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Thread: Apotheosis: Shadows of a Bright Republic (IC)

  1. #161
    March 12, 1000 AS
    1200 hours
    Shujumi Tower, Harbortown
    Everyone

    Quote Originally Posted by Dorothy
    "The Vissians, do we know anything of them? What company is heading the escort? From what family?"
    "The Rossi are footing the bill for this trip. Ruthless bastards, them Rossi. They'd sell their own mothers if you offered the right price." Jimmy clicks his tongue. "Company is the same as the family; it's their West Arcem Trading Company. I don't have much intel on their munitions, but expect some of their shitty steampunk junk." He gives a disgusted shake of his head at the thought, while the nearby Professor perks up at the idea of Vissian engineering.

    Quote Originally Posted by Dorothy
    "And I would appreciate it if you would not inflict your decadent, imperialist ways upon my home," She responds flatly, "Adding a fourth mouth gnawing on the Confederacy to the triad of gluttonous foreigners does not precisely fill me with warmth."
    Jimmy and Hana both shiver in unison at the thought of something, but the unfazed Professor responds to Dorothy: "You will have to take that matter up with Grandfather yourself. He is quite easygoing, so long as one does not presume to tell him 'no.'" Professor glances over at Jimmy, who flinches, before looking back to Dorothy. "Perhaps he will be conducive to allowing a local to rule the Raktine Kingdom. After all, Grandfather merely wishes for a garden in which to sow the seeds of Faith."

    Tang whistles softly. "Damn, Dorth. Sounds like someone's startin' a cult in yer backyard."

    "Nothing of the sort. His Faith is merely an... adaption of Oneism. It will not needlessly alter the local culture." Professor quickly corrects.

    Quote Originally Posted by Gabby
    "Uh, I know we're demigods and all, but the Abraham? Biggest, fanciest ship in the fleet? I don't think we could just hop on a rowboat and kick the door down when we get there..."
    "Well, thankfully you guys have a fellow engineer and a cucumber cool businessdude." Jimmy fingerguns at Astra and Paul. "If you need our help, just holler, but I think you guys are bad enough dudes to steal the heart of an angel."

    Quote Originally Posted by Gabby
    "Well, we have time to figure that out. Hey, Hana!" Gabrielle turned to the younger girl, brow furrowing slightly. "What exactly have you been doing to those poor atheists? The misguided need help, not punishment. Punishment is for the *evil*, not the lost."
    "Eh? No, I only kill the ones spreading it." Hana says, scratching the back of her head. "I only kill the anti-priests, not their sheeple. I'm not a religious fanatic!" She says with a snort.

    "Messes that this one and her sisters have to clean up." Professor's eyes bore into the back of Hana's head as the teenage punk whistles innocently. "This is not lawless Arcem; please refrain from senseless killing and speak to this one first." Finally, a modicum of sense around here! "With this one's Word, this one can turn them into entirely devoted spies."

    While the two girls talk to Gabby, Jimmy scratches his chin, squinting at Dorothy. "So you're a Raktine, huh? Ever seen a Cackling Crow before? What about a Whispering Moose?" His eyes then turn to Markus. "... uh, Bleak Reach?" He guesses. "What about you, Abby?" He clearly asks Volcania. "Where you and your friend from? Patria? The Pirate Isles?"

  2. #162
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    Dorothea Ionescu
    March 12, 1000 AS
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    Shujumi Tower, Harbortown


    "Damn, Dorth. Sounds like someone's startin' a cult in yer backyard."

    "It would not be the first," I intoned, deeply familiar with the myriad offshoots and distortions the people of the land partake in to give praise to The One.

    "There are dozens upon dozens of petty states spilled across the Confederacy, and among each of those, there are at least a dozen permutations of giving praise to The One, influenced by factors ranging from cultural influence from nearby powers, geological formations, smaller hero cults, and, first among all, not wanting to be anything like those losers in the next township who probably stole my goat.

    I paused, considering.

    "My homeland is- I believe a word in the local vernacular that would be appropriate is 'incredibly extra'."

    I turned my head toward Jim, eyes evaluating for a moment.

    "Cackling Crows are a scam created by Vissian sideshows, Whispering Moose are devolved tales of what the northerlies call Wiindigo, a parasitic organism that infests bones and assorted offal, to construct a bipedal form for itself, continuing to consume any and all living biomass it can find, both academics from the Free City and Curse Eaters in the field concur that they are intelligent and will lure unwary travelers toward them, dangerous, strong, mostly just scary-looking and a nuisance, those predating on humans do not last long, either killed in reprisals, or picked off by more dangerous predators."

  3. #163
    Vlovle Bloble's Avatar
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    March 12, 1000 AS
    1200 hours
    Shujumi Tower, Harbortown
    Volcania

    "...hm?"

    The question shakes Volcania out of a thought she had fallen into, one that had momentarily numbed her to the conversation. She looks down at the small man called Jimmy.

    "Yep, Patria," she answers. "But I've been all over. We had a good few years in the Bleak, didn't we, Tang? Course, the boys didn't like it too much. Saw lots a scary stuff there wasn't a name for, and it's better off that way."

    Yes, the rules out there are certainly different from those over here. The Republic feels almost like a different world compared to the rest of the continent. It makes her wonder if perhaps the ones born here lack a certain perspective of what it means to be alive.

    "Ah, kiddo, we should be clear." The tall woman adjusts her too-tight shirt as she catches the attention of the other pantheon. "Doc's said it in half as many words already, but I'll spell it out for you all the same: we're all awful at taking orders. So don't expect us to stick with the plan if it starts to stink."

  4. #164
    The Dragon of Dojima MssrNeko's Avatar
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    March 12, 1000 AS
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    Shujumi Tower, Harbortown
    Paul Copperbell


    As the talks wind on, Paul buries himself in numbers and calculations. He flips through maps of the port area on his phone and various news articles concerning Harbortown. Paul's fingers swipe fast like a scythe in harvest as he memorizes faces, stocks, and criminal activity history. For some odd reason, this kind of work felt like a breeze compared to before; Paul wonders if his newfound powers makes it easier to do this kind of work. Yet he did not feel like a demigod these others supposed he is.

    Pushing this thought aside, Paul calculates a mysterious amount of capitol for this hypothetical seizure of Harbortown. It is an absurd amount of money but Paul subdivides the result into manageable chunks.

    "Blazing Sun, what the fuck," he spits aside.

    A loan is needed. It is not necessary but it can help ease the early burden.

    "James," Paul says cutting into the conversation. "We're going to need a down payment if we're going to take Harbortown. We can discuss exactly how much after, but I can guarantee your investment back."

    Paul clicks his tongue with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

    "Thirty days. Triple your investment. Plus interest."

    Copperbell holds out his hand, a familiar feeling re-igniting in his core.
    Last edited by MssrNeko; November 1st, 2023 at 10:16 PM.

    Spoiler:

  5. #165
    March 12, 1000 AS
    1210 hours
    Shujumi Tower, Harbortown
    Everyone

    Quote Originally Posted by Dorothy
    "My homeland is- I believe a word in the local vernacular that would be appropriate is 'incredibly extra'."
    "Yeah, I think that's actually why he set up shop there. Honestly, I'm not sure I get it. But like... if he wants to do a little civilizin', I ain't gonna stop him." Jimmy shrugs his shoulders. "Also holy shit, the Moose is real? God that sounds metal as fuck! Think you can capture one for me? I'd pay ya good money for it!" Jimmy rubs his hands together, grinning broadly at the idea of a sideshow Raktine horror. "Speakin' of money-"

    Quote Originally Posted by Paul
    "James," Paul says cutting into the conversation. "We're going to need a down payment if we're going to take Harbortown. We can discuss exactly how much after, but I can guarantee your investment back."

    Paul clicks his tongue with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

    "Thirty days. Triple your investment. Plus interest."

    Copperbell holds out his hand, a familiar feeling re-igniting in his core.
    "Don't care about money. What I want is favors and goodwill. Consider the 'down payment' a gift, and just remember who it came from when the time comes." Jimmy gives the much older man a toothy grin. "Also the Heart of Hecate. If you guys can get me that consider all debts repaid and then some." He grabs Paul's hand, should Paul still be willing to grab it on those terms.

    Quote Originally Posted by Volcania
    "Yep, Patria," she answers. "But I've been all over. We had a good few years in the Bleak, didn't we, Tang? Course, the boys didn't like it too much. Saw lots a scary stuff there wasn't a name for, and it's better off that way."

    "Ah, kiddo, we should be clear." The tall woman adjusts her too-tight shirt as she catches the attention of the other pantheon. "Doc's said it in half as many words already, but I'll spell it out for you all the same: we're all awful at taking orders. So don't expect us to stick with the plan if it starts to stink."
    "'Few good years' the lady says." Tang heaves a sigh. "Damn near los' me eye in tha' hellhole, gemenr! To say nuthin of thebleedin' cold! God, why's the north got to be so damn cold!" He shivers at the memory alone. "Put conquerin' the Regency on th' list, gemenr, 'cause I for sure don't wanna live me whole life here 'less you make some kinda weather warmin machine."

    The young radio personality laughs at Volcania's words as his hand hovers by Paul's, waiting for a handshake. "Damn, Abs McGee,you must have a shitload of stories to tell! I'll get you an actual fitting suit if you let me hire ya a ghost writer." He cocks his head as Volcania explains her Pantheon's position, clearly confused. "Well yeah, if my intel's fuckin bad we'll just have to cut our losses. I figure that was obvious? Don't kill yourselves over the Heart, just keep in mind the shitload of goodies I'll give you if y'all can bring it back. Christ Almighty, Godbound don't grow on trees. Especially not ones that'll actually talk to me instead of trying to cut my head off."

    Hana groans. "It was one time and it was an accident!"

  6. #166
    The Dragon of Dojima MssrNeko's Avatar
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    March 12, 1000 AS
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    Paul Copperbell


    Paul shakes Jimmy's hand firmly with a nod. "We can discuss the fine details after this."

    "And careful with that generosity," Paul continues with a wag of his free finger. "You will never know who takes an inch and who takes a mile."

    Spoiler:

  7. #167
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    Gabrielle Monet
    March 12, 1000 AS
    1200 Hours
    Shujumi Tower, Harbortown


    Quote Originally Posted by Hana
    I only kill the anti-priests, not their sheeple. I'm not a religious fanatic!
    Yeah, sure.

    Gabby wasn't entirely convinced of that last bit, nor was she aware of the irony of the thought. Well, Miss Professor seemed relatively trustworthy. Forced conversion wasn't exactly ideal, but maybe it was just a matter of being really convincing?

    "No plan, then. Just a couple of leads. Good enough!" Smiling brightly, Gabby took a glance towards the group's hacker. "Maybe Astra can dig up some info on these guys or their ships that's a bit better hidden? And we can have a nice group outing and beat some ense into a few cultists."
    <Satehi> thank you based admin of justice, he/she who doth bring forward the true gospel

  8. #168
    Astra
    March 12, 1000 AS
    1200 Hours
    Shujumi Tower, Harbortown
    Shadowy old dude working behind a rich crazy guy and religious crazys...

    A super carrier would make a very cool base though.

    Shaking her head to clear the cobwebs of thoughts that started cluttering. "Mn, I'll see what I can find? A bit of time and I'll make some better tools for information."

    Well, and anything else. She was rather envious of the well equipped base this group seemed to have.

    Not that she couldn't make a better one, given some time.

    "You're not planning on making a bomb that would disrupt etheric nodes within a large radius from the fallen angel heart are you?" One of those random thoughts tumbling out of her mouth.
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  9. #169
    Vlovle Bloble's Avatar
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    March 12, 1000 AS
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    Shujumi Tower, Harbortown

    "Sounds like a fun use for it," is Volcania's sole comment. She seems pleased enough with the arrangements.

  10. #170
    March 12, 1000 AS
    1210 hours
    Shujumi Tower, Harbortown
    Everyone


    Quote Originally Posted by Astra
    "You're not planning on making a bomb that would disrupt etheric nodes within a large radius from the fallen angel heart are you?" One of those random thoughts tumbling out of her mouth.
    Jimmy sloooowly turns to look at Astra, his lips creeping upwards into a grin. "Well goddamn, I wasn't gonna but how can I say no to an idea like that? Hell yeah crazy abs lady; that idea's rad as fuck! Good going, science kid!" He finger guns at Astra.

    With not much else to discuss, the group leaves the Tower. Now, finally, our heroes are free to pursue their own interests. Their own projects. Their own cults! Although that isn't to say that the world stops spinning to wait on our heroes.

    Because it most certainly does not.




    March 15, 1000 AS
    Harbortown's Ancalian Orthodox Chapel
    Volcania

    Volcania had certainly moved up in the world! From living in a shithole hole in the wall ghetto tenement to living in a shithole hole in the wall church, at least in her new living arrangement she had Ancalians at her beck and call to wait on her every whim. The former slave's old gang was a bit... unsure about their leader's new status as Christ Reborn, but they've swiftly adapted to being the New Apostles. So much so that a few had to be gently reminded by Volcania not to take advantage of her new cult members.

    The walls themselves have been painted, and though the depiction of Christ's birth is crude she can tell a lot of heart when into the depiction. The doors to the chapel swing open, and in walk Makda and her newest shadow, Tang. The poor Ren has been trying to put the moves on the Ancalian for several days now, and much to his chagrin with zero success. Taking a knee before Volcania, Makda bows her head. "Your Holiness: I beseech thine aid. As bearer of your word, I seek your assistance in codifying thine Holy Word. This land is godless and filled with degeneracy, and in these dark times your flock needs salvation; they need freedom from a horrible life."

    Her wording was far from an accident. Tang especially shifts uncomfortably, a bit unsettled at how quickly the young Ancalian found the right word to whisper in the Volcano's ear. Even so, Volcania senses true zeal within her: even if her words are diplomatic and tailored, Makda believes them from the bottom of her heart.




    March 15, 1000 AS
    The Residence of a Notable Businessman, Liberty Heights
    Gabby

    Mystery cults.

    In every era of human history there is the mainstream orthodoxy. The truth regime. Widely believed by the masses and permeating every aspect of their culture. Whether God or Reason, Culture or Science, Fact or Fiction, this foundational myth is by its very nature the bedrock of the masses.

    The elites, however, are a different story. So far above the masses, so far above plebeian beliefs, they have their own organizations. Their own myths. Their own mystery cults.

    The Penitent are no different.

    "Welcome back, Gabby." Pastor Dean Linwood gives the newly-minted Godbound a warm, fatherly smile. "Apologies, but I need a moment. Mr. Li's induction was earlier, and, well-" he shrugs, gesturing to the bloodied whip with his own blood-encrusted hands. "You know how it is." Linwood hums to himself as he cleans up, blood running down into the sink. "Don't be alarmed, but I know you've been keeping secrets from me, Gabby. That one lady: the one in the slums. Vol...cano, was it? She's in with a bad sort of crowd. Ancalian Orthodoxy is the way of Old Mankind. Of sin. I'd expect ten lashings for not telling me immediately, but I suspect you wouldn't even be hurt by such penitence anymore." A good-natured laugh escapes the man's lips, and Linwood dries now-clean hands on a nearby towel. "And I'd wave the punishment entirely for bringing so many wonderful new converts. You truly are doing the One's work, Gabrielle. Good work, my child."

    Stepping over to stand before her, Linwood pats the girl on the head. "When I found you, you were but a lost lamb. Now you lead the lost to salvation. Never have I been prouder of a disciple."

    "Ah, but do tell me everything your new friends get up to."

    In every era of human history there are secret organizations gnawing at the roots of the mainstream orthodoxy. The Penitent were never any different. Mankind had sinned, and only through pain could the slate be wiped clean.




    March 15, 1000 AS
    Dorothy's Clinic
    Dorothy, Markus, Paul


    Paul was a man of business. Of administation. For Paul, a tidy and well organized office was not just a point of pride, but a necessity. Without organization, nothing gets done. No money gets made. Businesses go bankrupt. But most importantly, without organization-

    "I got two Ren dudes! Bullet wounds in the chest and-"

    "Shit! Nancy, I need twenty cc's of-"

    "Mama! The nice nurse lady gave me two lolipops!"

    "Jesus Christ, Kirsten, if you don't get off that damn phone and help me-"

    Chaos insues. Paul had been brought to help sort out the clinic's finances for possible expansion, and instead he found complete and total anarchy in the form of a back-alley clinic. Poor Markus had been dragged along for the ride solely due to his offer to help the sick.

  11. #171
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    Dorothea Ionescu
    March 15, 1000 AS
    Dorothy's Clinic


    A deep inhale, some small stretches of her back and neck, and-

    Out.

    The mild and only occasionally threatening mien of the physician vanished behind a wall of pure Authority.

    Even before the touch of God had blessed her, this clinic, this humble building with its leaking roof, disorganized lobby, and harried denizens screeching in a thousand tongues from a thousand lands-

    It was Her Domain.

    "OI! Shaddap! You're indoors, so use your God-Blessed Indoor Voices or I'll have you scrubbing the floors for a week!"

    The White Death Entered, eyes firmed with a harsh glower, demanding fealty or submission.

    "Right."

    A pause, barely a flicker in time, as a mind endowed with swiftness from the Genesis pondered, taking in all necessary information.

    "Lizzie, the two Ren with bullet trauma, go. Markus, since you're wanting to help, gloves," A pair were offered from... somewhere?

    "He's not from the city, but he's experienced with rural medicine and I trust his judgment, Lizzie, get him spun up."

    A shift, "Derek, what's the condition of the patient, any allergies, what you got for the chart?" A flicker of red eyes, "Just take it easy, I'm here."

    "And Miss Kirsten, if I see that rectangle anywhere outside the break bench I will personally administer a rectal extraction."

    A breath, as the prowling sovereign of the clinic approached the intake desk, leaning over the slightly cowering freckled teenager.

    She smiled kindly.

    "Thanks for helping out, Brian, I always appreciate you coming by to help after school."

    Dorothea tugged on another pair of gloves, turning to the suited older gentleman who looked a little as if he was dying inside.

    "Paul, if you want to help out Brian with intake, I'd appreciate it, but it's up to you."

    A snap of latex and the domineering persona resumed.

    "Arright, Nancy, I'm on deck, Derek, talk."

  12. #172
    Vlovle Bloble's Avatar
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    March 15, 1000 AS
    Harbortown's Ancalian Orthodox Chapel
    Volcania

    "Codifying the Holy Word, huh...?"

    Volcania had been staring at the crude art on display, her thoughts everywhere and nowhere all at once. Makda's appearance caught her by surprise, though she relaxed upon hearing a familiar plea.

    "Freedom from a horrible life, yeah, we could all use that. Alright, need to stretch my legs a little anyway."

    She takes the request in stride... literally.

    "Walk and talk with me, Makda. Tang, you come too. Thinking's best done with your feet planted on the ground and with your eyes on the horizon, not on the floor."

    Yes, this chapel is nice, but it does not yet feel like a place where she belongs. So she'll go where she does: outside, under the open sky.

    "Y'know, I don't remember how Christ did it," is the first thing Volcania says. "But he lived in a different world. So I'm doing things my way. You're fine with that, right?"

  13. #173
    March 15, 1000 AS
    Harbortown's Ancalian Orthodox Chapel
    Volcania

    Tang follows behind Volcania, hands behind his head and not looking all too sure about any of this cult business. "Yeah, I'm thinkin' a walk could do us some good. Air our heads out, maybe clear some thoughts." Makda shoots him a glare as she rises to her feet to follow Volcania, and Tang only shrugs in response. "Look, s'not my fault this entire business reeks like a Parasite God thing. This really the vibe we wanna go for, gemenr?"

    "Your Holiness, you are Christ Reborn: your word is law." Makda makes a point of ignoring the Ren man, much to his chagrin. "I can guide you in the teachings of your previous incarnation, but I am not God: only a woman." She bows her head, walking in stride a respectful distance behind her new spiritual liege. "I speak for all your lambs when I say your Freedom has touched each and every one of our lives."

    "S'yer speakin' for everyone now?" Tang grumbles under his breath. "I didn' pick ya."




    March 15, 1000 AS
    Dorothy's Clinic
    Dorothy, Markus, Paul

    "We've got a lot of people in because of your new friend." Derek says, lips quirking down in irritation. "New boss in town, I get that. She needs to throw her weight around to get the punks in line, but it is really making our lives a living hell. Can you tell her to cool it down a bit? She's some kind of Cinnabar archmage, right? Does she really need her gangbangers shooting people?" He gestures to the two injured Ren. Interesting, mostly because Dorth knows for a fact that Volcania had all of her men accounted for when the shooting occured, and none were anywhere near where the report says it happened. The Ren gangsters could be lying to cover their sorry asses, though.

    Nancy is the next to rush up, clipboard in hand. "A Din man's corpse, Republican native. The Harbortown Police Department of all people it down here for us to conduct an autopsy." Nancy says in disbelief. "Said not to call the office directly, but this number." Pulling a napkin off the clipboard, she hands it to the most secretary looking person there: Paul. She smiles at Paul and Markus. "New secretary, and...?" she asks, looking at Markus. "Intern? Are we that shortsta- ok, stupid question. We are."

  14. #174
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    Dorothea Ionescu
    March 15, 1000 AS
    Dorothy's Clinic, Harbortown


    "Hngh," I grunt wordlessly, taking in the words with the air of a mildly aggrieved Copse Crab (sometimes called the Corpse Crab for reasons that are actually fairly innocuous), "While they're a bunch of revved up punks, they don't usually go shootin' people up for no reason."

    Granted, when you're revved up on thinking the person you follow around like a sick dog is some sort of muscle-covered rendition of the Lamb of God, it's not inconsiderable to think they might be violent, particularly in this thoroughly godless land.

    Still.

    "Plus, she's a good minder, and I don't think she'd let a bunch of yahoos run around without knowing where they're off to," I note, peering at Derek over my glasses, "Tell you what, I'll have a word with her about it, need to start brainstorming the expansion ideas anyway. But, for another time, now..."

    I glanced at Nancy, disappointed, "You not hear me? Guess I'm not talking loud enough, He's from out in the country, rural medicine type, you could probably toss him anywhere from the crash cart to the catwalk and he'd do fine."

    Mark's a bit of a quiet sort, so with my word as assurance, I doubt people're gonna be squinting at him, Paul, though...

    Hm.

    "Paul's a real numbers-guy, probably the best I know," I said, truthfully, "He heard we're a little, uh, y'know," I gestured at the ever-present chaos, "So he decided to come have a look."

    Anyway.

    "I'll have a look at the Ren, we got names? If they don't give them, I'll make some up. The cop's stiff'll keep for a bit, and I'll have these two rascals taken care of pretty quick."

  15. #175
    Dreary, rainy days... Elyrin's Avatar
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    March 15, 1000 AS
    The Residence of a Notable Businessman, Liberty Heights
    Gabrielle Monet

    Gabby wasn't surprised to see Father Linwood had been up to his usual business. It was the "usual business" for a reason, after all. Just another day on the job, really, even if it was a bit more important than some random guy on the street's job.

    "Nice to see you too, Father Linwood. I hope you're not being too rough on the new arrivals?" Gabby responded, though mostly joking. Linwood took his work seriously and he knew what he was doing, so she wasn't really concerned. "They've been through a lot, and not everyone's as tough as me."

    The young woman took a seat as the pastor cleaned up, though she perked up a little hearing the man already had an idea what she had been up to. It's not like she hid anything, she just hadn't gotten around to it yet.

    "Is it normal in confession for the priest to know what the penitent is confessing to already? Serious question. I wasn't really a church girl before." Gabby frowned slightly, pondering her own question. "I won't complain about a few lashes, but, yeah, I don't know if that really counts as penitence for me anymore."

    Really, it was kind of awkward that Gabby's blessings had left her nigh-impervious to pain and reduced even horrific injuries to only a moderate inconvenience. That made it a lot harder to undertake her usual penitent rites. How was she supposed to pay her dues in that state? The One truly worked in mysterious ways.

    "Hmm. Volcania... it's a bit early to say, but I'm not too concerned about her? She seems to be a decent sort, not really agreeing with me, but not really arguing either. It's a start. The Ancalians, though?" Gabrielle winced at the thought of her speech from a few days ago. "I tried talking to them. I, uh, might have stolen a few lines from your sermons. But it was bad. I think they think I'm the Antichrist."

    Really not ideal. Maybe Gabby would talk to Volcania sometime, see if they could attempt to smooth things over somehow.

    "Right now, everyone's going back to their own business. One lady is a doctor, runs her own clinic? She dragged a couple of the others off to help out with that. I was thinking of lending a hand too. Seems like she's super busy there. But-" Gabby frowned again. They hadn't known each other too long, but it was clear there was some friction between her own ideas and Dorothy's. "I know it's important to do what's necessary for survival. I know just waving my hands around or handing someone an elixir that painlessly heals all their injuries deprives them of the penance the One asks of them. But I don't think the doctor would like my methods, and I don't think I have the words to convince her, either. She seems really... intense. More than Volcania."
    <Satehi> thank you based admin of justice, he/she who doth bring forward the true gospel

  16. #176
    The Dragon of Dojima MssrNeko's Avatar
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    March 15, 1000 AS
    Dorothy's Clinic
    Paul Copperbell


    Paul shifts on his ankles. He did not like being in hospitals or other medical facilities. It is not the hustle of staff and patients but the smells and sense of being in a healing ward. The haze of sterile cleaners, a hint of iron, with the feeling of uncertainty. And with how small the clinic is, Paul cannot help but feel like he is stuck inside a vial of chemicals.

    Quote Originally Posted by Dorothea
    "Paul's a real numbers-guy...So he decided to come have a look."
    Paul grunts in acknowledgement. The promise of burying his nose in paperwork lifts Paul's spirits, to separate himself from the chaos. But Paul cannot stop himself from feeling a pang inside his heart at this sight. The staff hurrying along, clearly lacking in extra hands, with their patients awaiting relief. James' words from days before echo in Paul's head; Harbortown is theirs to take care of.

    A queer thought comes to Paul's head.

    Is this how He feels?

    Paul strolls to a small table nearby, a scattering of pamphlets on it. He grabs a pamphlet (Essentials to First Aid) and turns to Dorothea. "You guys need an extra pair of hands?"

    Spoiler:

  17. #177
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    March 15, 1000 AS
    Harbortown's Ancalian Orthodox Chapel
    Volcania

    "Picked me though, right, Tang? So don't sweat it."

    Volcania takes them through Harbourtown. All the familiar streets she's walked, and unfamiliar ones as well. They could be safe or dangerous, boring or amazing, she doesn't know. That's where the excitement comes from.

    "Say, Makda, y'know I never read the Bible, right? Was never much the religious type." It is, perhaps, a heretical admission. "Me and the boys here, we grew up in the fighting pits. Not as bad as the pit you were in, but it was blood and sweat all the same. Some people find gods there, in the grime and the sand. We found freedom, beating in our chests. It's not something that's just given to you; it's something that lives in you, that you feed bit by bit until one day it roars and you realize it's worth more than a roof over your head and three meals a day and tomorrow and the tomorrow after that and every other tomorrow you might have left."

    As they pass by buildings and tired faces, on occasion Volcania places her palm on the side of a building or on the ground. Lumps of strange stone are left in her passing, slowly rising.

    "That's all to say, I got no idea if I'm that Christ of yours. Don't remember a thing about any past life. Whether I am or not, that's something you gotta decide. I just know that feeling we all shared in the pits, in the Bleak, beats a bit more strongly in my chest than it does in anyone else's."

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