Previously, on Sarcantasy
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You protest to Auldman that you are most definitely not
a ghost, and you don't have any tethers if need of cutting.
"As you wish, my dear," the old Priest said, smiling gently. "The choice is, as ever, your own."
Then he hears what you say about watching what are to him current events from the future, in Delar's memories, and his expression becomes puzzled.
"Do forgive me," he says. "I have been a Priest for many years, and I have invoked many Blessings and Banes in the name of My Lady, but I am not at home in matters arcane. What you describe does sound fascinating. And yes, I would appreciate it if you could tell my young friend that you saw us here. For now, though, please excuse us."
Auldman and Jak float down to young Delar and kind of … swirl around him and through
him? You do not think they are actually hurting him, but the Half-Urken suddenly looks up from his grief. Tears are still rolling from his eyes and his face is a picture of misery, but there is an alertness to him that was not there a moment ago.
"It's alright," Auldman says, his voice gentle and soothing. "I don't blame you. Jak doesn't blame you. It's alright … my son. It's alright."
You drift towards the shadows, feeling just the tiniest bit embarrassed by your presence at such an intimate moment -- and also because you want to be out of sight when Auldman's patron goddess arrives.
you are not a ghost in need of removing from the mortal realm, and you were in excellent health last time you checked, but you're not sure whether a goddess would see it the same way after your experience with Dice.
You drift towards the shadows … and a scent of deep earth and dark spaces wafts out of them, surrounding you. It is not an unpleasant smell, but it is very
And so are the cool, dark hands that close on your shoulders. They are smooth as polished stone, black as darkness, and even though they are gentle, you can feel they hold enough strength to shatter stone. Right now, their hold on you is very light, and you could probably slip out of them if you wanted to.
"Unexpected," a feminine voice speaks up behind you.
It is an odd voice; it seems to both echo from a great distance and ring forth out of the stone and shadows all around you, only a faint hint of curiosity tainting either listless dispassion or superb self-control.
"Chronomancy?" the voice says -- and now, instead of curiosity, there is a faint note of irritation marring the smooth monotone. The word seems to echo in the stone walls, though apparently neither young Delar nor the spirits hovering about him has noticed.
"Identify yourself, Chronomancer," the death-goddess commands.
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What will you say?What will you do?
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