You gaze out from the summit of the mountain. Blue sky dotted with white, blazing sun overhead shining onto rolling hills of orchards and grass descend into rich valleys of rolling grain and barley. You can see several villages, built over generations. You can almost see the story of this place, the mountain sheltering those who came to it in their time of need. In turn, the people venerated the mountain. A cycle of peace and plenty stretching back gently.
You look at the three gathered before you, worn by their travels and the rigors of summoning an Angel before them. You allow a glimpse of your form to appear before them. They throw their faces on the ground before you, crying out in wonder. You gently raise them up.
Voice a gentle breeze, you ask them,
“Why have you called me?”
The woman, robes a dusty gray, face sun-cracked and worn, began.
“A darkness has fallen over the people. Old gods have come back, and ambitious kings and priests have sent thousands of men, women, and children to their alters to bleed and burn.”
The man on the right, gray hair windswept and long, continued.
“The empire was thrown out a dozen years ago. We thought that would lead to peace and plenty, but the great kings turned on each other and ravaged the land with war and sorcery.”
The last, stick thin and scalp bare, bowed his head.
“Oh Holy one, we searched through our scriptures and temples, looking for any way we could ask and beg for deliverance. Our people are dying, they have forgotten what it means to be good to one another. The lord of Aritiapo turns his gaze to here, and has no respect for the old ways. The people of the mountain cannot stand alone. We need your aid.”
You consider their words, and gently draw more from their minds. The Cenarian Empire came through these lands , the lands of the Nerhream, two hundred years ago, conquering and burning. A dozen years ago, the great Cities banded together and threw out the weakened empire with the aid of old gods and ancient sorceries. But such power does not go back into the bottle easily, and now the cities of Partia, Tyros, and Uran wage war across the fields and villages of Nerhream.
The mountain, Holy Ulast, sheltered several villages beneath its slopes. The lord of the nearby fortress Aritiapo, a client of the City of Tyros, has been receiving increasing demands to collect sacrificial victims for the altars and gladiatorial games. He has been sending men into the villages to gather villagers to meet his quota.
Your wings shudder in anger, and the grip on your harp tightens. The land indeed is in need of a Warden to call it to order.
You survey the 3 saints, calling you forth in light of their lifetime of service. They could make for capable agents, but they have also willingly offered their very lives to you. Though you would have no need to take them in this case, you could take the accumulated Good they have accrued through their lives. This wouldn’t really harm them, but would hamper their abilities as your agents. In exchange you would gain a rather significant amount of Good energy for your current state.
Current “Good Energy”: 10
What do you do?
A- Harvest their Good to empower yourself further. Each has roughly 10 points of Good.
B- Leave them alone for now, you may get a better idea of how to use them later.
C- Bless them using their own reserves of Good. Blessings can modify their bodies and their souls, granting mystical powers or enhanced physical capabilities.
And of course, now you have to plan your next steps. The world awaits you, a raging beast pulling itself towards the edge of oblivion. It will take skill, cunning, and properly applied power. Already you can see the courses laid out before you, bodies in motion.
Threads pulled taut, waiting for Fate to pull and weave.
What Story calls to you?
A- Among the Ashes, a Hero is Found.
B- The Prodigal Child Returns.
C- The Hunt for a Strange Beast.
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Topic: Of Seals and Trumpets: Angel SG (Read 2136 times)