Rites
[xiaochou.name] wished to meet more who feared death—to see how they faced the thing they dreaded most.
ID: 5000340
Type: None
Tips: None
Duration: 1 days
Waits For: 0 days
Marked as New Only on First Occurrence: 0
Starts Automatically: No
Triggers Result Automatically: No
Tag Tips: None
Tag Tips Up: None
Tag Tips Text:
Random Text: None
Random Text Up: None
This rite has no actions when the wait expires.
The creature that listened to your tale
Locks: No
Is Key: No
Is Empty: No
Is Enemy: No
Conditions:
Pops:
This one might offer most intriguing reference points.
This one is merely among the masses of ordinary.
Your example
Locks: No
Is Key: No
Is Empty: No
Is Enemy: No
Conditions:
Pops:
This one might offer most intriguing reference points.
This one is merely among the masses of ordinary.
This rite has no activation conditions.
This rite has no prior outcome.
You found a rare moment when you, Iman and [s1.name] were free, sitting together over tea, the air thick with the mingled scents of spice and fresh leaves.
"Many, when they fear death, will go to great lengths to wound another," Iman offered, his answer measured. Through his eyes, [s1.name] glimpsed countless bloodied wounds.
Why couldn’t you heal him?
Were you not devout enough?
Did you not try hard enough?
Why... why wasn’t it you who died?
This venomous resentment, these curses—they were the cruelest of whips. How many priests had been lashed to death by such things? Iman had seen enough.
"But it is not their fault. Neither the ones who beg for salvation nor those who cannot give it. It is merely..." Iman paused, weighing his words, then sighed. "It is merely the god’s jest. To them..."
He spoke no further. Neither of you pressed, instead turning your gazes to the boundless sky: How small humans are!
Conditions:
Result:
You sent [s1.name] to meet the cult leader dwelling in Dark Alley, to see how Badriyyah lured the fearful and ignorant with promises of afterlife. [s1.name] returned swiftly, it face etched with disbelief. "She’s nothing like the religious leaders I’ve seen before! She actually believes those lies—she’s not even using them to swindle coins!"
You couldn’t shake the feeling that [s1.name] kept glancing at you when it spoke of that.
Conditions:
Result:
Junah hadn’t expected anyone to ask her about something as profound and vast as life and death. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her demeanor gentle and unassuming: "If you ask me, my lord, the more one fears something, the closer one ought to draw to it. In my experience, it’s when you’re nearest to death that you forget it entirely."
Her words stirred a memory in you—that unforgettable night of passion. How strange... Why did you fear death? When you’d been closest to it, what had filled your mortal flesh was nothing but riotous, dazzling joy.
Conditions:
Result:
Amur let out a hearty laugh at [s1.name]’s question. The old man, though aged, still sharp and vigorous, clapped the younger one on the shoulder with fatherly advice: "You’re too young for such thoughts, my friend! Death is not yet your concern. You should be thinking of how to live—with meaning, with purpose—" He rambled on with empty platitudes, even citing himself as an example, spouting nonsense about fearing nothing if one lived without regrets.
Upon returning, [s1.name] vented to you bitterly—what a waste of time it had been. You, puzzled, asked why it hadn’t used its mysterious magic, the one that compelled truth.
[s1.name] met your gaze. "I thought you knew—his soul is already drowned in too much noise. He’ll die worse than most."
Conditions:
Result:
You took [s1.name] to see Hassan, but misfortune struck the moment you pushed open the door—the stench of liquor hit you like a wall.
In broad daylight, the poet lay sprawled in a pool of his own vomit, drunk as a bloated corpse. His lips moved with slurred, broken words, and around him lay torn manuscripts, many pages trampled by the hoofprints of lamb...
You called for the servants at once. It took no small effort to clean him up, force some sobering brew down his throat, and haul him into bed. Alas, he’d been too well-behaved lately—you’d forgotten his true nature. You glanced apologetically at [s1.name], but to your surprise, it didn’t look disappointed. Instead, it studied the drunken poet with quiet contemplation, nodding slowly. "This, too, is a choice."
Conditions:
Result:
Who thinks of death before its time comes? What a dreary thought! You and [s1.name] didn’t find the answers you sought. But as you wound your way through shops, streets, gardens, and the teeming masses of ordinary lives, returning home at last—it struck you: To never dwell on that brutal end, to live earnestly day after day—wasn’t that, too, a way for many to face death?
Result:
That night, you dreamed a strange dream.
You and many copies of you swam through the sea alongside countless versions of yourself—a school of tiny fish, each insignificant, yet together, vast.
A great golden shark surged after you, jaws gaping to swallow you whole. But in an instant, you shifted, reformed, became a towering black figure wielding a trident, dwarfing the shark. Every fish among you diminished itself, surrendered its self, pledged to the whole.
The shark fled. You all survived.
You woke with a start, pressing a hand to your chest as if to steady a racing heart, only to catch your dim reflection in the mirror smiling back at you. As if it, too, had become one of you.
Result:
Action: