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Viy (ID: !!bihYiLTTr/U)
Broken Tower Quest 2016-09-25 23:59:37 Post No. 626520
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Broken Tower Quest 2016-09-25 23:59:37 Post No. 626520
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The village of Greytower is not cleverly named. Certainly, nobody would look at the collection of dowdy houses and barns around what could only charitably be described as the town square without their eyes immediately being drawn to the tall, solemn spire that rises from the hill to the north.
It's a common enough phenomenon, in this country. No matter how remote or desolate the environment, be it blistering desert or sucking bog, if a Mage puts up a tower, sooner or later it will attract settlers. It can be hard to tell exactly who's taking advantage of whom, sometimes.
The settlers get protection, and the Mage gets a convenient place to procure supplies, labor, or whatever else he demands. It works, but only so long as the Mage remains. It's the Mage's presence that holds the town together; he keeps away raiders, geiststorms, and perhaps most importantly, the Imperial tax-men.
The Mage of Greytower was a good one, by most accounts, which meant that he more or less kept to himself and let the town handle its own business as long as the supplies kept coming. You're pretty sure he's dead now, if the crack nearly splitting his tower in half is any indication, and the town isn't in much better shape after that storm last night. Things are going to get really complicated unless somebody comes up with a plan in a hurry.
Unfortunately, that somebody is probably going to have to be you.
One of you, anyway.
> Isara Greytower, the Heir. Stubborn. Clever. Powerless.
> Duncan Miller, the Changeling. Charming. Lucky. Watched.
> Anne Whitelock, the Warden. Strong. Respected. Dying.
(The characters not picked as MC will exist in town as NPCs. There may be chances to control them later.)
>>
>>626520
Duncan
>>
>>626520
>Duncan Miller, the Changeling. Charming. Lucky. Watched.
>>
>>626520
>Duncan
>>
>>626520
Nah, fuck changlings
> Anne Whitelock, the Warden. Strong. Respected. Dying.
>>
>>626520
Isara
>>
Called, writing.
>>
You are Duncan Miller, and you feel like you're waking up from a nightmare.
That storm came out of nowhere last night, dark clouds converging on the town like the wrath of God himself. Most of the town took shelter in the main hall, the only building big enough to hold that many people and most of their livestock and sturdy enough to survive even the worst storm. All that labor spent building it a few years ago suddenly didn't feel like a waste anymore.
At first, the older folks had laughed and joked about it, comparing it to other, worse storms they'd lived through. By midnight, they'd stopped laughing. Geiststorm, they were whispering. You'd never seen one before, didn't know many living people who had, and the noises outside made you hope dearly that you never did again. Listen close to the wind, and you could almost make out the shrieks and roars.
Not everyone made it to the hall that night before the weather got too bad. The warden made a trip out there when it got really bad, came back with the Widow Smith, both of them looking like they'd been threshed with the wheat.
The storm broke at dawn, almost on the dot, and you shambled outside with the others, the old and the young alike all staring at the damage with shock, horror, or grim determination. Two houses burned down, the stables torn to shreds, and most of the surviving buildings would need re-roofed. The field had taken a pounding too. Worst of all, though, was the tower, split down the middle like a log that someone had taken an axe to.
Some people were reacting quicker than others. Don, the trapper, started gathering people to search the wreckage for survivors; there were six people unaccounted for, in total. Almost everyone able-bodied enough was going with him, from the looks of it. Speaker Jonah was already setting up beds for the wounded; so far that was just the warden and Widow Smith, but if they managed to dig anyone else up, they'd probably be in even worse condition. Finally, Old Nell was outside arguing with her oldest son, gesturing emphatically up at the tower while he, equally vigorously, protested. No surprise there, you can count on one hand the number of people who have willingly gone closer than a stone's throw to that tower in your lifetime and Will's always been a bit of a coward.
It's chaotic, but the town is managing to come together. Everyone's pretty good at putting aside the usual grudges, when they have to. The question is, where can you be the most help right now?
> Go with Don. Finding survivors has to be the top priority.
> The search party has enough help; see if Jonah needs a hand.
> Someone needs to check what's going on at the tower, and Will's going to make a mess of it. Volunteer to go instead.
> You're not nearly drunk enough to deal with this, and you'd probably just get in the way. Hide out in the woods for a while.
>>
>>626862
>Someone needs to check what's going on at the tower, and Will's going to make a mess of it. Volunteer to go instead.
>>
>>626862
>> Someone needs to check what's going on at the tower, and Will's going to make a mess of it. Volunteer to go instead.
considering that changelings usually aren't well thought of I doubt anyone will object, though if we're "charming" maybe that's not the case. either way, time to bite this plothook.
>>
>>626862
> Someone needs to check what's going on at the tower, and Will's going to make a mess of it. Volunteer to go instead.
That makes a 3rd
>>
Taking a breath to steel yourself, you interrupt the argument. Old Nell gives you that unreadably guarded look she always seems to wear around you, like your very presence makes her uncomfortable but she's too respectable to say so. She's not the only one; when you were a kid, it seemed like most of the older folks in town had similar looks, but you won most of them over eventually. Not Nell, though. Will, for his part, just looks relieved to not be trapped in an argument with his mother, and he nods at you.
"Good morning, Dunk. I mean..."
He trails off when he catches his dubious choice of greeting, frowning down at his shoes. Good old Will. You give him a grin, and he chuckles, despite himself, earning a stern glare from Nell.
"I'm going to go check on the tower, ma'am. Just to make sure everyone's alright."
If you let her, she'd probably come up with an excuse, but you don't give her a chance. A polite nod, and you're off, passing by Don as the leathery old trapper starts to allocate people to different buildings. He gives you a nod, glancing up at the tower.
"Got a bad feeling."
For a man of so few words, Don has a knack for stating the obvious, but he's also family, in spirit if not in blood. He's never given you that suspicious look, either. You try to set him at ease with a clap on the shoulder, ignoring the prickling in your own gut that seems to mirror the older man's concerns.
"We've lived through worse, ay? It'll work out."
Don just grunts in a way that you're going to optimistically hope is affirmative, and directs the thick-armed Brewer siblings to start moving rubble off a buried cellar door. As you turn to head back to the tower, though, he catches your arm.
"Don't do anything rash, Duncan. We'll figure this out together."
Before you can figure out how to respond to that - it's probably one of the longest statements you've ever heard him make, and the novelty throws you for a second - he's off, helping to sift through the wreckage. Unsettled for reasons you can't quite articulate, you head for the tower again.
Up close, it's almost disappointingly ordinary. Normal stone, as far as you can tell, and a normal wooden door. The grass near it grows tall and studded with wildflowers, and the door is a plain square thing that wouldn't look out-of-place on any home. Not exactly the terrible fortress of a dread wizard. You give it a few hard knocks, the sound echoing impressively through the air, and get no response. Another try, same result. Experimentally, you pull back the latch, and the door eases open a crack.
Will and Old Nell are watching you from the edge of town, one tiny shape leaning heavily on a walking stick while a larger one hovers next to her, managing somehow to project an aura of anxiety over a hundred yards.
>>
> Someone could be hurt in there, and the door's not even barred. Go inside.
> No way in hell are you walking into a Mage's tower without permission. Nell will probably agree.
> If Will's not doing anything useful anyway, why not call him over? Maybe the horrible demons will eat him first.
>>
>>627159
> Someone could be hurt in there, and the door's not even barred. Go inside.
>>
>>627159
>Yell out for anyone. If no response, go inside.
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>>627209
> No way in hell are you walking into a Mage's tower without permission. Nell will probably agree.
Can we get permission to enter? At least to our watchers?
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>>627280
> No way in hell are you walking into a Mage's tower without permission. Nell will probably agree.
I also agree with asking permission. If we are being watched all the time, they will punish us for entering the tower without asking.
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>>627280
Sure, yell out to ask for permission, I doubt there will be a response though
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>>627159
>> No way in hell are you walking into a Mage's tower without permission. Nell will probably agree.
see if we can get permission, yell or whatever
>>
Called for "try to get permission first", writing.
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>>627320
So the guys who watch us all the time won't say anything? We are basically their ward!
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>>627343
>>> Duncan Miller, the Changeling. Charming. Lucky. Watched.
Yeah cause it will be so fun to give our watchers a reason to arrest us.
If you Anons wanted to have reckless fun you should have voted the powerless guy.
>>
>>627364
Could you clarify any more what you think these watchers are?
>>
If nobody was watching, you might just slip in, but you don't really want to give Nell an excuse to get you in trouble. You give a yell through the door just in case, but when nobody answers, you trudge back down the hill to Will and Nell.
"There's no answer, but the door's unlocked. I'm worried they might be hurt in there."
Will goes a little pale at the thought, and you can't really blame him. Aside from the entirely practical concerns about what's going to happen to Greytower if the Mage is hurt or dead, there's the question of what in the world could have happened to him in the first place. You never put all that much stock in all those stories of Mages unleashing powers that they couldn't control, figured it was just scare-mongering by the priests and elders, but staring at this split tower, it's hard to be quite so flippant.
Nell's shriveled-apple face is totally unreadable, staring up at the tower silently for a moment before she finally nods.
"Fine. Be careful in there, and don't touch anything. William, get out of here and make yourself useful somewhere."
Will scurries off - you've never seen someone so big manage to look so squirrely - and, with Nell's sanction, you head back up to the tower and let yourself in.
You're not sure what you expected, but it wasn't this. The tower's no wider around than most of the cottages in town, and from the inside, you could almost mistake it for a normal house. A fireplace with a cooking pot, a few chairs, a bed, all sturdy and serviceable. None of it screamed wealth or power, and it all looked remarkably undisturbed. Aside from a crack in the ceiling, there's no sign of damage down here. A staircase on the edge of the room spiralled up to the higher floors, and a door in the floor presumably led to the cellar.
Before you can think about it too much, there's a muffled crash from upstairs. Then another, with an edge to it like splintering wood.
> Sounds like trouble. Run upstairs and see what's going on, before it's over.
> No need to be hasty, here. Sneak upstairs and see if you can catch a glimpse of who's there before they see you.
> If somebody's upstairs, that's exactly where you don't need to be. Take advantage of the distraction to search the cellar.
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>>627471
> Sounds like trouble. Run upstairs and see what's going on, before it's over.
>>
>>627471
> No need to be hasty, here. Sneak upstairs and see if you can catch a glimpse of who's there before they see you.
>>
>>627471
>> Sounds like trouble. Run upstairs and see what's going on, before it's over.
Be quick, but step lightly. If the mage is getting assaulted still, we don't want to lose the element of surprise.
>>
>>627471
>> No need to be hasty, here. Sneak upstairs and see if you can catch a glimpse of who's there before they see you.
>>
>>627471
> Sounds like trouble. Run upstairs and see what's going on, before it's over.
But shout out ahead about if they are alright etc. Don't want to surprise a mage because they are quick to anger etc
>>
Calling it while it's not tied, heh. Writing.
>>
You dart up the stairs quietly, but quickly, focused mostly on getting up there and stopping any potential mayhem before it's too late. The second floor seems to be a study, of some sort, dominated by bookshelves that square off the room's curved edges. The rift in the tower splits the walls here, a narrow crack coming down behind one of the shelves and in the ceiling overhead that lets in a glimmer of natural light to compliment the wavery light coming from a fat candle in a holder sitting on a desk to one side of the room.
Another loud crack cut through the room, its source quickly apparent. A sturdy-looking cabinet interrupted the bookshelves on one wall, held shut with a gleaming metal lock. In front of it, a girl with some sort of metal bar in her hand was doing her best to break in, having apparently given up on the lock itself and resorted to trying to break the doors.
You've seen her before, coming into town for supplies. The Mage's apprentice. As your vision adjusts to the light, you realize that her clothes are wet with blood. She's turning around, having heard you, which means you'd better come up with a plan. That metal bar looks like a fire poker.
> ...There's probably a perfectly logical explanation for all this, right? Say something to put her at ease.
> You don't really know what's going on yet, but you'll feel a lot better if you get that poker out of her hand. Move quick, while you have the advantage.
> She hasn't actually seen you yet, so you could probably slip back downstairs.
> Write-in.
>>
>>627668
>> You don't really know what's going on yet, but you'll feel a lot better if you get that poker out of her hand. Move quick, while you have the advantage.
>>
>>627668
>> You don't really know what's going on yet, but you'll feel a lot better if you get that poker out of her hand. Move quick, while you have the advantage.
>>
>>627668
>... There's probably an explanation
We are in her home you assholes, we should probably introduce ourselves instead of fucking attacking her.
>>
>>627710
Yes.
>>
>>627668
>> Write-in.
>Ask if she's okay, we came because of the storm, and does she need help. Be prepared to haul ass if she's hysterical or just looking for violence.
>>
>>627668
>perfectly logical explanation
We don't know anything about wizards- why in the 7 hells would we attack one?
>>
Looks like four for some version of "talk to her peacefully", so I'll call it there. Writing.
>>
The fact that there's someone in here and conscious reminds you that you're technically breaking and entering, and you'd really rather not exacerbate that by assaulting her. Besides, if this is the Mage's apprentice, she can probably barbeque you bare-handed. When she turns to face you, you hold up your hands palms-out in a placating gesture. You consider flashing her your most charming grin, but the blood dripping slowly off her wet sleeves suggests that some solemnity might be in order.
There's a long, awkward pause while the two of you size each other up. The girl looks like she's probably around your age, late teens or just past them, and you're distracted for a second trying to remember if you've ever heard her actual name. She doesn't look injured, as far as you can see, but that's quite a bit of blood on her.
"I just came in to see if everything was okay. That was a pretty rough storm."
She exhales slowly and leans the poker against the cabinet behind her, her gaze never leaving you.
"...I don't know if 'okay' is the word I'd use, but sure."
Her her voice is tight and clipped, either from the stress of the situation or because she's just naturally like that. She gets quiet for a minute, and you can almost see her rolling the possibilities around in her mind before she finally shakes her head.
"I appreciate the concern, but this isn't your problem. Just... tell them everything's fine, okay? The Mage is... fine."
Well, at least you know she's a terrible liar. Her eyes dart to the stairs up, for an instant.
> Calling out an angry wizard seems like a poor survival strategy, and this is officially beyond your pay grade. Smile, nod, leave.
> If something is wrong with the Mage, it's everyone's problem. Suggest that she be honest with you, or you're going to have to go tell the town what's going on.
> You can't just leave when everything's a mess like this, but pushing her may not be the best idea. Try to get her confidence.
> You really don't like being lied to. Go upstairs and see for yourself.
(Dialogue suggestions welcome.)
>>
>>627865
>"No offense, but with that blood and how stressed you seem to be, I have a hard time believing that. Don't get me wrong, I understand if it's something you wanna keep to yourself, but if something's up with the Mage, that's gonna cause issues for everyone if we can't solve it sooner than later, or at least know what's going on so we can brace for the worst."
>>
>>627865
> if something is wrong with the mage it is everyone's problem blah blah blah get your tits out
>>
>>627865
> Calling out an angry wizard seems like a poor survival strategy, and this is officially beyond your pay grade. Smile, nod, leave.
>Mention the people outside waiting for you because is true and just in case she plans to attack you from behind or something.
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>>627894
Supporting
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>>627908
Yeah this. We have watchers so if she gets rid of us someone will come to find out what happened.
>>
Three for some variant of "it's everybody's problem", called, writing.
>>
"...Look," you finally begin after a moment's hesitation, "no offense, but that... doesn't seem likely. I understand if you don't want to talk about it right now, but if something is wrong with the Mage, it's going to be a problem for all of us, sooner or later. If you tell me what's going on... maybe I can at least help with the damage control?"
The apprentice stares at you with an expression that might as well be carved from stone, but you've been glared at by the best, and you meet it patiently. Finally, she sighs and waves to the cabinet behind her.
"He's dead. Murdered. As soon as people figure that out, they're going to panic. I'm trying to figure out how to fix it before they do. So unless you have any ideas, you can either help me get into the grimoire case or stay out of my way."
It takes a second for you to process all that, and by the time you do, she's picked the poker back up and is assessing the cabinet again.
> Help her crack open the cabinet.
> This may not be your area of expertise, but you're going to have to demand a bit more of an explanation before you let her proceed to break into a shelf full of dangerous magic.
> She'll be at that for a while, from the looks of it. Look around the tower while you have a chance.
> Technically, you've done your job. Get back outside and let Nell know that the Mage is dead and his apprentice is off her rocker.
> Write-in.
>>
>>628109
>We are a changeling, seduce her.
>>
>>628143
This.
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>>628109
>> Help her crack open the cabinet.
>>
>>628109
>> Help her crack open the cabinet.
>"Do you know how, maybe a why?"
and while we're helping
>"So what do you mean 'fix it'? You can just bring him back?"
>>
Called, writing.
>>
She probably knows what she's doing, right? More or less?
Either way, you move over to the cabinet next to her and hold out a hand for the poker. She hands it over and moves aside, freeing you to do your worst on this hapless assemblage of wood. After inspecting it for a minute, you start working the blunted point of the poker into the crack between the doors, glancing back at the girl as you do.
"...So what happened? You said he was murdered?"
She's moved over to one of the other bookshelves, going through it and pulling out a volume here and there, but she nods in response.
"I didn't see much of the altercation. As soon as the storm started, he ordered me to the cellar. I heard an explosion, at some point, but I don't know what it was from. The laboratory upstairs is destroyed, but it looks like he was actually killed with a sword."
With some effort, you manage to get the poker wedged between the doors, and start applying some leverage. It eventually works, ripping the lock off one of the doors and winging them open.
"Got it. Looks like I'm smarter than a door."
You shoot her a grin of triumph, and you're pretty sure she suppresses a smirk, despite the circumstances. But maybe you're just projecting, because she unceremoniously waves you out of the way and starts delving into the shelves.
The books in here are pretty unimpressive, to be honest. Not that you were necessarily expecting jeweled covers or tomes bound in human skin - I mean, you considered it, but you weren't expecting it - but they look pretty much exactly like the rest of the shelves. There seems to be a split between crisp, identical volumes neatly labeled with incomprehensible titles like "Class 3 pt. 1" and "Logs 98-115" and dusty, fraying books with names like "History of the First Language in Old Ixia" and "On the Nature of Demonic Forms". She plucks out two thick books and takes them over to a tiny desk wedged between two shelves.
"So, when you said 'fix it'... you mean fix him? You said he was dead?"
She answers without looking up at you, paging through the tomes, her voice just a tiny bit strained.
"...It's been done before. The line between living and dead isn't as clear as you'd think."
Peeking at the book, you see pages of cramped, spidery handwriting interrupted by occasional drawings. Mostly complicated geometric designs, circles interescted with intricate patterns of lines and elaborate glyphs, but occasionally creatures. A pillar of flame with a human face. A grinning skeleton, covered in alien writing. A voluptuous woman in a silk dress, with wings made of light and gossamer. Demons.
>>
"Not to question your abilities, but... is this safe?"
She shrugs, distracted by whatever she's reading.
"You've never seen a spirit before?"
"I mean... nature spirits, sure. Every time I go to into the woods or down to the river. Healer Wex even has a tame one. But that's not the same thing as a demon."
"First of all," she grunts, turning away from the table and grabbing a corner of the rug that covers most of the floor, "there's no such thing as a tame spirit, just a well-fed one. And second, demons aren't any more inherently dangerous than elementals. Less, maybe, since demons can't actually hurt you unless you make a stupid pact or give them a body. And for this kind of healing, you want a demon."
With the carpet rolled up, she grabs a piece of chalk and starts carefully sketching on the ground, laying down circles and triangles with a quick, steady hand, pausing occasionally to measure an angle or sweep some debris from the crack out of the way.
You feel like she's understating the risks here, but it's a little too late for objections. As long as nobody gets their soul eaten, you'll consider this a good day. She finishes quickly, and stands up to survey her work with a satisfied nod, murmuring under her breath.
"It'll work this time. It has to."
You shoot her a look that presumably communicates your alarm at that entirely unassuring assurance, and she scowls.
"The summoning part is easy, okay? It's the negotiations that... give me trouble."
> As comforting as that is, this is a terrible idea, and you want no part of it. Time to go.
> This is probably a terrible idea, but you're kind of fascinated. No way are you missing this. But stand back, just in case.
> ...You know, you actually get along great with nature spirits. If it's really so similar, maybe she should let you do the talking.
>>
>>628361
>> This is probably a terrible idea, but you're kind of fascinated. No way are you missing this. But stand back, just in case.
>>
>>628364
> As comforting as that is, this is a terrible idea, and you want no part of it. Time to go.
Let's not become a human sacrifice.
>>
Yeah she is just an aprendice, she will eighter screw up or ruin us.
> As comforting as that is, this is a terrible idea, and you want no part of it. Time to go.
>>
>>628361
> ...You know, you actually get along great with nature spirits. If it's really so similar, maybe she should let you do the talking.
>>
>>628361
We're charming. Let's charm the devil.
>>
> As comforting as that is, this is a terrible idea, and you want no part of it. Time to go
>>
>>628361
> kind of fascinated, stand back and watch
Maybe there is like protocols and whatnot for when talking to demons
>>
"...I was on board with you until that last part, apprentice girl. If you've never pulled this off successfully, maybe now isn't the best time to start."
She scowls suddenly, the most expression you've seen on her face yet. "What choice do I have? Without a real Mage, we're doomed."
You shake your head slowly. "I don't know, but getting yourself killed or possessed won't help anything."
She goes quiet, looking down at the circle. "My name is Isera."
"...Duncan."
"I'm not going to make you stay if you don't want to, Duncan. Just... give me a day, okay? One day to see if I can fix this, before you tell anyone that he's dead. If not..."
Isera shrugs in resignation, looking down at her empty hands. "Then I guess we're all screwed."
>>
That seems like as good of a point to pause as any other, so there we go. The decision options for this part will come up next time.
Worth continuing? I can run a shorter session tomorrow, if anyone's interested, or wait until Wednesday for a longer one.
>>
>>628457
I'd be willing to wait until Wednesday
>>
>>628457
I think it's worth continuing, don't care when.
Three was some other "shut in apprentice leaving tower for the first time because mage died" quest a couple of months ago but it only ran a session or two.
>>
Seems like Wednesday will work, then. I'll aim for a little earlier than this one started, something like 1800 EST. Hope it was at least moderately entertaining.
>>
I like this. Players should probably have leaned a bit more on our Charming stat
>>
Rolled 80 (1d100)
>>628537
Rolling to seduce
>>
>>629293
Well looks like we take advantage of her distress to sleep with her.
>>
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>>628454
You are Duncan Miller, and you get the feeling this is going to be a long day.
The Mage is dead, allegedly murdered. Who would do such a thing? Who could do such a thing? What does it mean for Greytower? How much do you actually care?
Whatever the answers may be, you have a decision to make. His apprentice - Isera, she said her name was - is asking you to keep it a secret for a little while. That would require some lying, but you've always been pretty good at that. The question is, will you?
> Agree. One day probably won't make a difference either way, and the potential benefit is worth the delay.
> Agree. It probably won't make a difference to the town, but it'd definitely make a difference to Isera.
>No way. Even for a day, you're not going to lie to your friends and neighbors like that.
> No way. Every day counts; the town needs to know that its protector is gone so that it can start preparing for the dangers.
>>
>>635607
>> Agree. One day probably won't make a difference either way, and the potential benefit is worth the delay.
>>
>>635607Wanna advertise this on /qtg/?
>>
It's hard to have much confidence in her, but who knows? Maybe she'll pull it off, or you'll figure something out within the next day, and you can resolve this mess without sending everyone into a panic. If nothing else, it keeps your options open for now.
You're still not crazy enough to stick around and watch, though. Seriously. Demons.
The light outside is blinding, compared to the tower's candle-lit chambers, but it's a relief to get out of that fortress-turned-sepulchre. Old Nell hasn't moved from the spot you left her, still standing down at the edge of the empty space that the tower's grim presence enforces.
She looks you up and down as you approach, as if she's checking you over for weeping demon-brands or suspects you might have an extra limb tucked away under your tunic. You just give her a smile and assure her that the Mage is injured, but seems to be doing alright. Nell just nods sharply, but you don't miss the way she sags with relief for just a second. She wants to believe you enough that she doesn't question it. Even the iron-backed matriarch of Greytower's complicated web of blood and marriage ties isn't immune to some wishful thinking, it seems.
"Good. He can take care of himself, I'm sure. Everyone else is back in the hall or working on patching up roofs. The healer finally showed up, but it's not looking good."
Re-thatching roofs doesn't exactly sound pleasant. Maybe you can kill a bit of time elsewhere, first.
> Find Don. Maybe he'll have some ideas on this whole mess, and if not, he's still good to talk to.
>Go back to check on the wounded. Might be that you can do something to help.
>>
>>635773
(Sure, why not. I'm pretty bad at plugging things, but it might be worth a shot.)
>>
>>635852
Do you have a twitter? I don't know when the fuck you're running.
>>
>>635844
>>Go back to check on the wounded. Might be that you can do something to help.
>>
>>635844
> check on the wounded
We can, um, charm them into health. Yeah, let's do that.
>>
Called, writing.
>>
Somebody must have finally fetched Healer Wex from his shack by the woods at some point, because he never makes the trip by himself. He's here now, stooped over an unconscious figure that you recognize as Bryce, one of Will's older brothers. A snake, four feet long with sky-blue scales, sits coiled on Bryce's chest, its head raised to stare intently down at his face. Wex's spirit.
The healer looks up at you as you enter and shakes his head while the serpent flicks its tongue experimentally in Bryce's face. The burly man shivers and shifts restlessly, but doesn't wake.
"Fool boy was probably drinking himself into a stupor to sleep through the storm. It's a miracle he didn't bleed out from those cuts, and no doubt a disappointment to his wife."
Wex was as infamous for his sharp tongue as he was for his skill, but you always got along with him well enough. Right now, though, he looked totally spent. Sighing, he scooped the snake up from Bryce's slumbering body, letting it drape itself across his shoulders and around his neck.
"Spirit-wounds can be odd, but I've never seen the likes of this before. Even Blue can't break the fever. It's like some kind of poison's gotten into them."
There are four of them laying out in in one corner of the hall. Bryce, with no grievous injuries but so covered in tiny cuts from head to foot that there was scarcely an inch of him left intact; Jey Smith, her arms covered in a sickly rainbow of bruised bands like a pattern of ropes; Anne the warden, that nasty wound on her calf wrapped tight in bandages already soaking through with pus; and Leo Cooper, his hair shaved off so that the gash on his scalp could be stitched together. All shivering like they were in the throes of a fever dream.
Wex shakes his head slowly, taking a drink of some foul-smelling tisane from his flask. "Unless they shake it off on their own, there's nothing we can do except make them comfortable, at this point."
There are three bodies on the other side of the hall already. The ones who didn't make it, shrouded in thin blankets. All of them people you knew, talked to, did odd jobs for, drank and danced with on festival days.
Nothing we can do? Well, not exactly...
> You do have an acquaintance who's in the middle of trying to summon a demon that can heal. There'll be a price, though, if it even works.
> You have other acquaintances, too. You'll have to sneak out, though. Bring iron, just in case.
>>
>>636301
>> You do have an acquaintance who's in the middle of trying to summon a demon that can heal. There'll be a price, though, if it even works.
>>
>>636301
> walk away
Fuck doing deals with demons and faeries for some random non plot relevant villagers.
>>
>>636301
>Making a pact with a demon could get you killed as heretic. It gets normal people killed and you are a changeling not a powerful wizard. But the wizard's aprendice could have a way to help them, since they aren't dead yet. Just get the fuck out of there if she insists with using a damn demon for it.
>>
>>
Called for "ask Isera, but no demons". Writing.
>>
The idea of summoning demons still seems deeply unwise. But that's not all mages do, right? You remember seeing the Mage summon rain, once, during a particularly savage summer. It hadn't been much, but it had been enough to save the crop, and no demons involved, as far as you could tell.
You get a few alarmed glances when you jog back to the tower, but nobody actually objects. Isera is more or less exactly where you left her, hunched over the tiny desk and writing something. From the amount of crossed-out lines, it's not going very quickly.
"Huh? Oh, it's you again. Decided to help?"
"...Not exactly. How much do you know about healing without demons? There are some people in town who are sick, and the healer can't help them."
Isera frowns, running an ink-spotted hand distractedly through her short, spiky hair. "...I know the twelve primary and eight extraordinary meridians. The humors, and how to regulate them. I know the five major healing formulas, and a few dozen minor ones. I know Eruthild's Theories of Tissue Replication, and Kalgore's Principles of Infectious Disease. I know enough anatomy to keep a person alive with most of their internal organs missing, for at least a few hours, with the right spells."
"...None of which is any help, since my master's contracts all lapsed when he died and I don't have any of my own. I have no power, Duncan. No spirit will deal with me. This is my only shot."
She gestures to the preparations behind her, the summoning circle still sketched out on the floor.
> Nothing else for it, then. Ask if she'll add the villagers' lives onto her demon pact.
> If the choice is between powerlessness and being in the debt of a demon, you're going to have to recommend the former. Advise her to give it up, since she's obviously not suited for magic.
> Even if she's powerless, she's still knowledgeable. If she comes with you to see the villagers for herself, maybe she can at least figure out what's wrong with them.
> ...Hold up now. You have questions. (Write-in.)
>>
>>636695
>> Nothing else for it, then. Ask if she'll add the villagers' lives onto her demon pact.
>>
>>636695
>> ...Hold up now. You have questions. (Write-in.)
>I have no power, Duncan. No spirit will deal with me.
huh, how does that work? you trained under a mage but you had no magical talent? None at all?
> Even if she's powerless, she's still knowledgeable. If she comes with you to see the villagers for herself, maybe she can at least figure out what's wrong with them.
>>
>>637025
> Even if she's powerless, she's still knowledgeable. If she comes with you to see the villagers for herself, maybe she can at least figure out what's wrong with them.
>Can't you make a few deal with spirits them? I am good at talking with spirits. I could introduce you to the ones I know!
We did mention that before didn't we? That we were good with spirits?
>>
>>637965
Nah, we're good with talking in general.
>>
>>636695
>Even if she's powerless, she's still knowledgeable. If she comes with you to see the villagers for herself, maybe she can at least figure out what's wrong with them.
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