展开事件内容（包含选项结果与剧透）
中文译文
| 虔诚的农民 |  200
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| 你发现一个失落部族的邪教徒，他们将森林当作藏身之所。你可以选择： | ||
互动窗口
森林向来是人类的避难所——人从荒野中走出，却又总想着重归荒野。此刻，你便在这里遇见了一大群人，像一支迷失的部族，对身后舍弃的文明毫不留恋。他们披着宗教长袍，举着巨大的信仰徽记，捧着记载真理的典籍。他们穷得几乎成了一种奢靡的时尚，仿佛一群为了混入平民之中而刻意装穷的君王。你坐着看他们缓缓经过，听着叮当碰撞、空心木珠的哗啦声，以及压在喉间干涩沙哑的低语。他们就这样继续前行，几乎懒得看你一眼。
出于好奇，你扬声问那些人要去哪里。领头者缓缓转向你，眼睛从裹头披巾的暗处望来。他慢慢掀开兜帽，露出满头依照宗教仪式刻下的伤疤。身后众人依次照做，像一排纸牌被混乱而疯狂的风逐个掀倒。
"达夫库尔会在另一个世界见你们！"
其中一人大喊一声，他们便冲了上来。
这显然不是你平日常见的景象。出于好奇，你朝那些疲惫的旅人喊了一声。话音刚出口，整列人便同时停下，猛地挺直身子。他们头上的斗篷散开滑落，书册、手杖和宗教物件齐齐掉在一旁，哗啦作响。众人瞪大眼睛四下张望，那双眼从未显得如此鲜活。一个人尖叫起来，接着又是一个，很快人人都在尖叫。有些人瘫倒在地，紧捂双耳，仿佛想堵住自己嘴里发出的骇人嚎叫；另一些人张着双臂原地转圈，拼命追问究竟发生了什么。你不过喊了一声，似乎就打破了某种长久笼罩着他们的法术。那法术驱使他们来到这里，使他们一贫如洗、饥肠辘辘、精神失常。一路上，他们受某种邪恶的强大力量操纵，一步步失去对自身命运的掌控，也逐渐失去了维系自我的理智。不幸的是，你几乎没法问清是谁或什么东西害了他们：有些人已经倒地而死，另一些人则赤身裸体地狂奔进森林。
这样的奇景自然让人想问个究竟。然而，你才说出一个字，整支信徒队伍便猛地挺直身子。衣物和装备骤然响成一片，整齐得像一扇门砰然关上。众人丢下东西，开始尖叫，汇成一阵沙哑的合唱。随后，他们纷纷倒下，有的瘦骨嶙峋的膝盖一软，有的因饥饿的剧痛而捂住肚子。一名弟兄摇着头走上前来。
"他们被诅咒了？什么东西能干出这种事？"
你再也得不到答案了。一分钟后，所有人都已死去，看起来跟刚从山中解冻的尸体没有两样。那法术一定强行操纵着他们朝圣至此，一面榨干他们的躯体，一面又靠着一缕幽冥恶意吊住性命。虽然他们都死了，你仍不后悔让他们摆脱如此可怕的诅咒。
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具备迷信特性的弟兄，以及其他弟兄中的33%，获得坏心情 |
你正好奇这些人要去哪里，刚要开口，修士便抢先上前，与领头者低声交谈。两人时而点头，时而哼声，配着种种手势，像极了长期钻研尘世之外事物的人。最后，修士回来了。
"他们在朝圣，如今也会带着我们的名声同行。许多人都会听说我们。"
你感谢他办得漂亮。
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+1声誉 |
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战团声望提升 |
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修士变得心情愉快 |
英文原文
| Religious Peasants | 200
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| You discover cultists of a lost tribe that use the forest as their refuge. You can choose: | ||
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Interactive window
The forests have always been a refuge for man - the wilds from whence he came, to the wilds where he always wishes to return. And here you find a great number of men, a tribe of the lost, unconcerned with their departed civilizations, draped in religious habits, and carrying great sigils of faith, and tomes of truth. They're impoverished almost to the point of being decadently fashionable, like great kings looking to fit in with commoners. You sit and watch this shuffle by, clinking, clanging, hollow wooden beads rattling, whispers under their breath, raspy and dry. And so they go on, hardly even bothering to look at you.
Curious, you call out to the men to ask where they are going. The man in front slowly turns to you, his eyes peering out from the dark of a wrapped shawl. He slowly draws the cloak back, revealing a head scarred in a pattern of religious rites. All the men behind him slowly follow suit, like a row of cards falling by the brush of a chaotic and mad wind.
"Davkul shall see you in the next world!"
One of them shouts and they charge.
Obviously, this isn't an ordinary sight for you so, curious, you call out to the weary travelers. Words barely leave your lips before the entire line of men stops in an instant and bolts upright. Their cloaks unravel and droop from their heads, and their tomes and sticks and religious imports fall aside in a uniform clatter. The men look around, wide eyes more alive than ever. One screams. Then another. And soon they are all screaming, and some crumple to the ground, clutching their ears as though to silence the horrid howls their mouths had to give, while others wheel in circles, arms out, begging for answers.Your mere utterance has seemingly broken a spell that was so long over their heads it had brought them here, impoverished, hungry, and insane. Step by step, they were governed by a malicious higher power, and step by step they felt the control in their lives slip away, and with it the sanity all men require to be themselves. Unfortunately, you can hardly ask them what or who did this to them, for some fall over dead while others make naked sprints into the forest.
A curious sight such as this begs questioning, but the second a word leaves your lips the entire troop of religious men bolt upright, the sudden shuffle of clothes and gear clattering in such uniformity it as if a door was slammed shut. The men drop their things and begin screaming. It is a raspy chorus. They all begin to collapse, either buckling on bony knees or clutching their stomachs in pained hunger.Randombrother comes up, shaking his head.
"Were they cursed? What could have done this?"
You won't ever get an answer for a minute later every single man is dead, looking no better than corpses having recently been thawed out of the mountains. The spell must have forcibly piloted their pilgrimage here, straining the human body while keeping it alive by the mere strand of ethereal malevolence. Although they are all dead, you do not regret freeing them of such a horrid curse.
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Superstitious brothers and 33% of everyone else get a bad mood |
Curious as to where these men are going, you open your mouth, but Monk the monk steps forward, cutting you off. He goes to the man in front of the troop and has quiet counsel with him. There is plenty of nodding, hrrumphing, and other gesticulations of men who dwell long on things well beyond the human realm. Eventually, the monk comes back.
"They're on a pilgrimage and now our name travels with them. Many shall hear of it."
You thank the monk for a job well done.
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+1 moral reputation |
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The company gained renown战团声望提升 |
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Monk gets a good mood |