor, if he's willing to heal you. There isn't any chance that he might...

“Your eye?” the Mentor asks, “I'm sorry, but there are some things that are beyond even my talents – as Howa would agree. I may be able to reduce the scarring slightly, but I cannot restore your sight. I apologise, Ira, but there are limits.”

That's what you were expecting, you confirm sadly. Very well, you add with a second bow, you wish for him to heal you. At the Mentor's silent urging, you sit down and steel yourself. He takes your eye-patch away and gently presses his fingertips to the skin around your savaged eye. Even though his fingers never stray too close to that shattered orb, you still need to stop yourself from flinching away. After what caused you to need this healing, you're understandably sensitive about fingers getting too close to your eyes.

“Calm yourself,” the Mentor scolds you softly, “Tension makes this more difficult. Your energies must flow naturally. Ah, that's better. Now, I just need to...”

And then it feels like a bolt of lightning strikes you, right in your skull. Perhaps you black out for a moment, for you are sprawled out on your back when your wits return. As you were warned, your vision remains damaged – still disappointing, even with your low expectations.

>Maximum Health returned to 100

“I apologise for that,” the Mentor sounds genuinely regretful, “I think my control has been rattled somewhat. My other visitor, you see... Ah, but that has passed, as all things must. You are healed now, Ira, although you may have something of a headache for a while. While you're here, I wonder if you had anything you wanted to speak with me about?”

>I think I should speak with the cult in person. Just to learn what they really want
>That visitor was from the Emperor, wasn't he?
>There was nothing. I'll take my leave
>I had something else to ask... (Write in)
>Other
>>
>>46179738
>I think I should speak with the cult in person. Just to learn what they really want

Mention that note we got slipped under our door. The one that wasn't really a threat but more of an invitation or something.
>>
>>46179738
>I think I should speak with the cult in person. Just to learn what they really want

>>46179778
that's a good point. That they were able to slip it in is pretty concerning, just ignoring it might be dangerous in itself.
>>
>>46179778
>>46179738
It was this note

>“We are not your enemies,” the blocky script reads, “We stand for everyone that fears the future.”
>>
>>46179738
>>I think I should speak with the cult in person. Just to learn what they really want
That lead Tawn mentioned last time might help with actually finding a cult member to talk with.
>>
Perhaps, you begin cautiously, you should try and speak with the cult in person. Just to learn what they want, you add a moment later as the Mentor shows no reaction, and to gather information. Right now, you're working at a handicap, trying to counter them without knowing quite what their goals are. Even a brief glimpse inside their organisation – their cult, or army, or whatever they want to call themselves – would be a tremendous bonus.

“In principle, I agree,” the Mentor replies slowly, eventually, “But how can you be sure they would meet with you? You've worked against them before – they have more reason to try and kill you than work with you, surely?”

You're not so sure about that. They left you a note, you explain, claiming that they were not your enemies. It seemed more like an invitation than anything else. Besides, if they were able to slip a note under your door while you slept they could have attacked you, but they didn't. If you could find them, you're fairly sure that you could speak with them.

“Indeed,” again, the Mentor's reaction is restrained, offering no hint as to his true feelings on the matter, “But can you find them?”

Perhaps. Tawn mentioned that they were getting close to a member of the cult – something of a recruiter, you'd call them. Your original plan was to arrest them, but maybe playing along would offer a more subtle way of handling things. Or, you admit, it would deliver you right into a trap – a risk you've got to consider.

“Tell me, Ira,” the Mentor replies carefully, “Are you looking for my permission on this matter? If so, I grant it to you – if you think this is the right path to follow. Do you?”

>I don't think we have a choice
>I'll admit, I'm genuinely curious about their motives
>If I can meet with the cult leader, I could end this with a single shot. That's worth any risk
>Other
>>
>>46180086
>>I'll admit, I'm genuinely curious about their motives
>>
>>46180086
>I don't think we have a choice
>>
>>46180086
>>I don't think we have a choice
But
>>I'll admit, I'm genuinely curious about their motives
>>
>>46180086
backing >>46180142

Also, the first chapter of Under was really good. Looking forward to the second.
>>
You don't really think there's any other option, you tell the Mentor calmly, not without simply sitting by and waiting for the situation to escalate further. It's time to start taking action, to start preventing these problems rather than dealing with them when they happen. If that means you've got to put yourself in harm's way, so be it – you don't think you've got a choice in the matter.

And, you admit, you're genuinely curious about their motives. You're willing to hear what they have to say, at least – and perhaps some of their views might have merit.

“I see,” the Mentor nods slowly, “Although I know that these fanatics are our enemies – they have attacked us, from inside and outside – I cannot bring myself to condemn them completely. I'm glad that you're willing to listen to their views, but I must advise caution. As I have told the apprentices, so shall I tell you – the violent path may seem appealing, but it will only deliver you to a cruel end. Remember that, Ira.”

Of course, you tell the old man as you stand and bow, you're unlikely to forget it. Not after everything you've seen. But now, you'll take your leave.

“I wish you luck,” the Mentor says as you're leaving, “In whatever you choose to do, and whatever path you choose to walk.”

[1/2]

>>46180255

>I'm glad you enjoyed it!
>>
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>>46180418

Your heart feels lighter, somehow unburdened, as you're leaving the Mentor's chambers. It was almost as if you were expecting a flat denial, or even orders against the mere thought. Although cautious, the Mentor's response surely indicated a degree of trust – trust that you deserve. Your pleasant thoughts are brought to a sudden end, however, as you bump into Koa. The boy is out of breath, and looking worse for wear – one eye shrouded in a mottled bruise.

“Sir!” he barks out, despite his obvious exhaustion “I've been looking for you. A letter arrived for you, marked as urgent.” Digging in his pocket, he hands it over – a crumpled thing, with no markings to indicate who it might have come from. Still, you've got a few guesses.

What happened to him, you ask as you take it, a fight?

“Nothing serious,” the apprentice is quick to assure you, “I was sparring with another apprentice, and things got a little out of hand, that's all.”

Somehow, you doubt that. Perhaps the situation with the apprentices isn't quite as resolved as the Mentor thought it was.

>Koa, what's the mood amongst the apprentices like?
>It looks serious to me
>We'll speak later – this letter takes priority
>Other
>>
>>46180509
>It looks serious to me
"You alright?"
>Koa, what's the mood amongst the apprentices like?
>>
>>46180509
>>Koa, what's the mood amongst the apprentices like?
>>It looks serious to me
The letter might be important but a short conversation won't change anything.
>>
It looks serious to you, you remark as you take a closer look at Koa's black eye, is he really alright?

“It's just a bruise, it's not like my eye was...” Koa stops here, looking up your face and falling into an awkward silence.

Of course, you realise, things might look a little different since the Mentor fixed your wounds. Sliding your sword from the sheath, you peer at your distorted reflection. Even with the knowledge that your eye might look... different, you can't help but recoil a little in shock. Intact once more, the eye is a pallid white colour – like milk, or the eye of a blind man. With your other eye dark, it comes across as quite a disturbing contrast. Maybe, you think aloud, you should keep the eye-patch.

“Uh, maybe,” Koa agrees, reminding you of his presence, “Really, Ira, it was just a heat of the moment thing. I gave as good as I got.”

Putting the issue of your eye aside for now, you steer Koa to the side of the room and speak quietly to him. What, you ask, is the mood amongst the apprentices like? The Mentor said that the problems were settling down, but that injury suggests otherwise.

“They're... better,” Koa admits, “But I think the Mentor was being optimistic. I hear less open talk of rebellion and resistance now, but there are more quiet complaints. I guess some of the apprentices feel like they were being shut up. I mean, not all of us have homes we can go back to. If they were thrown out of here, they'd have nothing, nowhere to go except the cult. A couple of the boys are really bitter about it, and I guess I got one of them venting his anger on me.” He laughs awkwardly, but looks down at his shoes rather than meet your mismatched eyes.

So, you confirm, it wasn't because of what you asked him to do? You were worried that you might have painted a target on his back.

[1/2]
>>
>>46180817

“I guess I can't be certain,” Koa admits, “But I don't think things were related. It's not like he told me to shut my mouth or anything – he was just a sore loser, and threw a punch at me when I beat him fair and square. But hey, I DID beat him!”

Changing the subject again. That seems to be happening a lot lately.

“Listen, I just came looking to pass this letter along,” Koa insists, “I've actually got somewhere to be, so...”

He's dismissed, you tell him, but you want him to be careful. Like you told him, any risk and he should back down. But good work with the sparring, you add as he's turning to hurry away, that practice must be paying off. Flashing you a grin and a thumbs up, Koa rushes off and vanishes down a corridor, leaving you alone with the urgent letter. Ripping it open, you scan the contents – it doesn't take long.

The name of an outpost town – a familiar one, down in the south-east – and the words “Come quickly”. The brief message is signed with the first character of Tawn's name, as if you needed the confirmation. Convenient, you muse.

>Make haste to the outpost town
>You have some other business here before you leave... (Write in)
>Other
>>
>>46180911
>Make haste to the outpost town
Lets go. Grab an eye patch.
>>
>>46180911
>Grab an eyepatch.

Ira "unleashes the hidden power sealed in his eye".

It's really just a distracting white eyeball staring at you in a fight.
>>
>>46180911
>>Make haste to the outpost town
Say bye to Howa as we go
>>
>>46180981
Ira Furyo: 38 year old Chuuni.
>>
>>46180911
>>Make haste to the outpost town

>>46180981
That reminds me. Didn't the inventor guy that Aya mentioned have a white eye like this?
>>
>>46180911
>>Make haste to the outpost town
>>46180981
>Ira is a 30 year old chunni
my sides.
>>
Fishing your eye-patch back out and tying it around your head, you decide to make haste to the outpost town. The quicker you can get there, the more time you'll have to plan things out. It might take some convincing to get Tawn to change his mind, but this is your best chance to approach a member of the cult on equal terms.

Then again, capturing the bastard alive might give you certain “leverage” over him...

With that thought in mind, you hurry towards the temple exit. On the way, though, you cross paths with Howa returning from the dining hall. She looks, you notice with a certain bitter satisfaction, a bit worse for wear this morning. Too much wine and gossip, perhaps. She gives you a bright smile when she sees you, but you're quick to warn her that you can't talk. Important business – throwing yourself into danger again, of course.

“Of course,” Howa sighs, “I won't stop you. Just...” Reaching out with a sudden desperation, she grabs your hand and squeezes it tightly. “Just be careful, won't you?”

You're about to give her a flippant reply – when are you not careful? - when you hesitate. Instead, you find yourself giving her a solemn nod. You'll do your best, you assure her, but things happen. That's the closest thing to a promise you can give her.

“Then that's good enough for me,” Howa nods gracefully, releasing your hand, “Go on, get out of here. You've got important work to do. The world won't save itself.”

Bidding her goodbye once more, you turn and leave your old friend behind. She's right – it's important work you're doing. Taking a horse from the stables, you just find yourself wishing that she could be doing it by your side – like the old days.

[1/2]
>>
>>46181007
>>46181013
Actually, do we know Ira's rough age? I feel like "somewhere in his 30's" came up at some point but I can't recall.
>>
>>46181218
mid thirties yeah.
>>
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>>46181205

The ride down south is an uneventful one, with nothing worse than a busy trail to delay you. As soon as you arrive at the outpost, you sense a kind of nervous tension in the air. The soldiers here might not know what's going on, but they can sense a building energy just as well as you can. It's a kind of sixth sense that military men develop quickly, and one that can serve them well. Leaving your horse at the stables, you set off to find Tawn.

You find the Imperial agent soon enough, hidden away inside what passes for a prison. Criminals would be held here until they could be taken away to the capital, but the place is almost empty. There's just Tawn and Musari here, with the faithful captain behind bars. Understandably, he looks nervous about this whole situation.

“Ira,” he greets you with a twitchy nod, “Uh, nice eye-patch... I guess.”

Thanks, you grunt, it seals away your terrible power.

“Listen,” Tawn says, his voice clipped and urgent, “I won't waste time. Musari claims that this “recruiter” wanted to meet him tonight, at an old house half an hour away. My plan is to have the place surrounded by soldiers – I'm not giving this bastard a chance to slip away – and then we'll break in to arrest him. Are you in?”

>I'm in. We'll take them by surprise and question them at our leisure
>I want to be the one to meet them. I want to hear what they have to say
>I wanted to ask you two some questions before deciding... (Write in)
>Other
>>
>>46181309
>>I wanted to ask you two some questions before deciding... (Write in)
How are you sure this isn't another trap? I mean it'd be piss easy to insert a man or men into the army to spy. Not even counting if they got thier claws into some of the rank and file or other officers.
>>
>>46181309
>>I want to be the one to meet them. I want to hear what they have to say
Sup Loch
>>
>>46181309
>I want to be the one to meet them. I want to hear what they have to say
>>
>>46181309
>>46181345
This. I'd like to know a little more before deciding anything for certain.
>>
How can they be certain, you ask, that this isn't a trap? It would be easy to get a spy into the military – and not just a low ranking infantryman either, but a ranking officer. If they got their claws into an important figure, or even just one with access to knowledge of what they were planning here...

“We can't be certain,” Tawn shakes his head, “That's partly the reason we want to have overwhelming force here. I'll admit, I expect an ambush – I just want to have the upper hand when the fighting starts. Other than that, all we've been able to do is keep knowledge of this mission to a minimum. Ra has been very particular about keeping this quiet. The soldiers we've brought in think this is a counterfeiting ring – forging the Emperor's coin.”

“They seemed genuine when they spoke to me,” Musari says stiffly, “But I suppose they might, if they're a... a spy. What's your point, Wanderer? We NEED to take this man.”

Maybe not, you argue, you had a different idea. You'd like to speak with them personally and see what they have to say. You should be the one to meet with them, you tell the pair of them.

“No!” Musari snaps, “Are you mad? We can't negotiate with these people – you saw what they did to my men, they were cut to piece! They tried to drown a priestess, these people can't be bargained with!”

“I'm inclined to agree,” Tawn is slower to speak, “I'd rather arrest this recruiter and keep them where I can see them. No offence, Ira, but a private conversation between the two of you is far less useful to me. I trust you, but your word alone might not be enough to convince the Emperor.”

“Besides,” Musari grunts, “They might be watching you, Wanderer. Stay here – the army can handle this one.”

They brought you down here, and now they want you to stay out of it? Something doesn't feel right here...

>Fine. This is your game – we go in loud
>I'm meeting with them, even if it means going rogue
>Other
>>
>>46181638
>Other
Give me a spare army uniform. I'll go in place of Musari and hear what this guy has to say. Then you make your arrest.
>>
>>46181688
>>46181638
Or let them make the arrest but allow Ira a one on one interrogation.

Which ever people prefer.
>>
>>46181638
>>Fine. This is your game – we go in loud
We arrest him and then try to speak privately with them. With Ira playing the good cop they might be more willing to work with us.
>>
>>46181638
These two. Arrest and then interrogate.
>>46181808
>>46181729
>>
>A few errands have arisen, so the next post will be delayed somewhat. I apologise in advance for the wait.
>>
Fine, you sigh heavily, this is their game – and you'll play it their way. You'll go in loud, but on one condition – you want a chance to interrogate the suspect, one on one, once they're in custody.

“I think we can allow that,” Tawn nods, a predatory grin spreading across his face as he savours the idea of the attack. This is his chance to strike back, you realise, and he's going to make the most of it. With the Dragon's Head Massacre still stinging his pride, he's been waiting a long time for the chance revenge on the cult. Musari agrees with a curt nod, his face set in a grim mask.

“You're taking a damn risk coming with us, Wanderer,” the officer growls, “Don't you trust us to handle this alone?” Hostility seems to radiate from the man, like heat from a forge. If Tawn's pride has been wounded, then Musari's dignity was shattered. The men under his command were shot down with little in the way of ceremony, and he barely had the chance for any payback.

But still, you ask, is he so desperate for action that he'd reject your help?

“No, I...” Musari hesitates, “I just think we're wasting your time. Your job is to deal with gods, isn't it? Leave the men to us. Besides, don't I have the right to a little justice? These bastards have blood on their hands, don't tell me they don't deserve it!”

“Stop,” Tawn orders quietly, “Musari, I've had my doubts about you, and you just stepped over the line. This operation is risky enough without having to worry about you losing your cool. Need I remind you of what happened the last time you encounter one of these cultists?”

You remember what happened. The man – the boy – ended up dead. You've got to agree with Tawn, you can't risk that happening again. Musari stays behind.

“But-” the officer begins to protest, then stops. Sitting down in a sulk, he glares at the far wall. “Fine, but I want to see the bastard when you bring him in. Understood?”

Understood.

[1/2]
>>
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>>46182463

The rest of the fading light is spent going over the specifics of the plan with Tawn. As darkness begins to fall, you start out on the road to the remote house. Close enough to walk – a stroke of luck, the sound of horses might reveal your position – but distant enough to guarantee a little privacy. A good place for a discrete meeting.

“I've had my men surround the house from a distance,” Tawn explains, “And they've been keeping watch for a while now. No signs of movement, so the suspect hasn't left. They've got nowhere to run, not without running straight into one of my men. We've scouted out the surrounding area, and we found nothing – nobody waiting to ambush us. This is a golden opportunity, wouldn't you agree?”

You murmur a vague agreement as you spy the house for the first time. No windows, and only one door. You just hope the suspect isn't waiting behind it with a pistol pointed at the door.

“I'll go first,” Tawn tells you, drawing a heavy wooden baton from his belt. No swords or blades – nothing that would risk killing the man. “If he comes quietly, fine, but I doubt that's going to happen. Get a gun on him if you can, but don't shoot unless there's absolutely no other option. Now...” pausing, he gives the approaching house a hungry look, “Are you ready?”

>Absolutely. Let's get the bastard
>This is a mistake. Something isn't right here
>Just let me do one thing first... (Write in)
>Other
>>
>>46182554
>Just let me do one thing first... (Write in)
Magic tracking spell card.
>>
>>46182654
That's the one that sniffs out any magic in the area, right? Use that and then:
>>46182554
>>Absolutely. Let's get the bastard
>>
There's just one thing you want to check first, you tell Tawn, you want to check if anyone nearby is using magic – or used magic recently. You have no idea if the cult has the kind of magic required to hide them from sight, but you'd rather check all of your options before making your move.

“Fine,” Tawn whispers as he crouches low, “But do it quickly, won't you?”

It's not something you can rush, you hiss back as you calm yourself. Bowing down and letting your mind settle into absolute stillness, you expand your senses until even the faintest tremble of power in the area would seem as clear as a bell. The results are...

Strange. Other than a faint tug in the direction of Solitude, you can't sense anything at all. It's unusual, as you understand it, for things to be THIS still and peaceful. It's almost as if the world itself has taken in a breath and waits to release it. No magic, that much is certain, but... not much of anything. Rising to your feet, you let the supernatural sense bleed away. Everything seems clear, you murmur to Tawn.

“Good news,” the Imperial agent mutters, “Now follow me.” Keeping low, he makes haste towards the house. His step is a light one, and his feet whisper across the ground. Anyone inside would have trouble hearing him coming, even when he flattens himself up against one side of the doorway. With slightly less grace, you join him and take a moment to calm your nerves. Still, your senses are crying out “danger”.

Looking you dead in the eye, Tawn nods slowly. You return the gesture, and set things into motion. Taking a single fluid step back, Tawn draws away from the door and hurls himself forwards, shoulder first.

The world explodes around you.

[1/2]
>>
>>46183040
Explosives?
>>
>>46183040

The sky seems very dark, compared with the ruddy glow filling the bottom edge of your vision. Why are you looking up at the sky, at a time like this? Then the pain hits, a scream that runs through your entire body and turns your stomach, forcing you to roll over and let out a low groan. Your whole body feels beaten, like one giant bruise, and it takes a long time to obey your command to sit up. Now you realise why you were looking up at the sky – you were lying prone, thrown back by some tremendous force.

An explosion, the same explosion that shattered the house you were breaking into and scattered the soldiers that had been slowly approaching. All that remains of it is a blazing ruin and a pillar of smoke, reaching high into the sky. Although your ears are ringing, you slowly grow aware of some other sounds – gunfire, and screaming. The screaming manages to be worse, countless voices raised in confusion and panic. As you watch the sky – the outpost lies in that direction, doesn't it? - you see a lonesome flare shooting up into the air. Pleading for reinforcements that might never come.

They played you like a damned fiddle.

Stumbling, nearly falling as you take a few uncertain steps forwards, you look around for Tawn. He's sprawled out, much like you were, and doesn't respond when you call out to him. Lurching closer, you drop to your knees and roll him over. Then you recoil, horrified by the seeping, blackened wound that has consumed near half of his face. Worse, his eyes – bright white, compared with the grime coating him – shoot open.

“Musari,” Tawn croaks, forcing the words out, “He KNEW. He set us up!”

>He can't have!
>Tawn is right. Musari is to blame
>Worry about that later. You've got to get to safety
>Other
>>
>>46183195
>Worry about that later. You've got to get to safety

Though unless he was good at acting Musari seemed like he wanted to be here as well. We'll see if he is still back at camp or if he ran off when we get back.
>>
>>46183195
>Worry about that later. You've got to get to safety
>>
>>46183195
>Worry about that later. You've got to get to safety
>>
>>46183195
>>Worry about that later. You've got to get to safety
He's in a hell of a lot of trouble if he's to blame for this.
>>
>>46183195
>>Worry about that later. You've got to get to safety
>>
Worry about that later, you grunt as you drag Tawn to his feet, you need to get him to safety. Tawn cries out in pain as you lift him, his entire right half limp and unresponsive. Even his clothes on that side are gone, hanging in charred rags around him. Yet for all his pain, Tawn is able to cling onto you – blind rage enough to keep him moving for now.

Safety, you said, but where is that? You can still hear gunshots – a mix of shrill cracks and the lower booming of rifles – coming from the outpost. With the explosion as their signal, the cultists moved in to attack the town. To silence Musari... or to rescue him? It doesn't make any sense – Musari WANTED to be here, why would he want to walk into his own trap?

Except, he relented quickly enough when Tawn ordered him to stay behind, didn't he? For all his apparent anger, he accepted it with only a token protest. Maybe... maybe this is something you've got to consider. But consider it later, you tell yourself, when you've got the luxury of time.

“How long was he one of theirs?” Tawn rambles as you carry him along, “From the start? When he shot that boy... to shut him up? When his troops were attacked, he was the only survivor. Damn it, I should have seen it sooner...”

Don't talk, you urge as you draw closer to the outpost, you need to listen. The gunshots have dropped off slightly as the firefight dies down. Either the cultists have fled, or the remaining soldiers have been slain. You can only hope that there is some sanctuary to be found there, some tentative safety.

“I'll kill the bastard,” Tawn growls as he lapses into unconsciousness, “I'll kill him myself... damn traitor...”

Don't talk, you repeat. When Tawn obeys, though, you find yourself regretting your words.

[1/2]
>>
>>46183702
RIP Tawn. I liked you.
>>
>>46183702

The outpost is in shambles when you finally arrive, a few of the smaller buildings blazing away merrily and lighting up the night with a bloody red glow. The stone garrison – barracks for the soldiers above, with the prison below – is one of the few undamaged buildings. Even then, the stonework is patterned with enough bullet marks to suggest a ferocious firefight took place there. The soldiers would have made their stand there, although there's no way of knowing how successful they were.

Musari should be there as well, in the basement prison – unless he really WAS working with the attacking cultists. You lay Tawn down outside, in the cover offered by the building, and check his breathing. Laboured, but strong – he won't let himself die yet. As you're about to pull away, he comes to life and grabs your coat with his one good hand.

“His office should be upstairs,” Tawn gurgles, the disfiguring wounds causing his voice to turn to slush, “Anything he left, any proof – it'll be there.” Just the effort of spitting those words out causes him to slump back, his body growing limp.

Damn it, you hiss as you draw your pistol and hurry into the building. Damn Musari, damn cult and damn... everything! The curses are still spilling from your lips as you take the first set of stairs you see, charging up to the second floor.

As soon as you reach the second floor, you force yourself to halt. Two men, both armed with rilfes. Both masked, their faces hidden behind exaggerated images of the local gods. Even with those masks, you know that they're as surprised as you are.

>Please roll 2D100 for combat, both aiming to beat 50 or 70. I'll take the highest of the first three!
>>
Rolled 50, 84 = 134 (2d100)

>>46183871
TRIO GUIDE MY DICE
>>
Rolled 1, 86 = 87 (2d100)

>>46183871
>>
Rolled 95, 38 = 133 (2d100)

>>46183871
>>
Rolled 14, 48 = 62 (2d100)

>>46183871

>>46183920
Looks like they heard you.

>>46183949
And thank god there is not critfails.
>>
>>46183871
>>
>>46183992
Oh good. I was about to say "on a scale of one to Petra..."
>>
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>>46183195
>>
Two men, both armed with rifles. Not much of a distance between you, but enough to give them time to shoulder and fire. No cover, either, and your pistol only holds one shot.

You've got enough time to process that, even as the three of you are all diving into action at once. That's just about all the thinking you've got time for, though – action takes over. Your pistol barks as you raise it, the recoil punching through your tired body as the heavy slug leaves the barrel. It's a good shot – a damn good shot – and one of the cultist riflemen drops, his head twisted round at a sickening angle. The mask is almost completely destroyed by your bullet – bad luck, you think wildly as you physically throw yourself into the second cultist, to destroy an image of a god.

He raises his rifle, not to shoot but in a vain attempt at stopping you. Without even drawing your sword, you crash into him and tumble backwards into the thin wooden wall, smashing through it and landing in Musari's “office”. The cultist is smaller than you, lighter and thinner, with practically no hope of throwing you off of him. Scrabbling for grip, your fingers cling to the edge of his mask and rip the thing away, hurling it into some unseen corner.

It's been a long time since you felt this kind of black rage, the urge to look into a man's eyes as he dies. It feels good though, like greeting an old friend with a warm embrace. Snarling like a beast, you wrap your hands around the cultist's throat and begin to press down tightly, cutting off his precious breath. With his eyes wide and desperate, the cultist writhes beneath you.

>Kill him
>Spare his life
>>
>>46184193
>Spare him
>Where the hell is Musari?! Talk, damn you!
>>
>>46184193
>>Spare his life
Need answers Its one of the apprentices
>>
>>46184193
>Kill him
>>
>>46184193
>spare him
Use eyes on the inside
>>
>>46184193
>Spare his life
>Enter Nolan Batman mode
>interrogate
>>
>>46184398
>I swear to the gods
>SWEAR TO ME

Then Ira became a god
>>
Keep Zulathoon for Musari or someone higher in the cultist chain of command
>>
>>46184391
>>46184499

>This is kind of an important decision, so I'd like to put this one to a quick five minute vote.

>Use Zulathoon's spell now
>Save it for Musari
>>
>>46184547
>Save it for Musari
>>
>>46184547
>Save it for Musari
>>
>>46184547
>>Save it for Musari
We can knock this guy out and use it later maybe.
>>
>>46184547
Just headbutt the poor sod
>>
>Looks like we're saving it for Musari. Writing the next post now, shouldn't be too long.
>>
Cursing aloud, you tear your hands away from the young man's throat and grab him, instead, by the collar of his coat. Dragging him upright – it's easy, like lifting a sack of twigs – and slam him down into a chair. You need answers, you spit, where is Musari?

“South!” the boy yelps, his cracked voice barely above a whisper. If you'd held him any tighter, you realise with dismay, his neck would have snapped. What's worse is that fact that some dark part of you yearned for that, to crush the life out of him with your bare hands. “He took a horse, went south!”

South, you think to yourself, but there's nothing to the south of here. Just the border mountains, nothing else. Nowhere for Musari to run to. You need more answers, more information than the boy's damaged throat can give you. You'll need to pry the answers out of Musari himself – and that means tracking him south, as far as you need to go. You need more information, you snarl, where was Musari going?

“I don't know, I really don't!” the boy cries, “I... not far, I don't think! His horse, it's leg was bad, there'd be a trail of blood. Please, please!” his voice lowers, cracking, as he pleads, “Don't kill me! I never tried to hurt you, did I? You attacked US, you-”

You don't want to listen to this grovelling. Knocking the boy – another apprentice, maybe? - unconscious with a punch, you quickly lash him to the chair and leave him for later. You've got a trail to follow, and the sooner you start the better. Pausing only to check on Tawn – his breathing is a little more regular now, soothed by his comatose state – you lower your gaze to the churned up ground. There, a trail of blood amidst horse tracks.

With the predatory focus of a hunting hound, you stalk off into the night.

[1/2]
>>
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>>46184808
Ira going nuclear
>>
>>46184808

Desperation had forced Musari to bet on a losing horse. When you find the beast's carcass, you realise that it was more injured than you had thought. An errant bullet had sheared through the leg, cutting a deep channel in the flesh. You're amazed that Musari was able to stop it long enough to climb onto the beast, let alone encourage it to gallop this far. Eventually, though, it had succumbed to its injuries and collapsed.

Wounded by the fall, it was easy to follow Musari's trail. He had dragged himself through the dirt, up towards the cover of the trees. That's where you find him, a broken arm limp against his side as he aims a wavering pistol at you. His weak hand, you note, and barely able to lift the gun.

“Damn it all,” Musari rasps as you approach, recognising the futility of his situation and dropping the gun, “I never wanted you to go out there. Didn't you hear me? That was never meant for you, Wanderer. That was meant for the Emperor's lapdog, only him.”

And that's supposed to make it alright, you spit, that's supposed to put you in a good mood?

“I just...” Musari coughs, a few specks of blood flying out of him. Internal damage, maybe a broken rip. He doesn't have long left. A kind man would let him die with dignity.

You don't feel very much like a kind man right about now.

>Give him a chance to explain, in his own words
>Plunder his mind
>Shoot him dead. Put him out of his misery
>Other
>>
>>46184972
>Plunder his mind
>>
>>46184972
>Plunder his mind
That 'lapdog' is some I might actually consider a friend.
>>
>>46184972
Zulathoon.
Shhh, no more talking, only tears now.
>>
>>46185031
>some
someone*
>>
That “lapdog”, you snarl as you take a step closer, might just be a friend of yours. You kick away his pistol as you approach, just in case, and grab his face.

“Please-” Musari starts as you reach into your heart and grasp Zulathoon's nightmarish power. Musari's words are cut off as you prise open his mind, tearing your way in and feasting upon his memories. You could be more subtle, more careful – you could make this easy on him – but you don't. You want him to FEEL this. As a sickly warmth lights up your dead eye, you see his dark thoughts and painful memories.

At first, they come as a disjointed flow – feelings of frustration as he was passed over, again and again, for promotion, shame as he was helpless in the face of the Emperor's spreading reach, humiliation as he was sent off to command a tiny, meaningless outpost. All these and more, forming a rich tapestry of bitterness and resentment.

Meaningless. You don't care about that – you dig deeper, heedless of the whimper that escapes Musari. Then you see it, the evidence you were looking for. As you sink deeper into his mind, you see things through Musari's eyes, becoming the disgraced officer for a short moment.

It's not a comfortable place to be – these memories are tinged with anxiety and uncertainty, with a deep undercurrent of guilt. Turning traitor was not an easy decision, it seems. As you look through Musari's eyes, you see an image and quickly put a context to it.

A dirt path, swaying as Musari walks slowly. He's leading you somewhere.

[1/2]
>>
>>46185291

“You understand, of course, that we need a man inside the military,” a slick, sinuous voice whispers, reaching Musari's ears with an oily grace, “We want you to be that man, Captain Musari. No, that's their rank – the scraps given from their table. You, General Musari, could be the leader of a new order. A new army – it sounds good, does it not?”

A nodding motion as Musari agrees. Finally, he looks up and casts his eyes about. This is the southern part of Tenngaru, with the border mountains rising high in the distance. Musari follows a robed man, all detail lost beneath a thick cloak of grey fabric. In a moment of silence, an awkward pause in the conversation, you can hear running water. A river, maybe? It doesn't sound large enough to be the Dragon's Tail – the southern part of the Dragon River – but you couldn't be sure without looking at it. If only you could make Musari look where you want him to look!

“We need you, General,” the robed... person hisses, “But you must be more than that. You must be a spy, an actor and a daring leader. You must lead a double life, and you must make difficult decisions. In time, perhaps you will even need to kill your own – killing your friends, your soldiers, to protect yourself. But no war is won without blood being spilled, correct? All conflict comes down to which side is willing to sacrifice more in pursuit of victory.”

Turn around, you think desperately to yourself, you need to see a face. And then, as if sensing your thoughts – a chilling idea – the robed figure turns. Their face is... gone, a smeared grey mass that never remains still for a moment. As soon as you, as Musari, looks away from it, the image of a perfectly generic man rushes in to fill your mind. The only thing that remains is the image of his claw of a hand – one finger crowned by a steel ring.

[2/3]
>>
>>46185469

The faceless man stops, a smile forming in your mind whenever Musari's eyes leave the figure to scan the horizon. The cliffs here are strange, looming out like a curled finger. A map, you realise with mounting excitement, would easily reveal this location. It's a solid lead – the strongest lead you've had so far!

“I can go no further,” the faceless man whispers, “Follow this path until you reach the river. There will be a boat waiting – sail upriver until you reach our enclave. Have no fear... but have awe. You will be walking on sacred ground, so you must act accordingly. Oh... and take this.”

A glass vial, filled with some colourless liquid. You see Musari reach out and, with only slight hesitation, drink the contents down. As soon as the drug enters his system, the memories become loose and slushy, impossible to hold onto. More and more, the sounds of the real world around you drag you back, pulling you from Musari's thoughts. Reality, you realise with a shudder, aches. No matter how bad you might be feeling, though, Musari looks worse.

He gasps and pants, his eyes rolled up to show the whites. Blood bubbles out from his nose, and a faint whine is in his voice. As you rise, he struggles to follow you with his eyes. Dying, and faster than you had expected.

What a shame.

>Put him out of his misery
>Leave him here
>Take him to get help. He might still have a chance
>Other
>>
>>46185638
>Put him out of his misery
Dudes gone. One bullet and lets get out of here.
>>
>>46185638
>Leave him here
>>
>>46185638
>Put him out of his misery
>>
>>46185638
>Put him out of his misery
>>
>>46185638
>>Put him out of his misery
>>
Standing, you rub a hand across your aching brow and look down at Musari. Tawn almost died because of this bastard. He still might – his wounds were terrible, crippling even if they don't prove fatal. You could have died as well, and the fact that he tried to stop you from being caught up in the same trap is no comfort. This was all due to his greed and hunger for power, and a desperate urge to be something. Captain Musari was a bitter man, and he let that bitterness infect everything he touched.

You shoot him in the head, barely sparing him a second glance as you turn to leave. Maybe it's better than he deserved, but you weren't about to leave him alive – even for a moment longer. Limping, practically dragging your body back to the outpost, you prepare yourself for the worst.

When you arrive, it is to a pleasant surprise. Reinforcements from the next outpost have finally arrived, and a ring of new soldiers guards the ruined town. Of course, they almost shoot you when they first see you, but you can't really blame them. Coated in soot, splattered with blood and wild-eyed, you look more like something that had crawled out of a grave. When that minor disagreement is settled, they bring you to Tawn. He's awake, his body swathed in bandages and his eyes dull with medicine.

“Ira,” he slurs as you sit next to him, “Musari?”

Dead, you tell him, you killed him.

“Damn,” Tawn says after a moment, “I wanted to do that.”

Yeah well, you sigh, so did you.

>I think I'll finish there for tonight. Next thread on Friday, and I'll stick around for a while in case of any questions!
>>
>>46186038
Thanks for running Moloch.

How bad are Tawn's injuries?
>>
>>46186077

Bad. His days of being a field agent are probably over, and his good looks are completely ruined. Tough times ahead for him, I suspect.
>>
>>46186077
I think 1 - 2,5 Petras
>>
>>46186038
>>46186126
How can the cultists say they aren't our enemy when they killed wanderer via sacrifice to Titanos, have recruited from our order without our knowledge, been stirring up trouble in the temple, with the gods, and with almost everyone, and have had their acolytes slit the throat of our coworkers? Are they high?
>>
>>46186211

Realistically speaking, I think it would be very difficult not to consider them our enemies. They might see themselves as doing the hard but vital work - some sacrifices have to be made, they might say - but I really don't think those excuses are going to work after this.

So, I'd say they are pretty deluded if they think Ira might play along, yes.
That said, it IS still a valid option in terms of possible decisions
>>
>>46186326
How Furyo is Ira?
>>
>>46186450

He's had a little time to cool off since things were at their peak, but I'd say he's still around about an 8.5 out of 10. If Tawn had died, he'd probably still be sitting at 11 out of 10 this very moment!
>>
>>46186533
Would Tawm have listened if we called it off?
>>
So is this incident a big enough push for Howa to confess her feelings for Ira?
>>
>>46186688
>implying
The only thing that will do that is the very last thread. Maybe not even then.
>>
>>46185291
>As a sickly warmth lights up your dead eye, you see his dark thoughts and painful memories.
OH FUCK

OUR EYE EXHIBITS POWER

We really ARE a chuuni now, hot damn.
>>
>>46186672

He wouldn't have listened, but we would have had a chance to get there before him and investigate things. On the other hand, we would have been in a dangerous position and we'd miss our chance to get so much information.

>>46186688
>>46186752

Maybe, maybe not. It depends on whether Ira can sit still long enough to hear her out!

>>46186786

There is literally nothing wrong with being a little bit chuuni
>>
>>46186786
>>46186807
Not chuuni if it's actually a thing
>>
>>46186786
>>46186840
Now will we gain a demon in our left hand that we have to wear bandages around to hold in the dark powers?
>>
>>46186884
Rather have Miroku's Wind tunnel.


>>46186807
Let me guess the Cult base in the South is in or around Makai, and the 3 lens are the only way we'll be able to find it in a timely manner.
>>
>>46186955
Well we have some directions. Southern border, strangely shaped mountains and a river we have to go upriver to reach their enclave.
>>
>>46186884

Well, Tawn has a lot of bandages at the moment! They don't keep in any dark power or anything, but they stop him from falling to bits. That's kind of a power, right?

>>46186840

That's right. My mistake.

>>46186955

I can't disclose everything at the moment, but the lenses are not required to find the cult. With the information we currently have, we could potentially meet with them right now
>>
>>46187023
So did Ira sustain any injuries from the blast or did he just get singed and shell shocked?
>>
>>46187181

He made it out without any serious injuries. The walls were thick enough that most of the explosion ripped through the door. Tawn got the worst of it.
>>
>>46186807
>There is literally nothing wrong with being a little bit chuuni

I like to imagine Mia took some lessons from Moh Shuvuu with her into godhood, now that she literally has ultimate power at her fingertips.
>>
>>46187456

I'll confess, that kind of tryhard chuuni style stuff is a guilty pleasure of mind. I had far too much fun designing the magic items Mia ended up using, and Moh Shuvuu was fantastic to write.
>>
>>46187527
>I had far too much fun designing the magic items Mia ended up using

Now that I think about it yeah.

Mia had black armor, black corset, black leather gloves, black scarf, black mask and a wicked looking blade. And routinely gets covered with a lot of blood when she fights personally.

She was pretty scary looking huh?
>>
>>46187666

I thought that, by the end, Mia probably looked more like a demon than a human at first glance. Definitely very scary!

I think the only other character that came close was first cycle Petra. I imagined her armour as looking like insect carapace, and she had a set of metal jaws around her head.
>>
>>46187666
Scary and cute, something that scary should never be this cute.
This is not fair, not fair at all.
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>>46187666
>All black with a knife and a scar
Know I know what got rid of Nyarly. It was the edge.
>>
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>>46187830
Nyarly's rendition of her was pretty good too.
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>>46187830

It came down to an edge-off between Mia and Heartless, and he just couldn't compete!
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>>46188038
Hey random question.

Ripper was a vessel for Nyarly we know that. But are they separate entities? Where Jack the Ripper is still its own demon that can run around independent of Nyarly?
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>>46188297

Ripper was a separate demon, yes. He could and can exist independant of Nyarly.
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>>46188394
So when he got the Mask he thought he was getting a strength boost and then suddenly he realized someone put the Crawling Chaos inside him and Nyarly took over?

In retrospect you should have totally had him show up for the YHVH fight for Amelia instead of Gurr. That would have been neat.
>>
>>46188394
Aww shit, now I kinda want to see an Amelia finds Ripper post cycle 2 scene.
>>
>>46188479
>Staring at each other.
>"We both kind of fucked up with that Mask huh?"
>Ripper nods with sympathy.
>>
>>46188471

That's correct, yes. He was overtaken and Ripper, the demon, was forcefully ejected.

>>46188479

In retrospect, I really should have brought him back. Bringing Amelia back as a character was actually a pretty last minute decision, so I didn't think things through quite as much as I should have done.

I'll file this one in my rapidly increasing "regrets" folder!
>>
>>46186038
WELP. I DID think Musari was oddly incompetent during the Mira rescue, but willing to blow Tawn up? Fuck.

How pissed would our mysterious enemies be at Musari if Ira was the one taking the blast?
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>>46188510
>I'm sorry.
>Nods.
>I missed you.
>Nods.
>>
>>46188510
>>46188610
I didn't need these feels.
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>>46188555
>I'll file this one in my rapidly increasing "regrets" folder!
Its no biggie. That's the thing about quests, you are on a rough time limit and can only submit your rough draft, so things can get left behind.

That said though doing that writefaggotry made me appreciate how fast you write and the quality you provide in spite of it. My shit took a long time and it was filled with grammar errors before editing.
>>
>>46188604

Very pissed. Even while he's working against the cult, Ira is a valuable asset. Not just because he's the main character, either!

>>46188713

I find writing quest posts to be quite exciting, almost. Working against a deadline is pretty much the only way I'm able to get anything done, though!
>>
>>46188804
>Working against a deadline is pretty much the only way I'm able to get anything done, though!
perfect, I expect the next chapter of Under in less than an hour, chop chop!

I am surprised the chuuni comment got such a reaction from everyone, it was just an offhand thing before I went to sleep.
>>
>>46188804
>>46188653
speaking of feels, whatever happened to that old man with the books?

Did he just not spend his lifetime amassing that collection in the second cycle?
>>
>>46188713
Writefaggotry?
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>>46188853

Too bad, you get to wait. I set my own pace!
I think there's something endearing about chuuni stuff. Maybe other people like it as well?

>>46188924

I wonder. I like to imagine that his collection ended up in the slums, in the temple where Mia met Mizuchi. As for the man himself, who knows? If I go on to write a third part, set in an earlier time with the previous generation, he might just make an appearance.
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>>46188938
That's right, only Moloch saw it.

Something I made to test my current writing skills.

http://pastebin.com/mBhSFVGt
Just a lighthearted look into a possible future of DSQ.
>>
>>46189096
Pretty cool. Planning on writing any more or was that just a oneshot?
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>>46189302
I thought about it, but if I did it probably wouldn't be about the same topic (Mia visiting people in the demon world after being away for awhile).

I mean it would get kind of repetitive you know?

>Hey Mia its been awhile
>It has. How have you been?
>'Exposition'

If anything it would be more stabs into the daily lives of the cast in peacetime.
>>
>>46189096
That was plenty cool.

>>46189545
Next would be...combat, I suppose? Not necessarily with a lot on the line, but ways to practice action and give Ripper some needed spotlight.

Say, Cass vs Ripper, with a content on who can fight more elegantly as opposed to winning the fight.

Eligor and Petra doing a "historical re-enactment", each leading a small army armed with wooden weapons against each other.
>>
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>>46189877
Action huh? I suppose I could give it a try, I do have some free time coming up again and I miss Ripper too.



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