Rites

Search for Tyrian Relic

The name Tyria is unfamiliar to you, but perhaps not to Bharat, the merchant under your roof, who is always selling exotic goods. If you ask him, you might learn something useful.

ID: 5000531

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: Charisma, Sociability

Tag Tips Up: Normal Result, Charisma, Sociability

Tag Tips Text:

Random Text:

Random Text Up:

Roll #1
You sense that he is lying. How can you pry his mouth open?
Type: Normal Result
Type Tips: Your Charisma and Sociability determine your full dice count.
Low Target: 5
Low Target Tips: You need at least 5 Successes to convince him.

Actions When Wait Expires

This rite has no actions when the wait expires.

Slots

Slot #1
Bharat sells all kinds of exotic goods here.

Locks: Yes

Is Key: No

Is Empty: No

Is Enemy: Yes

Conditions:

Pops: None

Slot #2
You must bring 10 Gold Coins to for your purchase.

Locks: No

Is Key: No

Is Empty: No

Is Enemy: No

Conditions:

Pops:

  • Condition: None
    Action:
    • Slot #1 Pops:
      Sorry, we just closed shop
Slot #3
You can do this job yourself, or send any of your followers to do it.

Locks: No

Is Key: No

Is Empty: No

Is Enemy: No

Conditions:

  • Type = Character

Pops: None

Slot #4
If you and Bharat share the same goal, he will help you.

Locks: No

Is Key: No

Is Empty: Yes

Is Enemy: No

Conditions:

Pops: None

Activation Conditions

This rite has no activation conditions.

Outcome

Prior

This rite has no prior outcome.

Regular

This rite has no regular outcome.

Extra

For some reason, he is furious
You find Bharat, explaining your purpose and predicaments. Of course... Well, there is no need for that. The absurd stories about you and those Sultan Cards always spread like wild fire from the court to every corner of the city.

Bharat, who always greets people with a smile, stares at you with an uncharacteristically cold expression. He holds on to the door frame tightly, as if he has used up all his willpower not to punch you in the face.

"Why did you do this? How dare you -" He growled like an angry beast, "You dare to come ask me if I know anything – let me tell you, I know nothing about Tyria. Let the Sultan take your insolent and shameless head!"
You move him with your hatred towards the Sultan
A heavy shadow looms over you. The fear of the Sultan, the fear of death, coldly climbs up your spine and neck. You tremble, enduring the seething, impotent rage: "Yes, I will die. Everyone dies, so what? From his consort to the ants on the ground, who can guarantee that they will live to see another day?"

"And that's why you defiled Consort Ansuya? You despicable coward!" Bharat sneers.

"Naturally I had my reason in seeking her out. I-" you stop short, suddenly feeling how pointless your struggles and justifications are. You chuckle weakly. "I want to kill the Sultan, and only she can help me. How about you that? Go and tell that to the Sultan."

Bharat is stunned. He opens his mouth, instinctively looks around the empty street outside, and then pulls you into the house. "How dare you utter such words in the streets, you have a death wish?!"

Conditions:

You find his attitude peculiar. "You... as well?"

Bharat does not answer directly, but inquires into your plan. Seeing you eyeing him without a word, he finally takes a step back as a gesture of faith.

He tells you that the Tyrian tribe had long been destroyed by war... When Tyria were surrounded by enemy forces, the chief reached out to the Sultan for help, and gave his only daughter to the Sultan. The Sultan accepted his offerings of gold and beauty, but after expelling the enemies, he also gladly accepted this modest piece of land as his own.

The Tyrian people were unwilling to serve such an dishonorable monarch, but after several violent crackdowns and expulsions, the tribe withered, leaving behind nothing but a barren wilderness that the Sultan soon cast aside.

Bharat takes a deep breath and reveals a golden statuette from within a sealed shrine – it has been hidden from the light of day for a long time. Depicting the pagan gods in art is a crime. But it remains sacred. Perhaps divinity only dies when the last believer dies.

"Listen, I don't want your money. I want you to swear before our God that you will kill the Sultan." Bharat stares at you with burning eyes, "If you renege on your oath, I will haunt you for the rest of my days."

You give Bharat your words and accept this relic of Tyria. Inexplicably, you feel a tremor in your soul, as if you were branded. The ancient eyes of the statuette gleam subtly, as if glancing at you. But upon closer inspection, it was just a trick of the light.

Conditions:

Result:

You convince him with words
You sense his unusual rage and the fear, buried deep beneath that anger... The fear of the Sultan, the fear of death, coldly coils around his spine, spitting vitriol to you.



You laugh, your tone blithe and friendly: "Yes, I will die. Everyone dies, so what? From his consort to the ants on the ground, who can guarantee that they will live to see another day? Especially you... my dear tenant. You are a Tyrian, no? Save your denials. You know the truth."



Veins bulge on his arm as he grabs onto the door, but he does not – dares not – close that door. Your theory confirmed, you feel more at ease. "Think about it, with the Sultan's 'clemency', will he allow a rat like you to live in his city? What good is my death to you? You will lose the only friend in this city who dares to lend you a roof over your head."



"What kind of a friend are you?" Bharat stares at you sharply.



You shrug, "Up to you. I don't mind company on the gallows."



Bharat takes a few deep breaths, suppressing his urge to punch your face in here and now. He scratches his hair and finally relents. He pulls you into the house, vexation clear on his face, and shuts the doors and windows. "I have something. I can save your worthless life. On one condition," he pauses, then seems to have made a decision, "you have to help me meet with Ansuya...Consort Ansuya."



"Oh? Should I perhaps arrange for your carriage, pack your luggage, and fill your pockets with gold? And even secure the two of you a safe house, then personally escort you out of the city?" You whistle glibly, your tone laced with derision.



Bharat blushes and growls: "I have no desire to – it is none of your business! Make an oath, swear that you'll keep your promise, and I'll sell you my treasure. Otherwise, go bother someone else!"



You nod and agree. Why not? A promise is but a make belief, based on nothing other than one's conscience.



Bharat reveals a golden statuette from within a sealed shrine – it has been hidden from the light of day for a long time. Depicting the pagan gods in art is a crime. But it remains sacred. Perhaps divinity only dies when the last believer dies. Bharat stares at you with burning eyes, "If you renege on your oath, I will haunt you for the rest of my days."



You accept this relic of Tyria. Inexplicably, you feel a tremor in your soul, as if you were branded. The ancient eyes of the statuette gleam subtly, as if glancing at you. But upon closer inspection, it was just a trick of the light.

Conditions:

Result:

A heavy shadow looms over you. The fear of the Sultan, the fear of death, coldly climbs up your spine and neck. You tremble, enduring the seething, impotent rage: "Yes, I will die. Everyone dies, so what? From his consort to the ants on the ground, who can guarantee that they will live to see another day?"



Bharat watches you with a cold sneer, those eyes, filled with a unfamiliar disdain, pierce through your lies and excuses like a sharp blade. Without gracing your despicable display with another word, he slams the door. You hear the clunk of the lock being turned, and you know you will have to find another way.

Conditions:

Result: