Faction
Mir: 175
Wik: 350
Eui: 115
Pyr: 35
Una: 35
Aqa: 35
Qas: 150
Sul: 500
Tek: 120
Hul: 200
Gor: 445
Cel: 425
Ord: 25
As expected, there had been Faction changes. I had both gained and lost. Sul had been pleased with my gamble, Tek had not. Gor had not minded either way, but Wik and most of the remaining Gods had penalized me. The Elemental Entities had abstained. Now, it was time to make the difficult choice the Gods had given me.
This is only going to hurt in the short term. The Gods must have Faith in me.
You have chosen to honor all Gods, setting none above the other! This may unlock Unique Class progression choices beyond that of Prophet! A countdown timer will now begin for Foci selection! Pay [1000] Faction Points to receive [Blood] Node!
23:59:51…
Unique Class progression? Well, I didn’t expect that!
It wasn’t important right now. I let out a breath and began to make my choices over how to pay my ‘Faction Fine’ as I had decided to call it. I made my choices and looked over my new Faction standings with a sigh.
Faction
Mir: 175
Wik: 300
Eui: 30
Pyr: 25
Una: 25
Aqa: 25
Qas: 0
Sul: 400
Tek: 120
Hul: 100
Gor: 200
Cel: 200
Ord: 0
I wanted to communicate to the Gods that my decisions were purely need based, but the penalties rolled in regardless.
Wik has taken mild offense for x1.5 Faction debuff!
Eui has taken mild offense for x1.5 Faction debuff!
Pyr has taken little offense for x .5 Faction debuff!
Una has taken little offense for x .5 Faction debuff!
Aqa has taken little offense for x .5 Faction debuff!
Qas has taken moderate offense for x2 Faction debuff!
Sul has taken moderate offense for x2 Faction debuff!
Hul has taken moderate offense for x2 Faction debuff!
Gor has taken moderate offense for x2 Faction debuff!
Cel has taken moderate offense for x2 Faction debuff!
Ord has taken mild offense for x1.5 Faction debuff!
You have received 1 [Blood] Node! Use to temporary upgrade any Skill or Spell by allowing it to be used/cast at its highest attainable Tier.
The Blood Node would be key for my strategy in Hadaeon’s Decent, but for now, I kept that to myself as if Octave heard it he might object to it. The Cherub and Satyr were stirring from their nap. Curmlough belched and his eyes flickered open. Octave yawned and then looked at me with a frown.
“You did something. You seem…different to me now.”
“I had to make some necessary sacrifices, I’m afraid.” I smiled weakly. Curmlough was frowning as well.
“Uh oh. Lord Gor says that you’re going to end up like the last dozen or so Prophets, Kenric. I think that might be bad?” The Satyr cocked an eyebrow and I rubbed my temples.
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“Possibly, Curmlough. Yet, I’m not done just yet. We still have a Dungeon to delve. I have a few final preparations to make before we do, but I wanted to ask both of your opinions on something first. I also wanted to make a confession to both of you as well.”
I removed the Dungeon Core I had taken from the Revelation of Cel Dungeon and held it in the palm of my hand. Both Octave and Curmlough looked at the Core then at each other and finally at me.
“First, my confession. I lived another life on another world before I was born upon Aramyr. My memories of my past life are shadows, but what set me upon the path of the Prophet was that there is some connection between the Purgatorium Mystics and my previous world. I know this as I am able to understand some of their written language, which I came upon quite by happenstance.”
I paused to gauge my companions’ reactions. Curmlough gawped, but Octave looked skeptical.
“I know there are other worlds, but why are you convinced you come from one of them? Because of some obscure writing you saw?” Octave said. “The Purgatorium Mystics have been gone for an Age and who can say what is or isn’t of their bailiwick?” Octave crossed his arms and examined his nails. “You have a tendency to exaggerate, Kenric. I think all that has happened to you has clearly put your mind into a state of egocentrism. You believe that you are at the center of some story. That your actions, only important within your own meek, mortal sense of self-existence will somehow have an impact upon the wider world.”
“I…well, yes I do actually,” I stammered.
“Oh, hush!” Curmlough admonished Octave with a wag of his finger. “You wouldn’t be saying these things if something drastic hadn’t happened to Kenric’s Faction standing with Ord!”
“Hmph! I would too.” Octave said, turning and gliding away.
“I suppose I have only my lack of experience to blame for your skepticism, Octave. While I speak the truth about not remembering exactly who I was in my past life, I believe the person I am now is what is most important. I choose to do good in this life. I believe I did before in my past life too.” Octave stopped and turned about to fly back and got up close to me, his arms crossed.
“Yes, doing good seems to often be your goal. I suppose it impresses Mir when you heal others.” Octave said.
I nodded my head in agreement.
“Yet, you also seem to consider gaining Faction to be some sort of good vs. bad balancing act. Personally, I don’t believe any God but Ord is worth worshipping, but do you think doing “good” is all he wants from me or you? Haven’t you ever wondered why gaining Faction with him seems to be so difficult for you?”
“I understand the Gods want me to carry out their will upon Aramyr. I understand that what each of them wants from me doesn’t always align with one another. I…” Octave was shaking his head vigorously.
“Why did you want to become a Priest?” Octave asked.
I was about to answer, but paused. The answer was more complicated than, ‘I was offered several Classes, so felt I had to take one,’ despite that being an accurate statement. It was what had happened to me in a long forgotten Chapel beneath Ordheim, after all.
“It was when I heard Chanters singing a battle hymn of Ord. It made me feel good, that sound,” I answered quietly, remembering that moment when the dead had risen in Celemor Graveyard. “I wanted to be a part of it.” Octave nodded, not taking his eyes off mine.
“You wanted to be a part of something greater than yourself? You wanted to help others?”
“Yes.”
“You wanted power to make a difference in this world?”
“Yes, I did.”
“You felt it was the reason you were sent to Aramyr in the first place? To be someone special?”
“Yes. I mean, no! I didn’t think I was anyone special, I…”
“Ha! There you are!” Octave pointed a finger directly into my face.
“What? Why do you laugh?” I asked, feeling myself begin to grow angry. Why was Octave grilling me like this?
“Kenric, listen to me. I’ll tell you a secret that will likely get me in trouble later, but you need to hear it to understand. Ord was a Man who didn’t know who or what he was at first. He wasn’t born to be a God, he was a God who deliberately came to Aramyr to experience mortality. He partitioned and separated much of his memory banks and stored them far away from himself. He needed to know what it meant to be Human, to truly understand them. He didn’t think he was special.”
I stared at the Cherub, my mouth open.
“I am not a God,” I said.
“Of course you’re not, you dolt! Listen, all you mortals seem to think yourselves beneath the Gods’ notice unless you accomplish something incredible. An Emperor. A Pope. An Archmage. These are the individuals a God watches, yes? The Gods watch everyone! If a Pig Farmer defends his family against a Goblin Raid with nothing but a hoe and he begs Ord for aid, do you think Ord is going to ignore him?”
“Of course not!” I answered indignantly. “All are important, Pig Farmer or Pope! I still don’t understand what you are trying to tell me, Octave. What do the Gods want from me then? Why did all this happen me?” The Cherub did a backflip in the air to show his agitation.
“You mortals always act like you need to beg and plead with the Gods to watch, listen or explain. They are always watching and listening. Yet, maybe they don’t always like what they are seeing and hearing so don’t feel the need to explain? I’ll ask you something else now I doubt you know. When Ord was a Man, whom did he pray to?” I blinked.
“I…don’t know?” I said, shaking my head.
“I’ll tell you. Nobody. Not one prayer. Not one plea. Ord believed that the Gods existed, but that they would judge him by his actions. Not by making offerings or saying prayers or preaching to others about how they should live, behave or interpret portents. Ord lived. Just like you are now, he wanted to make a difference in the world. To be good. It just so happens he did so by killing a lot of really bad people, beasts and monsters much of the time. He didn’t always enjoy it, but didn’t waste his time worrying about what the Gods thought about it either.”
I sat down on the ground to think about what Octave had said. It made sense. Had I been wasting my time worrying overmuch about how the Gods interpreted my actions thus far? It was hard not to, considering how the Faction Web Terminal worked. I was a Priest and Prophet, but I walked in the footsteps of Saints, Hierophants and Paladins. Was it not my duty to obey those far wiser than I who had, over the centuries, created these religions? Or had I misinterpreted that as well? Who was I supposed to be?
Curmlough sidled up to me and patted me on my shoulder in a consoling manner.
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing great. Lord Gor thinks you better hurry up and decide what to do with that Dungeon Core before we enter the Dungeon, however.”
I nodded and again reaffirmed my resolve to carry out Abbot Caspendeau’s final wish that I save the Abbey and also the folk of Goodlabor’s desire that I rescue Vicar Hamish if he still lived. I would do it not for Faction, but for them. I stood and marched back up the steps leading into the Church, Curmlough and Octave following behind. The altar was as I’d left it, but was it my imagination or did it seem larger than before? As if the wood had stretched and expanded so that it seemed more a table fit for the Gods themselves to dine and celebrate together.
I approached the altar and laid the Dungeon Core upon it, dead center, then backed away. Then, I knelt before it and as I had done before with the first Core, prayed aloud.
“Great Gods of Aramyr. Let this be my final prayer before I enter the Red Portal into Hadaeon’s Descent.” I paused as I searched for the words I wanted to say. Prayer had always seemed so easy. You just poured your heart out about what you were feeling and were supposed to feel better. I always had. Yet, this time felt different. More was at stake, but I would not beg. My experience as a Priest was minimal, but I wasn’t the same person I had been when I discovered the hidden Chapel beneath Celemor Hill. I saw the world through different eyes now. I saw my purpose. Stop the Infernals. Destroy the Shadowmurk. Fight in the impending Crusade. What would doing all these things make me?
“I am a vessel for your power. I am a sword of Light. I am a shield of Shadow. I will enter the Dungeon and I will win! Do you hear me, oh Gods!? I. WILL. WIN!” My voice echoed about the chamber and I saw the Dungeon Core begin to glow. The time had come.
“I offer this Dungeon Core to you, Great Ord! Mighty Ord, Lord of Mankind!”
A bright pillar of light fell from the ceiling, enveloping the Dungeon Core until I could no longer see it. I heard a war horn’s blare, the battle cry of warriors and I felt the blood in my veins sing as if afire. Then, the light disappeared and the Dungeon Core was gone.
You have offered a Dungeon Core to [ORD].
You have gained +500 Faction Ord!
You are now Honored amongst the followers of Ord!
Ord has removed the x1.5 Faction Debuff!
“Yes, yes, yes!” Octave laughed and clapped his hands as he turned circles in the air. Even Curmlough looked impressed. I held up my hands in supplication for several seconds before lowering them again. I took a deep breath and opened up the Faction Web Terminal. I navigated to Ord’s Web and looked over Ord’s Tier II, III and IV spell offerings. Then, with a smile, I turned to my friends.
“We are going to win.”
