Getting an Audience with Death

“The whole city?” Narco inadvertently shouts.

Gambit nods. “It’s very likely. From what he said, Liviana used Pluto’s Veil to gather followers. The entire city could be festering with fanatics.”

The party watches the people of Magiadmirari with scrutinous examination. They notice that there is a tinge of madness in all their eyes. Something has completely consumed their lives and futures, leaving behind these hollow husks of zealotry.

“We need to do something.” There’s an uncertainty in Mira’s voice.

Narco agrees, but his own uncertainty resonates with hers.

With a childish cynicism, Free Stuff mocks the idea. “Do what exactly? Go to the massive cathedral that was once Faefora’s, walk in unannounced without being questioned, and assassinate a God that everyone loves? And then what? Will they be happier? Will we be celebrated as heroes who killed a tyrannical God, or will we be condemned and executed for deicide?”

“As much as I disagree with the sentiment, killing a God takes more than the simple act of murder. We need to kill their faith… as harmful as that might sound.” While Gambit suggests this, he doesn’t seem happy about killing the people’s hope.

“Pluto’s Veil allows her to use the dead as illusory puppets. She can use their faces and voices to make them say whatever she wants. Who knows what she made them say to every villager to coax such devotion out of them.” Narco slowly rolls his thumbs together, focusing on possible ways to complete the mission.

Free Stuff grumbles. “I thought I told you before, the ga-” He catches himself as he sees Mira’s wide eyes. “The way it worked was described as necromancy. You’re remembering how it acted in practice, with it conjuring untouchable illusion-like entities to deal psychic damage. Based on everything we’ve seen, do you really expect it to act the same?”

The crowds grow larger, forcing more people to walk closer to the group. Narco lowers his voice, but it carries a sharper edge. “If we move forward assuming that all our knowledge is useless, then we might as well give up. This knowledge gives us an advantage. It’s how Gambit escaped from the dungeon. It’s how we farmed the skeletons at the Dragon’s Castle. Are you really suggesting we throw all we know out the window?”

“Of course not. All I am saying is that the…” Free Stuff pauses. He ponders briefly and then uses air quotes to convey the double meaning to Narco. “The ‘Great Creators’ often had different descriptions for items than their actual implementation. It was like that children’s game that Gambit loves to play.” Free Stuff gives Gambit a knowing side-eye.

“Come on. I don’t play it. Not really. I just like to collect all the Spiritlings and their rare color variants.” Gambit says defensively.

GG places her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I play it too.”

“You used to gather spirits as a child?” Mira asks Gambit.

Free Stuff coughs to regain the group’s attention. “I was just saying, wasn’t there a Spiritling that’s fire was described as the same temperature as the sun?”

Gambit answers. “Yes.”

“And did its fire do that much more damage, or realistically, destroy the planet?”

“No.”

“That’s my point.” Free Stuff waits for his friends to connect the dots so he doesn’t have to continue to explain things in front of Mira. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like everyone is on the same page. He groans. “All I’m saying is, what if the lore has become true rather than the limited ‘implementations’ of the lore.”

Everyone but Mira seems to understand what Free Stuff is talking about.

Knowing his aversion to reading and Free Stuff’s love of world building, Gambit asks, “So then, what does the lore say?”

“From what I can remember: it connects the living and the dead. It can conjure and command specters, using their likeness, voice, and memories as if it were the wearer’s own. Then it talked about some mystery associated with the veil. That no one knows why the souls of the past have no will of their own.” Free Stuff falls deep in thought.

“That’s a stupid description.” Gambit jokes. “I knew I wasn’t missing much by skipping the readings.”

“Don’t be an idiot. It at least tells us that the conjured don’t possess minds, and are just cheap tricks.” He says with an orcish grunt.

Narco chimes in. “So… illusion magic.”

“Did you listen to nothing I said? It isn’t illusion magic, it uses the dead and makes… Oh never mind.” Free Stuff gives up with a frustrated huff. “Let’s just see if we can find some way to get an audience with this Liviana character.”

There isn’t any disagreement. Getting a meeting with Liviana seems like the best play to each of them. They decide to split up, asking around different sections about the religion and how to meet with the Goddess of Mercy.

GG investigates around the town square near the inn they stayed at. Gambit investigates the run-down adventurer’s guild and finds it was disbanded with only the bar remaining. Free Stuff investigates the blacksmith shops, and is met with cold stares; he had hoped he could use the dragon parts he harvested to get some armor made, but their eyes make him keep his distance. Narco snoops around the Faefora Cathedral which he learns was renovated to be a small, heavily guarded palace for Liviana. Mira has the most success, asking around until she approaches a man in robes walking down the street and learns he is a devoted attendant to Liviana.

He is named Ian, and he serves as one of the High Ministers of the Liviana Faith. With a slight bow of his head, he greets Mira kindly. Despite his age, his posture is quite spry, while his wizened face is stiff and stern. He carries himself with a cunning discipline.

So much of this unnatural town with its uncanny people sticks out like a thorn on a rose. Still, the team presses on. Mira converses with Ian, convincing him that she belongs to a group of adventurers who sought refuge in this city, only to be taken with the faith. She offers herself and her friends as converts, hoping the lie will get them an audience with this mysterious Liviana.

Ian does not object. He is ecstatic to the extent that his face would let him appear to be, that he is able to grow his Goddess’s faith. He offers a welcoming ceremony at the end of the month, but that is unacceptable to Mira. She knows the party’s urgency. The two speak in what seems like riddles, throwing veiled conceits and investigations at each other, hoping to uncover the other while concealing what they can about themselves. The conversation amounts to nothing, as both parts play their roles to perfection. Ian senses no lies, conceding to Mira’s desire for an early conversion. Mira gathers no additional information, but gives none either.

In two days, Ian promises to hold a private ceremony for such an unprecedented amount of converts. It is for seeking out the faith themselves that they have earned such a reward. He promises that the ceremony will teach Mira and her friends of Liviana’s mercy. They will come to worship it as all her disciples have.

Being forced to spend two more days in the town is unpleasant news to the players. They manage to secure free rooms at the inn they were staying at, after telling the innkeeper they need to extend their stay for a conversion ceremony. Even with the free rooms, there is a shadow hanging over the party. Mira continues to explore the town while the party takes this time to rest. Unbeknownst to her, they really use this time to wallow in their anxieties. The image of their bodies rotting away in Narco’s small apartment is on everyone’s mind. What smells of death and decay must be filling the space? Have their bodies already begun to die? Has their consciousness and body been divided? If all that’s left are four corpses, can they ever return?

These worries eat away at the party’s sanity. Each of them lies awake, contemplating the meaning and futility of continuing. Mira occasionally checks up on them, assuming they all are feeling exhausted. GG curls up underneath the blanket in her and Mira’s room. Gambit and Narco face away from each other as they lay on separate beds. Free Stuff lies on the floor between them, staring restlessly at the ceiling. They spend a lot of time like this, paralyzed by their powerlessness. The reality of their situation is finally starting to settle in. They lay there, brooding alone, not wanting to make it worse for each other, yet they all know what’s on each other’s minds. They rest in the maddening silence, waiting for it to pass. The hours blur into each other, and while the waves of dread calm to ripples, they never truly go away.

The day of conversion comes, and as requested, they head to the temple at dusk. It has been a week since they got stuck in this world. They don’t know what trapped them in this game. They don’t know why things have changed. They don’t know if this new script will be considered beating the game, or even if beating the game will send them back. All these hypotheticals and unanswered questions weigh on them like hard and forceful punishment. They understand they can’t let it weigh them down forever. There are many things they don’t know, but they do know that they must move forward. They can’t afford to grow content.