[Offer praise to the occult king.]
[Ask the occult king for advice.]
“Wise Stolas,” you incant. “Many-eyed Stolas. Secret King with innumerable familiars.”
The daemon tilts its raven head. Your eye inside its mouth stares at you, unblinking.
“Come now, Mist-child. Thy tongue grows heavy with flattery.”
“It is not flattery but honest praise, Wise King. I live only by your mercy, and so I give you my thanks.”
“Art not Our peer, Cirrus Mist? Did We not proclaim it so upon that fated night? Yet thine heartfelt praise is duly received. Now We say again, what ho?”
You ease into a more relaxed posture, letting your arms rest on your lap. Stolas has always been a beneficent being, though an inscrutable one.
“I find myself lost. I ask you for counsel, Stolas.”
Countless rat eyes turn their gaze on you. The eye inside the raven—your eye—keens its focus. Its vision penetrates you, seeing straight inside you, into those turbulent and unfiltered depths of which you are barely aware.
What advice do you ask of Stolas?
Each poster may ask one question.