FaustianQ posted:

Well since the update is delayed for a bit, so with permission from Diog I'm going to do a minicyoa that's been percolating inside my head since Nebai and the people of New Hope.

You breath deeply of the sweet chilled air rolling across the autumn plains as evening approaches. You, Efraim live a pleasant life tending to a flock of sheep in the day with your dog, and returning home to a loving wife and children just outside the walls of Acco come the setting of the sun. It is but a short journey to home, the walls of Acco always reassuringly close, it's wondrous and fair King and Mighty Men keeping the peace and protecting the innocent from monsters and demons most foul. Such things are but a distant concern because of them, even more so once you come upon your door to your home, your wife and youngest daughter's silhouette framed from the warm light coming from within. You see their inviting joyful smiles as they shout at you, urging you to hasten your journey home. Happiness fills you as you start to break into a run, your dog barking fervently as the wind rushes passed you. As you near you can finally hear your family.

"BACK TO WORK!"

You stop suddenly, confused, and your dog skids to a halt next to you. You stare dead ahead as your wife and child smile cheerfully back and bellow again, the harsh voice utterly discordant.

"LAZY SCUM, BACK TO WORK!"

You feel searing pain dance on your back, once, twice. Your eyes fill up with tears as you choke down the pain and fall to your knees. Now eye level with your dog you search it's warm friendly canine eyes for an explanation. It mouths a joyous bark but only hateful echoes reach your ears.

"WORK OR BE MEAT!"

Another lashing brings you back as you cough up soot and dust. You find yourself propped upon your pickaxe, having drifted away again. They feed you too little, work you too hard, just like your father and mother before you. Another lash from that infernal whip strikes you and fills you with enough energy to stand and ready your pickaxe. You hear the Bnaimokt grunt its approval as you begin mining again, and feel its attention drift elsewhere. Your eyes wander over to your right where old man Gemariah strikes rhythmically at the caverns surface. One of the oldest people still amongst the slaves, Gemariah enchants everyone with stories with the marvels of Acco, it's beautiful strong walls, it's great markets and wonderful riches, it's stupendously powerful King and Mighty Men, things your parents used to tell you stories about as well before they were taken away. You've never seen Acco yourself, having been born into captivity, for you the darkness of the caverns are your world. Next to Gemariah is Lavi, a man from Libnah and one of the more recent captures. He keeps to himself mostly, and refuses to speak of the circumstances of his capture. But even still, Lavi does his part and more, and insures your teams quota is constantly met. To your left is the rest of your "team"; feisty Keshet who is even younger than you, and Jethro who is just as young but very sickly and is likely not long for this world. You've seen many like Jethro disappear, taken away by the Bnaimokt, and repetition does not make each new time easier. All four of you work hard to cover for Jethro. You five have worked together for the passed 100 days, for you keep meticulous count of what you believe to be days, your masters pushing you hard to dig up strange rocks for unknown purposes. They've pushed harder and harder as each day as worn on, a strange sense of urgency in the task they've put to you. The stretches of time working blend seamlessly together interposed with little sleep and a single meal. Day in and day out you have churned the soil in the dim torchlight, Bnaimokt overseers whips upon your back, their fetid breath upon your necks. Their urgency is your urgency.



Days pass. Get up, mine, eat, mine, sleep, mine, it is a terrible routine you are one with, one you've had nearly your whole life. But today, on the 180th day since the Bnaimokt set you this task of furious hollowing the earth, the monotony ends. It is Keshet who discovers it first, her cries of surprise nearly alerting the nearby Overseer. You gather discreetly gather around Keshet as she urges you towards her, eyes round with great excitement. Keshet points to a small hole in the cavern wall that has crumbled away, faint light filtering out of it. Lavi looks first, a gasp of surprise escaping from him as he stands back to allow you a view. "What is it!" Jethro cries in hushed hoarse tones. You're...not sure?



Before you is an enormous cavern glittering in a pale blue light. Four mighty pillars, each positioned in a corner of the cavern, reach up from bottom of the room and shoulder the weight of the cavern ceiling and all glow a soft white. They look like they've been carved into beautiful "trees" based on what Gemariah has described to you of the above world, and their branches combine into a beautiful canopy that weaves a mesmerizing tapestry that covers the ceiling. Water trickles softly from the cavern walls on each side, pooling across a glowing white floor that pulses ever so slightly. Towards the back you spy a raised dais of seven levels and upon which sit eight faintly illuminated clay jars of various quality. From here you can tell each is unique, but it is hard to discern any detail.

Jethro bounces about, his thin frame suddenly full of energy and curiosity. "Well?! Hey Lavi, what did you see? Keshet? Efraim?! Oh come on guys!" Gemariah quickly turns and hushes Jethro, while Lavi turns to you and Keshet with grim determination. "Seal it, do not speak of it, avoid mining on this side. The demons must not learn of this." Keshet's entranced face melts into defiant confusion. "But...but what if this is a way out?! It looks just like something out of one of Gemariah's tales of the Melachim! What if there is a Melachim in there?! They could kill all the Bnaimokt and bring us back home, every one of us! Just like in Gema's tales!" Lavi's expression does not change, and in desperation Keshet looks to Gemariah "Please Gema, you have to persuade Lavi, you have to tell him!" Gemariah peers tentatively into the opening, but no wonder crosses his face, only apprehension. "The tales also spoke of demons who would disguise themselves as saviors Keshet. I...I think we should seal it for now, and think on it, when we have more time..." Keshet starts to tear up, a look of devastation on her face as she turns to you. "Efraim", she pleads "it's right there, there stories were right and El heard us. We should go, right?!". Lavi holds Jethro back from looking in, but that doesn't stop him from chiming in. "A real Melachim?! Efraim we have to go inside! We have to go now!"

What do you do?
A. Agree with Lavi. Seal it up, never speak of it again. It's the only way to keep it from being defiled by the demons. It's a beautiful, enchanting cavern but what good would it do you, what use is it to you?
B. Agree with Gemariah. Seal it for now, and think on it before acting. This could be a trick. You only have Gemariahs Old Tales to guide you on this, this is entirely new to you, and if the old man has doubts...
C. Agree with Jethro, take the chance now whilst no one is looking and see if the Melachim inside will take you five to safety. From your own observation, there is no one in the cavern, but that doesn't mean there couldn't be a tunnel out.
D. Agree with Keshet, seize the moment and hopefully petition a Melachim, a mighty servant of El, to smite all the Bnaimokt and save all those enslaved. The cavern seems devoid of anyone to your eyes, and if there was a Melachim this close to you all this time, wouldn't they have done something already?
E. Enter for your own reasons. To explore? To savor this wondrous moment while it lasts? You don't know, but you feel compelled to investigate, regardless of consequences, your curiosity consuming you.
F. Fill in.

FaustianQ posted:

Your entire life, however long that may have been, you have toiled for cruel masters who have pushed you every waking hour to harvest more and more spoils from the earth. You never had a childhood, there was no time for play for as soon as you stood surely on your feet you were put to "good use". You never learned your fathers trade, barely felt the warmth of your mother's love. You've never seen the sun, or mountains or grass or a dog, never had time for love, never tasted good food, good drink. Never felt the chill of cold air, nor warmth from a hearth nor a soft rain on your skin.Your world is a veritable cornucopia of earthen colors, melancholia and dread that is punctuated only by rough voices, screams of pain and mindnumbing tools hacking away at the earth, with a pickaxe if they were generous, your bleeding swollen fingers if they'd make a game of it. There were many "games" that the Bnaimokt would use you to entertain themselves with, and the losers were always carted off never to be seen again. You were a particular favorite, a several time winner of their dark sport. A good day if someone didn't disappear, either through breaking some arbitrary rule an Overseer creatively invented or roaming monsters in the caverns, some which even the Bnaimokt would flee from, leaving many of you to your wretched fate. You hunger and tire, your skin a bruised callous, you hack and wheeze barely able to breathe, blood too often on your lips.

But you have hope, hope given to you by old man Gemariah, by your father and mother through the tales of the surface, tales of the great cities and busy streets, of beautiful plains and mountainous vistas, of soothing rains and warm sun rays, of all mighty El and his benevolent Melachim who bring low the horrors of the world and rescue and protect those in great plight. Those stories gave you comfort, even if they felt like fiction. That somewhere there is a heaven, that all is not as you know it. You thought it was something beyond your grasp in this lifetime but before you now appears a miracle, a wondrous cavern of relaxing cool, faint and soothing light and hauntingly beautiful color and sound. You ache, you yearn, for it and it obliges, calling to you. YOU MUST ANSWER, YOU WILL, ANYTHING IS BETTER THAN THIS, A THOUSAND TIMES OVER. Your head is abuzz, swimming in giddy joy and your body tingles with barely contained anticipation as you feel you could fall head first into the cavern. You turn to your companions, Keshet especially and say that you should go in, and seal yourselves up inside to hide this from the Bnaimokt. Gemariah looks incredulous, Lavi remains stonefaced. Keshjet is overjoyed and Jethro finally pushes himself past Lavi, both barely containing their excitement. Before anyone can blink, Keshet is over the threshold and sliding down into the mysterious cavern. "Wait, little one!" Gemariah cries, a panicked look in his eyes. Jethro is just as swift despite his sickly countenance and before you realize it you are halfway in yourself. "Oh no what if it's a trap, stop!" Gemariah pleads. Lavi grasps the old mans shoulder tightly and looks him in the eyes. "Then we should go forth and keep them safe, eh?" There is a pause as the two share a moment of understanding. " No, no, you are right, no one shouldn't leave the children". Gemariah relents and soon he and Lavi follow behind.

Once all five of you are on the other side, you first make short work of filling in the hole, and then truly take in your surroundings. The cavern seems even more immense from the inside, it's ceiling many, many many, many, many times higher than the dreary tunnels from whence you came. In fact you have no real way to describe how high up the ceiling is. Maybe if you could walk upon walls you would think it two hundred paces from floor to ceiling. The soft blue light caresses your eyes and for once they do not ache. You breathe in the pure moist air and for once it is not painful to exhale. You smack your dry lips as your throat and tongue ache for the crystal waters and before you can help yourself you are on your knees gulping down handfuls in delight. Warmth and joy course through you, you feel energized, renewed! You notice that you were not alone in the compulsion and all five of you are on your knees greedily gulping down the chill water. Once sated, as a group you move forward towards the dais and it's 8 jars. As you do you look about your surroundings, maybe for another room, a tunnel? Maybe hints and signs of danger as old man Gemariah warns about? You look back to whence you came and curiously cannot see where the breakthrough point was? Is it because of the distance and lighting? Rocks don't heal themselves, that's outrageous.

You are now close enough to the Dais, some 30 paces out from where you entered, so make out details of the jars. At the base is one covered in crystals, the light in the cavern reflecting off it leaving the impression it is wrapped in roaring blue flame. The next highest up is a brilliant yellow one, and emblazoned upon it a large circle with many lines radiating from it, what you recognize as a torch etched in beneath it. The next two are unremarkable brown jars, one with a large rhomboidal cut gem in it that seems to rage in a kaleidescope of color, the other pocked, scratched and abused, devoid of anything beautiful. Next above is a curious one, covered in tiles of something only vaguely described to you by your mother. Are they...flies? A tiled fly relief made of citrine? A single palm tree crafted of fire agate with seven leaves of seven colors interrupts the pattern. You have come closer still as you view the next one above that, and you can make out the finely crafted lines of what you imagine to be birds on what you once mistook as merely a jet black jar. You notice from here that there are seven of those birds which are a different color. Now mere steps away from the dais, a total of 50 paces from where you entered, your can study the final two jars in great detail. One is a vibrant blood red in color, almost glowing. Another circle with many lines radiating from it adorns it, and you notice seven smaller circles orderly surrounding it. The other is covered in a majestic gold leaf, seven concentric bronze circles surrounding the image of a roaring..cat? You've had them described to you before, and it looks vaguely like one except much hairier.

You feel a low hum rise up in your mind, a compulsion to reach out and touch, to open one of the jars. But which? You can see the same thoughts in the other four, they must hear the siren call too. You must quickly, lest one of them take a jar destined for you!

A. You...
1. Grab all the jars! They're yours, no one elses!
2. Grab the lowest of them! The one with illusion of blue flame! This is the correct choice!
3. Grab the yellow one with the torch!
4. Grab the one with the many colored gem!
5. Grab the one that's really plain and ugly! Why, with so many beautiful ones to choose from!
6. Get the one covered in citrine flies!
7. No, get the one with the birds on it!
8. NO, THE ONE THAT RUNS RED BLOOD OF MAN! THIS IS THE ONLY REAL CHOICE!
9. NO, ONLY THAT OF REGAL GOLD AND COLD BRONZE, THE MOST KINGLY OF ITEMS FOR A MAN OF UR!
10. DON'T BE UNREASONABLE, YOU CAN EXPLORE THE CAVERN AFTER YOU'VE TAKEN A JAR. NO, WAIT, COME BACK!
11. THERE IS NOTHING TO FEAR! NO, DON'T TELL THEM NOT TO TOUCH ANYTHING! THEY CAN HAVE A JAR TOO, THERE IS PLENTY!
12. MAKE A CHOICE! FOR THE FIRST TIME YOU HAVE A REAL CHOICE! NO, DON'T THINK OF ANYMORE, THIS IS YOUR FIRST TIME, DON'T ADD TOO MANY OR YOU'LL CONFUSE YOURSELF!

FaustianQ posted:

Your head is pounding, so many voices yelling, pleading at you to take a jar, any jar, NO THEIR JAR.



You race forward, grasping for the blood red jar near the top of the dais, pushing and shoving your fellow suffers in servitude away. You manage to grasp ahold of it if only lightly and you try to sprint away with it form the others. "YES, SO CLOSE, OPEN AND POUR ME OUT SO THAT I MIGHT BE FREE!". You struggle with the stopper and only just barely begin to pry it loose when a fist lands across your face, drawing blood from your nose. You instinctively react to the pain and let go of the jar, having not expected a fight. A small part of the voices crowding your mind erupt in cheer, others shouting in vicious anger. It is Lavi who has truck you and even now he tries to turn and run from the group, Keshet, Jethro and Gemariah trying to tackle him to the ground and wrench the jar away from him. You scramble to your feet and throw yourself on the pile, a mess of limbs kicking, grasping, punching all trying to open the jar, all egged on by a cheering audience with a few dissenting whispers. Lavi suddenly screams in pain as Jethro sinks his teeth into Lavi's arm, drawing blood. Gemariah and you both dash to grab the now free jar as Lavi goes to cradle his arm, but Germariah is bigger and just stronger enough that your fingers slip from the jars well polished, slick sides. Gemariah struggles with the stopper as the pile of bodies Keshet, Jethro and you have become lack coordination nor willingness to cooperate. Urgency over takes your mind and you crawl with haste towards Gemariah FOR THAT JAR IS YOURS. Your arms flail at Gemariah's ankles, and in his attempts to dodge your wild strikes he trips and falls.

The world slows down as the jar seems to hover in the air for a brief moment, the faint light of the cavern making almost glow violently, tumbling end over end. But it's the moment ends, it's weightlessness disappears and it shatters into dust upon Gemariah's chest. "NO", all five of you cry in unison, hands reaching out for what is now forever lost. As quickly as it came, the rage fades and you all turn to each and realize what you have done. Jethro breaks into a sob, and you and Lavi simply stare at each other. Gemariah though is screaming, screaming in agony as he writhes on the floor. Keshet goes to aid him, but a thunderous voice commands "No, halt! Do not come close or suffer his fate!". Gemariah's screams increase in intensity as the four of you edge back away in horror. His skin disintegrates, leaving exposed muscle, bone and arty and as he thrashes causing the water near him to turn a red ichor. The degeneration continues as his muscles begin to sag and slough off the bone and his arteries burst. Soon even his screams stop has he begins choking violently, blood pouring out of his body in a rippling, thick puddle, and now even his bones give way and collapse.



You huddle together and stare at the horror, the pulsing mess of flesh that was once Gemariah, and begin to weep. Keshet can no longer hold back her tears, defiantly standing up and screaming at the jars. "Liars, liars! DEMONS! YOU'RE NOT MELACHIM! DEMONS! MAY EL SMITE YOU! SMYTHOS SMITE YOU!". Keshet begins screaming even more profane expletives at the now silent jars, but her rant is interrupted by by Gemariah's remains quivering, pulsing, and flopping about. Keshet yelps and rushes back to the group, and you huddle together now, expecting the worst to come. Out of the gooey, moist mess that was once a great story teller, comes a head, devoid of features. Then hands, feet, follow by arms and legs all flailing around like the worms in your gruel. Finally distinct features begin to emerge, eyesockets, a nose, fingers and toes. A proper neck forms and finally the monstrosity has a mouth that begins wailing in agony. Muscle and fat take shape, lips and teeth manifest. A now mostly human thing, even if it is a mockery of such, it moves to it's feet and you realize how it towers over you four, at least 8 feet tall. It grasps it's face in pain, and it's voice has tuned from a monstrous roar into a much more feminine tone. It releases it's face, eyes finally having formed, as skin eeriely crawls over the body and into existence. It (she?) is now passably human, very tall and extremely gaunt, even more than you. The thing before you coughs up some blood and speaks in a commanding tone.

"I AM ANAEL. NOW TELL ME LITTLE ONES WHERE THIS WRETCHED FARE AND HIS FORCES ARE , SO THAT I MIGHT RIGHTEOUSLY BATHE IN THEIR BLOOD AND CLAIM THEIR SKULLS."

This one is a bit open ended on how you approach it, I'll collate the responses.

FaustianQ posted:

It seems Diog's plan wins, which is to direct Anael in the general direction of your captors, with a general emphasis on opening the other jars. Apologies for being so slow on this one, had writers block. Everyone love everyone please


You've lived with horror all your life, maybe not as visceral as what you've just witnessed, but horror nonetheless. You were more surprised than frightened, and you've recovered enough now to properly answer the towering, bloody giant of a woman before you. "F-Fare and his minions, our oppressors are beyond that wall, but I beg of you take heed of the humans and not let them come to harm!" Anael struggles with her face still and you're not sure if she is trying to reassuringly smile or snarl. "WORRY NOT LITTLE ONE, NO MORE HARM WILL COME TO YOUR PEOPLE!" Anael shouts, and with a grace and speed you'd not expect dashes towards the wall, smashing it open. "TREMBLE BEFORE THE MIGHT OF THE SEBITTI YOU CURS, I'LL HAVE YOUR HANDS ON MY WAIST FOR YOUR SINS!", Anael bellows and with a quick dash, disappears further down the tunnel you came from. You are left in relative silence. You wonder to yourself at the remaining jars, if all 7 were just as terrifying, if the cost of each is yet another life. Is it wise to to seek aid from something so terrible, so far from El? You feel betrayed, you asked for what price they'd demand. More glory they wanted, but instead they took Gemariah!

But...you are also desperate. As far as you know, all of your people labor and suffer under the demon Fare, hell the whole of Ur could be under his boot. No one has come to your rescue, no man nor melachim, not El himself has seemed fit to move an inch to save all of you from suffering. Despite the fight over the jars and the loss of Gemariah, Anael had not attempted to murder you, in fact seemed gleefully happy to assist you. Maybe if you went about this a little smarter, and fight the urge to grab and smash all the jars? Maybe you could use other, not human sources for these...things? You get up and walk over to the Dias, and grab the most unremarkable one. You quickly release it as your hands spasm in pain. Ice crystals have formed on the inside of your hands, the skin turning a bright pink. You vent your frustrations at the jars, asking if there are anymore secrets they'd be keen to share; you have no intent on ending up like old man Gemariah.

"We know only that we are trapped, not the nature of the prisons designed for us."
"It's not our intent to so brutally end you."
"WE CANNOT BE SURE IF THIS IS HOW WE RETURN TO PHYSICAL FORM"
"We have been patient for centuries. That even after such horror you remain dedicated to helping us, speaks of your character. We can wait a bit longer for you to figure out how to release us without harming you."
"Do you have a handy source of flesh nearby? Like a goat, or cow? Dead bodies? Maybe follow behind Anael, she may leave something in her wake."

A. You ponder trying to open the jars, and how to do so
1. Open each in turn, pouring them out into the water in the chamber
2. Open each in turn, and pour them upon nonliving flesh. You'll have to go out into the caverns and er, collect some.
3. Open each in turn, and pour them on the living. Your friends? Other humans? Far to cruel and the jars indicate they're not enthused with doing so. A living Bnaimokt? Dark thoughts fill your mind like caustic venom, yes such a revenge would be sweet.
4. Open them upon your once friends. El has not come to save nor any of his servants, it is time to worship a new god, or in this case gods, and there can be only one Prophet.
5. Other, write in!

Diogines posted:

And look to the jars and ask "Who are you?"

FaustianQ posted:

Quiet murmuring percolates the air even before the question leaves your lips. A moment's pause passes and a single soothing voice replies back. "We are servants of the same Lord as you Efraim, the magnanimous and just S-"

"WE ARE THE SEBITTI LITTLE ONE"

You are suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of resignation and it feels has if a dozen hands cover your face in anguish.

"WHY DO YOU FEEL SHAME!? WE DESERVE OUR HONORS AND HOW COULD THE MORTALS NOT KNOW OF US!

Cannon_Fodder posted:

WHY DON'T WE POOP?


Just kidding, it's because we're malnourished.

FaustianQ posted:

There is a slightly awkward silence, and for a moment you feel as if an immense weight is lifted from your mind. An even longer pause follows, until a rushing chill enters your mind.

"RELEASE ME AND I SHALL PREPARE YOU A FEAST FOR ETERNITY SO YOU MAY POOP TO YOUR HEARTS CONTENT"

TK-42-1 posted:

Ask the jars: "What is fart?"

FaustianQ posted:

"Do you mean Art?"
A pause
NO I THINK HE DOES MEAN FART CONSIDERING HIS LAST QUESTION.

ArbitraryTA posted:

Not that it will change my answer but hey blood red pot what happens when I open you?

FaustianQ posted:

I CANNOT BE CERTAIN BUT I SHOULD BE RELEASED FROM THIS FORM.

Diogines posted:

Ask the jars "My people are enslaved by the demon Fare and our lot in life a terrible one, are there any among you who would save us without extracting a terrible price?"

FaustianQ posted:

"Who is this Fare that deems himself lord of the will of men?! He will know the icy hand of righteous vengeance!"
"What do you mean by price? You wish to cut a deal? Why?"
"THIS FARE SOUNDS WEAK, THAT HE NEED MAKE OTHERS DO HIS BIDDING FOR HIM. HE SOUNDS CORPULENT AND SLOVENLY, IT WOULD BE JUST TO REND HIS FLESH BUT HIS HEAD SOUNDS LIKE NO TROPHY TO ME."
"He seems stupid, to commit mortal flesh to hard labor when a {word that is incompressible to you] would be better."
"How many of you are there? Of what supplies and base of operations do you have? What is Fare's threat level? You say demon but what kind? Is he running some small mercenary outfit or are we talking some petty kingdom here?"
"YES, WHAT IS THIS FARE'S LEVEL OF POWER? IF HE IS TRULY TERRIBLE, WHY HAVE THE ARMIES OF UR NOT TRAMPLED HIM BENEATH THEIR BOOT HEEL? WHY IS HE NOT GROVELING BEFORE ENKI BEGGING FOR MERCY?"
"Are we forgetting our circumstances brothers and sisters? It feels like a millenia, are we so petty and haughty that we'd turn down our freedom because this Fare is some idiotic slob? These people are in plight and we've fought for a less worthy cause."
"Precisely, a worthy cause and good fun! We haven't had practice in centuries, lets have a a bit of tea before we hit the buffet eh?"
"THEN THE SEBITTI ARE IN AGREEMENT MORTAL, OUR PRICE IS YOU BRING US SOMETHING MORE WORTHY THAN THIS PUNY FARE SO WE MAY YET HAVE WORTHY, RIGHTEOUS CONQUEST!"

alpaca diseases posted:

What are you?

FaustianQ posted:

"I AM WONDROUS GLORY OF COMBAT, THE VISCERAL JOY OF SLAYING ONES ENEMIES MANIFEST, I AM THE VENGEANCE OF THE PEOPLE OF UR, LIVING JUDGMENT OF DEMONS, THE HANDMAIDEN OF AVADON, THE HAMMER-"

"The boy asked for the nature of your existence, not your sales pitch."

Anael seems...in pain? It's hard to tell because the creature? demon? before you seems to be having a hard time figuring out how to use her face. She turns to the dais, grabbing the jar covered in citrine flies and shakes it violently. "SILENCE DVORA, I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR SNARK FOR ALL ETERNITY."

Sogol posted:

Do we know how they got put into jars in the first place? Who or what put them there and why?

Ask which jar was asking the logistical questions about what type of demon Fare is and the size of Fare's forces.

FaustianQ posted:

You ask which jar wanted more information on Fares forces. "It is I, in the one adorned with the single shining gem. I am Malakiel, grand strategist of the Sebitti

Arkanomen posted:

5:Gather up the jars in a bag and take off after our new champion

super sweet best pal posted:

5 - CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!

Sogol posted:

5- open the Malkiel the Stategist and then consult with him before opening other jars.

Blasphemaster posted:

Pile all the dead bnaimokt up to the ceiling and dump all the jars on it at once.

FaustianQ posted:

You've lived with horror all your life, maybe not as visceral as what you've just witnessed, but horror nonetheless. You were more surprised than frightened, and you've recovered enough now to properly answer the towering, bloody giant of a woman before you. "F-Fare and his minions, our oppressors are beyond that wall, but I beg of you take heed of the humans and not let them come to harm!" Anael struggles with her face still and you're not sure if she is trying to reassuringly smile or snarl. "WORRY NOT LITTLE ONE, NO MORE HARM WILL COME TO YOUR PEOPLE!" Anael shouts, and with a grace and speed you'd not expect dashes towards the wall, smashing it open. "TREMBLE BEFORE THE MIGHT OF THE SEBITTI YOU CURS, I'LL HAVE YOUR HANDS ON MY WAIST FOR YOUR SINS!", Anael bellows and with a quick dash, disappears further down the tunnel you came from. You are left in relative silence. You wonder to yourself at the remaining jars, if all 7 were just as terrifying, if the cost of each is yet another life. Is it wise to to seek aid from something so terrible, so far from El? You feel betrayed, you asked for what price they'd demand. More glory they wanted, but instead they took Gemariah!

But...you are also desperate. As far as you know, all of your people labor and suffer under the demon Fare, hell the whole of Ur could be under his boot. No one has come to your rescue, no man nor melachim, not El himself has seemed fit to move an inch to save all of you from suffering. Despite the fight over the jars and the loss of Gemariah, Anael had not attempted to murder you, in fact seemed gleefully happy to assist you. Maybe if you went about this a little smarter, and fight the urge to grab and smash all the jars? Maybe you could use other, not human sources for these...things? You get up and walk over to the Dias, and grab the most unremarkable one. You quickly release it as your hands spasm in pain. Ice crystals have formed on the inside of your hands, the skin turning a bright pink. You vent your frustrations at the jars, asking if there are anymore secrets they'd be keen to share; you have no intent on ending up like old man Gemariah.

"We know only that we are trapped, not the nature of the prisons designed for us."
"It's not our intent to so brutally end you."
"WE CANNOT BE SURE IF THIS IS HOW WE RETURN TO PHYSICAL FORM"
"We have been patient for centuries. That even after such horror you remain dedicated to helping us, speaks of your character. We can wait a bit longer for you to figure out how to release us without harming you."
"Do you have a handy source of flesh nearby? Like a goat, or cow? Dead bodies? Maybe follow behind Anael, she may leave something in her wake."

A. You ponder trying to open the jars, and how to do so
1. Open each in turn, pouring them out into the water in the chamber
2. Open each in turn, and pour them upon nonliving flesh. You'll have to go out into the caverns and er, collect some.
3. Open each in turn, and pour them on the living. Your friends? Other humans? Far to cruel and the jars indicate they're not enthused with doing so. A living Bnaimokt? Dark thoughts fill your mind like caustic venom, yes such a revenge would be sweet.
4. Open them upon your once friends. El has not come to save nor any of his servants, it is time to worship a new god, or in this case gods, and there can be only one Prophet.
5. Other, write in!

Sogol posted:

I think the problem with opening Malakiel the Strategist is that it may well consume one of our companions. It's possible that the folks who were advocating for having a supply of Bnaimokt nearby in case energy or sacrifice or whatever is needed for them to take another form.

Did anything overtly change about the room itself after we opened the first jar?

Just thinking if I built a room like this, I would probably equip it with some sort of alarum!

BoyG posted:

Do Keshet, Jethro or Lavi have a miners backpack or any kind of sacks with them, which they would have used to move rocks while they were mining?

vorebane posted:

So the bags are in the tunnel that was being mined?

Grab the shirts off of our buddies and use those!

FaustianQ posted:

Unless more votes happen, it appears thread consensus is to take only Malakiel and see if you can't release him?

FaustianQ posted:

Unless more votes happen, it appears thread consensus is to take only Malakiel and see if you can't release him?

Aades posted:

Maybe open him next to Jethro.

FaustianQ posted:

You decide that you'd rather be cautious in how you approach releasing the Sebitti, as even they seem unsure of the process itself. You resolve to take the jars with you as you follow in the wake of Anael, and test them in safer conditions. Since you cannot carry all the jars, you decide to find a bag or cart to transport them in. You know in the caverns outside there would be plenty of wheeled carts to use, with plenty of space if you emptied them out. You also know that it could be lethally dangerous to go out unarmed into the caverns in what is what you think to be a battlefield now; if the Bnaimokt don't kill you, the lack of proper patrols and the scent of blood will definitely attract the undergrounds more monstrous denizens. You could always ask Keshet, Jethro and Lavi to help you, but Keshet and Jethro seem inconsolable and Lavi seems engrossed in prayer to El. As you scan the chamber of the Sebitti, your eyes fall upon the clothes, no rags, of the now dead Gemariah. They seem mostly intact, if not a bit singed. Upon closer inspection, to your surprise are completely stain free, not an ounce of blood or speck of dirt remains on them. They carry a strange acrid smell as well, but as far as something usable to put the jars in they'd work, especially if you used your own shirt in conjunction. You obviously don't have to ask for help with this, but you have no idea how far you must walk and the jars could be vulnerable to breaking as the rags you call clothes offer no protection.

1. You resolve to take the jars with you, but how?
A. You'll get help from Keshet, Jethro and Lavi. This might be a hard sell, as even if you've powered through this traumatic experience, they haven't. It does not help that to all intents and purposes, Anael had the countenance of a demon from Gemariah's tales.
B. You'll do this yourself, time is of greater essence than safety, and you're not sure how much help the other three would be in the state they are currently in anyway. You have no idea how long the opening Anael has created for you will last.
C. You think of a different way. Maybe there are some creative options available to you if you take more time to look around? Write in!

You can freely question Keshet, Jethro, Lavi, or any of the Sebitti. You can also explore or ask questions about your environment. Keep in mind you are just a human named Efraim, you do not have Enkidel's Question Time and the benefits thereof. However, questions which can be severely damaging to your relationships with other characters will require a vote.

FaustianQ posted:

You decide not take all of them, as it could be too risky to yourself if there were to somehow break. One though would be easy enough to transport, easy enough to safekeep until you could release the...thing trapped inside. You gather up Gemariah's old clothes and give careful study and thought as you analyze each of the jars on the dais in turn. Your eyes land on the plain jar with the single gem shimmering in an endless kaleidescope of color. You know this one to be Malakiel, and he, she..it? You're not sure. You've noticed that when the Sebitti speak to you there is a certain quality to their voice...wait, no that's not right, they're jars, how are they speaking? Ugh, so many questions, it makes your head hurt. Whatever the case may be, you know Malakiel by certain particulars in thier communication with you, and from what little you've spoken with them they claim to be a strategist. Well, this situation certainly calls for some levelheaded thinking, and hopefully Malakiel can help formulate a plan of action going forward. You carefully wrap the jar in Gemariah's rags and cradle it in your arms, being exceptionally gentle with it. From outside the chamber of the Sebitti, you can hear the din roar of combat and furious screaming, there is certainly to be a body or two available to test whether each of Sebitti will require some flesh to escape their prisons. With no time to lose, you dash out of the chamber, giving a call to your old friends to follow.



Intense heat washes over you as you reenter the mine, the smells of your world washing back to you. You hear the cacophony of combat further down the tunnels and make haste towards it. As you make your way closer and closer to certain danger, you notice overturned carts of ore, scattered mining tools, and mound of Bnaimokt arms and armor. Strange to see such things abandoned, had Anael so frightened them they simply stripped themselves of armament and fled? How unlike them, how alien to think that something could even bring terror to them. After a few more moments you finally come within distance of the brawl just ahead of you that you can resolve distinct sounds and rounding a bend come into view of an awesome sight. The Bnaimokt have surrounded a blood soaked Anael on all sides, keeping distance with their spears. A strong scent of copper fills the cavern, carried on choking heat and humidity that causes sweat to pour down your face. Many Bnaimokt are scattered across the cavern, many in several pieces the armor rent and warped into hideous geometry. There is a still moment as your presence becomes know to Anael and the Bnaimokt, a deafening silence in which you can hear the blood pulse through your veins. An audible ragged breath, a tightening grip, the drip of blood from the walls.



A flurry of motion follows as the Bnaimokt's divided attention leads to one closest to Anael being yanked from the formation by their spear into her reach, where in it's head disappears into her hand. A sickening crunch, and it lives is no more. The Bnaimokt thrust their spears in retaliation, but Anael pays them little heed as they pierce her body. She lifts her catch high above her and begins viscously beating another Bnaimokt to death with the corpse. The Bnaimokt push closer, trying to user their combined strength to bring Anael to the ground, but she only takes advantage of the closeness to slam her fist into and out the back of a Bnaimokt, the armor and body seemingly giving little resistance. Tossing her impromptu club aside, Anael grabs another Bnaimokt with both hands and wrenches it's upper torso free and heaving it over her shoulders, blood splattering everywhere. One Bnaimokt screams in pain, releasing his spear to grasp desperately at his body as steam pours out of his armor. Another follows suit, are for the first time in your entire life, you watch as the rest panic and try to flee. Anael begins laughing as she reaches out and grabs one by the leg, steam billowing out of every crevice of his armor, as she brings it over her head and slams it into the cavern floor, bits and blood flowering outward. She then leaps in a single bound towards another, landing on it with a sickening crunch. Pulling a spear from her body, she slams it home into the back of the pinned Bnaimokt before taking off after the screaming few that fled further down the cavern. She disappears from sight, only the sound of her screaming obscenities and taunts.

Less than 10 seconds have passed, and you realize that you've stopped moving and breathing. You inhale sharply, a strong scent of acrid copper overloading your senses. Your fingers feel numb as you realize you've had a death grip on Malakiels jar and the sudden returning of sensation reminds you why you are here. If you wanted, Anael left you plenty of bodies you could pile up like a bonfire, ready to light it with Malakiels porcelain prison. But before you on the cavern floor is a Bnaimokt writhing on the floor, steam rippling of it's body as it's skin seems to be dissolving. How long it has yet to live, you do not know but you feel overwhelmed with anger as for the first time in your entire life you feel free to express your rage and contempt. You've lived your entire life under their boot heel, their endless sadism. You feel righteous fury well up within you as you grip the jar tightly, uncertain if you should give into your hatred and throw the jar upon the still living Bnaimokt.

1. You feel an overwhelming desire to inflict pain and suffering on the Bnaimokt.
A. Break the jar upon the Bnaimokt. Let it's last moments alive be of such great suffering as that Gemariah experienced, it deserves no less.
B. No, you are better than this. You are a child of El, a human and one of his blessed children. Do not give into the hatred and savagery which so consumes them.
C. Don't break the jar on it, but seek catharsis anyway by viciously beating it to death with whatever is available to you.
D. Ignore all of this, continue to chase after Anael.
E. Backtrack, and see if Keshet, Jethro and Lavi have followed you. You can't leave them behind!