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>>47351082

“I don't recognise any of this,” Koa complains as he peers down at the little piece of stone you recovered from Baphomet's tomb, “Are they even characters? How do we know they aren't, I don't know, really terrible drawings?”

“No, I think I recognise some of these,” Howa argues, “They're old, very old, but they're definitely part of a specific language set.”

“Okay, sure,” Koa pauses, “But how do you know that? I'm sure that one there is just a drawing of a sheep.”

Joking aside, you say to prevent an argument, how certain is she that this is something usable? If it's written in some code or cipher, it'll make the translation even more difficult. What can she tell you about it, here and now?

“Just from looking at it?” Howa frowns a little, delicately taking the sliver of stone and gazing at it, “There's not much written – well, carved really, but you know what I mean - here. If I had to guess, I'd say that this was a set of command words rather than full instructions. In other words, what's here might not have any real meaning, but reading the words should do... something. Perhaps break Murmur's shackles, perhaps trigger some ancient trap that'll kill us all.”

“That's, uh, that's not likely though,” Koa asks, taking a careful step backwards, as if the flint could explode at any minute, “Is it?”

“It's a possibility,” Howa shrugs, feigning indifference, “I wouldn't put something like this past a sorcerer – they were, by all accounts, bastards one and all. Save for a few... exceptions...” She adds that last part with a kind of reluctance, forcing herself to say words that she doesn't believe in. “All I'm saying,” she stresses, glad to move on, “Is that even translating this might be a risk. A risk I'm willing to take, but still a risk.”

>No, it's not necessary. I have the sigil
>I won't leave the job half done. We'll take the risk together
>Work on translating this, but stay safe
>Other

>>47351096
>>I won't leave the job half done. We'll take the risk together

>>47351096
>Work on translating this, but stay safe

>>47351096
>>I won't leave the job half done. We'll take the risk together
Didn't get this for nothing. Gotta try.

>>47351096
>>I won't leave the job half done. We'll take the risk together
What's the worst that could happen?

>>47351096
>>I won't leave the job half done. We'll take the risk together
kill whatever comes out

>>47351096
We should probably transcribe the sigil on a couple pieces of paper and give them to Howa and Koa before we go back in there.

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With Baphomet's sigil, you have what you need to protect the people of Voile from Murmur's maddening aura, but that wouldn't be solving the problem. Rather, it would be covering it up, like kicking stray leaves over a decaying corpse and leaving it at that. No, if you want to finish this job properly, you'll need to break his shackles. If that means taking a risk, you tell Howa, so be it. You'll all take the risk together.

“You're including me in that, aren't you?” Koa asks, a note of reluctance lingering in his voice. No doubt Howa's talk of traps and risks still bothers him.

Hey, you point out, he was the one who wanted field experience. This is exactly the kind of thing he should have been expecting – risk, mortal peril, and the possibility of a reward.

“Well, I won't lie. Things should be a lot easier with the help,” Howa smiles warmly as you help her up onto your horse, “If nothing else, it should be much quicker. With a little luck, there should be something we can use to compare the characters used to a more modern source. If that doesn't work, well... I'll think of something. We'll think of something.”

“Won't Murmur be able to help us?” Koa suggests, “I mean, he might be able to identify some of the characters used, even if he can't use them to free himself. It's a possibility, at least. He wants his freedom just as much as we want to fix this – maybe even more – so he's got good reason to help us.”

“That's an idea,” Howa agrees, nodding slightly, “Ah, but concentrating might be a problem. That damn noise...”

That shouldn't be an issue, you counter, not if this sigil works. True, you were in a rush when you copied it down, but not so much that the thing is unrecognisable. Once you know whether or not it works, you'll sketch out additional copies for Howa and Koa both. Better than trying to work in that dreadful droning wail, at least.

[1/2]

>>47351357
Also might want to transcribe the tablet into some paper too since the tablet is fragile.

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>>47351357

“Do you hear that?” Howa asks, some time later as you're riding into Voile, “The noise – we must be close enough to hear it now. Do you...”

Nothing, you tell her with a shake of your head, then Baphomet's sigil must be working as intended. Your mind is free and clear, so much so that you could probably use magic if you needed to. Just to be certain, though, you take the slip of paper – the sigil drawn in dark charcoal upon it – and hand it across to Koa. As soon as it has left your hand, the maddening song presses in around you. Like sticking your head in a beehive, you think with a wince as Koa reluctantly hands the paper back, banishing the noise once more.

“Amazing really,” Howa sighs, “Something so simple as that...”

As you arrive, you scratch out two more copies of the sigil. Handing one of them to Howa, you pass the second along to the young apprentice. If need be, you can always make more – as many as you have to, if it comes to that.

“Right, I've got an idea,” Howa remarks as you're all heading back to the gloomy library, “Take a good look at these markings. Now, if you can bring me back anything which has the same – or similar – markings on them, I might be able to find something I can use. How does that sound?”

Good enough, you shrug, it sounds like a start at least.

“I'll start down here,” Koa offers, looking around the entrance. He holds his copy of the sigil in a tight fist, pressed against his heart as if in imitation of the old sorcerer himself. “You can take the upper floor.”

Good enough, you repeat. As you arrive at the second floor, though, you spot Fawn sitting on the floor. With long, fluid motions, she writes the beginnings of a new book with ink and brush. As you pass her, she speaks without raising her head.

“Things are going to change around here,” she says flatly, “Right?”

>For the better
>Is that a bad thing?
>Fawn, I can make the voices stop if you want
>Other

>>47351453
>For the better
>Fawn, I can make the voices stop if you want

>>47351453
>For the better
>>Is that a bad thing?
If all goes well you can still talk to Murmur and write books if you want, just you and others won't be forced to. And the adults won't be so crazy.
>>Fawn, I can make the voices stop if you want

>>47351453
>>For the better
>>Is that a bad thing?
>>Fawn, I can make the voices stop if you want

It's going to be a change for the better, you tell her quietly, it's not something she should be afraid of. Is it a bad thing then, you ask a moment later, if things change?

“I don't like change,” she replies after a moment. She could be complaining, cursing you for breaking up her calm little world, or she could be peacefully accepting a new way of life. With her bland, toneless voice, you might never know. At least she doesn't protest against it or make any attempt to stop you searching for books.

No, you agree after a while, her father said as much. Fawn's style of speech – slow, considered – seems to pass over to you as well, causing the conversation to flow like tar. If everything goes well, you add, she shouldn't have to suffer too much change. She'll still be able to talk to Murmur, and she'll still be able to write as many books as she likes. The only change will be that she, or anybody else here, won't be forced to do anything. It might make her father a bit more stable as well, you mention, all the adults in fact.

“Good,” Fawn decides, “He complains about it here sometimes, when he doesn't think I'm listening. I hear him shouting about it though, about the noise. If he can get some peace and quiet...” she shrugs, “That's good. That's a good change.”

If she wants, you suggest, you can make the voices she hears stop. For a little while, you hastily add, not for good. Just so she can see what life is like without them. How about it, you ask as you hold out your copy of the sigil, how about giving it a try?

[1/2]

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>>47351677

Reluctantly, tentatively, Fawn reaches out to take your sigil. As she turns the piece of paper over in her hands, her face slowly... changes. It's hard to say what that change is, but something definitely seems to shift in her expression. Looking down at the text she had been writing, that vague look turns to one of utter confusion and the paper slips from her numb hands. “I don't like it,” she mutters, “It's too quiet.”

Unable to think of a reply, you take your sigil back and slip it into your pocket. Turning away from her, you return to the weary task of searching for those archaic symbols. Just as you're about to give up – the shelves are largely empty up here, and the vast majority of the books you do find are all penned in modern letters – you stumble across something that might work. If you had to guess, you'd say that the book was written by two different authors, one taking over after the first stopped writing. You're not sure you want to consider why they stopped writing – best case scenario, they left town in a hurry.

The book itself might as well be meaningless – a collection of childish stories, from what you can read of it – but it's divided up into almost a dozen sections, all written in a different set of characters. The very first of those characters are the ancient script that Howa was looking for. It might not be perfect, but it's a far more useful resource than anything else you've found here. Tucking the story book under your arm, you prepare to head back to Howa.

>Check the shelves one last time – better to be sure
>No point in wasting time. Return to Howa
>Other

>>47351759
>Check the shelves one last time – better to be sure
I don't want to fuck up the translation. Give it another once over. Hey can we use magic now with the sigil? Maybe use Detect Magic.

>>47351759
>Check the shelves one last time – better to be sure

>>47351790

>Yes, we can use magic now, and our spells are all ready for use.

>Something I forgot - if we're searching, can I get a D100? Aiming to beat 60, and it's best of the first three

Rolled 17 (1d100)

>>47351825

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Rolled 18 (1d100)

>>47351825

Rolled 34 (1d100)

>>47351825
Deep concern.

Rolled 81 (1d100)

>>47351825
TRIO GUIDE MY DICE

>>47351868
They did, but uh...late by 1 fucking second.

>>47351868
TRIODAMMIT

Turning back, you give the second floor of the library one last search. It's a little hard to know exactly what to look for – one book starts to look much the same as all the others after a while – and soon you give up, disgruntled and frustrated. The dust doesn't help your mood, every footstep you take seeming to cast a new cloud of the stuff into the air. Coughing thickly, you return to the bottom of the library. At least you've got something to show Howa, so you won't be returning empty handed.

When you return to her side, she is studying the flint carefully, holding it with a certain dubious care. It has something of reverence in it, like a collector holding a precious artwork, but also the disgust of a man clutching a dead rat. If it wasn't so important and valuable, you figure, she wouldn't even bring herself to examine it. Sorcery, no matter what form it takes, does not seem to agree with her.

When Koa returns – looking just as dirty and frustrated as you are, only he is empty handed – Howa clears her throat to begin the meeting. “First, I'm going to examine this with a little magic,” she says stiffly, “If anything is going to set off a trap, this will be it. If something happens – anything out of the ordinary – try and get it out of hands. Breaking contact with it should be enough... unless it strikes me down in an instant. We'll try not to consider that possibility, shall we?”

That would be best, you agree. As you watch, shifting the book from one hand to the other, Howa holds the flint close and shuts her eyes. With a soft glow blossoming behind them, her lips move in a wordless whisper. That contemplation lasts a moment more before she flinches, dropping the stone back onto the desk and pulling her hand away.

What, you ask, what's wrong with it?

“It's...” Howa begins, before forcing a familiarly teasing smile, “No, why don't you take a guess?”

[1/2]

>>47352073

Well, you shrug, it didn't kill her immediately.

“A very astute observation,” Howa nods, a slight tremor in her voice the only hint towards her true feelings. This old inquisitive quirk of hers, a mix of gentle mocking and rhetorical questions, is only just covering up a kind of fearful dismay. “Fine, I'll drop the pretence,” she says with a sigh, noticing the look on your face, “First, the material this is made out of – it isn't stone.”

It certainly looks like stone, you point out, what is it then?

“Nothing, really,” Howa frowns a little, “As best I can tell, this is made from the raw stuff of thoughts. It is, in essence, something conjured out of nothingness. As such, it's quite unique.” Taking it suddenly, she slams it down against the edge of the desk. You wince, picturing the flint shattering into a thousand pieces, but then you see it – intact and unharmed. “Unbound by any physical laws, this little thing might as well be indestructible. It makes sense, don't you think?”

Baphomet wouldn't have wanted his secrets to crumble away, you decide, so he might not trust something as fallible as mortal stone. True enough, the thing lit up like a beacon when you tried to sniff out any other magic in the old sorcerer's tomb. You had assumed it was the words, the magic within them, but it was the stone itself that you sensed.

“Exactly,” Howa nods, “Other than that, however, it seems normal. Safe, in other words. Did you find anything that might serve to translate them?”

Perhaps, you say as you hand the book over, this had some of the same characters in it.

“Hmm,” she hums to herself as she flips through the book, a slight smile forming at the corners of her mouth, “Yes, this should do it. It'll take some time, though. Got anything you wanted to take care of?”

>Wait until the translation is ready
>Check on Argas
>See if you can find Murmur himself
>Other

>>47352160
>Check on Argas
Toss him a sigil so he stops being dumb.

>>47352160
>Check on Argas

Also couldn't Murmur help with the translation? I don't know if he has a failsafe if he goes near the tablet or anything, but what if you show him on character at a time and ask for pronunciation? Have Koa do talk to him, kid needs field experience with talking to divine beings and Murmur doesn't seem to be hostile.

>>47352160
>>Check on Argas
Check on the kid while we're there.

Now that you've got Baphomet's sigil, you might as well see if you can get Argas to calm down a little. Perhaps that's expecting too much – you suspect that not even a blessing from the gods themselves would put him right – but it can't hurt to try. If it can convince him not to carry out any more experiments in butchery – or surgery, as you're sure he'd call it – then it's a worthwhile use of your time.

Like Howa said, you've got a little time to kill. It wouldn't hurt to drop in on Moln, either. He could probably use a break from Murmur's influence as well. Before you set off next door, though, you take Koa aside for a word.

“What can I do to help?” he asks, “I know I can't really contribute much to the translation, but...”

That doesn't matter now, you point out, that's under control. No, what you wanted him to do was look for Murmur and speak with the old goat. He should get a little experience in talking with the gods, and Murmur is safe enough – with the sigil, at least – that he doesn't need to worry about a single wrong word provoking an attack. He could start by asking about the pronunciation, taking it one character at a time if he has to.

“Yeah... yeah, I can do that!” the idea of getting some proper experience under his belt emboldens Koa, lifting his mood, “I guess I can help after all.”

Looks that way, you tell him as you're leaving, but don't let it go to his head. Overconfidence can be a real danger.

With Koa leaving to seek out Murmur, you make the short trip to Argas' house. Letting yourself in, as has become your custom, you find the thin doctor in the front room. With his attention equally divided between one of his damn medical books and a bowl of hot soup, he doesn't notice you for a long moment. When he does, he slams the book shut out of sheer defensive instinct.

[1/2]

>>47352489

“...Hello,” he says eventually, giving you an uncertain look, “I wasn't... I mean...”

Go on, you say politely, what wasn't he doing?

“Nothing. Anything, I mean,” Argas sighs, shaking his head, “I was going over these old books again, this time with a more... objective eye. Do you know what I found? I think you might have been right about these – they're worthless. Not just useless, but actively dangerous.” Pushing the book away from him with a heavy sigh, Argas lifts his bowl of soup and drinks loudly from it. Placing the empty bowl back down, he looks back around at you. “Oh, were you hungry? I made some food. Moln had a little, but that was all he could manage.”

How is he, you ask, Moln?

“Groggy,” Argas shrugs, “I think I underestimated how easily he'd be knocked out. His malnutrition, I mean, that weakened him. He's awake now, if you wanted to talk to him. Don't expect too much, though.”

Maybe in a moment, you shrug, there was something you wanted to give him first. Taking out a pad of paper, you sketch out Baphomet's sigil once more, this time drawing it from memory. Argas takes the paper with a confused glance, but then his expression goes blank.

“It... it's gone,” he whispers, “It's stopped. How did you...”

Trade secret, you tell him, he's better off not knowing. How does he feel, anyway?

“Tired,” Argas shakes his head slowly, “Like... like I'm ready to sleep for the first time in many years.”

>Go ahead and sleep. I wanted to speak with Moln
>Go ahead. I was just leaving
>Don't sleep yet, I needed to ask you something... (Write in)
>Other

>>47352581
>Go ahead and sleep. I wanted to speak with Moln

>>47352581
>Go ahead and sleep. I wanted to speak with Moln
Get the kid a sigil too.

>>47352581
>Go ahead and sleep. I wanted to speak with Moln

Go ahead and sleep, you tell Argas, you wanted to speak with Moln for a while anyway. You'll close up when you leave.

“Yes, close up, of course,” Argas repeats the word as if it was in an ancient language, something he pronounces without a trace of understanding. How many years of fatigue have come crashing down upon him? Enough, it seems, that he could pass out at any moment. As the doctor shambles to his feet and drags himself to the next room over, you slip past him into the “surgery” out back. Just as you're entering it, you hear a muffled thump, shortly followed by the sound of snoring.

He couldn't even reach a bed. Pitiful really.

When you find him, Moln is lying on the surgical table, the back of it twisted upright so he can more or less sit. His eyes are flat and glassy, still reeling from whatever drug Argas flooded his system with, and he can barely move. The only part of his body that seems to have a trace of life left in it is his right hand, his mutilated hand. It twitches and shudders, slowly swinging back and forth as if he was writing something in a dream. On a low table by his side, a bowl of soup slowly cools.

Saying Moln's name causes his eyes to flick over to you. His hand freezes, and some trace of life finally enters those dull, flat eyes. “I've seen you before,” he mumbles, “Haven't I?”

You've met, you agree, but only briefly. You took him to the doctor, you explain slowly.

“Oh,” Moln replies, his voice thick with confusion, “I don't feel right. I should be doing something, but I can't think what. It was something really important, I'm sure it was.”

It was nothing important, you correct him as you draw out a copy of the sigil and press it into his hand, nothing he needed to worry about.

“Oh,” he says again, “I see...” Then his eyelids start to droop, sleep rushing in to claim him once again.

>Stay with me Moln, I need to ask you something... (Write in)
>Let him rest, return to Howa
>Other

>>47352874
>Let him rest, return to Howa

>>47352874
>>Let him rest, return to Howa

>>47352874
>>Stay with me Moln, I need to ask you something... (Write in)
Just ask and see if he remembers anything he was writing about. The less people knowing about sorcery the better.
>>Let him rest, return to Howa

Focus, you tell Moln, don't fall asleep yet. You just need to ask him something, something really simple. What does he remember, you ask, about what he was writing about? Does he remember anything at all?

“Writing?” Moln frowns lazily, “Was I... writing something?”

Then he doesn't remember – good. Even if it's just held in the mind of a child, any knowledge of sorcery is dangerous. Perhaps it would be even more dangerous, without the caution that your perspective grants. At least this way, with his memory failing him, you won't need to worry about any of that forbidden knowledge escaping into the rest of the land. That's all you wanted, you tell him, he can get some rest.

“Rest, sure...” the boy mumbles, any further words breaking down into a jumbled stream of nonsense. As his head dips low, a soft snore begins to escape him. As you leave them both, you stop to check on Argas – the old man is lying face down on the floor – before quietly closing the front door behind you.

When Murmur is unbound, you think, it's going to be as quiet as a grave here. With everyone catching up on their sleep, you'll be able to slip right out of town without making any kind of fuss. For the best, perhaps.

Upon returning to the library, you spot Howa writing quickly, her eyes darting between the book and the piece of magical flint. Glancing up, she gives you a bright and victorious grin. “This is a very interesting book,” she begins, “The same little story, but repeated in a dozen different sets of characters. It's a translation aid, you see? Designed for exactly this kind of purpose, if I'm not mistaken.”

That's good then, you conclude, so she's been able to work out a translation?

“I have,” Howa nods, “As I thought, it's just a string of words. When Baphomet was performing his vile rituals, he probably added these in as a way to release Murmur in an emergency. It should be a simple enough process.”

[1/2]

>>47353114

Leaning down to peer over her shoulder, you glance at the rough translation Howa has come up with. Your eyes are open, reclaim what you have lost. It sounds very poetic, you suggest, doesn't it?

“Oh, I'm sure the swine thought he was a genius. Baphomet, I mean,” Howa replies, with surprising venom, “Doesn't change a thing though, does it? He's still filth, human garbage – if you could even consider him human. I've got to admit, even knowing that it's for a good cause, I don't like this. It feels like... like we're using sorcery ourselves. Like we're staining ourselves just by meddling in this business.”

You don't like it much either, you agree, but it's as she said – for a good cause.

“Yes, well-” she draws in a long breath, “No, no matter. I took a copy of these characters and gave them to Koa. He said he would help with the pronunciation – your doing, I presume? Well, he's upstairs anyway, he said that Murmur would be up there. I'll take his word for that. Listen, Ira, I... I need to ask you for a favour.”

A favour, you repeat, what is it?

“These words, this whole ritual thing...” she pauses, “I want you to read them, to release Murmur. I don't trust myself to do it.”

Her loathing of sorcery runs deeper than you first thought. It's a little surprising, even to you.

>Fine. I'll do it
>I think you're the better person for this job
>Is there something wrong?
>Other

>>47353228
>Fine. I'll do it
"But uh..."
>Is there something wrong?

>>47353228
>Is there something wrong?
"Trust yourself? What do you mean?"

>>47353228
>Fine. I'll do it
Even if
>Fine. I'll do it
>I think you're the better person for this job
Tell me
>Is there something wrong?
>Hug the Howa

>>47353228
>>Fine. I'll do it
>>Is there something wrong?

>>47353228
Does Howa have the same 'hate' for sorcery that we have for abominations?

That's fine, you tell her, you'll do it. Even so, you think she'd be the better person for the job – she's far more of a scholar than you'll ever be, after all.

“Well then, now is a fantastic time to start your education,” she retorts with a thin, forced smile, “I know you're not exactly young, but it's never too late to-”

Stop, you interrupt, she's just going to hide whatever is bothering her behind a flippant mask – as always – and you're not in the mood for it. There's something wrong, you decide, and that worries you. What did she mean by not trusting herself?

“I just...” Howa stands, taking her cane in a firm grip and limping a few paces away, turning and feigning interest in some of the empty shelves, “I don't know. Not exactly. I wouldn't say that I love the gods, exactly, but I have a lot of respect for them. For all their flaws, their mistakes and their capricious desires, I feel like the land is better off for having them. Look at this place, for example – they were murdered, Ira, killed so some... arrogant creature could keep his library safe for all time. Now, we're using those same forbidden arts – we're benefiting from them. I feel... guilty.”

Approaching her, you put a hand on her shoulder. Turning back to you, Howa leans in against your body and sighs heavily, a long sigh of sadness. Holding her close, you wait until the stiffness has left her body. It's for a good cause, you repeat, you're putting things right after so many years of them being wrong. Maybe you are using some of Baphomet's own rituals, but you're using them to break the shackles placed upon Murmur. With those gone, perhaps this corner of the land can start to heal.

“I just don't like it,” she whispers, “It feels too... easy. As if it would be so easy to rely of this... tainted knowledge. Just dipping into it at first, stealing power from the gods without harming them... much. But it wouldn't end there, would it?”

[1/2]

>>47353527

Maybe not, you admit, maybe that's how so many sorcerers started down this dark path. Maybe even the Mentor had good intentions at first, before the lure of power drew him further and further away from redemption. Is that really what she's worried about, you ask, that she'd be tempted by sorcery? Tempted to fix...

“My leg?” she finishes your sentence for you, “No, that's... I've adjusted to it, to this life. I wouldn't go against the gods for something as petty as that. If it was something more... someone very dear to me, though...”

She has someone she cares about that much, you remark with mock surprise, you'll have to meet them one day. Your joking comment punctures the tension, breaking apart the cold shell that Howa had gathered around herself. She laughs, then, her voice as clear and sparkling as crystal.

“Now who's being flippant?” she asks, punching you lightly on the shoulder, “No, I... it's nothing, really. I'm just tired, tired of this place. I thought I'd enjoy the chance to do one last bit of field work, but it's been miserable here. It's getting to me, even with that protection.”

Protection that was also the work of sorcery, you consider darkly. Wisely, you say nothing – no doubt Howa had thought the same thing already.

“Look, as long as we never take that first step, we don't need to worry, do we?” Howa shrugs with forced levity, “If you really think I should read this, I'll do it. I can't be stupid about something like this.”

No, you shake your head, you said you'd do it. You won't go back on your word. You just need to figure out how to pronounce this damn stuff. Koa should be able to help, assuming he's managed to call up Murmur.

“Go on, I'll be fine,” Howa tells you, forcing herself to take a lurching step backwards, “I'll be up in a moment. I'm an old lady, but I can handle one flight of stairs on my own.”

You hesitate, but then nod. Don't be long, you urge her as you leave.

[2/3]

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>>47353636

You weren't sure what you were expecting to find at the top of the stairs, but it certainly wasn't Koa and Murmur chatting away like old friends. Lingering in the mouth of the stairwell for a moment, you listen to them talk, to the sound of their occasional laughter. They speak of the drudgery of serving another, swapping tales of the menial tasks they have been saddled with. Of course, their burdens are far from equal – Murmur speaks of slavery and countless years spent keeping forbidden lore, while Koa complains about fetching drinks and carrying books. All in all, nothing that quite compares.

Clearing your throat, you approach the pair. Koa gives you a sheepish grin, while Murmur looks... well, you have no idea how he looks. You're not very good at reading expressions on a goat's face.

“I managed to get a few ideas about pronunciation!” Koa stresses, reminding you that he was, in fact, working, “It's, uh, not easy though. I don't know what those ancient folks were thinking when they made this crap up – I mean, did they actually speak in this nonsense?”

“In all likelihood,” Murmur explains, in the long-suffering tone of one who has explained the same thing over and over again, “It was a ceremonial language, rarely used for common speech. Only the most formal occasions would call for this kind of language.”

“Yeah, like that,” Koa nods, “So, if you want to get started, I can talk you through this.”

“And the ritual can begin,” Murmur nods, a slight tremor entering his voice. Is he... nervous?

“I've not missed anything,” Howa asks, breathing heavily as she emerges from the stairwell, “Have I?”

“We were just getting started!” Koa calls out, “Right, Ira?”

>Right. Let's do this ritual
>Any last worries, Murmur?
>I don't know, I don't like using this sorcery
>Other

>>47353753
>Right. Let's do this ritual
>>Any last worries, Murmur?

>>47353753
>Right. Let's do this ritual
>Any last worries, Murmur?

>>47353753
>Right. Let's do this ritual
>Any last worries, Murmur?
Anything we should be worried about?

>>47353753
>>Right. Let's do this ritual
>>Any last worries, Murmur?
Is Fawn still about?

Any last worries, you ask the goat headed god, anything at all? Perhaps it would be more appropriate to ask, is there anything you should be worried about?

“I suppose I'm curious,” Murmur admits, “Uncertain, even. Will I remain as I am now, only free to act as I wish, or will there be other changes? Will my mind be the same, even? I could forget everything, all the knowledge I have been entrusted with, all of... you.” Reaching up, he holds the stumps of his shattered wrists before his face. Had he been intact, he would have buried his face in his hands. “I am... afraid. I was commanded to protect this knowledge at all costs. Now, I face the chance of losing everything.”

“Should we... not do this?” Koa asks, “I mean, is that what you want?”

“I don't know what I want,” Murmur admits sadly, “But the chains Baphomet wrapped me in cry out against this ritual. To me, that is a good reason to proceed with it. Wanderer, read the words – release me to whatever fate lies beyond them.”

It seems that Fawn isn't the only one to fear change. Glancing to the side, you see the girl herself, lurking furtively in the shadows and watching events unfold with disinterested eyes. Right, you announce, time to get this ritual started. First, you're going to need to get these words right – for that, you'll need Koa's help.

“Okay, see, this might take a few tries,” Koa admits, “Some kind of sadist must have made these, that's the only way I can explain it. Why else would you pronounce something like... tchr, tcehr?”

“Tcahr,” Murmur corrects him with a sigh, “As I have said, it was so that the words would not be mistakenly used in daily life. Do we need to go over this one more time?”

“No, no, I got it,” Koa nods, “Tachr, right?”

This could take some time.

[1/2]

>>47354031

With a little back and forth between you, Koa and Murmur, you finally work out a reasonable pronunciation. After a few dry runs, tests carried out in furtive whispers, you feel confident enough to perform the ritual for good. Before you can speak, though, Murmur stops you.

“You're certain of this?” he insists, “I have little wish for a botched ritual to erase my mind, but leave the shackles intact. It would not surprise me for my kind master to lay one final trap like that.”

You were confident, you think bitterly, but now you're less so. Gathering up your courage, you squint down at the notes you wrote down – breaking every word down into phonetic chunks – and spit out the first of those ancient words. With barely three vowels sounds across the entire thing, you rasp out harsh, primal sounds until your throat feels raw and bloody, yet it becomes clear from the very first moment that something is happening.

Where he was once charcoal black, Murmur begins to pale, new shoots of grey appearing in his shaggy fur. Red eyes cool to an icy blue, and even his horns seem to take on a rounder appearance. The greatest change, however, comes at the end of his limbs. Forming out of the dust and grit that lines the library shelves, new hands and feet begin to take shape. As the last syllable leaves your mouth, Murmur lets out a great braying cry, one that seems to shake the entire building. You feel, in your mind as much as anything, something like glass shattering.

“What was taken has been restored, what was lost has been found,” Murmur cries, “I am free!”

>How do you feel?
>I believe we had a deal – you had a gift for me
>So, where do we go from here?
>Other

>>47354066
>>How do you feel?
>So, where do we go from here?

>>47354066
>How do you feel?
>So, where do we go from here?
In your knowledge, whats the best way to restore this land?

>>47354066
> Offer to have Fawn come out and be reintroduced to her friend.

Let's roll with this first. Murmur gets a priestess right away and a connection to his past that us positive. Also we're nice to an autistic kid.

>>47354066
>>How do you feel?
>>I believe we had a deal – you had a gift for me
Maybe put that in a more polite way though.

So, you ask, how does he feel? Is his mind intact, everything as it should be?

“I believe so,” Murmur hums tunelessly, the sound reminding you – in a terrible way – of the droning horror that once cloaked him, “I could recount every detail of what I once learned, reciting it as poetry if you so wished.”

“That's fine!” Koa yelps, “Let's not, uh, show off or anything.”

“Hmm, perhaps you're right,” Murmur agrees, “Regardless, my mind is complete, yet I also have control over it all. I could... I could purge it of everything I have ever learned, of every blasphemy and crime that was hammered into my memory. To wipe Baphomet's legacy from the land, once and for all – that would be true freedom, would it not?”

Don't do anything too hasty, you warn Murmur, not on a whim. For now though, what you're interested in is how to move forwards. What does he plan on doing now this mind is his own?

“I shall remain here,” Murmur decides after a moment, “I have much wisdom, not just sorcery – for those who seek me out, I shall serve as teacher.”

And what of this land, you ask, does he know of a way to put it right once more?

“Time,” the restored god answers simply, “But even a thousand years might not be enough. The scars that sorcery leaves behind can be eternal... but you have seen such things already, have you not?”

At Makai, you nod, that ashen wasteland.

“Perhaps it is not as bad as that,” Murmur admits, “The land around us lives still – in time, we may yet see a return to the glories of the past. Yet... I fear that I shall be the only one to see it. For as long as you all live, Voile shall remain shrouded in curses and ill-whispers. I may sing no more, but the reputation this library has will not fade over days or weeks.”

It's bad news, but somehow... you knew to expect this.

[1/2]

>>47354403

As you look away, your eye falls upon Fawn once more. She has edged a little closer, drawn in by the change in Murmur. Smiling as best you can, you nod for her to approach. She does so slowly, rising to her feet and shuffling across the floor. Her mask, that leering goat skull, lies forgotten behind her.

“You're the same as you were,” Fawn says, a note of confusion in her voice as she stares up at Murmur, “No, you're different. Or... sort of different. Can you speak? I don't hear you, not like I used to.”

“I can speak,” Murmur says softly, reaching out a hand to Fawn, “I fear I have wronged you greatly over the years, child.”

“Huh?” Fawn grins at the sound of Murmur's voice, the childish expression seemingly alien on her normally placid features, “No you didn't! You were always there for me, what's wrong about that?”

“I...” Murmur, speechless, looks over to you in confusion.

A god needs a priest, you tell him with a shrug, why not make it someone who's a friend as well?

“We can write, like we always do,” Fawn insists, taking Murmur's extended hand and tugging slightly, “Can't we?”

“Perhaps we can,” the god sighs, looking about the empty shelves, “Even without delving into the forbidden arts, there are many books to be restored. History, records of ancient events long lost to this land. We have a great deal of work ahead of us. First, though...” He turns to you, lowering his head in a kind of bow. “Wanderer, you have broken my shackles,” he tells you, with solemn dignity, “In return...”

He offered a gift, you agree, a precious lesson.

“I did,” Murmur nods, letting go of Fawn's hand, he holds out both of those restored limbs to you, the palms facing upwards. Sheets of light, flickering pages, rustle in his grip.

[2/3]

>>47354492

Reaching out, you take the precious spell from him. As you feel it marking itself down into the substance of your soul, you hear that dread sound once again, a pale echo that nevertheless sets your mind skittering. Such a spell would be the bane of any who relies on magic, yet it would not discriminate. A weapon of last resort, then.

>New spell card gained:
>[Murmur] Song of Discord
>“Can you hear the music? That lunatic tune that drives all men to destruction? Ah, I hear it now...”
>Create a barely audible song that disrupts all attempts to use magic in the immediate area. All characters, friend or foe, are affected until you choose to end the song.

“Never forget what brought this fearful gift about,” Murmur warns you, “Remember it always, a sign of the cruelties that sorcery creates.”

You won't forget what happened here, you promise, you'll hold it in your heart until your last day.

“Excellent!” Murmur laughs, a braying chuckle that breaks the solemn air, “Then go forth, Wanderer, and punish those who would misuse the forbidden arts!”

That might be asking a little much. Right now, the only place you want to go is home – the Nameless Temple.

>Say your goodbyes and start the long ride home
>There's other business you have here... (Write in)
>Other

>>47354622
>>Say your goodbyes and start the long ride home
That's a good spell card. If only it didn't have friendly fire on.

>>47354622
>Say your goodbyes and start the long ride home.
"Fawn, when your dad wakes up tell him what happened here and that he won't need the sigil anymore to keep the voices out. Have him spread the word to the other villagers."

Hey Moloch, does the sigil nullify Song of Discord?

>>47354622
>Say your goodbyes and start the long ride home
On the way back tell Koa and Howa about our little adventure at the Stone of the Northwest.

>>47354658

>Good point! Yes, the sigil would indeed nullify the effects of Song of Discord. I'll correct the description of the spell when noting it down on our character sheet.

>>47354699
Cool. That means with some prep we can nullify the friendly fire aspect.

Though honestly the only ally that uses magic would be Howa and she probably wouldn't be with us.

>>47354622
>>Say your goodbyes and start the long ride home

>>47354722
koa might be getting magic soon too. I also would not doubt Soma or Tawn has some either.

>>47354699
Are we allowed to cast another spell while Discord is on like Sublime?

>>47354804
>>47354722

>Song of Discord would normally stop us using magic as well. While we've got a copy of the sigil on us, however, we can use magic as normal.

Before you head off, you get Fawn's attention with a wave, drawing her eyes – back to their usual, flat gleam – to you. When her father wakes up, you tell her, he won't need the sigil... the picture you gave him. He won't need it to keep the noise away – nobody will need one. Spread the word, you add, he should tell everyone. They might find out themselves soon enough though, when they wake to find the town draped in an uncommon peace.

Still, the explanation might go some ways to improving the mood here. Thanking Fawn for her assistance, you turn and give Murmur a formal bow. You're glad that you could break his chains, you say once more, and you wish him well in the days ahead.

“No, Wanderer, I should thank you,” Murmur insists, “Thanks to you, I have a future – no more will I be forced to retread the same path.”

Speaking of treading paths, you say, it's about time you hit the road once more.

“Walk with wisdom and honour, Wanderer,” the old goat urges you, “And treasure the knowledge you gain.”

You will, you swear. It's a pledge that Howa and Koa mirror, bowing their goodbyes as well. Then, before you can get bogged down in long goodbyes, you turn to leave. The long road awaits, and the Nameless Temple beyond that.

[1/2]

>The next post might be delayed a little. Your patience is appreciated!

>>47354970

The journey back is uneventful, peaceful and sedate. Dull, even – you end up telling the story of your journey to the Stone of the North-West several times, your escapades getting more and more absurd with each telling. Every time you mention some misdeed, Howa tuts in prim disapproval, but that's more for the sake of putting on a good impression. With every exciting twist in your tales, she grips you a little tighter around the middle, leaning a little more into you. Koa, riding with his eyes fixed straight ahead, very graciously pretends not to notice.

Civilisation, coming in the form of a bare-bones roadside tavern, seems like an incredible luxury after the time spent in Voile. A bed – a simple straw mattress, even – seems like a blessing from all the gods in the land, while the grey sludge that the tavern calls a stew feels like something stolen from the Emperor's own table.

When you wake up with loose straw jabbing into your bare skin, however, your opinion of the tavern has changed, and you're more than happy to hit the road once more. Seeking the comforts of home, you make the last stretch of the journey in record time. At long last, when the imposing shape of the Nameless Temple rises up before you, you feel a tension – a tension you didn't know you had – escape you.

“I suppose I should get back to the archive,” Howa sighs, as you're walking into the temple with her, arms linked, “I'd better make sure it's alright. Ah, and I wonder if Sanae was able to find anything about that serpent god. You'll come with me, won't you?”

>Of course. I wanted to say hello to Aya
>I need to see the Mentor first. Duty calls
>I had some other business... (Write in)
>Other

>>47355172
>Of course. I wanted to say hello to Aya
See if there any developments on that front before seeing the Mentor.

>>47355172
>Of course. I wanted to say hello to Aya

>>47355172
>>I need to see the Mentor first. Duty calls

>>47355172
>Of course. I wanted to say hello to Aya
"Also Koa, sorry this outing didn't have much for you to do this time around. Both jobs weren't very standard to say the least. Hope it was some kind of learning experience."

>>47355172
>Of course. I wanted to say hello to Aya

Of course, you tell her graciously, of course you'll come with her.

“That's good,” Howa smiles warmly, “I'm glad you-”

After all, you continue with a teasing note in your voice, you wanted to say hello to Aya.

“Ira Furyo,” Howa scolds, “You are not the comedian you think you are.” She sighs then, a long-suffering sigh that almost, but not quite, covers up a playful smile. “Yes, well, I might have a few things to say to her as well. Shall we go, then?”

One moment, you ask, you needed to talk to Koa first. Before the apprentice can slink away – as soon as you and Howa started your friendly bickering, Koa had started to look for an exit – you turn your lone eye upon him. Sorry, you tell him after a moment of silence, he didn't get as much field experience as you'd been hoping. Neither of the jobs you brought him on were... standard business. Still, such things are also part of a Wanderer's life – hopefully, he learned something regardless.

“No, no, I learned a lot,” Koa nods, “I mean, I certainly don't feel the need to rush out into the field straight away. That's got to mean something, right?”

As long as he's happy, you decide with a shrug, you'll come and see him again if you get some more routine business. To make the offer, at least.

“I appreciate it,” the apprentice nods again, gravely this time, “But, ah, don't let me keep you. I've been missing my own bed, so...”

“Go on,” Howa chuckles, “You're dismissed. Is that what you were waiting for? Go and get some sleep already!”

Sleep would be good, you agree, but duty calls. To the archives, then.

[1/2]

File: Aya.jpg (18 KB, 254x736)

18 KB JPG

>>47355513

When you arrive, Aya has the good graces to be somewhere else. Unfortunately, that leaves the front desk – and the horrific mess piled up on it – as Sanae's responsibility. When Howa sees it, the books scattered in random piles that list and sway unsteadily, you have to put a calming hand on her shoulder. That, at least, stills her long enough for Sanae to stammer out an explanation – something that passes for an explanation.

“Um, okay, I know this looks bad,” she hastily announces, “But this is all incredibly vital research. You know, stuff... the snake stuff.”

“Kala!” Aya declares, emerging from whatever hiding spot she had found for herself, “As it was once called. That was a female aspect, though, so maybe that's not an appropriate name. Anyway, legend has it that she – Kala, the warrior serpent – was a close companion of Tatsuhiro the first when he led the Farmer's Revolution. If that's true, this thing is powerful – really powerful!”

“Gods can't travel far,” Sanae adds, “So, you know, if this aspect of it was able to leave the Black Rock...”

“If the legends are true,” Aya puts in once more, “They might not be. For all I know, this might just be something written by a bitter loser to smear Tatsuhiro. I mean, I know a smear story when I see one. Still, if could be based in something...” Then, pausing for breath, she flashes you a grin. “Hey there chief,” she says, incredibly pleased with herself, “You look like a walking corpse.”

That bad? Sighing, you steer Howa over to a seat, shifting a stack of books out of the way so she can sit down. So, you ask then, was there anything else?

“About Kala?” Aya shakes his head, “Nothing much. I mean, a lot of vague doom stuff – mountains of skulls, rivers of blood, blah blah blah – but nothing useful. Nothing, you know, that actually tells us anything.”

Damn, you sigh, it was worth a try.

[2/3]

>>47355669

“Wait, there was something else!” Sanae blurts out, “Uh, not about the snake stuff, I mean. Someone's been asking about you. Pretty, uh, often. The new girl, I think. Red hair, you know?”

“Soma,” Aya says, “She said she had important news for you, but she wouldn't say what it was. Anyway, she's been in every day now, so it must be something serious. She left a message here, saying that she'll be in her room every evening. She'll be there now, I reckon, if you were looking to talk with her.”

Cult business, you guess. You're not sure what else Soma would need to talk to you about. Inside information on Tawn, perhaps, but that's hardly important enough to ask about you so often. Shaking your head, you thank Aya and Sanae for their help. It wasn't much, but it gives you something to think about.

“You know,” Sanae thinks aloud, “Before the Farmer's Revolution, Tatsuhiro's life isn't well documented. Maybe Kala didn't ride along at his side, but he could have gone TO the Black Rock. I mean, it's a possibility, right?”

Maybe, you muse, maybe it is.

>Visit the Mentor. Duty calls
>Check in with Soma
>There was some other business... (Write in)
>Other

>>47355797
>>Check in with Soma
lets get cult business out of the way first then to Mentor

>>47355797
>>Check in with Soma
All roads lead to the North huh? We should probably tell Soma about the cult breaking apart.

>>47355797
>Check in with Soma

File: Soma.png (310 KB, 347x700)

310 KB PNG

If this is cult business, you should get the facts as soon as possible. Once you know all the facts, you can take the matter to the Mentor and get his opinion. You've got to step out for a bit, you tell Howa, has she got everything here under control?

“Oh yes,” Howa remarks with a cold smile, eyeing up the disorganised stacks of books in a way that reminds you of Sunao's pet bird, “Everything is perfectly under control.”

“Oh gods...” Sanae whispers, growing pale.

That's your cue to exit. Throwing Aya a jaunty wave – one that she returns with a sly wink – you hurry from the archives. At least you don't hear any shouting as you walk down the corridor, Howa must be in a good mood. It doesn't take long to find Soma's room, with the first apprentice you pass pointing you in the right direction. When you arrive, you knock lightly and wait.

“Who is it?” Soma calls from within, a taut edge to her voice. When you give her your name, though, she unlocks the door and opens it slightly, just enough for you to slip inside. She's definitely been making herself at home here – the room is littered with various... things. “Don't touch those,” Soma adds as you look at a bunch of metal canisters, “Really. Don't touch them.”

Why, you ask, what could happen?

“They could explode,” she replies with a smile, “And it would be very messy, very difficult to clean up.”

Huh. Looking around, you take in her choice of decorations. Half a pistol, the other half stripped down to bare parts, lies by her bed, while a pouch of bullets rests by the makings of countless more. Tawn doesn't come here, you guess, does he?

“What?” Soma asks, colouring slightly, “Oh. We... use his room. It's larger. So, can we... never talk about this again?”

You'd be happy to, you agree, so why has she been asking after you?

[1/2]

>>47356089

“I got word from an old friend of mine, someone who stayed behind – you know, down south,” Soma pauses, grimacing a little, “It's not good news. This could be a very dangerous situation, so I wanted to bring you this news as soon as I could. The cult-”

It's broken up, you finish for her, hasn't it? It's splintered up, and the various groups have gone off chasing their own selfish motives.

Soma stares at you in silence for a moment, her expression fixed somewhere between exasperated amusement and simple frustration. “You've ran into them, then?” she says eventually, “Some of the splinters?”

Manabu's group, you explain, up at the Dragon's Head.

“Right. I never met him, but I heard things,” Soma admits, “I never thought much of him, from what I heard. He was... useless. Only out for himself, and he wasn't exactly well-trained. I'm guessing his plans weren't successful?”

She guessed right, you nod, but you're not here to talk about him. Was there any other information she had about them, anything her old friend told her?

“The largest group was heading north, by boat,” Soma tells you, confirming your suspicions, “They're... bastards. A lot of deserters from the military, a lot of men who want to see the Emperor dead. Not a lot of... people like me, I suppose you could say. What I'm saying is, they're dangerous. From what my friend gathered, they were heading there looking for some kind of weapon, something they think will give them the advantage in the coming war – and, trust me, they plan for a coming war, they WANT it.”

The Black Rock would be the perfect place for them, then. Warriors, looking for a warrior god.

Damn.

>What about the Seer himself?
>Do they have a leader?
>I might be heading north soon. Do you want to come along?
>Thanks for telling me this. I need to take this to the Mentor
>Let me ask you something... (Write in)
>Other

>>47356265
>>What about the Seer himself?
>>Do they have a leader?
>>Thanks for telling me this. I need to take this to the Mentor

>>47356265
>>What about the Seer himself?
>>Do they have a leader?
>>Thanks for telling me this. I need to take this to the Mentor

>>47356265
>What about the Seer himself?
>Do they have a leader?
>I might be heading north soon. Do you want to come along?
>Thanks for telling me this. I need to take this to the Mentor

>>47356265
>What about the Seer himself?
>Do they have a leader?
>Thanks for telling me this. I need to take this to the Mentor

I feel like taking her north would only serve to get her hurt or worse with all the shit that's happening. She wouldn't be able to reason with this type of ex-cultist and our underwater breathing spell only works on us if we get into a pinch. She has a good thing going at the Temple.

>>47356265
>>What about the Seer himself?
>>Thanks for telling me this. I need to take this to the Mentor

This friend of hers, you ask, did they say anything about the Seer himself?

“Not much. He's not talking much, to anyone – he hides himself away, and nobody has any idea what he's doing. If I know him – and I used to, I thought I did at least – then he's planning something,” Soma shakes her head slowly, “Some last desperate throw of the dice, perhaps. I don't like it though. At this point, it would just throw away more lives. If he really wanted to do the right thing, he'd just... stop. Stop this, stop everything, just... stop.” She sighs, picking up a bit of her pistol and examining it. “But he won't. He's gone too far now. And, truth be told, I don't think he's got much authority these days.”

Why, you ask, are the people looking to a new leader?

“The various groups all have their own leaders, all of them proclaiming to have the one right answer, the one “righteous path” to victory,” Soma laughs, the sound a cynical bark, “But no, our soldier friends heading north have their own leader. I don't know his name, but my friend claims they have a title – the Ascetic.”

No name, but a title – you know what THAT means. It's a part of the sorcerer's tradition, taking on a false name. Maybe it's all an act, something to lend him the same air of authority that the Seer once claimed. Then again, maybe the Seer took on an apprentice, one who has gone rogue. Wonderful. Sighing, you thank her for the information – you'll bring it to the Mentor immediately, it's something he needs to know as well.

“Right,” Soma nods, “Listen, Ira, I want to ask you something. If you're heading south at any point, can I... come with you?"

You thought she might, you nod, is there a reason?

“I just... I want to see him again. The Seer,” Soma tells you sadly, “Just... to talk. To see if there's anything of the man I once knew left. So... how about it?”

>I'll let you know
>It's too much of a risk
>I'd be happy to have you along
>Other

>>47356567
>I'll let you know
"But you realize what I might and probably will have to do if I see him again right? Things have to end."

>>47356567
>I'd be happy to have you along

>>47356636
I'll second this.

>>47356567
>>47356636
this

>>47356636
That, plus she has to be aware of the risks involved, all the more so because she defected.

>>47356567
>>I'll let you know

>>47356567
>>47356636

> I'm glad if you want to come though. He had good intentions at the root of things, hopefully you can convince him to reconcile with the Master and change his methods.

I mean, we're clearly forgiving and it wouldn't hurt the healing process to have the Seer at a neutral place like the Temple. Pretty sure we can hide him from the Emperor.

>>47356824
Not to sound cruel, but I think the best course of action would be for him to accept the responsibility of his actions and take his own life, ending part of the threat of sorcery.

Before you can say anything for sure, you need to make sure she knows something. She realises what you might have to do, you ask carefully, doesn't she? This has gone on long enough, and it needs to end. When you meet with the Seer again, he might not end up walking away from it.

“I know that,” Soma meets your eyes, her gaze harder than you've ever seen from her, “I know what you must do, and you'd be right to do it. I just want a chance to speak with him one last time, so I know if...”

If?

“If this could have ended any other way,” she shrugs, forcing indifference, “Maybe there was something I could have done, something I could have said, that would have prevented all of this. Maybe not – for all I know, he would have ignored anything I could have said.”

As long as she knows the situation, you tell her gravely. You'll let her know closer to the time if you can, but you'd still be happy to have her along. If nothing else, her presence might make things a little easier for everyone. Maybe she could even convince him to come quietly – it might be a pale hope, but reconciliation might not be impossible. Either way, you repeat, you'll let her know.

“Thank you,” Soma says, her voice growing hushed, “I need this, Ira, to sever ties completely. To move on.” Looking away, breaking the moment of eye contact, she forces a more casual tone. “So, you're heading to the Mentor, then?”

In other words, “give me some privacy”. You're heading there now, you tell her. One last thing – if you take her along, it could be dangerous. Is she prepared for that?

“If that's what it takes,” she gives you a firm nod, “I'm prepared.”

Then you'll let her get that private time, you tell her as you leave. Time to see what the Mentor has to say about this.

[1/2]

>>47356984

You're shown through almost immediately, waved through with something approaching urgency. When you see the Mentor – for what seems like the first time in a very long time indeed – you're surprised at how strong he looks, how confident. The frail old man, barely clinging onto a situation heading out of control, is gone now. In his place, the Mentor looks like the teacher you knew as a young man – calm, composed and infinitely wise.

If you knew then what you now know, you wonder, would you have seen him with the same respect?

“Hello Ira,” he greets you warmly, “I'm glad to have you among us once more. I received word from the Dragon's Head – the high priest spoke highly of you. A rare thing, as I understand it.”

Holm actually had a good word to say about you. Amazing really.

“And how did you find Voile?” the Mentor asks a moment later, “Were you able to discover the source of the unrest there?”

Now that's a long story. As you sit, you explain the events in Voile in as much detail as you can, only omitting some of your less legal actions. The Mentor... might not approve of using magic in such ways. He can be like that sometimes. When you finish your tale, he thinks on it for a long time, considering it with the kind of detached, studious mind that he values so highly.

“I did not realise gods could be... broken in such a way,” he admits quietly, “Baphomet was a powerful sorcerer indeed.”

He's still dead though, you point out, his power didn't him much in the end.

“Well said!” the Mentor chuckles softly, “Remember that, Ira – power, no matter how great, is limited. That's a lesson we should all keep in mind. In fact, speaking of lessons, I think you've more than earned a reward. Which path would you wish to walk?”

>Fire (Attack)
>Earth (Defence)
>Water (Social)
>Air (Other)

>>47357097
>>Air (Other)
Heals are under this one in case people forgot.

>>47357097
>Water (Social)

>>47357097
>Fire (Attack)
We all agreed on this so long ago, we have 2 waters, 2 airs but only 1 fire and earth

>>47357097
>Air (Other)
Fuck it

>>47357097
>>Fire (Attack)
Let's burn shit.

>>47356884
You want to kill the Mentor also?

Sucide doesn't solve anything. I say we make him stick around and fix his mistakes instead of getting to run away.

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1.16 MB GIF

>>47357115
>>47357142
>>47357146
>>47357159
> MFW nobody wants to diplomance with me even though that's been our usual solution to problems

Also I never agreed to anything. Why don't we stick with what we're best at instead of trying to do everything?

Hopefully we can even get some Minions going on to fight with us so we aren't always getting messed up.

>>47357200
There are only so diplomance spells, and the better one are direct gifts from the gods usually. We haven't gotten a single fire spell besides our starter, and I want to see what fire can do.

>>47357097
>>Air (Other)

>>47357097
>Fire (Attack)

>Air and Fire are both tied at three votes, so I'm going to throw this one to a sudden death. First response, fire or air, gets it

>>47357344
>Air (Other)

>>47357351

>Looks like Air wins this round. Writing the next post now.

>>47357351
>inb4 we don't get a healing spell

You wish to walk further down the path of air, you tell the Mentor, the path of magic in its purest form.

“I understand,” the Mentor nods, “There is a valuable lesson that I feel is relevant here. Come, walk with me.” As he leads you away, down into the labyrinth maze of corridors that seems to flow out from his inner sanctum, he continues to speak. “Tell me Ira, what do you know of sacrifice?”

He's not talking about human sacrifice, you ask, is he?

“No, not at all. Such things deserve their place in the past – and those who seek to bring them back are no honest members of the faithful. No, I speak of material sacrifice,” the Mentor holds up his hands, the palms raised, “Men would offer grain, meat, all things of value – things that more value than gold, in a way. They burned them, weakening themselves to show devotion to their gods. Sometimes, the gods gave back – returning what was taken.” Still holding his hands upright, the Mentor mimes a set of scales, the gesture suggestive of one thing – balance.

They didn't give it back as grain and meat, you guess, did they?

“No, you're quite right,” the Mentor nods, “It was a purer form of material. The fruit of the gods. It was said to cure all illnesses, to banish fatigue and even heal mortal wounds. Of course, such things are rarely given in these... crude times. However, the idea of this divine fruit remains alive and well. After all, the gods help those who help themselves. Even without an offering – save, perhaps, for an effort of will – we can find peace and respite.”

[1/2]

>>47357609

And then, as he falls silent, the Mentor leads you around one last corner. There, vast and abnormal, like nothing you've seen before in all the hallways and corridors of this place, grows a great tree.

“Life, Ira, can spring from lifelessness,” the Mentor says gravely, reaching down to sweep up a handful of the sand that covers the floor. No, not sand – dust.

As he lets that dust trickle through his fingers, you feel something burn within your chest. A new magic, awakening within you.

>New spell card gained:
>[Air] Panacea
>“A blessing from the Gods, this gift can be shared or jealously hoarded.”
>Immediately regain 50 health, or heal one other character of moderately serious wounds.

Silent, still gazing upon that great tree, you take a few faltering steps closer and rest your hand against the cool surface. It's stone – as smooth and perfect as Imperial jade.

“Things are not always as they seem, Ira,” the Mentor tells you gravely.

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

>>47357639
Thanks for running Moloch.

>>47357639
What would of our fire spell been?

>>47357609
these magics are cool as fuck.

So, how do we both disguise the sigil AND have extra copies to give that aren't likely to be stolen?

Also, you mentioned that several gods had to die to imprison Murmur, right? Did you mean "go to sleep" die, or "devoured like with Mentor and Seer" die?

>>47357828

For fire, our spell would have been something that broke away any kind of armour an enemy had.

>>47357871

Well, old Baphomet marked himself with his sigil so that he couldn't be separated from it, ever. That's pretty drastic, but a brand would definitely keep us safe. Alternatively, we could use pendants, paper charms or even clothing with the sigil woven in.

The gods were devoured, completely destroyed. Sorcery doesn't mess around!

>>47357916
really? Odd, I thought Mentor and Seer were the only ones to get that much power, didn't he say so? Lemme recheck the archives.

>>47357958
I think Baphomet is older than they are.

>>47357916
I'm guessing Sho'd prophesy has something to do with the contract brokered between Tatsuhiro and Kala?

>>47358100

It might have something to do with that, yes!

>>47357958
>>47358044

I certainly won't rule out having made a mistake, but Baphomet was far older than the Mentor and the Seer. Those two were, essentially, the very last sorcerers alive. Baphomet was from a much older time, so they could have been ignorant of his existence and powers.

>>47358184
Hmm, I can't find it in the archives. Probably my bad, I can't figure out why I thought that way.....

SORCERY!

>>47357916
>Alright Tawn, before we head in to hostile territory, I need you to wear this.
>....this is underwear.
>It will protect you from my antimagic
>WHY, is it underwear?
>Well, nobody would steal underwear...

>>47358211

On the internet, nobody knows you're a sorcerer.

>>47358297

Hey, if it saved my life, I'd wear magical underwear in a heartbeat!

>>47358184
Aya's dad made it to the temple yet?

>>47358382

I was planning for him to arrive at the next in-game day, so that'll be next thread.

>>47358466
How bout Ra's printing press equipment?

>>47358496

That should arrive round about the same time, I figure. It might take a while to get everything set up and ready, but the newspaper will soon be hitting the streets once again!

>>47358579
Is her first story going to be a scathing headline telling the military to go fuck themselves for trying to kill her?

>>47358297
So . . . Mormons?

>>47358381

Have you heard the word of the Church of Latter Day Saints?

>>47358643

Are you suggesting that Aya is the type to immediately launch into an act of shameless provocation?
I mean, you'd be right, but still. When the time comes, we'll have the chance to influence what she prints.

>>47358654

You know, until today I had no idea that Mormons wore special underwear. This has proved to be an educational experience for me.

>>47358718
I mean I wouldn't blame her, but just reporting news again without the direct call out would be enough of a dickslap I'd wager.

I don't know if Hirohito will be angry or amused.

>>47358820

I could see Hirohito admiring her pluck, I'll say that much about him.
Personally though, I think even just printing the most innocent, harmless news possible would be a moral victory for Aya. Trying to call out the military twice in a row might just be pushing her luck.

>>47358923
Well they haven't done anything particularly bad since Sparna (other than trying to kill her) but if they do in the future it should get printed and become public knowledge.

>>47358923
Op ed piece about the damage to the city, playing up the damage the cultists did while snidely criticizing Takhino for protecting the Emperor but not the rest of the people. While also mentioning that Hirohito was taking the fight to the cultists so T. Was there instead of him doing "the best he could"

>>47359272

That's pretty cunning. I think Aya should practice the art of the indirect attack - it might be safer for her!

>>47359026

Definitely, the military should be kept to account. Even if the public doesn't have a huge influence over things, popular opinion can prove a very significant factor.

Well, I need to head offline now. Next thread on Sunday, and thanks to everyone who contributed today!