I’ve been working on some confrontations around religion in the gameworld. A lot of it is dense code and would be barely readable on the forum, but here’s a reasonably code-light excerpt:
Summary
One evening,
*if f_17_ally <= 3
as you’re skirting the training field on the edge of the city,
you’re shocked to come across Erjan kneeling with three of the Sojourn-folk after weapons practice. He’s leading them in a common chant: “Great Kormuz, Father, Warrior, strengthen our arms against the foe. Shield us from all error. Guide us to glory, Kormuz-eshi. Great Ummay, Birther of the World, Womb of all good things, pour new life into our hearts…” Erjan slips into lilting, fluid Halassurq while his companions continue to pray in Koine.
*choice
#I cut in, outraged. “Herne didn’t ask you to train them in your gods, Halassurq!”
*gosub whyupset
Erjan @{erjhostile casts a testy glance in your direction, clearly accustomed to|blinks, startled but unyielding in the face of} your hostility. “They are the ones who asked for my teaching, ${sojname}.”
The three Sojourners—all younger than you, you see now, two girls and one boy—look uneasily defiant. “What business is it of yours, then, stranger?” one of them snaps at you.
“You’re abandoning your heritage and @{relobject bringing disunity to Sojourn. And for what? What benefit do you think you’ll get from embracing the Halassurq cult?”|the Order of Xthonos for a pack of damnable lies! The Angels would rebuke me if I didn’t at least try to guide you back onto the right path.“|swallowing a new pack of lies without even the excuse that it’s what your ancestors believed. Maybe a stranger can be freer than your friends to tell you what folly that is.”|embracing Halassurq ways, just when we most need to stand together as one people, undivided.“|taking up the rituals of an enemy Empire. Do you truly think Sojourn can find any lasting strength from the faraway Halassurqs or their gods?”}
*if cha > 1
For a moment, your passionate fluency seems to give them pause—but only for a moment.
“Our heritage?” The girl glances at her companions with a trace of hauteur on her thin face. “Theirs, maybe. My father was an outcast of the Dust Eagles. I recognize some of his people’s words on Bey Erjan’s tongue. Who’s to say the Bey’s gods aren’t my ancestors’, too?”
“Or that they can’t be mine?” Defensiveness nudges the boy’s voice into a shrill shout. “My mother prayed to the Angels every morning from when we crossed the Ward until the Storm ate her. The Halassurq’s gods have brought him further, untouched.
*if relobject = 4
You want to shame me for asking them the same protection? Because of Shayard, because I’m supposed to be ‘one people’ with them who chased us out? Swive Shayard, and all Shayardenes!”
*if relobject != 4
Why wouldn’t I ask them to do the same for me?"
All your efforts to convince them only stoke them to a greater fury, while Erjan just stands there with his arms folded and a hard smile on his face.
