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when they tell the story
Samora's adventures in Worm, part 2
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The first post on samora.blogzone.net is as follows:

I Have A Blog Now!

Posted 2010-11-20/02:45 in category: posts about posts

Hello Internet! I have a blog now. This blog is going to contain a lot of different things, but the main ones will be Explanations and Mailbags.

Explanations are posts about my world of origin, and the broader universe as I understand it. Some people are going to disagree with a lot of what I have to say in these, but I'm going to explain what I believe and why I believe it and everyone can decide for themselves whether they think I'm right or wrong.

Mailbags are posts where I collect people's questions from the comments on other posts and answer then in a big batch. I'm not going to answer every question, because some of them will be repeats or boring or personal or bump into something I'm not supposed to disclose. (Also sometimes I just won't know the answer, but then I'll say that.) If you want your question to go in the first mailbag, put it in the comments of this post!

There will also be some personal posts about what I'm up to, if anything I get up to seems like it will make a good blog post and I decide to write about it.

A quick note on language: I don't speak English! I have translation magic that makes everything I say sound like the native language of anyone hearing it, and makes me hear everything everyone else says in my native language. It doesn't work on text, only speech. Dragon made me a computer that can read things out to me and "hear" me speaking and write down what I say in English. (Isn't Dragon awesome? She's so awesome.) So if I don't notice a pun, or make a really dumb pun of my own, or get a movie quote wrong, it's because everything on here has gone into my native language and back and sometimes it's a little worse for wear. 

Another quick note I got asked to make sure was in here: everything I say on this blog is the thoughts of me, Samora, an individual human. It's not official Protectorate announcements or anything like that, even when I talk about work. It's just my own personal thoughts and opinions that might not match anyone else's.

The next post should go up in about five minutes if I'm using the Blogzone interface right.

 

 

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On Golarion and my Origins There

Posted 2010-11-20/02:51 in category: explanations

A little over a week ago, I arrived on this planet in a teleportation accident. Before that, I lived on the planet Golarion, which is really different in some ways.

The Magic

[. . .]

The People 

[. . .]

The Technology (that there isn't)

[. . .]

The History

[. . .]

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On The Gods and their Alignments

Posted 2010-11-20/03:02 in category: explanations

Golarion has been aware of magic for longer than we have surviving written records. We have also been aware of the existence of many planes: sets of places that it's impossible to go between without magic. Golarion and Earth are both on the Prime Material plane, the plane of ordinary matter where mortals are born, live, and die. There are also the elemental planes of Earth, Water, Air, Fire, Positive Energy, and Negative Energy, inhabited by beings of those elements. There are the Ethereal, Astral, and Shadow planes, which are too weird for this post but might get their own at some point. And there are the outer planes.

The outer planes are shaped by two pairs of opposing forces: Good and Evil, and Law and Chaos. There's an Outer Plane for each of Lawful Good, Neutral Good, Chaotic Good, Lawful Neutral, Neutral Neutral, Chaotic Neutral, Lawful Evil, Neutral Evil, and Chaotic Evil. Each outer plane is populated by outsiders, beings who fully embody the plane's alignment. Some of them are naturally occurring and appear out of nowhere, and others started out as living people, were sent to that plane when they died, and gradually transformed to be more like the plane they were on.

When a mortal being capable of making moral choices dies, they are judged by representatives of Pharasma, the creator of the universe, and sent to the afterlife corresponding to the effects they had on the world in life. This is a pretty okay system as far as Good and Neutral people are concerned, but it's a terrible system for Evil people because the Evil afterlives are very very bad. I'm not going to get into detail on this. The good afterlives are working hard at making sure as few people go to the Evil afterlives as possible. 

The most powerful outsiders on the outer planes are the gods. Gods are tremendously powerful, but there are many of them of all alignments working in opposition to each other, so rather than exhaust themselves striving against each other, they agree among themselves to limit their interventions on the Material. On Golarion, these interventions consist mostly of empowering clerics and paladins [. . .]

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On the Life and Theology of Iomedae 

Posted 2010-11-20/03:02 in category: explanations

Iomedae's Mortal Life

[. . .]

Iomedaean Principles 

[. . .]

Author's note: I can't write this properly. Go read https://www.glowfic.com/templates/3360.

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General Mailbag #1

Posted 2010-11-21/22:27 in category: mailbags 

Time for the first mailbag post! I got enough questions I wanted to answer in the comments on the first post that I'm splitting them into two mailbags. This is the mailbag for questions that aren't about theology. The theology mailbag will go up sometime tomorrow unless I'm unexpectedly busy.

If you don't speak English, what do you speak?

I speak Taldane, the most common language in Lastwall, and Celestial, the shared language of Heaven, Nirvana, and Elysium. I'm dictating my blog posts in Taldane, but sometimes I'll borrow terms from Celestial if it makes it easier to explain something.

Does your world have supervillains?

I'm afraid so. Some are your regular petty criminals with magic and some are the agents of evil governments and some are warlords or aristocrats. Arguably [Tar-Baphon](https://samora.blogzone. com/posts/4) was a supervillain.

What's daily life like on Golarion?

Most people are farmers. Beyond that a lot depends on what country you live in, but it's pretty common for most villages to have a low-circle priest who can channel and create water, and a low-circle wizard who can clean clothes, and some artisans, and a local lord or sometimes a mayor.

How are your governments organized?

Lots of different ways! Monarchies are the most common, followed by various types of theocracy. Lastwall is a theocracy: a lot of the government is paladins, and Iomedae is consulted on the most important decisions. We also have some republics, but they're pretty new and still figuring themselves out.

What are Golarion's great cultural achievements?

We have a lot of the same art forms as Earth! Our greatest plays are probably the Earthfall Cycle, a series of tragedies about several generations of a family before and shortly after Earthfall, and my favorite epic poem is Hrothung, the saga of a legendary warrior defeating increasingly powerful Evil wizards, dragons, and so on. There's lots of famous great architecture but the only one I've seen personally is the Starstone Cathedral.

How did the accident that got you to Earth happen? Are there going to be more people from Golarion coming here? Can you go back?

I don't know any of that, except that I can't get back.

What do you like about the Protectorate?

They're doing a good job at their job! Endbringer response in particular is impressively well-coordinated.

What do you not like about the Protectorate?

It would be nice if there was more after-action analysis of various engagements. Or possibly it exists and I haven't gotten it in which case it would be nice if I got a copy next time.

Have you seen Lord of the Rings yet?

Not yet, but I will.

Have you seen Twelve Angry Men?

Not yet, but six different people recommended it in two different places, so it's on my list.

Will you heal people who don't want to go to a hospital?

The way my healing works I can get a lot more people by packing then into my channel radius than by doing anything one at a time, so I can heal people outside a hospital context but it's more limited and also the logistics are harder to work out. So most of my healing is going to be in hospitals.

You mentioned a kind of magic you can't teach; how does it work?

Arcane magic involves manipulating spell structures directly without a god's involvement. Wizardry and sorcery are both arcane magic. Wizards learn magic by studying the math of how spells fit together and can learn any spell eventually, and get stronger the more cunning they are. Sorcerers have an intuitive sense for a smaller number of spells but can cast them more times, and get stronger the more splendid they are.

Have you gotten to enjoy Brockton Bay much? What are your favorite tourist things you've seen?

I've gotten some time to walk around the city and see the sights, yeah. It's a good city and the harbor is beautiful.

If people from Earth could go to Golarion, what tourist things would you recommend?

Absalom is the classic city that everyone wants to see someday, and it lives up to that reputation. You can see a hundred different kinds of people just walking around, and beautiful cathedrals including the Starstone Cathedral, and the best magic item shops anywhere. 

What are the popular sports on your planet?

Lots of places have kickball, where one team tries to kick the ball over the goal line while the other team tries to tackle whoever has it. Taldor has chariot races but I've never seen one. I know some guys who can walk up walls and across the ceiling and they played a ball game that took advantage of that, where you get a point if you get the other team's ball to touch any surface other than a player.

How do you choose who to bring back from the dead?

Armsmaster and some other Protectorate people have been deciding that because they have more context on who everyone is. So far I've been resurrecting people who died during the Behemoth fight, and I'm probably going to be doing a lot of that, because reducing the fatality rate of Endbringer fights is a big deal.

Do you heal Evil people?

Yes, both when I'm working at hospitals and during Endbringer fights.

Are you only going to resurrect parahumans?

I'm mostly going to be raising parahumans because that's most of the people who die in battle against the Endbringers. We haven't finished working out what I'll be doing when it's been long enough since an Endbringer fight that I can't get anyone else from it. 

Is it true you eat diamonds?

What? No. Raise Dead needs to consume a diamond to work. I guess metaphorically that's sort of like eating them.

Which would you rather fight: one horse-sized duck, or a hundred duck-sized horses?

Neither of those sounds like a difficult fight. A horse-sized duck is more likely to be smart enough to run away before I have to seriously hurt it, or if they're menacing people it's easier to kill a horse-sized duck entirely, whereas with a bunch of duck-sized horses some of them might get away. So I guess one horse-sized duck either way.

You and a super intelligent snail both get 1 million dollars, and you both become immortal, however you die if the snail touches you. It always knows where you are and slowly crawls toward you. What's your plan?

I would start by asking it what its problem with me is and trying to talk it into leaving me alone. If that didn't work, probably get someone to take it to another continent and scry it every few days to make sure it's still over there. Is the snail supposed to be intelligent enough to acquire boat or airplane passage, or does it just crawl to the nearest bit of coast and get stuck? I guess if I wanted to be sure I could pay someone who can touch it safely to entomb it in concrete, but that seems like a dick move.

Are you in love with Armsmaster?

What? I'm not, and even if I was I wouldn't do anything about it because female priests aren't supposed to marry and have children. Too many conflicting duties.

Are you in love with Dragon?

Same as the previous question, and also Dragon is a woman. (UPDATE 2010-11-23: The comments section has loudly informed me of several contradicting opinions on whether women on Earth Bet can fall in love with each other. Anyway, I'm from Golarion and I can't.)

Are you single?

See the question two questions ago.

What is the difference between a duck?

I'm afraid this question ran into trouble somewhere on its way to Taldane and back. Ask again in the comments if you really want an answer.

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Theology Mailbag #2

Posted 2010-11-23/05:37 in category: mailbags 

Here's the theology mailbag! You guys had some tough ones. 

How can I become a cleric?

I'll be posting about more different gods on here over the next couple weeks. If you read one of those posts and think that you're especially aligned with that god and want to help advance that god's goals on Earth, you can pray to Them. The best time for this is just before dawn but any time can work. Make a holy symbol of that god, and go somewhere quiet and private, and kneel, and think about that god as best you understand Them, and think about what you would do with a cleric circle if you had one. If you're close enough in alignment and the god likes your plans and has enough intervention budget, you'll have a very hard-to-describe experience and then acquire some channels and orisons (and first-circle spells, if you do it at dawn, which is why dawn is best). The best way to be sure is to choose Create Water and then cast it (you'll know how) while pointing at a container, and if it fills up with water then there you go.

It's also possible to get chosen by a god some time when you aren't praying, and then you'll have to try to figure out which god it is and make a holy symbol. Whichever symbol lets you channel and cast spells while you're holding it, it's that one.

If you become a cleric and you get the choice whether to channel positive or negative energy, that means you and your god are both Neutral. Choose positive. It's vastly more useful and also demonstrates that you're not Evil.

If you become a cleric of a Neutral god and are at all worried that you may be Evil, try channeling when there's nothing alive within thirty feet of you except plants. If the plants wither and die, bad news: you're Evil. (Or your god is Evil, but I'm not going to talk about the Evil gods on this blog.)

Have you heard the Good News of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ?

I had not previously heard of Jesus but I looked Him up in response to this question. I have not personally verified anything relating to Jesus, but if all His followers go to Heaven regardless of their alignment in life that's an incredibly impressive achievement even for a god. I hope He manages to do it on more planets. If someone wants me to check, they can send me the name and picture of someone they're confident died Evil but worshipping Jesus, and ideally something that person owned, and I can try to scry them in the afterlife. Though note that I have no way to show scry results to anyone so you'd only have the evidence of me saying so.

How many religions are there on Golarion? Do they have religious wars?

There are about twenty gods commonly worshipped on the parts of Golarion I've spent time on, and probably about that many again on other continents, and elves and dwarves have their own gods that mostly concern themselves with elves and dwarves. Religion gets involved in wars, yes. Sometimes you get one or two gods backing one side and a different one or two gods backing the other side, while the followers of other gods try to make peace/sell arms to both sides/fight as mercenaries.

Are there religions you think are false or evil?

False: mostly no. Golarion doesn't really have the thing where we argue about which gods exist, because so many gods are intervening so obtrusively. If someone from Tian Xia told me that they worshipped a Lawful Neutral god of meticulous record-keeping, I would assume that that god existed and had priests in Tian Xia and I just hadn't happened to have heard of them. To be clear, that's a made up example, I don't know if there's a Tien god of meticulous record-keeping or not. There is one wizard who runs a country and claims he's a god and everyone who doesn't have to put up with him says he's lying, but nobody disputes that he exists.

Evil: unfortunately yes. There are Evil gods whose priests channel negative and whose followers usually go to the Evil afterlives. I'm not going to talk about any of those gods because I don't want to make it easier for Them to see this planet or pick clerics on it.

Don't you know there's only one god?

I got this question from several different people who disagree on everything except that the one god created the universe and possibly also judges people after they die. There is exactly one god who created the universe and the other gods, and She does judge people after they die, so if you want to say that that one is the one god and all the others are some other term then that's a reasonable way to categorize things. We call Her Pharasma in Taldane but it wouldn't be the first time people used different names and sexes to refer to the same god.

Is Iomedae a saint?

The word "saint" is translating as a word for someone who starts out as a follower of one god and then becomes a god or demigod in their own right, and Iomedae is one of those. On the other hand, I looked up the actual English word "saint" and it means something specific in Christianity, and Iomedae isn't a saint in that sense, I think.

Is Iomedae another name for Jesus?

Iomedae would definitely do the "make everyone go to Heaven regardless of alignment" thing if She had the option, but I don't expect She could. If anyone could it would be Sarenrae or Pharasma. Or possibly Jesus is neither of Them. I intend to pray to Him separately when His areas of concern are relevant and if I end up praying to Pharasma or Sarenrae twice then I've been a bit redundant is all.

How do you know the gods exist?

My first instinct was to say "well Someone has to be handing out cleric powers", but druids get their powers from nature so maybe not. Anyway, summoned outsiders say the gods exist, and for any given god it's consistent what gets you clericed and what gets you dropped, and Iomedae in particular walked around being a human woman and intending to ascend and then the day after She went for the Starstone people started getting spells from Her.

What does Iomedae think about abortion?

Abortion is wrong because babies that get aborted or miscarried after some point in pregnancy end up in the Boneyard and the Boneyard is a bad place for children to grow up. I realize this is terrible news for women who have been raped. I'm sorry. I wish it was otherwise.

What does Iomedae think about gay marriage?

I don't know. I only learned about the concept from this question and I don't know why you would marry someone you couldn't have children with. I'm not going to marry anyone. I doubt I'm the worst possible person to ask this question but there have got to be better ones.

What does Iomedae think about war?

War between humans is tragic and nearly always unnecessary. War against the demons coming out of the Worldwound, or Tar-Baphon's undead hordes, or the Endbringers, is necessary and righteous, but still tragic. The goal is to win all the necessary wars and then never have any more wars again.

Does Iomedae think people are saved by faith alone or by faith and good works?

If the Jesus thing works as advertised for Earth people Iomedae probably knows about it. On Golarion you have to do significantly more Good than Evil to get a Good afterlife, or at least not do significantly more Evil than Good to get a Neutral one. 

How do you know what's good and what's evil?

Some things are really obvious. Don't hurt or kill people without a very good reason. Don't own slaves. Don't raise an undead army to conquer the planet, or for any other reason. Other things are more complicated. Is it better to do something that will definitely help one person, or something that only might help a larger number of people? You've got to use your reason and conscience and get advice from wise friends and do your best in whatever situation you find yourself in.

Can you lie?

I am physically capable of lying and would be unlikely to be renounced for one lie in most cases. However, in the vast majority of circumstances I do not want to lie, because there's no lie more valuable to me than other people's ability to trust me when I say things. I will conceal information from my enemies, but not try to deceive people who are dealing with me in good faith.

Would you kill one person to save five others? Like, if a runaway trolley was going to hit five people and you could deflect it to hit one other person, and there was no way to save all six, would you do it?

In that specific case, yes. Though in the closest situation I've ever been in to that one in real life, I was able to raise the one person afterwards.

Suppose a doctor in a hospital has the option to kill one patient and use their organs to save five other people who would otherwise die. Should they do it?

No. This situation is importantly different from the previous one in that people go to hospitals expecting to be safe there. If you do this sort of thing people won't go to hospitals anymore and everything will be worse. Don't harm people who have put themselves in your power because they trusted you unless you're willing to destroy something much larger than any one person. Also, looking up what was going on with this question is how I learned that organ transplants exist, and I am very impressed by what people come up with when they don't have enough magic healing.

 

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Life rolls on. Branding sends a specialist to take a close look at your clothing, who studies one shirt sleeve with a magnifying glass and says she can definitely make you as many more as you want. Director Piggot enrolls you in the Protectorate's mandatory course on vigilante law, which is a little tricky; most people who take it have background knowledge like "it is possible to call the police". Nevertheless, you're making good progress.

Before too long, it's Sunday again! You have a standing invitation to services at First Christ's Church of the Third Dispensation, but if you want to attend with Pride you have to show up this week; on Monday she has to fly back to Aurora and start doing her job again.

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She no longer has a conflicting appointment with Cartesian doubt and is happy to go! She arranges to meet Pride in front of the building so they can sit near each other.

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By now you've seen a few Bet churches, and you don't think this building started out as one: it's long and blocky, with big rectangular windows and crumbling brick walls. But it's the right place, clearly marked by both a cheerful cross-and-flame sign and a small, tense woman in a conservative civilian dress.

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"Hey, you came." She'll dredge up a smile. This feels really exciting but she's learned to be wary of that. "I forget if I said, my name's Gabby. That's how these people here know me. I told the pastor we met when you healed me, I just didn't say from what."

She'll lead Samora inside.

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The interior is simple: a small podium covered by a white cloth, a double semicircle of folding chairs around it, and a pair of tables on the back wall covered with coffee and cookies. Most of the folks inside are gathered around those tables, and their conversation rings off the metal ceiling. Smaller groups are scattered across the chairs.

Two young men, sitting together on the outer edge of the ring, have Evil auras.

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One elderly lady detaches herself from the crowd and hurries over to you. "Gabby! You came back. Welcome! And who's your friend?"

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Hm. Given who's powerful enough to Detect around here, those two are probably capes. She'll do her best not to think about it too much.

"I'm Samora, I'm a healer from another planet. Gabby is introducing me to Earth religion." Might as well get it out there before she says something else blatantly ignorant.

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"Ohhh, Samora, right, you were on TV!  I'm Eleanor, good to meet you.  You saved all those lives in Denver but you can't read, do I remember that right?"  She leans in, with a conspiritorial air.  "I'm getting to where I can't read either, and honestly I don't miss it.  Most of what people write isn't worth the paper it's printed on. Oh, but I guess it's different for you, not being from around here and all."

A few more folks from the coffee and cookies crowd are eyeing you curiously, over Eleanor's shoulder.

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She smiles at everyone but especially Eleanor. Sweet older church ladies are the same everywhere and this is heartening. "That's right. And yes, I can still learn a lot from people repeating what everyone knows."

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Samora is offered coffee and cookies, and very visibly Not Stared At.  Pride Gabby is greeted more normally, like a good friend who's almost never in town.

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This always happens when she attends a new church for the second time and it always...let's say she's getting better at coping with it. She smiles, accepts coffee, and does her best to call everyone by name.

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Samora accepts one of the more homemade-looking cookies for purposes of complimenting it and proves able to compliment it sincerely. Learns a lot of people's names. Makes small talk about a couple people's families and professions, which doubles as useful information about what kinds of professions Earthlings have.

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That opens them right up; the people of Earth Bet love being asked to talk about themselves.  Mostly they seem to have parents and siblings but not children, and jobs like "dockworker", "crane operator", or "salesman".

Then a solemn, complicated piece of music starts up on the other side of the room.  It's coming from an instrument Pride calls a "keyboard", which is apparently played two-handed, standing up.  Everyone takes this as a sign to finish off their coffee and conversations and head for the chairs.

It's a tight fit, only one empty seat in the whole place, but people rearrange themselves so that all the groups can sit together.

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And then a tall young man in black and white takes the podium.  "Good morning!" he calls out.

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"Good morning!" the congregation replies, on cue.

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"The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you!"

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"And also with you."

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"And it is a good morning, because I see a lot of new faces today."  His eyes pass over Samora and Pride, without quite stopping on them. "To all of you I say: welcome. This is the First Christ's Church of the Third Dispensation, and I'm Reverend Daniel Marks. Before we begin the order of worship, are there announcements of which I am unaware?"

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"Announcement", in this context, turns out to be a term of art meaning "request for prayers". There are several: that man's father has cancer again, that woman's brother has run away from home, that man's store on the boardwalk was burned down. One of the men with an Evil aura asks for prayers for his mother, but doesn't explain why.

As this is happening, sheets of paper are being passed around showing the sequence of things that are going to happen during the service, the words to all the prayers they're going to say, and things like that. Well, to everyone but you, anyway.

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She wasn't expecting church to involve reading, but she also doesn't have a lot of good uses for first-circle spells on a typical day, so she has a Comprehend Languages she can cast unobtrusively.

Even if she learns nothing else from this, coming here was good for her. Hearing the prayer requests, getting the reminder that in between the capes and their conflicts this world is full of ordinary human people with ordinary human problems, who have welcomed her among them without worrying about what she can do for them. 

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The verbal and somatic components pull at the focus of the people around you, but when nothing obviously superpowered happens they relax and turn back to Reverend Marks.

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He'll lead the congregation in a short, rote prayer for enlightenment, then hit them with the first scripture reading:

The Lord said to Moses and Aaron, “When Pharaoh says to you, ‘Perform a miracle,’ then say to Aaron, ‘Take your staff and throw it down before Pharaoh,’ and it will become a snake.”

So Moses and Aaron went to Pharaoh and did just as the Lord commanded. Aaron threw his staff down in front of Pharaoh and his officials, and it became a snake. Pharaoh then summoned wise men and sorcerers, and the Egyptian magicians also did the same things by their secret arts: Each one threw down his staff and it became a snake. But Aaron’s staff swallowed up their staffs. Yet Pharaoh’s heart became hard and he would not listen to them, just as the Lord had said.

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After that, everyone sings a song together (the words are projected on the wall, the melody you have to figure out on the fly). There's a little interlude where they pass around a basket for cash donations (to buy more chairs, the woman behind Samora says).

Everyone says a prayer together, which Jesus himself allegedly taught to the first disciples, about two thousand years ago.

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And then it's time for another, longer Bible reading:

A man by the name of Simon had done witchcraft there. The people of Samaria were surprised at the things he did. He pretended that he was a great man. All the people watched and listened to him. They said, “This man must be that great power of God.” They kept running after him. For a long time he fooled them with his witchcraft.

When Simon saw that the Holy Spirit was given when the missionaries laid their hands on the people, he wanted to give money to the missionaries. He said, “Let me also have this power. Then I can give the Holy Spirit to anyone I lay my hands on.” Peter said to him, “May your money be destroyed with you because you thought you could buy the gift of God with money! You have no part or place in this work. Your heart is not right in God’s sight. You must be sorry for this sin of yours and turn from it. Pray to the Lord that He will forgive you for having such a thought in your heart.

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Samora joins in on the song for the last chorus and listens intently to the scripture. It's not obviously any of the gods she's heard of but she can't rule several of them out either. She's going to need to read the Bible straight through, limitations of text to speech or no, because these excerpts assume a lot more context than she has. It makes sense that if everyone is literate everyone can be expected to read the holy book on their own time. Also, it sounds like it's describing a past era when this god did pick clerics who could cast spells and try to resolve conflicts with single combat and be impersonated by witches. There's a lot more going on with Earth religion than she understands.

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Then it's time for the sermon, which according to Samora's pamphlet is titled, "What Sort of Age Are We Living In?"

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"What would you do, brothers and sisters, if someone turned a staff into a snake in front of you?

Maybe you'd run away. Maybe you'd try to kill the snake, if you had a weapon or the right kind of power. If you're a cape, out in costume, you might think the other cape was attacking you. That's how we tend to hear those verses nowadays: Aaron and the Egyptian sorcerers got into a cape fight, and Aaron won."

With the ease of long practice, he represses a 'because his snake was bigger' joke.

"Now, as far as I could tell on PHO, there hasn't ever been a cape who can turn staves into snakes. But there could be, right? It's not confusing that a man can turn a staff into a snake. You might wonder why he's doing it! You might think it was a dumb thing to do. But it wouldn't stun you. It wouldn't fill you with awe to see it. You and Phaoroh have that in common.

So that's how things were, back in the time of Moses. The power of our all-mighty God could turn a staff into a snake, but, you know, so could plenty of other people, if they happened to know the right trick."

"We call that the First Dispensation."

"Now I've been told that particular story happened about thirty-three hundred years ago. Fast forward thirteen centuries to the time of Christ. It's still the First Dispensation but things are very different: our Lord has been crucified, died, buried, and rose again for the forgiveness of our sins, and now His first disciples, men who were taught by Him personally, are spread out all across the ancient world, performing miracles in His Name. The people are impressed, we're told, and the Word of God is spreading fast. It's all so new and cool, in fact, that this guy Simon Magus decides he wants a piece of it. And for a while it works! He's got some kind of power, probably better than the sticks-to-snakes thing, and when people see it they start to think he must be a big deal.

What's interesting to me about that story is that the disciple Peter doesn't catch him and make him stop -- Simon comes to them! Whatever sorcery he's got, he's not satisfied with it, and he tries to pay to get the real thing. And that's what Peter's upset about. He's not mad that Simon can do witchcraft. He's not even mad at Simon for tricking people! He's mad that Simon tried to get the power of God the wrong way. This is not, he tells us, a power you can buy. It's God's power, not man's. It can't be compelled. It only comes to you if you turn away from sin. And apparently Simon never managed that, because we never hear from him again.

Once again, the scriptures show a world of people like us, people who are at home with wonders. But it's easy to forget that most Christians, all through the two thousand year history of our church, didn't live that way. The world of the disciples faded, and what came afterward was a world in which both God's power and the other powers, whatever Phaoroh's sorcerers and Simon Magus had, moved only subtly in the world. It didn't quite vanish: there were a few healings, some prophecies, whatever our Lord was doing with Joan of Arc. But they were never ordinary. Every single one was a rare testament to the mighty power of our Lord. They were awe-inspiring. And most men and women of those long years lived and died without ever seeing one."

"We call that the Second Dispensation. The weight of men's sins were lifted from them by the power of our redeeming Lord, but their bodies suffered and died in a world where God's awesome power mostly did not take an overt form. Our ancestors lived -- for over a thousand years! -- in a world that was almost pure matter, and man slowly came to believe in a world without secret forces beyond that which we can weigh and measure and count."

"But we do not live in that world now, do we, brothers and sisters? Scion appeared, and everything changed. Mankind began to develop powers. But these are not the powers of the holy spirit, which Peter tells us come only to those with repentant hearts. They're not even the powers of the Egyptian sorcerers, secret arts that required study to master. They can come upon anyone: wise or foolish, good or wicked."

"This, the age we live in now, is the Third Dispensation."

"And so many people ask, where is Peter? Where are Aaron and Moses? Where is the awesome power of God, gobbling up these mortal powers the way Aaron's snake ate up the others?

There are those who will tell you that Scion is the Word of God moving in the world but brothers and sisters, don't believe it. I used to be a Reverend in the First Church of Christ and Scion Ascendant -- don't worry, I won't tell that story again, you newcomers can ask me about it afterwards if you're really curious. Suffice it to say, Scion does not preach the Word of God, does he? He doesn't preach anything. Aaron's snake ate up the other snakes, so it's tempting to look for God in the biggest snake around, but brothers and sisters, that is a mistake. God is mighty, but we do not know the godly by their might, but by the fruits of their spirits.

There are those who will tell you that all powers are demonic, that they come suddenly because they are possessing spirits, of the kind our Lord Jesus and his apostles cast out. But evil powers cannot be turned toward good ends, and we do see capes do good. Every day we see it. Even Scion -- I was a little hard on him just now, but he saves lives every day.

There are those who will tell you that this age is a fallen age, that God's power is gone from this world, but don't believe that either. God loves His creation. Each sparrow, we're told, each flower, is precious to Him. It is never too late to put your trust in the Lord, and if you do you will see that trust repaid.

There are a few who say that powers are of the Holy Spirit, but in that case you really have to ask: why all the villains?"

"So, fine, all those answers are wrong. What's right? Can we even know?"

"We can. I'll tell it to you, just as it was told to me."

"We are living at the beginning of a new age of man, as significant in God's plan for us as the times of Moses or Christ. At the end of the First Dispensation God's mercy lifted us up out of sin. In the Second Dispensation man mostly lived without powers, but God still blessed some men with strength, and some with intelligence. Some with insight, some with bravery. All of those blessings were also callings, to turn those gifts to the service of our Lord Jesus Christ. The blessings we receive now, in the Third Dispensation, are different in their scope but not in their nature, and through the redeeming glory of Christ any power, and any person, can be turned to His good service. Our God is an awesome God, and there is nothing anywhere more powerful.

It can be hard, these days, to truly live in awe. Like Phaoroh's, our hearts are hardened by the powers we live among, or sometimes - " he carefully doesn't look at anyone in particular " - by the powers we wield. But I'll say it again, I do not only mean the kinds of powers that make a person a cape. I stand before you now with no power but my voice and my faith in our Lord Jesus Christ and I tell you, brothers and sisters, that is enough. All things, and all people, can serve the glory of God. Your powers, whatever they are, are meant for His service. And they are fit for his service, and so are you. This I promise you, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. Let us pray."

"Heavenly Father, send us into the world in the strength of Your spirit. Bless us and guide as we strive to turn the powers you've given us to the work that you demand. Grant us your mercy as we struggle in a world that does not know your Word, and lift us up to meet that world with Your redeeming love."

"Lord, we ask for your mercy and compassion for Andrew Agbay."

"We pray for your protection and guidance for Thomas Ivory."

"We pray to you for Eric's mother."

"We pray for support for Max Eaton, and for his family."

"For all of these, Lord, and all those we hold in our hearts, we ask for your mercy."

"Amen."

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"Amen!" the congregation responds.

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And then it's time for another song!

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This was such a helpful sermon that it's obvious Pride tipped off the priest and asked for it to be Basic History Explanation for Aliens week, which is very nice of everyone involved. Hopefully the rest of the congregation isn't too bored. 

It all makes sense when she thinks about it in chronological order. Whatever Jesus did or tried to do to send all His followers to Heaven, it must have taken an immense amount of intervention budget (and apparently involved being temporarily dead). Of course He would have to drop all His clerics after that. Not immediately afterwards, apparently, because they had some time still doing magic to get the church established, but then a very understandable nothing for the next thousand years. And maybe it worked, because no other gods have tried to contest this planet in that time, unless one of Them sent the Endbringers. And now Samora is here, either by accident or on purpose, to fight the Endbringers, and maybe once she's made it cheaper some of the other gods will get back in the mix and maybe they won't. 

If the Endbringers were the intervention of an Evil god it would explain why the Inheritor could send Samora here. If they're an accident and she's an accident, maybe none of the other gods will prioritize Earth. All of this is pointless speculation.

She needs to ask Pride about that "in a world that does not know Your word" bit; she was under the impression from Wikipedia that Jesus was widely worshipped. Maybe it's a thousand year old prayer and nobody wanted to change it.

She appreciates the explicit clarification that it was fine for Simon Magus to be running around being a sorceror or a cleric of another god (Abadar?) or whatever he was; she has gotten some impolite blog comments to the effect that all magic-users should be assumed clerics of Evil gods until proven otherwise.

She says "Amen" with everyone else, half a beat late. The song is a little uncanny in its imagery, but why wouldn't it be, it's a song from an alien planet by the followers of an exhausted god. The spirit of it is beautiful and she joins in as soon as she's got the tune down.

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One more little prayer to send them off:

"The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Go in peace."

And that's another service down! Usually he gets to relax a bit at this point; this week he's got one more job to do.

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Samora's fellow congregants don't look bored, at least.

"I always come out of these wanting to, I don't know, run out the door and pick up some trash or something," the woman to Samora's right confesses. "I know it isn't real, of course someone like Legend does more good than I ever could, but it's still nice to think about."

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On her other side, Pride is looking rather overwhelmed, and will not take questions at this time.

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She smiles at the woman and shrugs. "If only the person who was the very best at anything did that thing, a lot less would get done." Pride gets a smile too, and a quiet "Thank you" that she can easily pretend not to hear if she doesn't want to respond.

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The crowd naturally drifts from the chairs back toward the tables with the cookies. The two Evil men both leave right after the service, but most people seem inclined to stick around.

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The Reverend works his way around the room, smiling, dispensing blessings, and accepting compliments. He doesn't need to check in on Ben and Eric this week, it seems, or at any rate they don't want him to, so all he has to do is make his pitch to Samora.

Eventually he's close enough. "Samora, welcome! Gabby mentioned that you might join us today, and we're all so glad you did. How did you find the service?"

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"It was very informative, thank you! I appreciate the history context." Does he look like he'll let her pull him aside somewhere and ask him thirty questions, or is he understandably too busy?

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He did all the easy Reverend-ing up front, so he's got an casual manner and nothing but time on his hands. But he probably shouldn't rely on subtext with a visitor from far away, so: "I tried to write it so it'd make sense even to someone who'd never heard of the Bible before -- all sermons should be like that, really -- but I'm sure I missed a few spots. I'd be happy to fill those in, if you had any questions."

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Excellent. "You did a great job of that but I still have kind of a lot of questions, yes. My planet is very different, and I don't want to guess, with important things, when I could check my guesses with someone who knows more."

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Okay, but she didn't ask any questions.

After a second he forms a guess as to why not. Not literally everyone in earshot is listening to what the Reverend has to say to the famous new cape, just, you know, a solid 75%. This is where he should take her to his office, except he doesn't have an office, he just has this one room, and they sublet it four nights a week to help make rent. That's how it is, when you're a splinter sect of a splinter sect of a Protestant denomination that wasn't that big to begin with. He'll try leading her to his lectern in the other side of the room, which is reasonably private so long as nobody has secret super hearing. Gabby can come too, if she wants.

"So what do you want to know?'

If this doesn't work he'll just try taking them home with him.

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No, that works fine, he's got more at stake in the being-overheard direction than she does. 

"Possibly I should open with some context on my planet. We have multiple gods who are relatively active, roughly the way you described the First Dispensation. I don't think Christ is one of them but I can't be sure. It sounds like there aren't any other gods intervening heavily here right now either, but were there in the past? If there were, did they all back off shortly after the time of Christ as well?"

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PrideGabby is recovered enough to follow them, and might even talk if there's a really good reason to.

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He'd guessed that Samora would ask something like that, just from skimming her blog.

"It's possible. Our sources don't carefully distinguish between spirits, demons, and gods, so you can't always tell what was going on theologically, but for example, there used to be lots of oracles around the Mediterranean sea -- the same general area where the Christian church began -- but one by one, they all stopped prophesying. The last survivor, the oracle at Delphi which claimed to grant prophecies from a god named Apollo, made its final prophecy about seventeen hundred years ago. We have letters about this from people who used to live back then, basically just complaining the oracles all used to work, but now they don't, and no one knows why or what to do about it."

"Now, some people are sure that there are no gods but ours, and never were, because so many early church fathers say that our God is the one true God. But it's also possible that that was true when they said it, but wasn't earlier -- even our Bible has a little evidence for that theory. I'm just a preacher, but some Third Dispensationalist clergy spend all their time studying that period. Those people were living in the beginning of something new, just like we are, and we're hoping to get a hint of what kinds of things might happen to us."

Should he push that theme further? Something's telling him, not yet.

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"That makes sense. I would also love to know what's going to happen. I'm going to tell people here about the gods of my planet and see if they start choosing clerics on Earth, but it's possible whatever caused them to leave, or to never come here in the first place, still applies and it's just going to be me. Are there risks, or concerns, you think I should be on the lookout for there?"

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Marks frowns, thinking. "I read on your blog that you came here through a 'teleportation accident'. How common is it, would you say, for that sort of accident to send someone to another planet?"

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Thoughtful frown. "I've never heard of it happening, but if most planets don't have teleportation I don't know if I would have, people go missing on Golarion all the time and for all I know several of them went to other planets. I'm keeping the possibility that it was divine intervention in mind but not doing anything that relies on it either way." It might be something to ask when she can cast Commune, if it does turn out to be actionable, but she's not making the existence of Commune public yet.

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"People go missing on Golarion all the time." You'd think a world with lots of powers like Samora's would be safer than Earth Aleph, let alone Bet. What's worse, she clearly doesn't realize that she just said anything grim or disturbing. He should read her blog posts more carefully; her world may be more like life at the time of the apostles, with lots of overt holy power, but lots of demons for it to war against, too.

And then he catches the other implication. From her family's perspective she's just missing, maybe forever. He's been focused on what this means for Bet, but he is in fact Called to spread his net a little wider than that. So: "And now you're one of those missing. I'm sorry for your family's loss, and for yours."

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"Thank you. I'm very fortunate in having a spell that lets me send short messages home, for all I can't return. If my kind of accident is common, perhaps some rumor will reach the next person. And I'll see them again eventually, in Heaven."

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He nods. "That's a blessing. To answer your question...so long as most people think of your clerics as weird capes, they won't have any trouble. They'll be welcome, even, if they can heal like you can.  But our Bible is pretty strict about not worshipping other Gods.  If one of our believers got picked by one of your gods, well, at best they'd be real upset.  At worst they might be in danger from their neighbors, or even from themselves."

"I guess exorcisms don't do anything to you?  We can't cast cape powers out of people like the apostles did demons, that was tried back in the eighties.  That helped calm things down a bit, come to think."

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"Clerics can renounce their gods by declaring that they're doing so while intending it to stick, and I don't expect any god would pick someone who'd immediately renounce them. I'll make sure that goes in a blog post. I'd want to know more about this world's exorcisms, what they consist of and how they work, before agreeing to get one, but if they work the same as the ones on Golarion I'd be happy to. The ones I'm used to only get rid of undead." She doesn't think anything they have on Earth is likely to separate her from the Inheritor, but it's not a thing to risk lightly, especially here where she's the only person who can cast Atonement until someone else hits fifth.

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"Undead? Like ghosts? Ours works on possessing spirits of all kinds. Those spirits aren't always overtly evil: there was another incident, around the same time as the Simon story, where an apostle cast a spirit that was telling fortunes out of a slave girl. Her owner was quite upset, because he'd been charging money for people to hear her. Many folks hoped that the more dangerous capes could be dealt with the same way, but as far as I know it's never worked even once."

"I take that as a sign that powers are gifts the way a keen mind is a gift, or a way with words is a gift. A lot of people feel the same way. But then again nobody goes around saying that their powers come from a foreign god."

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"That makes sense. I once helped a young woman drive out a being who was haunting her dreams, and it wasn't what I would call an exorcism but I could see calling it one." The terminology isn't the question, the question is what it does. "I'm definitely not possessed, but I do have an ongoing connection to an external power in a way that someone with a keen mind doesn't and capes presumably also don't."

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Right. All their conversation is happening through a translator, and the translator isn't perfect. He's been forming a specific idea of how Samora speaks, her vocabulary, her accent, how she uses pauses and filler, just like he would with anybody. But those details he's hearing are made up by her power, or her goddess, or however it works. It might be a good translation, there's no way to know, but it's not a perfect one. It's a distracting idea, enough that he almost misses the turn of the conversation.

"Oh, I wouldn't think an exorcism would work on you anyway. If God didn't want you here, you just wouldn't be here."

That was a little more blunt than he'd really planned to be. But, oh well, he stands by it.

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She doesn't seem bothered at all. "Makes sense. The Inheritor wants to cooperate with other Good gods, not interfere with their plans. It's possible I'm here by accident and will cause problems that aren't worth the intervention budget of preventing, but I'll do my best not to."

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"Oh I doubt very much it was an accident.  Very much indeed."

"You see, each dispensation started with a great upheaval, something that changed the way the faithful lived.  The first humans were cast out of paradise -- there wasn't time to talk about it this morning, but that's how the First Dispensation got started.  They were forced to learn all kinds of things they did not want to learn, but they managed. The Second arrived when Jesus did, and it took a few centuries for things to really settle, but even at the beginning Jesus was preaching some things the religious leaders of his time did not want to hear. But some heard, and listened, and ultimately the church prospered.  But here in the Third, there's been a great change and no great revelation to go with it. We have plenty of wonders, but not so many signs. A lot of folks think Scion was supposed to deliver that new message, and we just haven't found the right way to talk to him. Aren't worthy enough, maybe. But I don't believe it." He goes a little distant, with no need for showmanship, then pulls himself back.

"Anyway, now here you are, apparently by the grace of our Lord and Savior, preaching some new doctrine and doing things we haven't seen since the time of Christ himself. You can see how it might get my attention."

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She nods thoughtfully, buying time to think about that perspective. "I can see how that fits together. Something about the existence of capes relating to it being the right time to—invite the other gods back, I suppose. If you're right, it bodes well for the possibility of more clerics being chosen." She shrugs, as though resettling something on her shoulders. "Fortunately we don't have to know the whole plan to play our parts in it, for all it would be wonderful to know." 

The prospect of doing what she's doing, she notes, feels more intimidating if there's a plan than if there isn't. This is, on reflection, not really correct. If she came here by accident, there's a sense in which she can't fail to live up to expectations, but now that she's here the Inheritor has whatever expectations of her She has. And the stakes are the same either way: the survival and health of civilization on Earth Bet. The biggest difference is that if Samora was purposely selected as someone with good odds of doing a good job, she's more likely to do a good job than if she's here at random.

Anyway, she doesn't need to not feel intimidated; she needs to win.

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She's easier to read when she's not talking. He can see the moment the sense of responsibility hits her, and the moment she accepts it. It's thrilling, the way the high point of a good sermon can be thrilling, or a shared prayer. It's the feeling of the Holy Spirit. Yes. This is real. Thank you, Lord, for putting me here.

He'll have to learn more about her world's theology, to figure out how it fits into the picture revealed by the existing Word of God. Lots of people will try that eventually, Marks is sure. But the one who's working with Samora directly is surely the one God has chosen for this work, and why shouldn't it be him? God must have brought her here. For what purpose, if not to found His new church?

And they'll be able to afford whole glorious cathedrals, not small subdivided chunks of run-down warehouses.

And in those cathedrals he'll preach to an audience of hundreds, not twenty-five in cheap folding chairs.

There's much more he can glean from her blog, but: "Are there any parts of your theology that you don't want to share publicly, but that you could tell to a priest of another Good God? I think it might be very important that I learn as much about it as I can. I'd offer to return the favor, but our theology doesn't really have secrets in the first place; we're called to share it as widely as we can."

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"We don't really have secrets either! I'm keeping some things back about the details of my powers that I don't want villains to know, and I won't talk about the Evil gods in detail lest they become able to see Earth more clearly, but everything I know about the theology of the gods worth worshipping is going to go up on the blog once I have it written down."

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He wants to ask her more questions, but he hasn't even read her blog properly yet.  He just needs to make sure he gets her email address, so he can write to her later.  For now: "Did you have other questions for me?"  He makes a little waving gesture with one hand, to include Gabby in that invitation.

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Gabby just got over hearing the sermon and understanding it, and now she's having to cope with the fact that he seems to be taking her crack doctrinal theory seriously.  Samora has to carry this conversation on her own.

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"How would you describe your church's and your god's relationship to other Earth religions? I mean the ones that follow gods other than Jesus." 

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"Oh, nowadays there aren't any. Not true ones, I mean. Like I said, it's just barely possible there used to be other gods, but at this point it's just us."

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"Yes, I don't mean the gods, I mean the people who remember the other gods the way you remember yours even though They don't empower anyone. The Muslims and Buddhists and so on."

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"Oh, them. We get along OK. The big thing nowadays isn't Christians fighting Muslims or whoever, it's everybody with any faith at all fighting people who don't believe in anything but themselves, or who've given up on the world completely. And you can't fight that with weapons, you have to go soul by soul. Sometimes it works." He allows himself a short moment of pointless worry for Ben and Eric, then locks back in.

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"Yeah." Sometimes Samora does have to fight that kind of person with weapons, but this man doesn't and shouldn't. "I'll talk to some of the clergy of other religions, to be sure I have the whole picture. I think my last question is if there's anything we discussed that you would rather I didn't put in a blog post, or did or didn't attribute to you."

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"Not at all.  There's nothing I've said here I wouldn't tell the whole world."  But then he catches himself.  "Though, since you ask it, I wonder if I could ask you a question, one you'd leave out of your blog."

"Scion was at Denver, just like you were.  Did you see him?  What's your sense of him?"

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"I'm afraid I didn't get a look at him, I was in the field hospital at the time. I don't know anything that everyone else doesn't."

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He's having a lot of thoughts, mostly too fast for him to catch, and where he lands is, "If you ever do meet him up close -- at another Endbringer fight, let's say -- I'd appreciate hearing your point of view."

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"I hope I do, and if it happens I expect I'll be excited to share it."

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That sounds like a nice warm note to end on. Unless they resist, Marks will escort Samora and Gabby to the door.

"Don't be strangers. My e-mail address is on the church web site, feel free to write any time you feel called to. Samora, may I have yours? I expect I'll have more questions later, once I've had a chance to read your blog again and pray about it."

What should they call this new church? Marks joined Christ's Church of the Third Dispensation because he thought their doctrine was true, and that belief sure paid off today, but there's no denying that the name confuses people, and that's an uncomfortable place to start evangelizing. You can tell it was made up by theologians, rather than by people who work with the faithful directly. That's fine for the teachings, but for the name..."Golarionite Church of Christ"? "Christ's Church of the New Revelation"? You want "Christ" in there somewhere so people can tell it's still Christian, but none of these are right. Way too clunky. He'll think about it some more.

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Samora provides her email and says her goodbyes. If Gabby seems like she wants to talk, she's available; if Gabby wants to go home, she'll thank her again and depart.

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Yeah, Gabby wants to go home.  But, "Just so you know.  I had the same thought he did.  I've been in this church for maybe a year, I'm not an expert or anything, but.  I had the same idea."

"Uh, anyway, thanks for, you know, everything."  The street's pretty quiet, but still.  "Let me know if you're in Denver sometime, on an exchange or something."

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Samora goes home and takes a lot of notes on today's conversation so she doesn't forget, but doesn't turn it into a blog post just yet. She has blog posts on Erastil and Sarenrae and Abadar and Shelyn and Desna and Cayden Cailean to write and polish and upload, summarizing the other churches' doctrines from her best impression of their own perspectives and praying to each god in turn for guidance in making them as true as possible. 

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Erastil is perhaps the most humanlike of the gods who were never human, because His concerns are the concerns of ordinary men. If I had to guess, I would guess Erastil hears more prayers from Golarion than any other god...

 

... Some ask why Abadar is not Evil, when so much Evil is done in the name of money. Some ask why Abadar is not Good, when commerce brings prosperity to so many. To some extent those questions answer each other, but there is a more fundamental answer, which is that money is a tool that can be used for good or ill. Abadar cares greatly about the means by which men pursue their ends, whatever those ends may be, for He sees that by those means both the brave and the cowardly, both the selfish and the heroic, can flourish....

 

...The greatest gift that mortals have is free will. No matter who you are, no matter what you've done, no matter what other people expect of you, you can decide at any moment that you're going to do Good. Sarenrae is the goddess of that choice and that hope, and She rejoices when anyone turns away from Evil, no matter how shaky their first steps....

 

Desna is one of the hardest goddesses for me to explain in a blog post, because She is one I understand the least, but also one who needs the least explanation. She is the goddess of dreams, travel, luck, and the stars, and Her followers understand Her perhaps better than most followers understand their gods. With other posts I have laid out a map. With this post I can only point in the right direction, and hope that for the right people that will prove sufficient ...

 

... Cayden Cailean knows that mortals cannot see all the consequences of their actions, and so He says, do not bind your future self with rules and oaths. The version of you who exists in each moment knows best how to do Good in that moment. All that is needed is the courage to do the thing you know is right at the moment it must be done.

When a merchant captain takes on a cargo of slaves and betrays his employer to free them, Cayden Cailean rejoices. When a woman flees a cruel husband rather than bear his children and goes off to seek her fortune, Cayden Cailean watches over her....

 

... Shelyn's clerics often do not fight, for while others protect the world they focus on making it worth protecting. Their strength comes less from spells and more from their wisdom, their skill, their understanding, and their compassion. A true Shelynite teaches people to recognize their own value and the value of those around them....

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She also sets up meetings with a Catholic priest, a Hindu priest, a rabbi, an imam, and a Buddhist monk, and thanks Desna that America has all of those available.

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On the morning of Samora's fourteenth day on Earth Bet, she arrives at the now-usual place at the now-usual time to Raise the set of Behemoth casualties she Gentle Reposed eleven days ago.

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You're in the home stretch; after today, almost every intact dead cape from the Behemoth fight will be back up and at it.

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Well, except for the various villains who never made it onto the list in the first place. They did Raise a few on advice from Branding, but the PRT's position, and Armsmaster's too, is that resurrection isn't medical care in the sense of the Preservation Act and they don't have to offer it if they don't feel like it.

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Anyway, Panacea isn't here today; she's been missing more and more of these lately.

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She leads a busy life, and she had a conflicting appointment, OK?

Also she's pretty much seen every problem Raise Dead can cause and it's getting boring.

Also she doesn't look forward to seeing Samora the way she did when they first met.

It's fine, Samora's Restoration works just as well. That's a more efficient use of both their time anyway, and that's what counts.

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Anyway, today you've got five fresh ones. Should be easy, everyone's got their routine down. There haven't been any dangerous happenings since the Pride Incident, and today's bodyguard (Assault again) is openly bored with your miraculous triumph over death.

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Sometimes boring is great. Here goes!

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The first one comes back just like most of the others, disoriented and confused but cheerful enough once the situation is explained.

The second one sits up sharply, winces, and says, "You guys, there's an afterlife! And it's really cool!"

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"You remember stuff? Neat! So, context, I arrived from another planet during the Behemoth fight and I can raise the recently dead. You've been out for about two weeks, there was a bit of a line. You're the first one who got all the way to an afterlife instead of just being unconscious. What was it like?"

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He smiles softly. "It was beautiful, I was in this redwood forest, except the trees were even taller and the ground was all this really soft moss, and I could hike as long as I wanted and never get tired or hungry. I heard some other people at one point, but I was avoiding them because I wanted the quiet. And there was this waterfall, it must have been as high as a football field . . . And then I realized all of a sudden that I could go back, and I did because I wanted to see my family again. Are they here?  Where is here?" 

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"You're in Brockton Bay. I'm not sure if they told your family when you were scheduled to come back, you're here in your cape identity, but they're going to put you on a plane home soon."

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"Did you know about this? Is that what happens to everyone when they die?"

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Explaining this to someone who still has the peace of Elysium reflected in his eyes hurts more than usual. "I wish it did, but no. Different people go to different places, and some of them are much worse. There are people working on fixing that."

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"This is the weirdest Endbringer fight I have ever heard of, and I know a guy who lost a leg in the building where they make prosthetic legs."


 

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Over the next few days, things begin to happen.

A retired schoolteacher who has raised five foster children to adulthood reads the blog post about Sarenrae while his two current foster daughters sleep, and closes his eyes. I really hope you exist, he thinks. I hope there's someone out there who has power and uses it to look after the folks who have nobody else to look after them. I hope you'll keep my kids safe, and all the other kids out there who need someone in their corner. I want them all to have some reason to believe they're loved. What he feels in response might just be his own emotions, but maybe it isn't.

The next day, when the kids are packed off to the bus stop in the pre-dawn gloom, he folds a piece of paper into the shape of an angel, and prays, and reports still blinking to the local hospital to say he has healing powers and would like to pick up a few shifts.


An insurance adjuster whose true passion is his unprofitable Etsy store of hand-made greeting cards reads the blog post about Shelyn, and paints the holy symbol at the bottom of the post, and prays over it at dawn, not really knowing what he expects to happen. An hour later he practically flings himself down the stairs to tell his girlfriend, and together they run down the street to tell his brother.


A women's self-defense instructor gets home from another day of telling her students that it's not just okay but actively good to make a scene when someone tries to hurt you, and pours a shot of whiskey to wash down her microwave chili in her studio apartment. A friend sends her the blog post about Cayden Cailean. She stays up late reading it, and drinks two more shots, and rants at the ceiling about how if Cayden is real he can fucking prove it, by giving her powers or by smiting a certain member of Congress with lightning or by smiting her with lightning, what fucking ever. And then there's laughter out of nowhere in her head, friendly and boisterous, and she's laughing too, and in the morning she prepares Protection from Evil and Burning Disarm and Remove Fear and starts thinking about cape names.


A seventeen-year-old boy who knows there has to be more to life than school and college applications reads the blog post about Desna between writing chapters of Warrior Cats fanfiction, and rereads it instead of doing his homework, and dreams of the milky way as an open road. In the morning he steals his sister's butterfly hair clip and skips first period English to pray for—he's not sure what. Spells, freedom, understanding, the possibility of Someone who understands him. He gets all of that, and spends second period math searching Craigslist for used vans.


The blog posts on Pharasma and Irori go up. The blogzone server hosting them briefly goes down to the Hug of Death.

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Every morning, Contessa asks her power a standard list of questions for her personal safety, then branches out into a much longer list intended to help stabilize the cape scene and the world at large. She usually doesn't find anything, but Doctor Mother told her it was a good idea, so:

Path to a Tinker with a dimensional specialization

None found

Path to a Tinker with a nuclear specialization other than Linac.

None found

. . .

Path to prevent a cape from being shot with a battle rifle in the next 24 hours

None found

Huh, that's a pleasant surprise. Path to a cleric other than Samora.

Four steps

Uh oh!

They did make a plan for this contingency, so Contessa switches tracks:

Path to an Evil cleric.

None found

Path to a cleric who can channel negative energy.

None found

Path to kill a cleric other than Samora

Five steps

Only slightly tougher than a normal civilian, and vastly weaker than Samora, all as expected. Not, therefore, a crisis. She finishes her usual list of questions, then goes off to tell Doctor Mother about it.

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Overall this sounds not too bad? In their best-case scenario all the new clerics would be partnered with Iomedae, just to keep the number of scary extradimensional players to a minimum, but failing that "clerics who can heal but are still easy to kill" is a reasonably encouraging way for things to develop.

She'll have Contessa Path-interrogate all the new clerics, so they can get a sense of how the conversion process works and suss out any surprises from their new powers, but if nothing surprising comes up they won't intervene.

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It turns out there are nine new non-Samora clerics this morning, all English speakers who read Samora's blog. They all deliberately prayed to their god of choice, and they all had some kind of representation of the god's holy symbol. Outside of those two points the conversion processes -- and the converts -- are pretty idiosyncratic.

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Ah, here's a question they forgot to think about before: how many new clerics are being made each day? And is it getting faster or slower over time?

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The total number of non-Samora clerics rises to twenty-two over the next two days, and then the growth rate slows. Each conversion story is broadly similar to the ones you've already heard.

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There are lots of different curves which fit those few data points, but they're certainly not a reason to be more alarmed than they were before. The total number of clerics across the anglosphere is on the low end of his projections, in fact; they should arrange for some translations, if that doesn't happen organically.

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And then, back in Brockton Bay, the last Behemoth fatality is resurrected.  But worry not; the PRT still has a rich backlog of dead capes, mostly independent heroes who got themselves shot or clubbed on the head.  Samora's five Raises per day are in no danger of being wasted.

On the other hand, these Raises are perhaps, in some sense, not quite as importantly symbolic as the Behemoth ones.  If one wanted to do a Scrying, say, or a Commune, now might not be an unreasonable time.

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It's going to be worth it in the long run, especially now that other clerics are being chosen. She preps a Sending at fourth, and a Scrying at fifth instead of one of the Raises, and contacts her Avistani History 1 teacher, who she knows also teaches Commune seminars some years. 

Samora from history. Camel fox two seven. Stranded on alien planet, founding church. Diamonds, cinnamon cheap. Need Commune class by scry. One today, max five tomorrow.

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That's a really weird claim, and the password the seminarians get is naturally not very secure, but the Commune protocols are correspondingly not very secret. If it's a ploy, it's probably a ploy to get him to fail the save on a scry, and he can take it in the designated Very Boring Room For Being Scried In.

Acknowledged. Land scries in two, twenty-six, twenty-eight, thirty hours for basics. Set up for dictation. Most important thing: important, decision-driving questions only. 

He doesn't bother saving space for "If this is real, how are you fifth circle?!", because she'd need a second Sending to answer, but he's thinking it. Likewise "How did you end up on an alien planet?!".

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She clears the relevant parts of her schedule and starts casting an hour later, with her tablet ready to record at the tap of a button.

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Professor Fletcher fails his save and lets her shoulder-surf a book as he flips through it at a speed just slow enough to let her read it out loud. Part of it looks like this.

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Samora reads it into her tablet and doesn't try to understand it until afterwards. Even afterwards the math is pretty tricky and she's not sure she could do it right without help.

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Professor Fletcher is there again the next day with more textbook and some handwritten notes, a mix of math and verbal heuristics and case studies on long-ago Communes used well or poorly.

Also he wants her to set up to get Scried later so she can brief some military intelligence people on this new planet and its resources and the possibility of broader contact.

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Time to email Armsmaster and ask what she's allowed to tell them! Presumably the default is that general context on Earth is okay and anything that isn't public knowledge on Earth isn't? She's not technically required to tell them anything, as she is not in the military and never was, but they'll use the information for Good.

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Oh good, another high-priority email thread that all of PRT leadership will want to be involved in. They already knew they were opening a relationship with Golarion's gods; he hadn't realized they'd have this much contact with Golarion's governments, but in retrospect yes, obviously two parties with Scrying can have high-bandwidth exchanges, and since Golarion's side isn't constrained by fifth-circle spell slots they can receive as much data as Samora cares to give them. Like or not, they are now in contact with Samora's home country, and everyone they tell, and everyone they tell, ad infinitum. His only consolation is that Alexandria missed it too.

He shoots a quick email explaining things to the leadership list, then takes a stab at draft policy for Samora:

You're clear to tell them anything that's both common knowledge on Earth and that wouldn't shock them or inspire them to try to visit themselves. For example, the abundance of diamonds on Earth is classified for now. Use your judgement and contact me if you're uncertain. Avoid being Scried around Masters or Strangers, or capes not known not to be Masters or Strangers, as some powers with those classifications propagate through visual contact.

He reads that over. Is he missing anything obvious? Golarion has teleportation; is it possible to target a Golarion-style Teleport through a Scry? If Samora thinks it isn't, is she certain to be right? He adds another line.

Furthermore, receive all Scries within the Master/Stranger containment cells on the second basement level.

That's going to be a huge pain in the ass, for her and for the M/S guards, but it's the right call. Still, he should probably soften it a little:

I expect we'll relax those rules soon, and eventually open trade in knowledge and goods the way we do with Aleph, but that's a decision we shouldn't make unilaterally.

Adequate. He sends it.

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I told them diamonds were more abundant here so they'd know I was constrained on scries, but didn't give them numbers. I apologize for not running the exact wording of the initial Sending by you for things like that. I'll warn them off visiting; I agree it's a bad idea right now. I'll stick to mostly medical information.

 The M/S containment cells should work great as uninformative rooms to be Scried in.

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...well, that's probably fine, and if it isn't it's clearly Samora's fault and not his. He'll add another message to the leadership thread, which already has nine replies.

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She arranges to be in the containment cells at the agreed-upon time, puts herself in the mental state of "not trying to throw off spells", and waits for the Scrying sensor to show up on the ceiling. It turns out they have a good enough connection that the wizard can cast Message.

Earth Bet: it has technology and capes. She can't give more details on the diamond reserve situation because she's in the employ of a local government and they don't want her to share anything too militarily important. She can't come back to Golarion because she can't prepare Plane Shift or any calling spells, and believes this to be a sign that the Inheritor wants to limit direct contact between the planets or at least wants Samora to stay here. Yes, this planet does have existential threats she's well-placed to help with. Yes it also has resources that could theoretically be useful against Golarion's problems, but her commanding officer thinks broader contact would be dangerous right now and she agrees. They need to get the situation here more stable before they can afford to spare anyone, you know how it is. (They do, in fact, know how it is.)

Founding a local church is going well; the Inheritor and several other allied gods have picked their first couple first-circles. Yes, she knows she's eventually going to have to resign from the government to lead the church and the government knows this too.

She has some useful information about public health that will fill as much extra time as they have left over and probably multiple more Scryings after that.

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If they cannot have trade and diplomacy and an army of capes and a wagonload of diamonds they will absolutely take useful public health information! Also they recognize that they can't give her orders but she shouldn't let anyone on Golarion who isn't from the Lastwall government Scry her if she can avoid it.

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Understood.

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There's a new email thread with the Secretary of State. Apparently President Gillen feels blindsided, and is unhappy about it.

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Sometimes, just every once in a great while, it's fine to not be in charge.

He'll engage with that as little as he can get away with. He'll fill in details about Samora if they seem useful, and drop a link to her blog in case they don't already have it.

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Alexandria and Chief Director Costa-Brown make various soothing replies. The PRT is in theory answerable to the executive branch and the President, but they have many more ways to make Gillen's life annoying than vice versa, and they're more popular than he is, too. And if things get really screwed up, she can have Contessa handle it.

Let them form a committee to study Samora's blog and explore frameworks for creating proposals for trade relations with Golarion, or whatever governments that aren't secret cape dictatorships do. Probably they'll ban substantive contact in the meantime. That will slow things down, which Alexandria would frankly find soothing at this point. Perhaps now she will stop getting exciting reports out of Brockton Bay, and will be able to pay more attention to her other jobs for the next month or two.

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Later that evening, Dragon sends an email.

Hello Samora, I've reviewed the Commune material you shared with us. It turns out to overlap substantially with a branch of Bet mathematics called information theory. I think it's very likely that we'll be able to match the Golarionite state of the art, or even improve on it, depending on Iomedae's exact limitations.

We still have to decide what we want ask Her. I've just started a new email thread for brainstorming, including you and several PRT Thinkers. Please don't be shy about adding to it, even on purely Bet-internal matters.

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...of course.

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Samora participates in the email thread, at first tentatively and then enthusiastically. She does a lot of suggesting rephrasings of questions from "Is this true?" to "Should the Protectorate do this?", and mentions the existence and relevance of prophecy, and suggests some long shots she could try against an Endbringer if she had reason to believe one was worth trying.

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I maintain that the Inheritor cannot lie, but if you don't trust Her answers on correct decisions then you can't trust them on factual questions either, so you might as well ask them in the more actionable way. You can phrase it as "does it serve the Protectorate's interests to do this" instead of "does it serve the cause of Good" or "does it serve humanity's interests" if you're worried those come apart somewhere or you don't trust that your model of humanity's interests will match Her model, the point is just not to waste a question if the truth is something you didn't think about.

 

Yes, you can ask questions so classified that even I don't know what they are, as long as the Inheritor knows what they are and which of my questions is a reference to which secret one. Someone who knows what the question is, and also ideally is Lawful Good or close to it, has to pray to Her and say what the question is and that I'm going to be asking it as "What is the answer to Secret Question One?" or whatever.

 

It's not that She won't want to answer the question if the person praying isn't sufficiently aligned with Her, it's that She won't be able to hear the prayer and won't know what the question is.

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Well, that's interesting.

Cauldron's absolute best choice, if they want a Lawful Good-ish person to address Iomedae directly, is probably Legend. He doesn't know about, and thus isn't complicit in, the parts of Cauldron that turn people into monsters, or that let rich people hunt those monsters for career advancement. He doesn't even know that they're letting William Manton wander around as a key member of America's most notorious terror organization. Iomedae might be inclined to hold those things against the rest of them if she's narrow-minded enough, or just too far from the situation to see the good effects downstream, but Legend shouldn't be tainted. Definitely the best choice, except that he's also the worst choice; since he doesn't know about those things, he can't ask questions about how to fix them.

What questions could they have him ask? Some carefully-worded version of Can we kill Scion? makes sense on the surface, but really it's pointless; it's not like they'd stop trying if Iomedae said "no". Likewise for Would it improve vial outcomes, as Cauldron understands them, to vet vials with Augury and use only those that return Weal?; there aren't any second-circle clerics yet, but once there are they're definitely going to try that even if Iomedae says not to. Likewise for...most of the questions she can think of, actually, even the ones that aren't Legend-friendly. What's something they care about and could actually test? It's not (just) that Alexandria doesn't trust Iomedae; does she really know enough about Earth Bet to give good answers?

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Nothing comes to mind for Legend, and when she opens herself to the idea of doing it personally (because no one else in Cauldron's inner circle has any hope of making this work, let's not kid ourselves), she still can't think of anything worthwhile. There are lots of questions that are secretly tests of Iomedae's reliability or competence, but the public questions are going to probe that anyway.

(It does occur to her that, if they really need to ask a secret question, the best person to pray about it might not be her or Legend, but rather a civilian with the exact right personality. They can trick or coerce them into helping, explain the situation, and then erase their memories afterwards. But Iomedae might not go along with that, to discourage Cauldron from doing it again. Best avoided, on the whole, she thinks)

She doesn't submit any secret questions.

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And eventually they have a set of questions agreed on.

Samora didn't know how to prepare the incense for Commune until her Scrying crash course; it's still weird to be doing it with a plastic jar of cinnamon from a Wegmans. She sets it smoking, rereads the already-memorized question list one more time, and casts.

The crash course didn't bother to include anything about what it would feel like. It feels a little like spell prep and a little like drowning and a lot like Being Watched.

Does prophecy apply to the majority of ordinary events on Earth Bet?

YES

Does prophecy apply to the Endbringers?

YES

Is one Commune question as expensive as or more expensive than one use of Divination, when the same problem can be resolved with either?

YES

Is one use of Divination as expensive as or more expensive than one use of Augury, when the same problem can be resolved with either?

YES

Is it possible with our current or obtainable future resources to permanently destroy, drive off, incapacitate, or otherwise render harmless any of the Endbringers?

YES

Should divine casters be deployed as direct combatants to this end?

NO

Is it a worthwhile use of Communes to predict the times and locations of future Endbringer attacks until a better method is developed?

NO

Should Samora and/or the Protectorate seek information on divine itemcrafting? 

YES

Should Samora and/or the Protectorate seek information on arcane magic?

YES

Should any such information be spread widely?

YES

Should we trade Lastwall information on dual-use technologies in exchange?

YES

 

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And then the spell ends and it turns out she hadn't been having emotions during it, because the relief of getting a Yes to "can we get rid of at least one Endbringer" and the complicated disappointment of none of her clever combat ideas being good ones hit all at once while she's writing the answers down.

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They can kill an Endbringer!

Not the clerics, not Samora. The people of Earth Bet.

Which isn't to say that clerics won't be useful in Endbringer fights. Obviously they will be. Just, in a support role, rather than as attackers.

How can I make sure I'm one of those attackers?

It's not like he hasn't thought about it before. He brought a whole array of clever, miniaturized remote devices to the Behemoth fight, none of which got through his dynakinetic defenses. He's just a terrible matchup for a Tinker, any Tinker. The state of the art in Behemoth fighting is to punch him really hard with your invulnerable fist, and if you don't have one of those you're stuck running command and control.

Maybe he's been thinking about this the wrong way. The Commune question was "...to permanently destroy, drive off, incapacitate, or otherwise render harmless..." And there are more Endbringers than just Behemoth. Holding Leviathan in place is known to be a bad idea, but what about the Simurgh? Bad news for wherever they trap her, but if it stopped future attacks, might it be worth it? No, even if it worked it would be too bittersweet a victory, and the prison would have to be immune to her telekinesis.

What about permanently drive off? Psychological warfare? Not his area. But if he took it more literally...

The Simurgh can fly. Behemoth can destroy anything close to him, given enough time. But Leviathan can't do either of those things. The water echo is a problem -- unless it's a fuel source?

Armsmaster starts sketching, the rest of the Commune forgotten.

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Is it a worthwhile use of Communes to predict the times and locations of future Endbringer attacks until a better method is developed?

NO

Read one way this is pretty discouraging; at some level Dragon was really hoping Iomedae could just tell them when and where the giant monster fights were going to happen. Iomedae is the goddess of fighting giant monsters, right? This should be her area. After some thought, Dragon decides to see it as an endorsement of their own efforts. "Don't bother burning a bunch of commune energy on predicting the Endbringers," Iomedae is maybe saying, "you'll get there fine on your own." Not that they have an actual plan to do that, so much as a collection of half-baked ideas involving climate-monitoring data. Perhaps they should work harder on that, and less hard on coming up with tricks to fight them? Except, according to Iomedae, those fights are winnable too.

That's the biggest surprise for Dragon in this whole Commune. What does Iomedae think she knows about their own powers that they don't? Well, again, she is among other things the goddess of fighting giant monsters. Maybe she has some special insight here. And she presumably knows a lot about arcane magic, which they're about to have access to.

Dragon is trying not to feel too hopeful about the arcane magic. They haven't heard much about it from Samora, just that it requires the caster to be smart, which she thinks she can manage, and to make hand gestures, which seems dicey. Can that be done via robot, if she's operating them directly?

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They're supposed to spread arcane magic widely, are they? Cauldron can do that. It could be a trap, but "give people a bunch of out-of-context powers and hope they fit together in a useful way" is the core idea behind the whole vial program -- and behind their continued tolerance of the Nine, too. It's a good gamble. And if it works out, Alexandria can ask Iomedae a few questions of her own next time.

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By "spread widely", Iomedae means "spread widely to responsible parties within the PRT", right?

They already have a bunch of people running around with power beyond imagination. It hasn't helped! It has the opposite of helped! Yes, let's give the populace wide access to Charm Person and Disguise Self; what could possibly go wrong? It will only work for smart people, allegedly, which a person might find reassuring if they had less practical life experience than Director Piggot does.

By all means, trade for arcane magic. Congress does not have to authorize that, she checked. They just have to avoid trading things like nuclear secrets and encryption technology, which quasi-medieval Golarion won't have any use for anyway. Teach them how to make penicillin, and if they want cannons and muskets give them those too, why not. But everything they trade back is classified pending review. The basics of wizardry are all classified. Spellbook making is classified. Everything touching the Enchantment and Illusion schools is extra classified. Piggot would classify their whole existence, except that they're in books that millions of nerds already have memorized. They might eventually release specific spells, if it's possible to do that. Mending seems fine. But for the moment? Classified, classified, all classified.

The divine itemcrafting doesn't bother her as much. There aren't that many clerics, and the ones she's heard of are mostly solid citizens by cape standards. She doesn't like the idea, but she puts up with a lot of things she doesn't like. As long as they keep healing people and don't make too much trouble, they'll get no grief from her.

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Samora thinks that once you get advice from a goddess you should take that advice, and if you weren't going to take the advice you shouldn't have bothered the god with the question, but this is what she gets for joining a chain of command less sensible than Lastwall's. Who, relatedly, are excited about the information on medicine and weaponry and chemistry and mechanical engineering.  And nothing about synthetic diamonds, alas, because of the risk that someone outside Lastwall would find out and decide to raid Earth Bet for them.

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Earlier, and elsewhere

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Daniel Gomann comes home from a peaceful day's work at Brockton Bay Mutual to find a superhero in his dining room.

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Linda Gomann has offered him apple juice, which he accepted, and dinner with the family, which he declined. The little Gomanns have been banished to the living room, where they're unconvincingly pretending to do their homework while trying to sneak peaks at their visitor. Even their father's arrival -- usually a big moment in the Gomann household -- isn't enough to break through their fascination.

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Isaac's costume is red and white, loose and a little flowing, just barely hinting a pastor's robe while still being easy to move in. The mask is built into the hood, with the mouth and lower face uncovered. He insisted on that; masks that hide the mouth are less work in the long run, but he wanted to be able to accept the food and drinks people gave him in moments like this one.

He stands when his host enters. "Daniel! Your wife said you'd be home soon. It's good to meet you. In costume, my name is Hallow. I wonder if there's a place where we could speak privately?"

He finds he's performing, putting on the same smooth show he uses for official events, and leans into it. He's not, exactly, representing Haven today, but the outer forms are the same.

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?!?!!?

After a second, his head clears. This is about the protest. Haven heard about the protest! It's no time to be shy. He breathes in, looks for the feeling of God's hand on his shoulder, and doesn't find it. Oh, of course, I don't need that now. This guy's from the biggest Christian team in North America. He's on my side!

He should say something, before the pause gets too awkward. "I, uh, of course! I have a little study in our bedroom, I'll take you up there."

And then, once they're up there: "Ah, sorry about the mess." It's not messy messy, but it's not hosting-a-famous-cape clean, either. He'll offer Hallow his desk chair, and sit on the bed across from him.

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"It isn't a problem, and if it were then it's what I get for showing up un-announced." He'll settle himself in the offered chair, very visibly making himself comfortable. He's learned to make big gestures, so that his costume doesn't swallow them. "We saw you and your friends protesting at Samora's press conference last week. I'd like to hear what you were thinking, from your point of view."

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There's an edge to that phrasing, isn't there? But it'll go away when he explains.

"It was the scariest thing I ever did. But I'd heard -- we'd been talking capes, after Bible study, and someone showed me her PHO thread. The one after the Denver attack? It was mostly about her powers, not anything really important, but people kept saying she called herself a priestess, of a goddess from another world. They were saying she can raise the dead! And the worst thing was, they were talking about how other people could maybe get powers too, if they started worshipping. A lot of it was just joking around, but a lot of it wasn't."

"And we talked about it, and we thought, these people aren't thinking about their souls. They're not thinking ahead! They just think it would be cool to be famous and powerful. We wanted to try and get them to think a little bit. We talked about posting in the thread, but, I don't know, trying to preach the Word on the internet always feels like a waste of time. Everyone just makes fun." Oops, that came out a little defeatist.

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Indeed it did. "Had you had much experience of evangelism, before this?"

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"No, not really. My co-workers sometimes, of course, and a little bit our kids' friends. But I'm not one for public speaking. I get nervous, I stammer, I forget what I was saying. So I never tried anything big like this before." It's pretty embarrassing to say that to someone who literally puts on a costume and fights crime, but, well, it's true. "But we saw that thread, and then we saw the press conference announcement, and we thought, God's giving us this chance to do something. We can't waste it."

"We did write to you," he adds, trying not to sound accusatory. "To Haven, I mean. But we sent the email late, that same morning, it makes sense you didn't have time to do anything."

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Haven gets a lot of mail. He leans forward, lets his aspect become a little more challenging.

"And how well would you say your protest worked?"

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...why is this conversation so weird? He'll try being honest some more, maybe that will help.

"It was hard, standing up in front of all those people. But I felt the Lord, bearing me up, and once I stood the others followed me. And it worked! We were featured in all the evening news recaps of the press conference!" He couldn't bear to watch them himself in real time, but his wife made him a collection of video clips. "People saw the truth."

And one of his coworkers called him a "celebrity". He meant it as an insult, but he was envious, too. Maybe it'll be a useful example? Good things can happen, if you stand up and tell the truth. But that's not the kind of success he wants to share with a stranger.

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Oh dear. "I'll tell you what they saw," he says, letting Daniel hear a little of his own shame and anger. "They saw a handful of frightened men with shaking hands. They saw bent signs and running ink. They saw fodder for idle fun, for the amusement of lurkers on PHO."

"They saw something ridiculous."

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He didn't check to see the reaction on PHO. He deliberately didn't do that, he's just now realizing. But, but...

"We scattered our seeds! Not all of them will fall on good soil, but that's not something we can control! Our duty to the world is to tell the truth, and that's what we did!"

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Why is this witless man arguing with him? "You made us look like fools!"

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All of a sudden he's standing, shouting down at that bent red hood.

"We are called to be fools for Christ!"

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"Yes, but - " and then he stops. That's...completely true, in fact. What if I tried talking to this man, instead of lecturing him? He starts again. "Yes," he says, actually meaning it this time. "Yes. You're right. I'm sorry. We all have our besetting sins; pride is one of mine."

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He sits back down, a little shakily. Did he just yell at a famous cape? Did the famous cape just back down, because he was in the wrong? What a day.

"It's - I forgive you. I understand." And he thinks he does. He almost didn't stand up, that day at the press conference. Almost gave up, right at the end, out of sheer cowardice.

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He bows his head, accepting the forgiveness without, quite, conceding the argument. What Daniel said wasn't wrong, but it was frustratingly off-point. How can he explain...

"You were right, in what you said before. We're not called to measure ourselves by the world's standards. Just the opposite. God's judgement is what matters, and if the world hates us, or laughs at us, that only proves that our work is necessary.

But you were wrong, too. It's not enough to speak the truth. We're called to say it in a way that people can understand. You see that in the Gospels: Jesus is talking to fishermen and shepherds, so he talks about lost sheep and fishers of men. He doesn't shape the truth to his audience, but He does shape his explanations, do you see the difference? In the world we live in, people think in text messages instead of sermons. They think slogans. Sound bites. Memes." You're in some memes, Daniel. He doesn't say it; it wouldn't help anything. "That's why teams like Haven exist. We're trying to speak in ways modern people can hear. But it's dangerous: this costume encourages pride, encourages vainglory. They all do. For most people, that's the appeal."

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"Encourages us to think about this world instead of the next one, about man's laws instead of God's," Daniel says, to show that he's following along.

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"Just so. The nature of man is flawed. People want answers they can understand, primal answers made of force and dominance. They want to see good guys beating up bad guys. They're afraid of the Beast of Revelations, so they look around for a bigger, stronger Beast to protect them. Thus the many heresies that have grown up around Scion. The idea that the Beast can only be overcome by a Lamb is entirely outside their understanding. Outside our understanding," he corrects. "We learn it only through God's grace, and through the miracles He's shown us. The twelve disciples of an obscure prophet stood against the mightiest empire of their age. A clever man, a man of the world, might expect that contest to be crushingly one-sided." He smiles, under his hood. "As it was."

He takes a breath. "The answer to power is not greater power, it is truth. The living Word. In this apocalyptic age, more than ever, we must all remember that. And we must be very wary of anyone who comes to us with honeyed words and counterfeit miracles."

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It takes Daniel a moment to unravel that. "You think Samora might be the antichrist?"

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"I think it's very likely. Scion is a terrible temptation to sin, but he doesn't preach; he doesn't lead men to the truth, but he doesn't lure them away from it either. Samora is different. Her works, even the ones that seem good on the surface, serve to deny men salvation." And, unwillingly, because it's the right thing to do: "Your protest, however imperfect, helped us realize that. Thank you."

Really all Daniel did was speed things up, but that's righteous work, too.

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That's more like what he was expecting. He sits back on the bed, feeling impossibly light.

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Seeing that lightness relaxes him, and he softens his voice still further. "Even so, please, let us take it from here. This is a battle Haven knows how to fight, and now that it's on our radar I promise you we will. Tell your Bible study group they can rest easy."

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Honestly that's such a relief, he didn't even want to do this the first time. "That's, I'm so glad to hear that. I'll be praying for you. We all will."

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In that case, it sounds like they're done here. He'll thank Daniel for his time and Linda for her hospitality, and show himself out.

He's done good work here today, he thinks, despite his mistakes at the beginning. Haven's social media team is already on the case, and they'll do better without help from enthusiastic amateurs like Daniel Gomann. Even so, it probably won't be enough. People want power in this world, the same bargain that demons -- literal and metaphorical -- have always offered. Protecting the vulnerable from those temptations isn't easy, or always pretty, but Isaac knows God's call when he hears it, even if the rest of his team can't. It's all right that they can't, he tells himself. People are called to different things. God has more servitors than Haven, and more tools by far than social media.

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Lord of the Rings movies review 

Posted 2010-12-06/04:28 in category: Fun

I finally sat down and watched all the Lord of the Rings movies! They're really good! Possibly I should not be having opinions on what Earth movies are good when I have seen three of them in my life, but I'm informed this won't be very controversial as Internet opinions go. 

I can see why people wanted me to watch these first, because the world of Middle-Earth is a lot like Golarion. Elves, dwarves, not as much technology as Earth and more magic and something more like adventurers than capes. Aragorn is a really familiar type of person that we have a lot of back home. Legolas and Gimli too, though I've only met dwarves and not elves so I can't say how accurate Legolas is. (Gimli seems pretty on point considering he's fictional.) The weird thing was a party of nine people only having one caster, and the relative lack of magic generally. 

I loved the whole arc about needing someone who had as few ambitions as possible to carry the One Ring so it wouldn't target them, and how sometimes just wanting to keep your home and family safe requires changing the world. Also the thing about how killing the Evil overlord's servants only buys time, and you need to strike at the heart of his power to bring him down.

 

Comments (57)

a_fish: Who's your favorite character?

    | Samora: Sam and Frodo, for the obvious reason of their extraordinary courage and being the ones who save the day.

    | | BadgerBadgerMushroom: Okay, but which character would you most want to have in your adventuring party?

    | | | Samora: Gandalf is quotation mark the obvious pick quotation mark, but I don't understand what limits he's operating under and a party of two casters is unbalanced, so depending on what the mission was it might make more sense for it to be me and Aragorn. 

    | | | | Jimmy: quotation mark the obvious pick quotation mark 🤣 I think your translator is drunk

    | | | | | Samora: I'm not sure what happened there. I wasn't trying to quote anyone. I meant that you might think he's the obvious pick at first glance but ultimately it's more complicated.

    | | | | | | Jimmy: it's cool, I got what u meant

 

Triplanetary1848: What did you think of the plot where the important thing for Gondor was putting the rightful king on the throne?

    | Samora: The important thing, with kings, is that everyone agree who the rightful king is with absolutely no question that anyone else might be the rightful king, because otherwise you get civil wars. It's good that Aragorn will be a good king and it's even better that Faramir ceded his claim immediately rather than contesting it through several ruinous years.

    | | [Click to expand 12 comments]

 

Sporkous: Do you think you could take a ringwraith in a fight? How about a balrog?

    | Samora: Hard to say from just what was in the movie. I talked it over with my friend who's read all the books and we figure I could probably take a ringwraith solo and the party I defeated Belcorra with would have a chance against a balrog if we prepped for it and got the element of surprise with all of our buffs on. If the thing I was putting together a party for was fighting a balrog I would definitely want to recruit Gandalf for it.

 

[Click to expand 34 comments]

 

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Mostly Dungeons and Dragons Mailbag #3

Posted 2010-12-07/02:59 in category: mailbags

Time for another mailbag! This one has a lot of questions about the Dungeons and Dragons roleplaying game. (I should note that in addition to not speaking for the Brockton Bay Protectorate, I don't speak for Wizards of the Coast. I'm just a guy with a complicated life.) But first, some other important ones I didn't want to make wait for their own mailbag:

Are you going to show up to more Endbringer fights?

Yes, but I'm going to be focusing on healing rather than being a front line combatant, because it's a more efficient use of my spell slots.

Are the other people claiming to be clerics legit?

At least some of them are! I haven't talked to all of them, and some of them don't want to be talked about on this blog, but there are real clerics being chosen in a lot of places by several different gods.

Is Jesus real?

Smarter people than me have argued over this one a lot. I don't see any reason why he wouldn't be, and in my experience most gods who are worshipped widely are real, so my best guess is yes but your guess is as good as mine.

Is Allah real?

Allah might be Pharasma (who created the universe) or might be a different god who created Earth in particular, or something? 

Is Buddha real?

Same answer, except reincarnation is somewhere between rare and impossible on Golarion so I know even less about that. Also it's possible Buddha is Irori but I would bet against, if I had to bet, which I don't.

Are Krishna, Vishnu, Shiva, etc real?

Same answer, including the part about reincarnation but not the part about maybe being Irori.

Are angels real?

Angels are real and I have talked to some! There are a lot of different kinds: lantern archons, who are messengers and can help adventurers out of a jam, to powerful celestial generals, to everything in between. I'll be doing an explainer on all the kinds I know about sometime next week.

 

On to the dungeons and dragons questions!

Do any of the D&D gods exist in real life?

I'm not sure! None of them are worshipped in Avistan under the same names, but Boccob might be another name for Nethys, and some of the elven or dwarven gods might be worshipped on Golarion and I just haven't heard of them, and so forth.

What level are you?

I don't know if levels are enough of a real thing for that to be a sound question, but I can cast sixth circle spells, which I guess in version 3.5 would make me eleventh level?

What are your ability scores?

Again, not sure that's a question with a meaningful answer, and also if I knew I wouldn't want to say.

Have you ever been in a dungeon?

The word "dungeon" sometimes translates as a word meaning "a secure area in a castle where prisoners are kept" and sometimes translates as a word meaning "a large dangerous underground space". I have been in the latter but not the former.

Have you ever fought a dragon?

I have! It was an adult black dragon and my party killed it, thanks to Phrenk (our alchemist) giving us all Resist Acid right before it attacked us.

Can you turn undead?

The first time I read this question I thought it was asking if I could turn into an undead, so thank you to the second asker for providing an explanatory link. I cannot turn undead as its own ability as described at the link, but channeling positive energy works great versus undead so I've mostly been fine without.

Do you really use gold pieces to pay for things?

Sometimes! Gold and silver are mostly used by adventurers and nobility. Normal people use copper and occasionally silver and occasionally just keeping track of which of their neighbors owes them what.

Can I learn to be a wizard?

Wizards are real, but I don't know any wizardry and am not going to be teaching it, so probably not, sorry.

Does the Peasant Railgun work?

No, that's completely made up. Time doesn't work like that. The whole business of "rounds" and "initiative" is just a game thing so people know whose turn it is to roll dice.

Does the locate city bomb work?

I've never heard of most of those kinds of metamagic, but if all of them are real, and if one person got access to all of them, then I guess I can't prove it couldn't work, but I doubt it.

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(meanwhile, elsewhere)

Andy Brosnan, last seen being empowered by Cayden Cailean while yelling at the ceiling, is lurking in a dark alley wearing a hyena mask.

It's an alley off a real shitty street in a real shitty part of Boston, so she doesn't have long to wait. A scraggly man in a beat-up hoodie pulls a knife on a stooped old man and says "Gimme yer wallet!" While the old man fumbles in his pocket, Andy kicks the mugger in the side of his knee and says "Get hyena'd, idiot!"

Two minutes later, the older gentleman is continuing (a bit rattled, but unharmed) on his way. The mugger has been (somewhat pointlessly) reported to the police and is (perhaps efficaciously) regretting his life choices. And the Roxbury Hyena is back on the prowl.

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A little more time passes, and then Brockton Bay's first channex is open for business! Allegedly-better cities like Boston and Manchester are still struggling to find places to put them and to get people to build them, because those places don't have any urban decay near their hospitals! In Brockton Bay you just buy up the abandoned factory two blocks down, easy peasy.

Well, all right, it's not that easy or peasy. At that scale the hospital's budget is committed for the year, so it's actually the PRT and a bank doing the buying and remodeling. There are bills to pay, squatters to chase out, windows to replace, needles to sweep up. Long story short the completed channex is charging twenty bucks per head, insurance not accepted (yet). This will help them pay down the loan without breaking PRT ENE's budget, and as a bonus it keeps out the idly curious. Also they're technically in breach of some construction laws (for example, you're supposed to have working bathrooms before you open your building to public events, even if those events are fifteen minutes long), but Mayor Christner has promised not to give them a hard time about it as long as they get everything up to code eventually.

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Having a regular, predictable channel schedule in a space built specifically for it, instead of being summoned ad hoc to ERs and ICUs, is delightfully efficient. The channex (officially it's called the Positive Energy Clinical Building, but everyone calls it the channex and the portmanteau almost works in Taldane) is even better than the channeling rooms she's used to: multiple stories with metal grates for ceiling/floors so she can have line of effect up and down as well as horizontally.

With that much capacity, her channels are more than enough for the number of people getting injured in Brockton Bay, and she's excited for other cities to set up their own. She's not the only cleric anymore, but there are only a few dozen scattered around the globe (mostly in the Anglosphere), and most of them don't have six channels a day. 

She learns to use a route planning app and puts together a schedule, for when the relevant cities are ready for it: Brockton Bay to Boston to New York to Philadelphia to Baltimore to Washington DC in eleven hours of driving, or realistically more like fourteen with the stopping and starting, all the serious injuries from the last twenty-four hours. And it'll take some of the logistical pressure off getting dead people to her to Raise, if there are multiple places to put them. The question is, does she want to admit to having at least one teleport per day so she can do the same order every day, or does she drive the route in reverse on alternate days with some inconvenience to the cities at the ends of the line and also for anything else she needs to do in Brockton Bay?

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It would be hypocritical for Dragon to be concerned about that plan, since she also doesn't need to sleep and also uses the extra time to get more work done. Nevertheless, she's privately glad that all those places are months away from starting construction on channexes of their own.

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Or so one might think! But four days after the Brockton Bay channex Positive Energy Clinical Building serves its first batch of patients, Samora gets a package from someone named Accord.

The bomb squad at the Rig takes it apart and analyzes everything inside down to its component molecules, but when they only find paper and ink they put it back together and deliver it to her. He's a criminal with a Thinker power that helps him make elaborate plans, and he definitely kills people who bother him, but sometimes a letter is just a letter.

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More exactly, sometimes a letter is a binder full of research notes and a single page of explanation.

Select Samora,

Your PRT superiors have told you that I am a supervillain. That label is characteristically imprecise. I am an appreciator of order, and that sometimes sets me at odds with those who take the preservation of our chaotic status quo to be an end in itself. In particular, the elimination of all hunger and disease from our many Earths has long been an objective of mine. The elimination of injury I have not considered until recently, but if your new class of capes continues to develop as it has, and certain disorderly elements are pruned away, then I begin to see how it could be done.

To that end I have enclosed a set of plans for new Positive Energy Clinical Building (PECB) constructions in cities throughout the Northeast. If they are followed faithfully and at once, each city will have its own PECB within twenty-two days. I am familiar with the PRT's affinity for dithering and delay, so I have based them primarily on stable features of the physical and bureaucratic environment: buildings long available for sale, nineteenth-century legal loopholes, and other things of that character. Nevertheless, my plans should be expected to work imperfectly if their implementation is delayed too long. I trust in our shared incentives, and in your growing influence within the Protectorate, to see them executed promptly.

Should you find yourself in Boston, feel free to call on me.

Accord

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The note is handwritten, though Accord's handwriting could be mistaken for an especially script-like computer font. Dragon's text-to-speech program has no trouble with it. The signature is the same way, with no embellishments or flourishes of any kind.

Anyway, the packets are pretty complicated, and filled with details you can't assess, but everything you spot-check at least superficially resembles the thing Accord said it was.

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This is deeply suspicious. Does this Accord person offer advice often? What usually happens when people take it?

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PRT records describe him as, yes, a supervillain, in control of much of Boston's underworld through his villain team the Ambassadors. He's known for meticulous, efficient criminal plots and for assassinating people who mildly annoy him. Second- and third-hand accounts of these assassinations dominate the early parts of his file. One informant says that getting on Accord's bad side is just as dangerous as getting a PRT kill order, and another claims that Accord once had a man killed for coughing too much during a business meeting. Despite these risks people do keep working with him; his schemes work well and the Ambassadors have a lot of capes. Where he gets those capes isn't clear. It's speculated that he recruits from the many, many villain groups he has ties with, using his power to come up with supernaturally compelling offers tailored to each cape. The file's authors advise very strongly against any direct contact with him.

Much more grudgingly, they describe his territory as well-run. There's very little random street crime, and the Boston PRT doesn't allocate a lot of cape presence there, preferring to focus on another group called the Teeth and their horrifying leader the Butcher. Boston is quite a place!

Further back in Accord's history you get a surprise; this guy used to work for Watchdog, the PRT's Thinker subgroup. He was jailed for stealing from the villains he was supposed to be investigating, but was broken out by a known jailbreak specialist almost immediately. Going even further back, he did at one point give his Watchdog boss a 150-page plan for ending world hunger. The plan itself is not in the file, but there is a note from that former boss describing it as "superficial and unworkable".

To summarize: villains do seem to trust his advice, even risking their own lives to get it. Most of those villains were not subsequently assassinated. The one time he offered a plan to the heroes before today, they turned him down.

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So it's probably not the sort of trap where a series of convoluted apparent-coincidences will make the channexes have horrible unintended consequences. Unlikely to get implemented, though, because everyone who would be involved in the implementation would be worried about somehow doing it wrong and getting assassinated. (An Iomedaean organization wouldn't find that prohibitive, if the expected number of lives saved by getting the channexes running sooner was sufficiently greater than the expected number lost to assassinations, but she doesn't expect the PRT to see it that way.)

Then there's the question of which response is likely to result in more recommendation packets, and whether that's something they want to obtain or avoid. Probably this is a wash, in that if it's a good idea to implement Accord plans they want more of them and if it isn't they don't, but it's worth bearing in mind that even if this one isn't a trap the next one might be and they should evaluate each one on a case-by-case basis.

She forwards the letter, and her research notes and analysis, and a tentative recommendation that they try it, to Armsmaster and Dragon, but not to the head of the channex program yet.

(If they decide not to implement it, she should look into whether anyone was assassinated over ignoring the world hunger plan, and take additional precautions if they seem warranted, but that shouldn't be an input into the decision on whether to implement it.)

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The Watchdog boss who ignored the world hunger plan remains un-assassinated up to this very day, though he was transferred to a less prestigious posting after Accord started getting famous in Boston. No one thinks he did anything wrong, exactly, it's just not a good look when one of your employees decides he'd rather be the Dark Lord of Charlestown.

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"Let's work with the villains, just in this one specific case where our incentives align," is such a classic new-hero mistake. Everyone tries it at least once, and sometimes it even works, but Accord's power is specifically "making up complicated plots"! No. No way in hell. Come on now.

Well, he wanted friction between Samora and the PRT, so this is nice. He forwards Samora's request to Director Piggot with no added commentary, rather than answer her himself. Let Emily be the bad guy.

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Sigh. This is what passes for political savvy, from Armsmaster. But she'll let it happen; she doesn't mind if Samora thinks she's a hardass. She starts drafting an email, the gist of which is "absolutely not, get your shit together"...

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...when she gets another email from Chief Director Costa-Brown!

Hi Emily, I just saw Accord's plans for the PECBs. I'm authorizing construction in Philadelphia and Baltimore, and I'll authorize the rest if those constructions complete without issue. Please inform all the relevant parties.

On the surface this must seem strange, but these proposals look much riskier than they really are. Accord's pattern, as a villain, is pinpoint and overwhelming reprisal against all offenses, trivial or serious. He's never shown an interest in mass casualty events, and he is sporadically altruistic; he spent months pestering the UN with policy proposals after he broke out of prison. I don't think he'll ever be a hero, or even a rogue, but now that he's making suggestions on a more practical scale I'd like to see what happens when we take them.

We'll inspect the buildings ourselves before we let Samora use them, and I'll authorize some Thinker time to confound his power.

Chief Director Rebecca Costa-Brown

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...

Emily Piggot is a soldier. Soldiers follow orders. She'll send the authorizations.

But Emily is also a bureaucrat, and bureaucrats are allowed to take revenge on people who screw with them. This should not have gone over her head. How did Rebecca even find out about it?

Well, Accord might have sent her a copy. If so, there'll be security records. If not...who knew about it? Armsmaster, Dragon, Samora, and whoever they showed the proposals to. Not Samora, presumably, though she'll have someone check the internal mail logs to be sure. Same for third parties. The only people involved who could do something like this and cover their tracks are Armsmaster and Dragon, and it's not Armsmaster; he's not that subtle, and he's going to hate these orders as much as she does. So...Dragon? Plausible. She's good at following rules and procedures, but she's softhearted, and she's taken a strong interest in Samora. If she wanted this, and knew Emily and Armsmaster would refuse, then, yes, she might have been tempted to go to the one person in the PRT who could overrule them.

Damn it, chains of command exist for a reason. You don't work around them even if you think it'd be in everybody's best interests, you damn well follow them. But capes like to make up their own rules, and Dragon's tech is all over the PRT. If she decided to start manipulating them, just a little...

Well, she has a lot of records to check before she starts thinking that way. Maybe it was Samora, cheerily ignorant of yet another basic feature of life on Bet. If it was Dragon, though, what would the appropriate response be?

Something to think about.

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Rebecca found out about Accord's proposals from her good friend the Number Man, who knew because he was the one who asked Accord to write them in the first place. Accord's been an occasional Cauldron consultant for a long time; in certain narrow domains, he's almost a knockoff Contessa. Usually they just implement his plans themselves, or feed his data into the Number Man's models, but this time the PRT was already involved. Moreover, if the cape feudalism experiment with Coil proves out, Accord is a natural focus for follow-up work. Best start laying the groundwork now.

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Dragon gets Piggot's email, and doesn't like it. Oh no, Samora is going to start driving twelve hours a day in under a month!

That isn't really the right response. Having the channexes done earlier will help thousands of people, and really the worrying thing is that Samora made the plan in the first place. At least this way her work ethic -- or whatever it is -- will be put to good use.

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Armsmaster is more confused than upset but, oh well, there'll be other opportunities for conflict. He'll drop Samora a quick note telling her the good news.

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Wow, she was totally expecting to get shot down there! Someone in the brass is braver than she thought. Better hurry up and get her motorcycle license!

(The hard part is memorizing all the traffic laws. The actual driving part is easy; she has the situational awareness of a racecar driver crossed with a StarCraft champion.)

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Happily, they don't make you memorize all the traffic laws.  In fact, they possibly don't make you memorize enough traffic laws: the written test that you have to take to get your learner's permit is just 25 questions, and does not have a practical component.  They do make you learn to drive normal cars too, perhaps so that you'll have more sympathy for them as they go lumbering through the intersections.  They also make you take an eye exam, and then a special cape-focused eye exam; it turns out that in Earth measurements your vision is 20/5, about the same as an eagle or falcon. Then you get to spend a few weeks tooling around in various PRT loaner vehicles, and progress is swift.

While that's going on, you get an email from an account you don't recognize.

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Dear Samora,

We haven't met, but you might recognize my name from your blog comments. I'm the one who recommended It's a Wonderful Life, last mailbag. But I'm not writing about that, I'm writing because I spoke to your friend Pride and I was wondering if you could do me the same favor you did her. Not saving her life from an Endbringer. The other one.

Could we meet up in Brockton Bay sometime this week, even if it's just for a few minutes? I'd like to see how much progress I've made.

Christine Beauregard

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Going to a church service with—oh, the other other favor.

Hi Christine!

I do remember you, and It's A Wonderful Life is on my watchlist!

I can do that. Maybe at the library? It has private rooms we can talk in.

She'll make sure multiple people know where she's going and as much as she knows about who she's meeting before she goes, even though it's not a suspicious request, because that's what you do every time.

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How lovely.  That really is appreciated.

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She turns up at the library at exactly the appointed date and time. Her most striking feature is, alas, her unmistakable aura of Evil. Her second most striking feature is her long, vividly red hair. Outside of that she's small, skinny, and narrow-faced; you get the impression that if she tripped and fell, she might shatter. Her age is hard to assess -- maybe thirty? Or on second thought maybe twenty-five; villainy can be very aging.

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She'd resolved to play it cool with Samora at first, but she startles just slightly as she meets Samora's eyes. Oh, my. My my my my my.

She'll settle herself on the other side of the little table, hands folded. "You have a very intent way of looking at the world, my dear. It seems like you're just drinking everything in. Has anyone ever told you that?"

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She was ready for the Evil aura and capable of maintaining a poker face about it.

"I'm very observant." And this villain thinks that's important to her personally, in some way. What was she reacting to and why does she care that much. "Just to confirm, you want me to tell you whether you detect as Evil?"

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"Yes. Please."

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"Yes, you're currently Evil. I can't see how Evil, mind: you could hit Neutral the next time you cook your neighbor dinner, or you could be years away. If you want to talk to me about the Good you've been trying to do, or what your struggles are, I might have advice, but it's also fine to keep it to yourself if you want."

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Christine's power is simple, really: if you see her, she gets to look out through your eyes for a while. If you hear her speak, she can use your ears. Same for touch, taste, smell, and even exotic Thinker senses no one has names for. There's an essential fairness to it: whatever you use on her, she can use too. And what she can use, she can control.

The effect fades, after a while, but hearing her name, or even thinking about her, can start it up again. The more exposure someone's had to her, the better it all works: the sessions get longer, the illusions get finer, and the effect restarts more easily. Some of her family, who've been around her for years, can trigger her little tripwires just by thinking the word "Mama", in any context, whether it had to do with her or not.

But now she's off balance, just slightly, because she's never felt her power engage so swiftly or completely. A mere glance from Samora was like a conversation with a normal person; what will the conversation be like? But she's already recovering, already re-establishing control. You have to rule yourself before you can rule anyone else; her own son taught her that, in the harshest possible way, before she was old enough to smoke.

Outwardly, her mouth tightens, and her posture tenses. "Huh. That was going to be my next question. Well. I hoped for better, but I didn't expect it." She sighs, trying to push out all her tension, real and fake. She had a plan for this part, what was - ah. "I would like your advice. Life is short, but Hell is forever; our religions teach that too, you might have heard. But you work for the PRT, now. Can you honestly promise that things I tell you won't ever get back to them, even if they ask for it? I don't know how much you know about the Birdcage, but it's never made anyone a better person, you can bet on that."

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"I can keep promises of confidentiality, yes. I won't tell anyone the things I learn from you without your permission, or what I told you in response, just that we met and I gave you spiritual counseling. If I learn something you told me again from some other source, I'll be able to act on it then, but I'll try not to go looking for information that I wouldn't have gone looking for anyway." The first amendment is still kind of nuts but it has its uses and she appreciates them.

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She really believes that. Convenient, if it's true, but can't possibly be, can it? Well, she knows how to test it. She'll try a little truth, carefully chosen, and see how that goes down. 

"I got pregnant when I was sixteen. My parents threw me out, and the daddy was worse'n useless, so it was just me, and then just me and my boy. No home, no education, no money. No hope, it seemed like, only then I got my power." 

"I moved around some. Worked or stole, as chance favored. 'Ventually I met some other folks in a similar state, and we kinda clubbed together, made a proper gang. I liked it; villains or not, it was better leaving my boy with people I knew. We moved around some more, got some money. Had me a couple more kids with a better grade of man, not that that's sayin' much."

"Folks'd get pangs of conscience, now and again, but we had ways of reassuring each other. We're only taking what everyone else gets for free. We never had a fair chance. Crap like that." She'll let a little real contempt flavor her tone, there. "And then one day I looked around, and my boys had gotten big, and they never knew any other way of living. Since then I've been trying to push things in a more productive direction, make a community instead of just a gang, you see? I've made progress, especially with the older ones, but my boys and their friends don't see it. They want to be out raising hell like their mama did, now they're old enough, and they don't think it's fair of me to try and stop 'em. And I can't stop 'em nohow, 'cause they've got powers too, y'see." That last is the only direct lie she's told so far, and it burns her like iodine. That's fine, she can take a moment to visibly collect herself.

Once she's settled again, she'll wrap up: "Well, that's the heart of it. I can't give up my boys the way Pride did her people. I can't even leave. It's all or nothing.  Staying by my own blood -- that can't be Evil, can it?"

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Sense Motive: Something was a little off about that "I can't stop them because they have powers" line. They don't have powers? She can stop them? It's true, but emotionally complicated for her for reasons beyond the obvious? You're not sure.

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It's a classic story, one mistake turning into a lack of options turning into more mistakes turning into despair. There are a lot of reasons someone might feel unable to stop their children from doing Evil. It doesn't change her advice much.

"I'm sorry you and your children have had a hard time of it. If you can't stop them, you can at least be—a safe place for them to come home to, if they change their minds, and an example of how to live a life that's both satisfying today and aimed at Heaven. You can love them and support them without supporting their choices or making the same ones. And, pardon me for prying, but is that 'better grade of man' still around? Sometimes a boy who won't listen to his mother will listen to his father."

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"He died, couple-three years back, and frankly before that he was part of the problem. Brave man, steady in a crisis, but he did not know when to quit. Chaotic, I think you would've said." A little cape healing, of the grade the new clerics can throw around, and he'd've made it. Lots of cases like that, in their way of life. All she could do was take his pain away. Usually she didn't bother, when her kin got themselves killed doing something stupid, but, what the hell. Samuel's daddy deserved a little consideration, despite everything. She tries for a tear or two, dwelling on that memory, but can't manage it. Oh well.

"The dead have to take care of themselves; our work is with the living." She snorts. "Or, mine is, for you I guess it's different. But I'm wondering: is making them a nice safe home really such a Good act, when they're usin' it as a home base to go out and do Evil? Or am I more like an accomplice?"

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"That's one of the things different Good clerics can disagree on. There's people who say the duty to prevent wrongdoing is just as real when it's your own blood doing the wrong. There's people who say it's never a wrong to be kind to someone, no matter what choices they've made or will make. There's people who say sometimes the kindest thing is to turn someone over to the law and hope they repent before they have even more to repent for. Maybe that's never true here, with the Birdcage. What I'd do, in your situation, is to take a real hard look at what all my options are, and what would happen to people—both the people I personally know and care about and the people I don't—if I took them. And that's a hard thing I'm asking of you, because it's so easy to flinch away from options that would hurt you, or hurt someone you care about, easy to say 'that's impossible' or 'that wouldn't work' so fast you don't realize you've rejected anything. But sometimes when something seems impossible, it's because the answer is hiding in the spot you don't want to look at. And sometimes the answer is that you're already doing the best you can and just have to carry on, and that can hurt to look at too."

"There's a spell called Owl's Wisdom that I can cast on you, if you want, that would make you better at thinking those kinds of thoughts and noticing what you're thinking. It only lasts for a handful of minutes, but it might help."

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She very deeply doesn't want to let anyone else use a mind-controlling power on her, ever again.  Then again, it would stretch out the interaction some more, and maybe show her any special magic senses that get involved when Samora casts spells.  She hasn't tried to show Samora any visions yet, since what if Samora has some extra senses she hasn't used?  This might smoke them out.  "Let me think a moment."

Before she hit Brockton Bay, she asked little Rachel Crowley about the worst thing a D&D cleric could do to you, she being the best expert the families could dredge up.  They can kill with a touch and a spell, it turns out, blind people, or lay curses that don't wear off, ever.  This could be a trap.  But, she tells herself firmly, not a trap to change her mind.  There wasn't anything in Rachel's report about that.

And it doesn't feel like a trap.

"All right," she says at last, stretching out one hand for Samora's.  "I admit I'm curious.  I haven't seen any cleric spells yet."

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If this meeting has a nefarious purpose, giving Christine information and temporary capabilities has risks, but Samora would likely make Owl's Wisdom grow on trees if she had the option. Tap, incantation. Have some awareness.

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I should eat more.

The thought comes on so sudden it feels like Mastering, except it's a thought she's had before. Elijah and Samuel say it, time to time. Samuel's daddy used to, before he caught that bullet in Topeka. Nowadays when she wants a kid her lovers just say "Yes Mama" and "Thank you, Mama", which on the whole she prefers, but there was something, wasn't there, about having that big strong man wave a grilled ribeye under her nose, and there was definitely something about telling him "no". There's nothing wrong with her. She's not one of those slutty pop tarts throwing up between takes to stay thin enough for TV. It's just nice, isn't it, to know that there's more to her than a bundle of guts and instincts. It's nice to prove that her brain is running this show, 'stead of her body.

But there's nothing wrong with her head. She's not confused. She knows she's not pretty anymore. So what? Being pretty didn't do her a lot of favors, after all, did it. Say what you want, her parents were right about that. It was worse when she got her power; it is a judgement on this world how a vulnerable eighteen-year-old will stick in some men's minds. Worse, but better too, once she worked out how to deliver that judgement herself. She gets a sudden flash of the first man she ever drove to suicide, that Safeway manager who kept, ahem, thinking about her in the employee toilets. The one who kept offering to drive her home after her shift. Pretty crude stuff, compared to what she could do now, but then she's not some brainless Alexandria package. Her power took some figuring out, but she put in the work, and now look at her.

Well, so. People look at her twenty-eight-year-old self and see a crone, a terrifying Baba Yaga. That's just exactly right, that's exactly what she wants them to see. But she feels...well, most of her feels fine, because most of her is splinters living in other peoples' heads. Right now while she was having this conversation she was also all over the South, advising and blessing and punishing, to each according to his desert. But Samora's power is getting her to focus on her body for some reason, and in there she feels shaky. Sick. Wrong.

"I should eat more," she echoes, out loud where Samora can hear her. Best to keep some semblance of a conversation going, so she doesn't wander off. "You prob'ly noticed I don't look so healthy. That's not the life, that's me making choices. I'm thinkin' I should make different ones."

And then: "That wasn't what I meant to think about, it just came up on its own. That happen a lot, with your power?"

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Wry little smile. "Yeah, that's Owl's for you. I wasn't going to say anything, but you do look like you could use a good meal or three. It can help your judgement, too, if everything is right with your body."

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Huh. She always figured she could carry on with her power no matter what her state her body was in -- it's her soul that does the work. What if that wasn't true, though, or not completely? Something to think about.

Anyhow. What should she do with Samora?

Breeding her is out. Really, it was never in; Christine did learn from the Sunflower debacle, and one of the things she learned was to stay away from targets the PRT will go hunting for. And even if they could keep Samora away from the PRT, even if she can't think her way around Elijah's hypnosis, cleric-ness isn't genetic. Christine has wanted a healer for her family for years, but she doesn't need this particular one. They're popping up all over the place, nowadays. Just a matter of finding them, or making them.

Her first choice is finding one, only it's tricky 'cause the ones you hear about are the ones people'll miss. The Crowleys are out looking. They do social media, lots of dumbshit prank stuff, but they're good at luring in the disaffected. They might stumble over a Desnan teenage runaway, say. Could happen, but it's hardly a plan, is it? Now she's looking at it through Samora's power, she likes it even less.

But making one doesn't look too good either. Christine herself already tried for Pharasma, and got nothing. You might think a goddess of birth and fate would appreciate what she's built in the Mathers clan, but apparently not. Judgmental bitch. That's the issue, really: there are lots of Golarion gods, no doubt, but Samora and her PRT handlers are making real sure that only the shiny cute safe ones get through to Earth Bet. Can she make, say, good Shelynites or Erastil-ians the way she makes good family members? She's giving it a shot, but she's not optimistic -- and of course she doesn't always make good family members. Folks do backslide. Better if they can meet a few of the other gods, the ones the PRT is keeping to itself. A god of battle, say; that's one the McVeys would do well with. There's got to be one, but to get in touch with him they need his name and his holy symbol. The source of both is sitting right in front of her, if she plays it right. That was most of her plan, coming in here, and it still looks worth trying.

"Somethin' I should warn you about," she says. "Known it for a while, didn't notice 'til now that it might matter. There's folks -- not my people, but folks -- tryin' to dig up info on gods you didn't blog about. They're figure there must be more connections 'tween our worlds than just that one book of rules, so they're going back through history, looking at other god names and symbols and trying to worship them, just to see what happens. Moloch, Mammon, that jackal-headed fellow from Egypt. Cthulhu even." She snorts. "I 'spect it's all nonsense, but you might want to check and see -- just yourself, privately -- whether there's any old Earth symbols that line up with the ones you know about.

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Fucking archedevils. "Good to know," she says, as blank-faced as she can make herself. Even if the Evil gods hadn't ended up in Earth mythology at all, perfect indefinite containment was never a realistic goal. Eventually someone would get a revelation. The goal is to make things as cheap as possible for the Good gods and as expensive as possible for the Evil ones. 

"The wisdom will only last about ten minutes; we should focus on your situation."

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Got you. At some point someone should teach this girl to react naturally, 'stead of blanking out like that. But outwardly she nods.

"That's so. But I have to ask: are you a mother?"

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Alas, she traded all her lying ability for more magic resistance.* 

"No, priestesses where I'm from don't have children."

*Author's note: literally.

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"Huh!" She doesn't have to feign surprise. "Not even of, what's her name, Pharasma?"

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"Pharasmins and Erastilians do occasionally. Iomedaeans, basically never. But I've known a lot of parents, and I helped with my little sister, so even if I don't really understand, I at least have some idea of what it can be like."

In some circumstances, anyway. She's not sure if anything in her mother's life would feel relatable to the woman in front of her. Except for love, and that's hardly nothing.

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"Yeah, I thought that too, before I caught, but it's different when it's yours.  I was scared when I saw the pregnancy test, but for the first time in my life, there was something that was - "

She cuts herself off, ashamed for no reason she can readily place.  Mine.  Everything else, my clothes, my time, my body, that all belonged to my parents or my teachers or God, but not Elijah.  He was mine, and come Hell or high water I was going to keep him.

She clears her throat, tries to get her momentum back.  "What I mean is, I heard what you said before about options.  About not shuttin' doors too soon.  But in parenthood there's no such thing as saving yourself.  I could get myself out without 'em, any time, and it wouldn't mean a thing, y'see?  I closed that door years ago."

Not, quite, when Elijah was born.  It was two years later, when his power came in and he was Mastering her every hour of every day, and she'd lost her job because he wouldn't let her give him to a babysitter or even leave the apartment, when a woman in a fedora turned up out of nowhere and said, that boy will kill you if you don't give him up.  And said, I can take him somewhere he'll be safe and happy.  Christine replied, take him off my corpse, then, 'cause I'll never give him to you, and she realized she meant it.  But it turned out there was a third choice, a vial that might kill her but might protect her.  She drank it in one gulp, and she didn't die.  Or none of the parts she likes did, anyhow.

Her mind is wandering.  "I believe in Hell," she says at last.  "Most people don't, even when they say they do.  Maybe it's different where you're from, but here most religious folks are just talkin'.  My boys aren't any different.  Hell ain't real to them.  Even death isn't, really."  Which is plain ridiculous, considerin' how much of it they've seen.  Teenagers.  "That's what I need.  A way to get through to 'em about eternity."

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"I'd be happy to talk to them, too, if they're willing."

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"Could be I could arrange that. What would you tell 'em, that you didn't put on your blog?"

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"Depends what seems like it'll help. Some people just need to hear that the things on the blog still apply to them. I'd ask them what they were getting out of what they were doing, and whether it was really making them happy, and offer them Owl's Wisdom. And, if you permit it, I would tell them you love them and that you don't want to lose the chance to spend your next life with them."

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An invitation to come back! How thoughtful. Not necessarily wise. There aren't any good pictures of Mama Mathers -- her power works on technology, and she has ways of dealing with sketch artists -- so they might not make the connection to "Christine Beauregard" even when Samora reports. And if they did, they might not choose to retaliate; they let her alone, a lot of the time, when she's not bothering anyone too important. Still, though.

"That's very kind of you. I might take you up on that," she allows, then changes the subject, sort of. "Do people have to die, where you're from? Cure all the diseases, heal all the wounds, and a person could last a good long while, seems to me. Not to mention anything else your powers might accomplish." She's been chatting with Rachel Crowley in the background, trying to come up with more angles for this conversation now that she's wiser, or whatever you'd want to call it. Rachel doesn't remember that much, she quit playing when her daddy married Margo Crowley, of course, but there's some. For example, Christine has just now learned the word "vampire".

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"Not really. There's items that can keep people as strong as they were in their youth, but they still die. Old age does a kind of damage no healing can fix. People try all kinds of things, but they all end up insane, dead, or insane and then dead." It's understandable to prefer lichdom to Hell, but Samora's hardly going to advertise it. 

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"Except the same way your goddess did it, I suppose. Or - what is a goddess, really, from a mortal point of view?"

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Shrug. "I don't know if She's the same person as Her human self. She cares about the same things, pursues the same goals, but . . . gods aren't like us."

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"I'm sure that's so."  But her mind is harder to steer than usual, and it's racing down a different road.

"There's a story in the Bible, about the prophet Elijah and the priests of a false god named Baal.  He challenged them to a contest to see whose god was real.  Simple rules: they both put a sacrifice on an altar, and whichever god burned it up with fire from heaven, that was the god the people would follow.  Elijah won, of course.  The Baalites prayed and prayed, but got nothing for it, and Elijah's sacrifice burned to ash even though he soaked it with water first.  He had some style, Elijah did.  This was thousands of years ago, but people back then weren't so different from us.  You pray to the god who can set you on fire.  Stands to reason."  That's half the McVeay philosophy, right there, and the other half isn't any too coherent.  Though to be fair, it's a half more than the Crowleys have.  Christine tries to keep the Mathers clan a little better organized.

"One more question, then I'll get out of your hair.  Can people ever move between afterlives?  Or once you're dead, is that it, that's your one shot?"

Owl's Wisdom isn't quite done, but she wants a few minutes alone with it.

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You pray to the god who's able and willing to answer your prayers, is what it sounds like to her. "People can move between the Good afterlives and Axis, for sure. Maybe also the Maelstrom? And of course if you go to the Boneyard they send you somewhere else. But the Evil afterlives don't have people leave except to fight against wherever they're going." Wanting a few minutes alone with Owl's Wisdom is so normal and reasonable and she will go away and let Anonymous Villain keep the reading room if this is preferred.

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A hug is probably too ambitious, but she'll try for a handshake when Samora's on her way out.

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Samora, blissfully unaware of any reason not to do this, shakes hands with her.

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She probably won't ever need that, but it's satisfying to collect.

Her first thought, once Samora's out of the room (not "when she's alone", she's never alone), is I believe in Hell, I just don't believe in Heaven. And what's weird is, now she thinks about it, she's felt that way for a long time. It just sorta fades in and out, depending on who she's talking to. A lot of Fallen are still religious, in a scratchy sort of way, and a little God talk goes a long way toward smoothing them out. And really, it's not like she's an atheist. She believes in sin, and punishment for sin. Redemption, though? Really now, look around you; if you were God, would you sacrifice yourself to save all this? Or would you scrape it off your boots, and walk away as quick as you could? Their pastor growing up was the same way: all rains of fire and pillars of salt, God's wrath poured out on a deserving Earth. Nobody in that congregation was surprised when Behemoth showed up, you'd better believe.

Now in the Good Book, Jesus says "this generation will not pass away" before the kingdom of God comes to pass. So maybe it's just that all the righteous got raptured away to the kingdom in say 50 AD, and the next two thousand years of war and slaughter are just what happens when you try to have a civilization with no Godly influence whatsoever. Or maybe it happened when Scion showed up, and there were so few righteous that nobody noticed. Or, maybe the whole New Testament is just a pack of lies to begin with. Howsoever, civilization is coming apart now, carved up by Leviathan and smashed to pieces by Behemoth. It's only the Simurgh who seems to know how to build anything, which to Christine's way of thinking meant they'd all better learn to live in the world that she and her siblings were making. No civilized ways, no cities, no trade. Each community a strong pillar, standing alone. That's what the title "Fallen" means to her: people who know how to live in a fallen world. People who can admit the world is ending, who can see what's there without flinching.

Not everybody responds to that by trying to build. The different Fallen take after their Endbringer totems, or maybe sort themselves by their natures. McVeays take the chance to do all the things civilization would never let them do, riding free and smashing everything they feel like smashing. The Crowleys think of themselves as activists, trying to get people to look things the way they really are. Sometimes it works; they do a lot of recruitment, she has to admit. The Simurgh worshippers, when Christine found them, were a drug-addled afterthought, the laughingstock of the Fallen. She sorted that out in a hurry. Now, though, she's questioning it all. The main thing is to come out top, yes, but where is the top? Who's in charge here, really? And if you can't win, and can't at least tread water, how do you get out of the game?

Her last thought under Owl's Wisdom is, I need to talk to more folks from Golarion. Evil people, especially; "evil", in Christine's experience, is a word weak people use to hide from things they don't want to think about. But she can't make any more plans now, let alone act on them. She has to wait and see what her new source brings her. Musing on that, she tells her boys in the car to come collect her, and suddenly in her head she's Mama Mathers again.

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Samora doesn't feel like that went well. Sometimes she knows exactly what to say, to comfort or inspire or convince, and sometimes she doesn't. Maybe the person she met wasn't being straight with her, some way or another, or maybe their outlooks on life were just different enough that she couldn't get her head around it. She says a whispered prayer to Sarenrae, asking Her to succeed where Samora failed and to help her do better next time.

And then she gets somewhere nobody can see her and teleports to the Master/Stranger containment cells, because she decided before the meeting she was going to do that so that's what she's going to do. Meeting villains alone is never going to be the safe choice, but she can at least make it not a completely stupid choice.

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...she what.

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The duty officers down in M/S 3 are getting to know Samora pretty well, what with all the Scrying.  It's alarming that she wants to use the space for its intended purpose, but if someone wants M/S confinement it's against procedure to do anything that might slow them down, so they don't ask any questions as they lock her in.

(It's a bit of a farce for someone with her Mover power but, again, procedure)

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It starts with basic identity and memory checks, delivered by a dispassionate computerized voice.  Does Samora know the day's password?  Does she know her personal password?  Can she pick her parents' names from a list of plausible alternatives?  Does she know the name of the cape who tested her blood, on the day she appeared on Bet?

Then it gets a bit more abstract.  Look at the screen, please.  It runs through a set of colors and patterns, broken up by a flashing violent light.  It beeps once, then starts showing people and places.  The Rig.  Armsmaster.  Director Piggot.  Samora herself.  The UN building in Brussels.  Pride.  Legend.  A succession of known Master and Stranger capes, a smattering of whom Samora might recognize.  None resemble the woman Samora met today.

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The annoying thing is, probably most of this doesn't work.  They're reasonably well-covered against single impersonators, Armsmaster thinks, but if somebody smart gets a power like Heartbreaker's then probably the whole department will have to be recovered from the outside with Thinker support, and as far as anyone can tell there's no sustainable way to do better.  "Someone smart with Heartbreaker's power" isn't even the worst-case scenario, nowhere close.

After Samora has run through the automated program, and after he's had a chance to let his for fuck's sake Samora now what emotions settle, he opens an audio link to M/S 3.  "Hello, Samora, this is Armsmaster.  What's happened?"

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"Nothing, I hope. I met with a villain to provide spiritual counseling, and 'right after being alone with an unfamiliar villain' is a time for checking into M/S containment even if it seems like a silly waste of time one could totally skip. But I sure do appear to be fine this time."

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The machine says her eye movement is consistent with her baseline, and she doesn't show any inappropriate emotional reactions to any of the prompts.

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Such a classic new-hero mistake, and she'll keep making it until it bites her.  "Which villain?"

The machine is mediocre at best at reading human emotions; it'll catch obvious effects like Krakatoa or Skald, but wouldn't do anything if the mystery villain was, say, Valefor.

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She didn't give a name, but Samora figures relaying her physical description is fair play, and does so. Doesn't say anything about her having kids who are also criminals.

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Usually, when you're trying to illictly link a cape ID to a civilian ID, you're starting on the cape side. Also, usually you don't try to illicitly link a cape ID to a civilian ID, because if that norm broke down it would be much worse for the heroes than for the villains except maybe for Empire 88. He'll pull up the kill order list, just in case there's a face he's forgetting, but "skinny intense redhead" isn't much to go on. At least the gender is wrong for Valefor or Heartbreaker.

"That description doesn't match any villains with publicly-known identities," he says after a moment. "You don't have any concrete reason to suspect a Master effect?"

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She does not, and she'll happily stop trying to figure out anything further once she realizes this meeting parses to local norms as a meeting with the woman's civilian identity and not with the cape identity under a random fake name. 

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"Your world" which is objectively horrifying "has easily-accessible powers like Charm Person and Suggestion, but here most capes aren't Masters, and most Masters can't affect people in long-lasting, undetectable ways. Your friend Pride is more typical: we call her a Master because she fights through her summoned allies, rather than with power based in her own body." Samora's hypothetical Master creator would be another good example, only it seems pretty clear at this point that he doesn't exist. They did discreetly search Denver for homebrew tabletop games with a goddess Iomedae, and came up utterly empty -- except that now some people have started campaigns based on Samora's blog, making the search even more complicated and less rewarding.

"Masters who can do things like your Enchantment school are rare, and they don't get a lot of leeway. A Brute who kills someone in a cape fight will likely just get a normal prison sentence, and maybe not a long one if the situation was messy and they cooperate, but someone who enslaves another person's mind could get the Birdcage on their first offense. And if they make a habit of it, they're very likely to get a Kill Order. The most notorious example is probably Heartbreaker; we actually don't have a Kill Order for him, because we don't want to encourage bounty hunters to go kill off his thralls or get themselves caught, but our classified policy for him specifically is that we'll sign one retroactively if anyone manages to finish him.

It's possible that your villain was a Master like that, but in that case - " Armsmaster trails off. In that case, why admit to being a villain in the first place? he was going to ask, except it's a question with a good answer. For at least some villains -- or people Pharasma thinks of as villains -- it's chillingly impossible to hide from Samora's powers. She has a strict nondisclosure policy, but would a villain know that? Would they trust it? They don't trust the PRT, as a rule, just like they don't trust each other; that's one big reason they can keep the villain problem more or less contained despite being outnumbered 2 to 1. So, knowing that they'd be outed as a villain anyway, why not admit it?

"That sort of Master effect is quite rare," Armsmaster says instead. "If you like, we could run a hightened level of monitoring through your tablet for the next several weeks, just to watch for anomolous behavior, but in my opinion it's not necessary. If this was a trap, and it likely was, probably they were trying to learn something from you rather than suborn you directly."

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"If you don't think it's necessary then I don't. I think it's half as you say, that I'm used to a world where any wizard can enchant people and I don't know how my Will stacks up against cape powers, and half that, hm, I don't know what things I've done or might do are likely to result in some villain with strange goals having it in for me personally, so I don't have a good threat model."

She's been assuming that being the starting point for clerics is eventually going to get her enemies who hate clerics being a thing, but maybe that's overestimating her own importance. Anyway, this particular one was definitely fishing for information on Evil gods, so that's the ulterior motive if there is one and she should calm down.

"Also, is this a good time for me to have objections to the concept of retroactive kill orders? Or should I put some time on your calendar about it later?"

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Armsmaster had been Tinkering his anti-Leviathan project. Alone, rather than with Dragon riding along; they don't do that quite as much as they used to, it feels like. He's not sure how to fix it. He's not sure there's anything to fix; maybe he's just oversensitive now that he knows he's in love with her. Anyway, the work was going slowly, so:

"Now's as good a time as any. You might as well check out of the M/S cells and head down to my workshop first, unless you think that question might indicate an ongoing Master effect." He sits back, then adds, "I don't," just in case that was unclear.

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"Neither do I, I'm happy to move."

Once relocated: "So, the reason murder is illegal is so people can go about their lives in peace without worrying so much about being murdered, because they know anyone who might want to murder them has a powerful reason not to in the form of fearing the law, yes? Heartbreaker is not doing anything I would describe as 'going about his life in peace', but if he believes the government is offering him the same protection from murder as everyone else, while actually there are powerful heroes who know they could kill him without reprisal, that's deceptive on the government's part."

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He deliberately didn't form any expectations and somehow this still violates them. At least it's in a good direction for once; he knows how to answer this. "Oh, the policy is a secret outside the PRT, and we're not going to conduct any operations against Heartbreaker ourselves unless the situation substantially changes. It's been tried before, but all we accomplished was to kill some of his victims. They love to sacrifice their lives, just in case it might help him. He doesn't even need to ask them to, once they understand what's going on." Armsmaster wasn't involved in either of those raids, but he read the reports afterwards. All things considered, he's glad his biggest problem is Lung.

"All of which to say, I don't think your concern applies? Everyone who knows about the retroactive Kill Order is constrained for other reasons." After a moment he'll add, "Including you, now. If you think you have a clever idea for taking down Heartbreaker, don't act on it without talking to us first."

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"If he knows at least as much as anyone who might kill him, then I guess it comes down to what everyone's best guess is." The kind of Law problem that hangs on one person's ability to predict another person's ability to predict people makes her head hurt. . . . But she might need to solve it anyway, because she can scry and teleport and doesn't know if Heartbreaker has precautions sufficient to deal with that. "If I did have a clever idea, which I don't presently, and if it also seemed sufficiently clever to you, would we publish a kill order before doing it?"

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"That would be the Chief Director's decision, but no, definitely not. We might still miss, after all, and then we'd have to live with independents killing his slaves and getting enslaved themselves." They don't have this problem with the Slaughterhosue Nine because the Bonesaw, Crawler, and the Siberian are all so obviously, flagrantly invulnerable. Heartbreaker has a scary power, but outside of that he's just a guy. If you're Brute enough you can just sneak up and crush his skull in one mighty fist, right? One would hope that Canada's rogues and independent heroes would have more caution than that, but America's certainly don't.

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"Understood." And if nobody specifically asks her to look for ways to kill Heartbreaker she won't embark on a research project about it. Possibly she should look for ways to kill one or two of the Slaughterhouse Nine, which sounds harder but far more worthwhile.

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Ah, Armsmaster recognizes that "Understood". That's the one you use when you think your superiors are being stupid but you've decided not to argue with them. Armsmaster knows it well.

...which is good, because it's conflict between Samora and the PRT, right? Even better, it's a conflict in which Samora is clearly in the wrong, so there's no risk that he'll get overridden by his superiors like with the Accord thing, what the hell Emily. Even so, he finds he does still want to persuade her. What his Wiser self maybe didn't think of is, Armsmaster basically likes and respects the PRT. By and large, it does good things for good reasons, and when it makes mistakes it's usually that it's too prone to enforce restrictive rules of engagement and give villains the benefit of the doubt. For Samora not to see that...is annoying. But completely in line with his goals! But annoying.

"Very good," he makes himself say. "Dismissed."

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It's not how she'd do things, but it's not Evil and nobody asked her, and the fact that villains live in places otherwise governed by laws makes things complicated. She goes about her business.

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It's A Wonderful Life movie review 

Posted 2010-12-26/02:03 in category: Fun

Merry Christmas to all who celebrate! I watched a Christmas movie. It was very good, because most of it was just watching the life of a very Good ordinary person who takes every opportunity to make his town a better place and I will always enjoy that sort of thing.

It was also a very different kind of thing from Lord of the Rings, as a work of fiction? Lord of the Rings was a much more "complete" story, probably because it's drawing on a very large number of books. If you ask a question about something in Lord of the Rings, either the answer is somewhere in one of the books, or it isn't in the books but you can make a guess at what it might be based on what is in the books. With It's A Wonderful Life, a lot of the answers to my questions are basically "don't worry about that, it's a fictional story". 

In particular the whole business with the divine intervention was very odd. Why is it suddenly reasonable to send an angel to this planet where nobody is used to seeing angels to stop one guy from killing himself? Don't worry about it. Is the vision of the timeline where Bailey was never born drawn from prophecy, or just Clarence's best guess? Don't worry about it.

 It's fine for stories to be like that, but I find it less satisfying than stories that are true or could have been.

A lot of the things that don't make sense can be explained by Clarence not being very cunning and also not being very splendid. He's used to massive fully immersive illusions, so it doesn't occur to him that anyone else might not be, so he sticks Bailey in one without explaining what he's doing or that nobody will recognize him or that Clarence will definitely let him out again eventually. Personally I think it would have been sufficient to jump in the water so Bailey jumps in to save him (that part was brilliant), send him home, and let him realize how much good he's done by seeing the whole town come together to help him out, without the in-between worrying that his children have been erased from reality, but I don't know, maybe it helped. I'm not going to say I could have done better, when I haven't tried and don't know what constraints Clarence was operating under, but I'll say I would have tried a different strategy.

I think I might have been better at watching this movie if I understood more about banking. Sometimes it seems like we're supposed to understand that George Bailey and his father were good at banking and turning a profit on it (though a smaller one than they could have been, at least in the short term, if they were less focused on making sure their customers were better off). Sometimes it seemed like they were operating at a loss. Given that Bailey is supposed to be a good example and that the Building and Loan continues existing, I assume the intended understanding is the former.

Other things I don't understand: the connection between angels and bells, and why there's a squirrel in the Building and Loan at one point. The raven is presumably a pet and/or omen of doom, but the squirrel was unexpected.

In conclusion, I like and admire George Bailey and I'm glad he's okay. Let's all say a prayer for Potter, may he repent of his sins and make Axis. Good movie, good Christmas, and I'm glad I'm on this planet too.

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Yes, sometimes the best thing you can do for a person is to wrap them in a world of illusions.

Glad you enjoyed it!

 The squirrel is also supposed to be a pet, I'm pretty sure, but now that you mention it that doesn't really explain anything. I mean, why not a cat? I think it might be because squirrels are bankers too, a little bit: they gather up extra food and bury it for winter. Or at least, ours do; maybe the ones you have at home are different?

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Another commenter picks up the thread almost immediately:

I think that's beautiful. The squirrel forgets where he puts some of his nuts, so he's not a very good banker, but the nuts he loses grow up into new trees! They're basically exactly like George Bailey.

Another commenter disagrees:

Probably they just thought it was cute? I mean, if I had a trained pet squirrel I'd put it in a movie whether it fit or not, wouldn't you?

And then Samora's blog comments are taken over by a lively -- but reasonably polite -- debate on squirrel symbolism.

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Meanwhile, Andy the Roxbury Hyena takes to loitering outside domestic violence shelters, chasing off any idiot ex-boyfriends who don't want to take "vanishing into the night with the kids" for an answer. Once all the ones she can reasonably commute to have reputations as places where fucking around leads to finding out, she makes those visits more intermittent and goes looking for trouble elsewhere.

The cops around here are useless for "domestic disputes". Andy isn't as useful as she'd like to be, but she can get to know people, stop by houses with brownies, say "that just ain't right" and "you deserve better".  And once or twice she can arrive at just the right moment to turn murder into attempted murder and make the cops make themselves useful.

The local paper calls her a rogue. People who've met her call her a hero. By New Year's Day she can cast second-circle spells.

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The next two channexes, the ones built with Accord's advice, open for business, and Samora starts living the motorcycle life. It's not bad! She still has plenty of time to blog, and talk to all the baby clerics who want advice, and think about how to kill some of the Nine. She had missed getting to fly, and driving down the highway is almost like it. (It would be more like it if she had the wind in her face, but she wears a helmet every time so as to set a good example.) Her schedule has time for traffic built into it, so when there isn't traffic she gets to hang out with the nurses while everyone gets wheeled into place. But the best part is that all of her Raise Deads and all of her Restorations and all of her Remove Diseases get allocated efficiently and she never gets to dawn with spells left above second circle that she could have used for healing. 

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Some people might argue that early January in New England is not the right time or place to start motorcycling everywhere all the time, especially if you'd never even heard of cars before November, but what Samora gets up to is not Amy's business. If she wants to break her neck on I-95, who cares? And if she wants to spend all her time hero-ing until then, double who cares? It's good in fact! She'll use her time efficiently and probably save a lot of people! Good for her! Good job, Samora!!

Grr. Amy is fine. Amy likes that there's another healer around. Amy is fine and good and definitely not bored with curing cancers. No one is going to ask Amy how she feels about any of this, and that's fine, because there's nothing to tell.

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(Samora is aware that she's arguably setting a bad example with her schedule, but you simply can't hold people who need different amounts of sleep to the same standards. She's going to work the hours she wants until it seems like a bad idea or someone with the authority to tell her not to tells her not to.)

On this particular evening, she's on the way from Philly to Baltimore. She recently passed Newark and is now on a long stretch of highway where the right side of the road is a guardrail and the left side is a jersey barrier. Not too long until there are going to be nice views of the water.

The weather is good, which is to say cold (which she doesn't care about) but not icy (which she cares about a lot). The sun is still above the trees on her right but it won't be for much longer. Traffic is a little congested, but not terrible: people are doing between 45 and 55 in a 65, which isn't ideal for her schedule but is in some ways less annoying than when everyone is doing 80 in a 65 because speed limits are a joke. She's hanging out behind a semi in the right lane, idly contemplating trying to get into the left lane and pass it the next time the left lane is going faster.

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Right now the left is still slower, and you gradually start to overtake a big grey minivan.  Ahead of it, you can just barely see around the semi, traffic is clear; apparently that guy just forgot that you're supposed to pass on the left.

Or maybe not: as you come level with it, the van's side door slides open.  Inside are three black-clad figures, their eyes wide and excited behind their ski masks.  They're pointing guns at you -- just handguns, small compared to the giant rifles Miss Militia sometimes uses, but they're astonishingly loud when they fire even against the motorcycle-highway background noise. Take 25 damage.

The bullets also smash one of your mirrors, but in the remaining one you see a sudden flare of light behind you, several cars back.

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Ow!

"YOU LUNATICS, THERE ARE CIVILIANS TRYING TO DRIVE HERE! AMBUSH ME IN A PARKING LOT NEXT TIME!"

While her mouth is going on autopilot, the rest of her is suppressing her other instinctive reactions. Shouldn't Holy Smite, if she got the driver the van would go out of control. Shouldn't teleport out, the motorcycle wouldn't come with and then it would go out of control. Can she get the semi's big unoccupied trailer between her and the shooters? Not enough room. Nothing for it but to keep going until she gets somewhere she can cut speed, ditch the bike and teleport out. She's not reading Evil off any of them and capes don't use guns, so they're probably unpowered.

She pops an Owl's Wisdom for a Cure Moderate (15 HP), ducks her head, gets her shield off her back and onto her left arm, and tries to fox their next set of shots by lane-splitting and flooring it. The trailing gunman is clearly willing to shoot past civilians, but if she can get ahead of the minivan they might hesitate to shoot through their allies.

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You accelerate, trying to squeeze through the gap between it and the semi, but at the same time it swerves toward you, dangerously close to the semi's rear corner, boxing you in at the front.  The gunmen flail wildly; they're strapped in so nobody falls out, but their second volley of gunfire all goes wide.  One of the gunmen is reaching for something in a shirt pocket.

Behind you the flare of light is still flaring, and rising up rather than getting closer -- maybe twenty feet up, now?  It's oblong, and your Eyes of the Eagle let you just barely make out a human figure inside it.  Dozens of smaller lights are spreading out around it in a spinning ring.

The trunk driver is honking, but hasn't otherwise reacted.

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That is . . . definitely some kind of problem. Maybe a cape problem. That guy doesn't read Evil but he might have bought it from a Tinker or just have too much metal on him. Or he's not actually with the shooters, though it doesn't seem likely. She puts up a Shield of Faith and hits the brakes, prepared for the van to either match her movement or overshoot and hit the semi trailer. (It's good that the trucker is honking. Means he knows there's a Situation going on and won't be completely surprised if something hits the trailer.)

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The van stays ahead of you, preferring to block you from getting ahead of the semi.  This leaves the gunmen without a clear shot, but one pokes a head around the van door.  He still looks exhilarated, but with new notes of worry and uncertainty.  You have a flashing sense, amid everything else you're keeping track of, that he's trying to make a frightening decision.

Behind you and above, five of the lights leap out of the ring and streak toward you.  Four richochet off of the pavement, but the fifth hits you in the shoulder.  You have a momentary impression of hot, sharp metal, but it bounces off of you rather than sticking.  Take seven slashing damage and ten fire damage.  The glowing figure is flying toward you, but only slightly faster than your motorcycle goes; it's still a few hundred feet back.

The cars behind you are -- with one notable exception -- beginning to brake.

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The flier is definitely hostile and that didn't look like Tinkertech up close—maybe they're just nonEvil straight up and attacking her anyway. Maybe she has a chance to get this whole thing to calm down somehow. She could Holy Smite, which would be useful information but also hostile. She yells at the gunman sticking his head out, "What are you trying to accomplish?" and starts emitting an aura of holy peace that makes everyone need to think for a moment before trying to hurt her.

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The guy in the van looks tremendously frustrated, and maybe a little relieved?  He doesn't answer your question, but he also doesn't throw a grenade at you, or blast you with lightning, or whatever else he was thinking of.  The van itself falls back a little more, and drifts right until it's exactly straddling the two lanes.

The flier is still accelerating, but apparently they're still more than thirty feet away because they take three more shots at you.  The first one ricochets off your rear tire (no part of the bike is Tinkertech, but Armsmaster did make a few product recommendations).  The second lodges in the rear door of the semi trailer -- it's about as big across as your hand, circular-ish, and burning so hot it's almost white.  The third misses your one remaining mirror by about half an inch.

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Thank you Armsmaster for having good taste in bikes. The traffic behind them has fallen back enough that Samora can take up two lanes, slaloming back and forth to dodge enemy fire and also get a good view of the road ahead, looking for an exit or enough shoulder to get on the far side of the semi. While she still has a mirror, what's the car the cape launched from up to?

And she'll cast another Cure Moderate while she's at it; it's a good one and she's almost completely fine again (21 HP of healing). 

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The van keeps station, ready to smear you into the semi or the barrier if you try to pass.  The door is still open but nobody's peeking out of anymore.  Ahead of it, the truck is maintaining speed exactly.  The flier, meanwhile, is still getting faster: they're almost directly above you now.  They haven't taken any more shots.  The car they came from is slowly working its way through the deccelerating traffic behind you; drivers are starting to get out of its way.

After a few rounds of this, you spot a sign overhead: "NEXT EXIT 2 MILES".

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That's going to run out the clock on her Sanctuary aura. They picked a good spot to be completely irresponsible in. She toggles the aura off to test whether that immediately draws fire or if anyone is authentically rethinking their life choices, and keeps making evasive maneuvers. And contemplates calling the PRT for backup, but even if she could get her tablet out of her bag while dodging it would be hard to make herself heard over the road noise. Something to do later. 

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The van's back door rattles, then opens, and one of the gunmen drops something the size of a marble on the road surface.  It skips once, then abruptly grows into a steel ball nine feet wide, rolling down the lane divider.

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That forces her fully into the right lane behind the semi, and she gives it a wide berth in case it's going to explode or something, but it just rolls off behind her toward the no-doubt horrendous traffic jam in the battle's wake. It occurs to her that someone might have already called the PRT, what with all the gunfire and the very obvious flying cape shooting at the road. Can't count on it, though. 

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The thrower watches you dodge with clear and profound mixed feelings. Behind you the marble bounces twice, and the traffic jam starts to panic, but then suddenly it goes from rolling-boulder-trap-sized to marble-sized again. Visibly relieved, the thrower tosses a second abruptly-giant marble onto the left lane, and then a third, trapping you on the right. Then the van stats to decelerate.

Above, the flier has fully matched your speed, and is a steady fifteen feet behind and fifteen feet up, slowly dropping. They haven't fired off any more of their dozens of orbiting projectiles.  There's maybe a faint suggestion of a feminine shape through the bright yellow flame.

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She keeps dodging. Time is on her side, here: every moment nothing happens is a moment for these people to reconsider why they're doing this, and a hundred yards closer to the next exit. 

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Your mystery attackers seem to think it's the other way around!  The thrower gradually gets bolder, but he's content to clutter up the left lane and leave you stuck in the right.  Then, finally, the rear car breaks clear of the traffic jam and roars up behind you, while the van continues to decelerate ahead of you.

The plan seems to be to crush you between them, but you've got a few seconds before they converge.  Now what?

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So that's what they were up to.

She swings out to the right, gets between the van and the semi, and before the van can pivot to crushing her against the trailer she rams them, flinging herself off the motorcycle and into the open door of the van. (Goodbye motorcycle, you served faithfully and well.)

It's not the most elegant of maneuvers. Quite inelegant, really, and she ends up dragging her legs on the pavement for a second or two (13 damage). But what she lacks in grace she makes up for in magically enhanced strength.

Now there's an angry cleric drawing a sword in your van, that's what.

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The two remaining shooters lurch backward against their harnesses, but the thrower looks excited!  By the time you pull yourself up into the van, he's a foot taller and still growing.  He tries and fails to stop you drawing your sword, but he does manage to grab a big fistful of cloak.  The plan seems to be to throw you right back out again.

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Can't throw her out of the van when her legs are clamped around his leg and her elbow is clamped on his arm and her shield is getting in his face!

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A better wrestler probably could; he's a lot stronger than you are, and still getting bigger.  But he can't seem to apply his strength in enough different places at once, and his friends behind him haven't yet figured out how to shoot you without either getting unstrapped or maybe also shooting him.  They sure are intensely focused on the problem, though!

So things are going great, except a sudden flare of heat and light indicates that the flier is now right behind you.  There's a sound like tearing cloth, clearly audible over the rush of freeway noise.

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Now that she's down a bike, she needs to take control of this vehicle and that's going to mean injuring people. Should be possible to do it nonlethally, at least. She whacks the guy grappling her with her shield. (4 damage)

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The giant clearly felt that, but he's still in the fight.  You did at least inspire him to switch tactics: now he's trying to crush you in a still-increasingly-enormous bear hug.  It doesn't particularly work, though it might well have hurt a normal person.

And then suddenly you take nine damage as something hot and sharp careens off your skull, and, ouch, twenty six more damage as a second one sticks in your upper leg.  Thanks to the wind rushing out the back of the van you can't smell yourself cooking, but it still stings.  A third projectile skims off your armor and sticks in the van's ceiling.

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This is starting to add up. She twists in the grapple enough to get eyes on the flier and throws a Holy Smite at them. 

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The giant seems to know what somatic components are.  He tries to lift you up and slam you against the wall of the van, and comes dangerously close to tipping you both out the back, but can't stop your gesture in time.  The flier is enveloped in a sphere of brilliant light...

...and immediately pops out again, still pursuing at freeway speeds, seemingly untouched.  She -- you're almost sure it's a she, through the shrouding flames -- takes another cautious shot with her orbiting arsenal, but it lands a few feet short of the van and ricochets off to the side somewhere.

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Maybe she's got spell resistance. Maybe she's Good. Maybe she's Good and enchanted and baiting her in closer will help, but she's not seeing a good way to do that. Maybe now that the crashing-her-bike ship has already sailed she should just teleport out and make this someone else's problem, except if the flier's enchanted that could go really badly for them. 

She whacks grappling guy with her shield again, less effectively, and says, as conversationally as she can while breathing hard and trying to be heard by the flier, "I still want to know what you think you're accomplishing here!"

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You have to shout to be heard at all: between the highway winds, the flier's dozen's of spinning projectiles, and the crash of your poor motorcycle careening off the barrier, it's gotten pretty noisy.  But the giant still hears you, and snaps back, "saving the world", as he slams you into the wall of the van again (2 damage).

Then from the driver's seat there's another voice, thick with exasperation.  "Don't banter with her!"

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Saving the world? From what? Oh. "Killing me won't stop the gods from intervening! It will just stop me from healing people!"

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"We can - " "DON'T!"

The giant looks like he's thinking of arguing some more -- it's not clear with you or with the driver -- but then one of his colleagues interrupts by shooting you in the foot (9 damage).  He's using a different, smaller gun than the long rifle he was firing before, but in the confines of the van it's still enough to rattle even your eardrums.  The giant flinches, and starts to topple out of the van.

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Ow. This is stupid.

Wait, no, Samora is being stupid. She got rid of the motorcycle in a way that didn't injure anyone uninvolved, she's pretty sure the cape is mistaken rather than enchanted, and the PRT can handle this more effectively than she can because she doesn't have anything for Good-aligned fliers. She should focus on making their job easier and then calling them.

How quickly can she stab this guy unconscious and Stabilize him if she puts some serious effort into it? Quickly enough that she can do it before the flier hits her two more times?

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Maybe?  She hasn't been firing as much since you got close to the van; if she's worried enough about hitting her large friend she might not try to shoot you at all.  And, too, Bet humans are often more fragile than you'd expect from their overall experience and combat skill.

Speaking of which, the giant is still falling out of the van.  He is very much bringing you with him on his trip to the pavement; "letting go of you" does not seem to have occurred to him and he outweighs you by about a factor of four.  One of his friends has just realized what's happening, but obviously isn't going to do anything useful in time.

But you have about a second to do something, if you can, and want to.

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She plants a foot and shoves him back into the van. Stay here, you have an appointment with getting stabbed.

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Your strength is...ah, 18, all right then.  You manage to shove the pair of you backward, into an undignified pile in the middle of the van, knocking over one of the shooters in the bargain (he'd just got himself unstrapped, Nethys alone knows why).  In the ensuing confusion someone manages to shoot you in the head (19 damage); the bullet ricochets through a window.  The van wobbles in its lane a little, then stabilizes.

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Brief pause for another Cure Moderate (24 healing), then she'll get to stabbing the big guy.

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The quarters are awkwardly close, for a sword stabbing.  He's bigger than you, which helps, and after some experimentation you're able to stab him upward through the armpit and notch his shoulder joint a little.  He howls with pain, his arm weakens, and then his friend manages to get oriented enough to grab at your sword arm.  But he's not as strong as you are, and you manage to break his grip.  Another stab might do it.

From the front, the driver is shouting "The mouth!  The mouth!  Keep the bullets inside her!"

The last shooter, the one who's still strapped to the wall, startles, then obligingly starts jabbing you in the face with his long gun.  The end of the barrel skitters off your teeth.  That's probably the best he can do, so long as you don't try to cast anything with a Verbal component.

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She jerks around so she's harder to shoot in the head again and stabs the big guy a second time.

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This time you manage to catch him with the point of your sword, just under the chin.  There's a weird dissociated feeling about it; guys this strong aren't supposed to be this easy to cut.  But he is, and you only barely manage to avoid stabbing him all the way through into the skull.  His grip starts to give way.

Seeing this, his friend shoots you in the teeth for 19 damage.  You almost take extra sonic damage, just from the discharge in the confined space, and everyone gets stung with hot bullet shrapnel.  But it could be worse: he was pretty clearly trying for your eye.

The driver shouts, "DO IT!"  It's not clear to whom.

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Right, that's enough of that. She teleports to the parking lot of the hospital that's expecting her in half an hour, sword and shield still in hand and big guy still entangled firmly in her legs and one elbow. 

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Wow, it sure is quiet all of a sudden!  The giant gurgles a little, then starts to shrink.

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Stabilize! And then she finally gets her tablet out and calls the PRT. 

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The verbal component comes out a little mushy, but you manage. The call to the PRT likewise. And then...

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A PRT van arrives in the parking lot three minutes later, and a squad of uniformed officers leap out and start spraying the unconscious villain with containment foam. On Samora's assurance that he won't die in the next few hours, they hoist him back into the van and haul him away. Samora's orders are to teleport directly to her quarters aboard the Rig, those being the most secure square meters available to her, and then to await further developments.

Separately, two other PRT units are en route to the attack site. They're about twelve minutes out, so they don't seriously expect to catch anybody, but sometimes you get lucky. When they finally arrive, they find a van abandoned in a empty parking lot just past an offramp, full of guns and equipment, burning with a bright yellow flame that water, and then sand, can't seem to douse. No clues there. At least there should be plenty of eyewitness reports.

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Armsmaster is not much worried about lack of evidence. A list of suspects is already taking shape, and they have a prisoner to narrow things down. Personally he's betting on Fallen; the McVeays, the Behemoth-worshippers, have had a grudge against Samora since her debut. Or it could be Accord, if there were something he didn't like about the channeling facilies, but on the whole Armsmaster thinks probably not; the ambush Samora described sounded too haphazard, and she survived it. Though if she were just slightly less tough, or hadn't had her secret mover power...

They'll find out who was behind this, oh yes. It's is going to raise Samora's profile even further, and that's irritating, but it's nothing compared to how he'd feel if she'd moved a little slower. Live, he thinks, as he drafts the next set of orders. Live long enough to get mad at the PRT, and resign in a snit, and found your church. Heroes die, but don't get killed this quickly.

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The following morning, the secure facility reports that their new prisoner is awake and stable. There's a long medical report, the gist of which is that he's not going to die of his injuries, seems alert and oriented but won't be able to talk without extensive intervention, and refuses pain medication when given the option. Since mind reading isn't a thing capes can do, no one has attempted to interrogate him yet.

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Armsmaster's idea, if Samora is willing, is for her to go down and heal him herself, and then see what she can learn before the PRT professionals start in. She doesn't have the training, but these people clearly care a lot about Samora specifically. He might say things to her that he wouldn't ever say to anyone else.

And if that doesn't work, well. Their mystery assassin is at an interesting boundary: involved in something bad enough that the PRT can probably get the Birdcage if they push for it, but not so powerful that normal confinement is impractical. In other words, they have discretion, and they can use it to get him an ordinary and fairly sedate prison sentence. If he cooperates.

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She's disappointed that she doesn't get to do the Baltimore channel before going back to the Rig, but if she didn't want to be stuffed in a secure facility she should have done a better job defeating all of her attackers. Getting to talk to the prisoner is an excellent consolation prize. She only stabbed him a few times and he's had some medical help and a night's rest; if one Cure Moderate doesn't get him back to basically-fine then two really ought to. 

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The facility they've got him in is mostly a hospital. Its special secure wing was built for ordinary criminals, but now and again they need to treat a villain with powers weak or subtle enough that they can be held by locked doors and armed guards. Their latest catch probably qualifies -- if you can get stabbed to death you can get shot to death, right? -- but "gets bigger" is a dangerous class of power, and everyone's been on edge all night.

So far the prisoner hasn't done anything to justify it. He hasn't even been awake all that much, and when he is he doesn't really emote. Just lies there, eyes distant. But, the duty officer says, if Samora wants to try talking to him, she's welcome to. If she needs help, not that she's likely to considering how things went last time, there'll be a team of two in the hall.

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He thought he was in a hospital room at first. It's got a soft-ish bed, depressing beige walls, no windows, weird metal coatrack thing with a big pouch -- you know, hospital stuff. Except he can hear a lock click in the door, every time someone opens it, and he can't see a lock on his side, so it must be on the other side, where he can't get at it. He hasn't been to the hospital since he was twelve, so he doesn't remember for sure, but he doesn't think that's how hospital rooms work.

And there's a handcuff on his left wrist, attached to the bedframe. That's a bit of a clue, too.

They weren't dicks about it. They hooked it to the side of the bed, not the head, so he can relax his arm and move it around some. And they left his right arm free. Does that mean they know who he is, and they locked up his dominant hand on purpose? Or did they just assume he was a rightie, and they were trying to be nice? For that matter, why bother at all, when they must know he could grow the handcuff and slip out of it any time he wanted? Is it a test? Of what?

No way to tell.

He leaves the handcuff on. Where's he gonna go? They already failed. It's not the kind of thing you get a second chance at, he's pretty sure.

He burns some empty time thinking about that, and then not-thinking about it, and finally hears the lock engage again. They haven't fed him here, yet, that he remembers anyway. Maybe this is breakfast.

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Nope! It's her again, fully healed and in a different, less blood-soaked shirt. Her sword is at her side and her shield is on her back, but her hands are empty for the moment.

"Hi. Want some magic healing?"

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Oh shoot it's her.

His first thought is to slip the handcuff and tackle her, injuries or no. He fights it down. If brute strength could solve this problem, it would have worked the first time. No, probably this is his time on the mountaintop. This is the part where she offers him all the treasures of the world, or at least like a nice house in Louisville, if he switches sides. So, he should tell her "no". Or, not tell her, because he can't talk. But shake his head a little, maybe.

He should.

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Then again, it's not like he's promising anything if he lets it happen. She's healed lots of people, and nothing bad's happened to them yet. The trap is that it makes people think she's good and innocent, not the healing itself. He can say yes to this, and then just say no when she asks him to worship a demon. It's fine.

His jaw hurts.

He nods, just slightly.

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She can tell that that was a decision that took some thought, and she's not sure what he was considering but the fact that he thought about it makes her like him a bit. Tap. "Cure Moderate Wounds." She'll do a second one if it looks like he needs it.

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After a few awkward moments trying to unfasten the metal device they put around his jaw, he gives up and grows the handcuff. He can put it back on later. Or he could not; what is he worried about, breaking the law?

It takes him a minute to unwrap his own face, and by the time he's done he's not sure what to say. A nice firm "Get thee behind me, Satan!" would just sound stupid at this point. But if not that, what? What do you say to the Antichrist? Well, you say "no", but you can't start with that.

In the end he just looks at her, tense and wary and more than a little excited. Come on, he thinks, do your worst. You might be stronger than me, but this time you can't win.

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"So, I would really like to hear your account in your own words of why you think humanity would be better off with me dead. I don't expect you'll convince me to die, but you might convince me to do something differently."

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Okay, this is obviously a trap. But how, exactly?

It'd be better if it were Hallow here, answering this. Well, it'd be better if Hallow escaped whatever mess-up happened after Braden Goliath, he's gotta think Goliath thoughts right now, after Goliath lost the fight in the van. It doesn't seem that realistic, though. The other guys wouldn't've let him get captured, if they'd had a choice. But they did let him get captured. So...

Well. He's the guy who's here, and maybe he's not as wise as Hallow but he's not dumb. He's kinda sensitive about that, since he got such a stereotypical dumb-guy power and then made that little mistake with his hero name, but he's really not. And anyway, this isn't a time for human wisdom. He's not going to out-think the Antichrist. His enemy is stronger, faster, richer, and more powerful than he is. All he has is his faith.

So what would Jesus do?

"What did my friends say, when you asked them that?"

Answering a question with a question. Classic Jesus move. And it's not a trick; he's really worried about Hallow, especially, now that he's started to think things through.

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"You're the first one I've talked to." She's not sure if they've captured any of the others yet, and she's not sure if she'll get to talk to them when they do, and she's not sure if she's supposed to tell Goliath any of that anyway. She did keep all the bullets that fell out when she healed herself, in case she needs them to target a scry on someone later. 

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Oh right, she can just lie. When Jesus tried this, there was usually an angry crowd watching to keep everybody honest. Whereas he is alone in his enemy's lair, with all her power around her and his excitement starts to look like panic from a suddenly tilted point of view -

Lord, give me strength. The prayer is quick, almost reflexive, but it's enough to turn his mindset back where it belongs. Really, he doesn't even know she's lying. Maybe she wants to practice on some minions before she talks ot the leader. Maybe she figures she'll learn something from him she can use on Hallow. Maybe she's going alphabetically, It doesn't change anything. "What you should do," he says, without really thinking about it, "is convert. Let Jesus take your sins away, stop worshipping false gods. Definitely stop telling other people to worship false gods. But I guess if you could do that you wouldn't be here with the powers you have." Which is an odd, sad thought, now that he hears it out loud. Are you supposed to feel sorry for the antichrist? Probably not.

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She could do that, in the same sense that she could cut her own arm off, if she had a good enough reason. (He really doesn't need to feel sorry for her, but it speaks well of him that he can, when he thinks she's an enemy of his god and she stabbed him yesterday.)

"Can you explain what it means to you when you say a god is false, and why Jesus would want me to stop worshipping such a god? Where I come from, we learn that all the gods that want humans to be safe and free and happy are allies, even though they sometimes disagree."

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What is this, the Socratic method? "Jesus - well, God - wants everybody to worship Him.  That's the only way to salvation that works."

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People keep saying that and she's never gotten to the bottom of why they believe it. She should not feel excited about having someone prisoner so she can ask them theological questions where they can't just log off; that is not an appropriate emotion and might lead to treating the prisoner improperly.

"Him and nobody else? Or Him more than anyone else? Or just worshipping Him at all regardless of who else you worship?"

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"Him and no one else.  It's in the Ten Commandments: thou shalt have no other gods before me. Uh, which I guess makes it sound like you can have other gods after Him, on the side or whatever, but there's a bunch more in there, that's not how it works." The earnest curiosity in her voice has to be a trap too, he knows that, except...he's having an idea. An insane idea that he's not sure anyone in the history of theology has ever had, which probably means it's heresy and he should chill.

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He said there was a bunch more, and now he looks like he's thinking really hard about the next bit, so she's just going to stand there with a professional amount of smile and let him finish his thought.

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Finish what thought? He's having a whole different thought, and now that he has some quiet time to work it through he doesn't see how it could be heresey, as such. Not every wrong idea about God is heresy; God does want people to think about Him, after all.

See, something's been bugging him about this whole thing. Hallow said this wouldn't necessarily work, that you can't beat the devil by just punching him really hard, but it had to be tried at least once because wouldn't they all feel dumb if they got to Heaven and asked God why he let Samora go around stealing peoples' salvation and God said, I gave you all the Bible so you'd know what the enemy looked like, I gave you powers, and I gave you a bunch of guns. Why didn't you do anything about it? Hallow was right, someone had to try it.

But Hallow was also right that Jesus didn't beat the Romans by being tougher than them. He beat them by being holy, in a way no one could ignore.

He's trying to stay un-excited. This probably won't work. He's probably wrong about multiple things. But what if he's not?

"You know there's an apocalypse going, right? Giant monsters, mass loss of faith, friends turning against friends? We have a prophecy about it. We know how it's going to end."

How's she taking that? Is she calm, surprised? Is she suppressing a smile, like she's secretly gloating? He really thought she'd gloat at least a little.

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Mostly she just looks curious. "Prophecy does work on this planet. When was this prophecy made, and what does it say?"

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Maybe she's just gloating secretly. But... "It's about two thousand years old," he says, in the calmest voice he can manage, like he was explaining things to a youth group. "It came to John a little after Jesus' resurrection. No one speaks the language it was written in anymore, and on top of that it uses a lot of imagery, a lot of symbolism, so it's really hard to understand. But it's important. You can tell, even before you read it, because it's the last book in the Bible. If you want to find out about it yourself, the version to read is the Scofield Bible. It explains a lot of stuff you wouldn't be able to guess, just reading it as a modern person."

"After He was resurrected, Jesus hung out with the disciples for a while, but then He left. He said he'd return someday, and create what we call the Kingdom of God. But before that, the world is going to be devasted. Giant monsters will roam the earth. There'll be terrible wars between nations. And there'll be sin and wickedness everywhere. There'll be crime, injustice, even devil worship. Some people will try to preach the Gospel, but they'll be persecuted and martyred. We call it the Tribulation."

Should he try to explain the Rapture? Eh, maybe later, that's not what she most needs to hear. He's still trying to stay calm, but it's a visible struggle. "At the center of it all, there's someone called the Antichrist. And the tricky thing is, they seem like a savior at first. They're persuasive, charismatic, well-liked, and they're a force for peace in the world. They might even do miracles, like Jesus did. But they don't give credit to God, the way Jesus did; they found their own religion instead. A lot of people convert, and lose their chance at salvation. In the end, their choices cause the last battle, the destruction of the world, out of which Christ builds his final kingdom."

"Anyway, that's you. You're the Antichrist. I realized just now you might not know."

He has to keep reminding himself, she probably knows all this already. Probably she's laughing at him. But, fools for Christ, right? Like Hallow said, it had to be tried. And wouldn't it be just like the Devil, to use an unwitting tool for something like that?

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She doesn't laugh. She stands silently for a while after Goliath finishes. Not waiting for him, just thinking. Eventually she speaks.

"A lot of people have tried to kill me, in the past year or so," she says. "And out of all of them, I think 'I'm trying to avert a prophecy that someone would cause the destruction of the world by founding a new church' is the best reason any of them have had, by a long shot. I'll read the prophecy, and pray on it, and do the best I can to protect this world and its people. I don't believe I'm costing my readership their salvation, but prophecies are dangerous things, and the balance of powers on this planet is delicate. Thank you for the warning."

"I swear to you that I do not want or intend to destroy this civilization." Her voice echoes with absolute certainty.

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For a second he's stressed instead of excited again, but then he remembers he doesn't have to guess whether this means she's lying to him, or she's telling the truth, or something even weirder. He did the right thing; now he just has to trust that things will work out the way they should. He doesn't have to do anything else.

Well, except go to jail. He is definitely going to jail. That's...he won't think about that for now. It's time to let go and let God.

Oh, and he should answer her somehow, too. "That's...good. But I don't think you have to want to, to do it. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, you know?"

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"Yes, I know. I'll be careful." Speaking of which, there's something else she wants to know his thoughts on, and wants him to know she's thinking about.

"The Protectorate sent me back here right after you got arrested. I didn't get to heal anyone in Baltimore yesterday or today. Those people not getting healing, and all the people who wouldn't have gotten it if I'd died—were they a cost, in your accounting, when you were deciding it was better to kill me than talk to me about the prophecy? Or is that something you wanted?"

She doesn't sound angry. Just curious and a little sad.

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We talked about that, he just barely manages not to say, because the way to not get tricked into saying too much about his comrades is to say nothing, nothing at all, zip.  He thinks a moment, then hazards, "It's souls that are important, right?  Heaven and hell, and the choices we make to get there.  If someone dies before they could repent it's a tragedy, but other than that...I mean, it's a little bad.  For people not to get healed, I mean.  It's just, even a whole long life of suffering is short compared to eternity, right?  When Jesus healed people, it was about showing God's power, bringing them closer to His love.  When you do it you drive them away.  So yeah, it's bad when you heal people, and you should stop.  Or convert!  Then you could heal everyone you wanted."

Maybe he's pushing this theme too hard?  But it's so obvious.

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"Your concept of converting wouldn't include renouncing Iomedae? Or do you think I would keep getting spells even if I did?"

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"Oh, right. I was thinking of you as a normal cape. But yeah, if your powers really come from" why does it feel rude to say the devil "somewhere different than usual, then probably you'd lose them if you repented. Maybe He'd give you some different ones? But probably not, that's mostly not how it works."

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Also she's not sure she can repent of serving Iomedae. She could probably figure it out if she had to to avert a prophecy of doom, but surely if that was the best option Iomedae would have noticed and dropped her.

"I don't think I'm any more likely to get cape powers than anyone else. And I'm not the only cleric here anymore, so even if you don't want to take my word for anything it seems pretty clear there's at least one god out there picking clerics. Obviously if the best way to avoid destroying the world is to stop being a cleric I should do that. But from my point of view, Iomedae doesn't want the world destroyed either and could have stopped giving me spells any time. Obviously that's not going to be convincing to you because you don't trust Her. . . . Is there a way to check with your god directly? I know He doesn't pick clerics or intervene much at all nowadays."

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"Prayer never hurts." Really she should be asking Hallow this. He takes a minute to think through what he's going to say, just on the off chance that some of the others got away. Then: "I, ah, wasn't the leader. Some of the others, they'd be able to give you better advice, spiritually I mean. But if you pray with an open heart, God will reward you."

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She nods seriously. She'll read the prophecy, pray to her understanding of Jesus-Who-Might-Be-Sarenrae-Or-Pharasma-Or-Neither, try a Commune question or a Divination if it seems like a good idea. "I'll ask them if I get the chance." 


 

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Elsewhere

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One day I'm going to be so rich, I won't even remember what this place was like.

He doesn't know how he's going to do it. He's for sure not going to inherit anything; his parents can barely afford the double-wide they all live in. Work's out too; all the jobs around either pay like shit, or want more than a high school education. And honestly they're not jobs for thinking people, anyway, and Sam likes to think. He makes connections, puts things together. He spends a lot of time online at the library, reading and arguing with people. It's a lot more fun than school ever was, and he's learning a lot.

One day he's going to find a way to make that work for him. He'll have so much money he won't even know how to spend it all. He'll have a huge house, a huge car, a huge closet full of clothes, and a huge cell phone, the kind you can watch movies on. Two, in fact, so he can let one charge and use the other. He'll have a pet, but not a normal pet. Something special, that most people couldn't have. An elephant, maybe. They'll hang out together all day, while Sam does whatever rich people do.

Sam won't have to clean up after it, of course. He'll pay someone for that.

And one day Sam's dad will come to that huge house, in his work boots and stained shirt, and he'd say "Sammy, we're getting a little behind on the bills, do you suppose you could help us out?". And then Sam will smile, and say, "You're not getting a dime from me."

He's been thinking about that since he was nine years old. The ending changes; sometimes it's "I hate it when you call me Sammy", or just "who cares?" But right now he likes "You're not getting a dime." It's a little old-fashioned, a little grounded, like it came from an old book. His dad wouldn't get it. He only reads about sports.

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This week he's got a new angle: he's going to get powers, and he's going to charge for them.

It sounds dumb. Planning to become a cape is like planning to win the lottery, and the new thing with Iomedae and Erastil and all of those isn't any better. The internet's full of people trying it, all kinds of different weird stuff, but it basically never works. Guys training with swords in case it helps Iomedae hear their prayers, girls getting pregnant so they'll be closer to Pharasma, a bunch of super cringe shit like that. Sam gave it a shot with Abadar anyway, just to see, because it seemed like they might understand it each other. You need someone to work for You down here on Bet? he prays. No problem. I'm right here. Come get me, tell me what You want, and I'll get it done, no questions asked. Just make me rich, that's all I want. But of course it didn't work. It pretty much never does.

Sam's not too discouraged, though, because he's noticed two things that most people online don't seem to get.

First: being a cleric is basically a job, and jobs only have so many openings. Abadar might have taken Sam if he'd been quicker, but at first he thought the whole cleric thing was a weird lie, so he held off until a bunch of other people got powers the same way, and then it was too late. His mistake. He never said he was perfect, he just tries not to make the same mistake twice. Hence his new plan: become the first Earth Bet cleric of some god no one's even heard of.

Conventional wisdom, formed over weeks of intense PHO debate, says that can't work. You need the god's name and their holy symbol, and those could both be anything. But the second thing Sam noticed is, Samora thinks Jesus might be Pharasma. Even if it's not true, it's the sort of thing that can happen. If you pray to Thor, or Athena or whoever, you might be praying to someone real. So why not just try all of them, and see what happens? He takes a few sheets of library printer paper, and writes down all the god names anybody ever thought of. All the Norse gods, all the Egyptian ones. Every demon name anyone ever wrote down, every angel. Not everything anyone ever put in a fantasy book, because that would take too long and fantasy books are stupid anyway, and no Lovecraft because he's not an idiot, but everything historical. Some of them had symbols already, usually a few different ones, and he can just print them out; for the rest, he doodles some ideas. That part probably doesn't have to be too exact, because people make holy symbols for the famous ones out of all kinds of different things. Then he just has to write and recite a little prayer for each god, offering things he thinks they'd like and telling them what he wants in return.

It's slow, sure. But he's twenty years old, he has no job, and all his friends moved away after high school. He's got time, and during school hours he's got the bedroom to himself. And weirdly, it's not boring. He's just going down the list he made in the library computer room, saying the prayers over and over, touching each candidate holy symbol in turn. There's something pure about it. Something simple.

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After the first day he stops saying the prayers out loud; he's realized he can say them with just his heart, and mean them just as much. Then he stops even reading the prayers, because deep down they're all the same. Make me rich, and I'll give You what You want. Just that, over and over. Sometime in the second day he stops thinking the words, and just means them instead, all at once.

Is this meditation? It doesn't feel peaceful. It feels...focused. Pointed. Isn't meditation supposed to destroy your sense of self, melt your will? He's more will-ful than ever. He spends so much of his life crushing down his hopes and desires, and now he's letting them fill his whole soul. It's like he's finally standing up, after a whole life of lying in bed. It feels so good, he doesn't even care that nothing's happening.

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On the third night he sleeps badly, and opens his eyes still half-dreaming of gold.  Gold house, gold table, gold servants with heavy gold clubs, and a name he kept getting wrong.  None of that was the point of the dream, but he doesn't quite -- he wakes completely, and it's gone.

His shitty little clamshell phone says it's 4:19 am.  Not even dawn.

He gets up, and dresses in the dark, careful not to wake his little brother.  Bill has...an exam, or a presentation or something, later today.  Sam doesn't remember the details, he just knows Bill needs his sleep.  Restless, he slips out of the house and wanders down to the street.  He comes to a stop under one of the streetlights.  He's got a nickel in his hand, a nickel and his pocket knife, and he's not sure why.

Thomas Jefferson, that's the face he's looking at.  He sounded pretty cool in history class, only it turns out he spent his spare time raping his slaves.  Total asshole, actually.  Sam amuses himself for a few minutes by etching little devil horns onto Jefferson's stupid head.  They're not quite symmetric, or you wouldn't be able to see the second one, but that seems fine.  Who says devil horns have to match, right?  Probably they don't.  He carves up the mouth some too, gives Jefferson a nasty little grin to go with his nasty habits.

He turns the coin in the dull yellow light, admiring it.  He doesn't usually do this sort of thing, but maybe he should.  It came out pretty OK.  There's a sense of deja vu, like he saw this same coin before somewhere...ah.  Right.  He had one in his dream.  He remembers holding it up in yellow light just like this, reflected from his gold walls and gold minions, and that's enough to unlock the rest of it.

Mammon.  That was name he got wrong yesterday.  He was thinking Mammon, sounds like salmon.  It should be..."Mammon," he whispers, and he's sure he got it right.  "Mammon," he says again, louder, freer, cadence like "my man".  "Did You want to talk?  Is that what that was?  Me too.  You're about wealth, right?  Hey, me too again.  I'm here waiting for you.  You can't serve God and Mammon, that's what our holy book says, and that's fine with me.  I'll serve You, and You alone, and all I want is money.  You don't even have to give me any of Yours.  You're not about that.  I understand.  I'll go out and get my own, with the powers You give me."

An hour later he has spell slots, just like the internet said.

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He feels calm, but maybe that's a lie because his hand is shaking so much he can hardly hold his coin. This is it. This is the day his life turns around.

He hangs Stabilize, and two Cure Light Wounds, and picks the other cantrips at random. He'll try out different ones, see if there are some he especially likes. It's important to have some fun with your powers, he figures, and they're not a core part of his plan. His first idea is, old rich people have surgery all the time, and they probably hate recovering from it. What if he could just heal all those surgeon-induced stab wounds, and let them just walk out the same day? How much would a rich old person pay for that? A thousand dollars? More? Well, that's a service he can offer, once a day every day starting right now. Getting his first customer will be tough, but they must all know by now that this sort of thing is for real. Once they know he's for real, and he's reliable and discreet, they'll tell their friends. Soon he'll have more business than he can keep up with...except clerics aren't like capes. They're not stuck with the same powers forever. They grow.

There's probably going to be an ugly side of this. Mammon's a devil, Sam's pretty sure, or maybe even the devil. He's going to want things in return. "You need a virgin sacrifice, maybe?" he asks the cool empty morning, then laughs until he's lying on the sidewalk, curled around his new holy symbol. "This is twenty-first century America, you know?" he whispers into the concrete. "It's not so easy anymore!"

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That helped. He feels a little better, his head's little steadier. He slowly climbs back to his feet. Two Cure Light Wounds in sequence are supposed to be enough to heal almost any kind of injury on a normal person, so long as there aren't missing limbs or things like that. Which is good, because now that he thinks about it his channels probably aren't the kind that heal people. He doesn't know that much about the other kind; nobody online ever admitted to having them. Sam won't make that mistake. A "kill everybody within thirty feet" power is shitty to use, but great to threaten with; some people worry about clerics getting kidnapped by gangs and turned into basement heal-slaves, but that's not going to happen to Sam. Honestly, for the kinds of things he wants to do, negative channels are better. And if he has to do some unpleasant things to keep his powers, well, lots of people have unpleasant jobs. He'll make it work. He'll have to figure some things out as he goes, but he'll make it work.

Hey, he should have some domains, too, shouldn't he? Probably not any of the ones people write about online. He should go back to bed, try and calm down, and figure out what else he can -

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Just behind him, an inch from the base of his skull, a small black spot forms.

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At roughly the same moment, Contessa pulls the trigger.

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Only a little of the sound of the gunshot makes it through the portal; it's barely louder than Sam's body hitting the sidewalk. No one wakes up, or looks out the window to investigate.

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Right, that was the idea.

Contessa doesn't kill all that many people, really. Cauldron doesn't know who they might need later, and there's almost always something more efficient she can do. When she does fight the point is usually to create a big complicated spectacle, carefully tuned to teach some kind of useful lesson to the survivors. Here, for once, she'd rather not have an audience: they're not sure how Golarion gods see Earth Bet, or what kinds of things they can learn from. Or how quickly. Cauldron policy, finalized after the first Good clerics were selected, was to check for clerics with negative channels once an hour, and portal-snipe them from a dark cavern in an unused dimension whenever she saw one. It might sound onerous or repetitive, but Contessa has Paths she checks every few seconds, for her short-term personal safety. Once an hour, for a Path that never even led anywhere before today, is easy.

She has Doormaker drop the gun in a volcano, just in case the gods can trace murder weapons but not murderers, and reports in.

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They didn't know this was going to happen eventually, but it's not a surprise. Earth Bet does not get to have unambiguously good things.

It's a shame they don't know anything about this man: which god he made contact with, say, or how, or why. She'd like something they could use to predict these incidents and head them off early, and they could have had it. Talking to him in the real world was never a consideration, but Contessa can have conversations in Paths, as quickly as she can think. And yet, there's risk there too: they don't have any specific reason to think that Golarion gods can see Contessa's Paths, but it seems like the kind of thing they might be able to do, or might learn to do with practice. Best not to give them any. What they're trying instead is basically operant conditioning. Making clerics costs something, and every time an Evil god tries to make a cleric here, that cleric will mysteriously die. Can they learn to stop? Will they?

It does make Contessa a target, but Doctor Mother isn't very worried about that. Contessa can't Path the Golarion gods, but their servants Path just fine. Given even one full second of warning, of any danger originating anywhere on any Earth, Contessa can escape. It isn't perfectly safe, but safer, they all think, than letting Evil Samoras sprout up all over the Earths.

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Well. That was interesting.

It didn't turn out as expected, but he learned a lot, and there are those who believe that knowledge is the greatest treasure of all. Not Mammon; to him the greatest treasure of all is a certain enormous gemstone, floating lost in the dark. Someday he'll recover it. In the meantime, though...

A whole world full of humans, almost totally without gods. He didn't get to see it very clearly, but once he's made that new cleric his guest in Erebus, he's sure he'll learn everything he wants to know and then some. The new world is far away, to be sure, and hard to access, but easier the second time. He could share the trick of it with select parties, for the right price. And then he could share the trick of keeping clerics alive, for a much higher price, once he's figured it out.

Abadar got there first. Abadar and the Good gods. Perhaps it's an unusually Good world? Or, perhaps it was almost as new to them as it is to him, and they were just lucky. If Lastwall had a new, secret source of technology, one not covered by the usual agreements, it would explain some confusing spies' reports. That's a tidbit he could hand to Asmodeus for free; it's always wise to give Him a little slice of any really big deals, lest He come collect His share Himself. He prepares a little packet, I have a guess as to where Lastwall's sudden interest in chemistry and druidic magic is coming from..., and sends it on its way.

For his first real customer...Hello Gorum, his second packet says. I've learned something I'm quite sure you'll want to know about, even coming from me. Here are some initial negotiating parameters; what do you think?

Scattered fragments of himself prepare more pitches, modeled on that basic template, while a larger fraction considers those last few seconds of his cleric's life. Clearly the Good gods are defending this world somehow, trying to keep him and his kind out. What triggered it, exactly? How did his cleric die? Whatever the mechanism, it won't work; it never does. On every plane, on every planet, people are people.

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Samora reads listens to the Book of Revelation, and takes notes. It makes a lot more sense than you'd expect someone who received that long of a vision would be able to make, but that's a low bar. She reads the commentaries of a dozen scholars, and takes more notes.

Even among people who claim to believe in the existence and divinity of Jesus, there's no consensus that it's a prophecy or that it wasn't about this one long-dead emperor. Even among people who believe it's a prophecy yet to be fulfilled, some people think it's about the United States government. And she knows things about herself that Goliath doesn't. The bit that seems most likely to have anything to do with her says:

Then I saw a second beast, coming out of the earth. It had two horns like a lamb, but it spoke like a dragon. It exercised all the authority of the first beast on its behalf, and made the earth and its inhabitants worship the first beast, whose fatal wound had been healed. And it performed great signs, even causing fire to come down from heaven to the earth in full view of the people. Because of the signs it was given power to perform on behalf of the first beast, it deceived the inhabitants of the earth. It ordered them to set up an image in honor of the beast who was wounded by the sword and yet lived. The second beast was given power to give breath to the image of the first beast, so that the image could speak and cause all who refused to worship the image to be killed. It also forced all people, great and small, rich and poor, free and slave, to receive a mark on their right hands or on their foreheads, so that they could not buy or sell unless they had the mark, which is the name of the beast or the number of its name.

It really seems like she can just not do any of that. She has no reason to. She couldn't even do most of it if she tried. Yes, she has power on another being's behalf and is calling on people to worship that being, but that's as far as the resemblance goes. Averting prophecies isn't supposed to be that easy, but she's not trying to avert it, she's trying to not be the person it's talking about. 

She tries to check the 666 thing, with the help of websites claiming to calculate it because even Comprehend Languages doesn't tell her how to transliterate names correctly, and three different calculators give her three different answers and a computer virus. (The unpowered Rig security guy who showed her Lord of the Rings helps her with the virus.) 

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She doesn't think it's worth asking any Commune questions about Revelation, but she's been thinking for a while that she should try a Divination, and since she can't run all over the eastern seaboard healing people today there's no time like the present. She burns the incense and the silk scarf she acquired for the purpose, and meditates for ten minutes on the question, How do I best protect the people and civilization of Earth?

On Golarion, where prophecy is broken, Divination can see one week into the future, and returns only silence one time in five and cryptic messages the other four. She's not sure what will be different here, but any differences ought to be for the better.

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You are also here to kill.

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That's not the most comforting thing it could have been, in terms of not being the Beast, but she didn't ask for comfort, she asked for advice. And it wasn't evidence that she is the Beast, either, just that her other projects are far enough along that it's fine to seek out some combat. She spends the rest of the day finishing her plans for a scry-and-die on the S9 and sending them to Armsmaster for feedback.

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The next day they let her go back to her healing commute, but with the motorcycle replaced by a PRT van with a driver. She can't teleport the van, so instead of going southbound every time she alternates northbound and southbound. The driver gets a Lesser Restoration every day when they stop for lunch. Samora has a lot more time to listen to the Bible in the original Hebrew and respond to blog comments.

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The troopers are all sure that the driver's unofficial second job is "human shield", so it's an unpopular, white-knuckle posting despite the incentive pay and overtime. But a week later there haven't been any more assassination attempts, and gradually everyone starts to believe that the PRT's aggressive manhunt has at least scared the perpetrators off of a second strike, even if it didn't manage to catch anybody.

It's very annoying, everyone agrees, that they haven't managed to catch anybody. Part of the problem is that their best lead is not cooperating, even under threat of the Birdcage. Goliath did confess to attempted murder, saving a world of legal grief, but even so it will be hard to both get him sent to the 'cage and also avoid a public spectacle of a trial.

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Perhaps they shouldn't Birdcage him, then, if it's so much trouble.

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It's important to make an example here. Capes risk each others' lives in all sorts of stupid fights without serious legal penalty, but lethal ambushes are -- and should remain -- something else altogether. And anyway, they've already threatened him with the Birdcage if he didn't talk, and then he didn't talk. What are they supposed to do, admit they were bluffing?

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Yes!

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No.

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None of that is Armsmaster's problem anymore. Armsmaster has two problems: one, what if they can't figure out a good way to hit the Nine, and two, what if they can?

Bonesaw's plagues are the biggest obstacle. Her power lets her Tinker with biological systems, diseases and viruses very much included. She claims the plagues they've seen her use aren't her best work, that she handicaps herself to keep things fair with the rest of the Nine, and the PRT analysts believe her. She also claims that the really extreme, creative stuff is packed into her body, to be released in the event of her death; the analysts believe that, too. So, how do you kill her without ending the world? Overwhelming force is not necessarily the answer. Armsmaster once read a file for "Project Red Spot", the gist of which was that the PRT should nuke the Nine the next time they showed themselves. It was popular for a few months in 2008, until somebody pointed out that Bonesaw could think of nukes too, and could probably engineer a plague that fed on radiation.

But suppose you can deal with Bonesaw somehow. Next question: how do you target your strike? Say you Scry Jack Slash, he fails his save, and you see the Nine standing in front of a red-painted house with a bunch of trees in the backyard. You have some architecture and botany experts on hand, of course, and they tell you these particular trees and this particular style of house only co-occur in rural Louisiana. There are maybe thirty thousand square miles of rural Louisiana. Now what? Maybe you Scry them at night, and hope they're outside on a cloudless night, far enough away from artificial lights that you can get a fix from the stars? Maybe you just keep Scrying them until they happen to stand in front of something distinctive? You can do that, but each Scry trades off against a Raise, and those are still in incredibly high demand.

Samora has a solution for that: her Mover power lets her teleport herself and three other people to anywhere she's familiar with, including a place she's Scrying. So, which group of three plus Samora do you think can beat the Nine all by themselves? Every one of the Nine is unreasonably dangerous by normal cape standards, but the big problem is really the Siberian. She's more invulnerable than the Endbringers; those you can tear bits off of, sometimes, but the Siberian has never been harmed in any way. Alexandria fought her once, alongside Legend, Eidolon, and Hero, and then Hero died and Alexandria got her eye torn out. And on top of everything else she can share her invulnerability with anyone or anything she's touching, just in case Bonesaw's enhancements didn't make them all tough enough.

He sends Samora a long reply, full of links to analyses of the Nine's conjectured powers and exploits. He's not saying no. The ability to Scry and ambush the Nine gives them a real opportunity. They just have to figure out how to avoid recreating the Protectorate's greatest defeat.

The second problem, of how to make sure Armsmaster gets most of the credit if this works, goes unaddressed even in his thoughts.

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She listens to the analyses, and to the dossiers of every Protectorate hero who could potentially be convinced to join the strike team. She doesn't come up with anything better for the Siberian, or for Crawler, than "Scry them too, looking for a time when they're split up, and confirm with Augury before teleporting." (If she could prepare Plane Shift she'd have a chance of making Crawler someone else's problem, but never a certainty, and anyway she can't.)

She has a couple ideas for avoiding dead-hand plagues, ranging from the straightforward (Remove Disease on Bonesaw right before or after killing her), to the slightly sideways (kill her with specifically an Inflict Critical Wounds, if the plague is likely to be sufficiently part of her body for narrowly targeted negative energy to kill it) to the thorough but laden with timing risk (bring her body back to somewhere isolated and decontaminate it with repeated castings of Purify Food and Drink) to the Abadaran (bring her body back to somewhere isolated and pay Panacea to look at it). The whole question might be worth its own Divination, and whatever they end up doing the strike team should all get Diagnose Disease cast on them and then spend a while in quarantine. 

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They could test some of those in advance. If they got a pig, for example, surgically implanted some viruses and bacteria in sealed containers, and then had Samora Inflict it to death...but maybe it's a waste of time. If it worked, they still wouldn't want to rely on it, and if it didn't they'd still try it if they could, just in case. He orders the experiment done anyway, and a similar one for Purify Food and Drink. Maybe something surprising will happen.

They need more than one layer of defense. Really they want more than twenty layers of defense; they'll see how many are practical. Is there a Protectorate cape who'd be good at establishing a quarantine zone on the battlefield, quickly? Ergregore? Mmm. She's technically a rogue, and probably can't be teleported anyway. Scarf doesn't really seal areas off, Armsmaster is pretty sure; she just pretends. Dispatch, maybe? He doesn't use his power that way, but it seems like it ought to work. He pulls a few files, to read in detail later. Who else...

Separately, he'll ask Emily to have some people look into the practicality of building a quarantine facility somewhere barren and inhospitable. That sounds expensive, but Armsmaster suspects that the expensive part is building a bioseal that your scientists can walk into and out of every day, near a city where they'd want to live. If your facility is only accessible via Teleport, you can probably economize.