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"Yes." The elder nods, and then, "You are allowed to withdraw funds donated to the temple for your deeds and acts. You may use these for anything." He explains, politely, glancing at Rekhyt.

"She is a young goddess. I will explain the rest. Thanks geezer." Rekhyt turns, giving a lift of his hand in a wave to the priests. '

"I'll be back to tour the temple tomorrow night -- and learn more." You tell the elder, bowing your head. He gives a smile and a tit of his head in return. He takes his place by the fire in silence while the youth hurries off to find a new duty.

---

"What was that all about?" You question, out of ear shot.

"How to explain this..." Rekhyt tugs off his mask, tossing it into the air and deftly catching the heavy porcelien. "Our gods are man-made. Crafted with a brand and a mask. At night men and women put on their masks and play their part.  Equal parts entertainment and proselytizing. Killing another god is frowned upon, but is accepted --" After a beat, "The last fire god died when he was knifed in a back alley. The God of Theives swore it wasn't her, but no one believes it."

"For example -- I am Khudal, the jester, god of the outcast. The people of the street pray to me for safety. The Orphans are my wards. I believe i am the third within this city and one of two, total."

You chew on the inside of your lip for a moment, glancing down at your own mask. "This...this is the mask of their god?"

"That temple's, yes. It mysteriously disappeared last night. Somehow, there was a ring of ash and soot around it, a firepoppy where it once sat and a smoke in the air. Surely a sign that Fire-Blooms-Flowers was reborn, right?"

"Brand?"

Khudal catches your attention and taps his forearm. He taps the ribbon of scars that spell out Khudal in the Outlander Script. "Bank access." He explains. "But you no need of money, do you, Goddess. By all means, let me hold it for you."

Attempt to board the vessel.

[1] As far as you can remember, your Line has never been on this planet before Patches. Sol vanished, you think, before this planet was even colonized by the SEED project and humanity.

"Where does that name come from?" You question, and twist the flame into a flower. A wildflower, to be precise, one of those that grows on fallow farmlands the Holyland over.

"That flower you hold. It grows across burnt forests in the canyons. It was once a marker for fertile land." The Elder nods, unsurprised. "Two others followed you in name. One united the clans against a demon. Though she, and many, many others perished, it was defeated. Another planted those flowers in the ashes of his many fallen foes as he ripped apart the clans."

The temple to the fire goddess isn’t as large or ornate as the temple of money. It sits on an unnatural hill of raised earth, wrapped around a basin within the center of the mound. Red granite pillars of rough-hewn stone hold up a slightly angled roof of terracotta. You spot only three priests and a few guards striding across the smooth ceramic floor of the internal structure.

The basin within the center of the mound burns with a hydrogen flame. Pieces of wood burn and crackle weakly, turning to ash and char. A golden hammer, anvil, and cooking pot sit next to the basin on elevated plinths. A bearded priest sits beside the fire, cross-legged. He stares into the flames with intensity that, you note, could probably melt steel.

 “The Temple is closed at this time we—”, A young man approaches the two of you, and speaks softly. He wears a loose robe of mottled red and blue, tied to his frame with a sash of gold and silver thread. His head is shaved free of hair, and a splotch of black charcoal dots his brow.

“Your goddess is here.” Rekhyt interrupts, gesturing to you.

“I’m sorry, what?”

You turn your gaze to Rekhyt, who lifts his mask to flash you a grin and give a thumbs up.

[15+1 vs. 13-1] The lead slaver crumples to the ground with a yelp of pain. An explosion of blood and gore at his hip drops him to the floor-- you glance at Rekhyt's las-gun. The two of you start to move towards the cage. Rekhyt watches the slave buyers on one side, while you watch the other. Guards stand, their hands lingering on their pistols, but they don't draw on you, despite the easy targets you and Rekhyt present. Rekhyt strides past the line of corpses, to the crippled lead slaver.

"Rifle internals?"

"Oh -- yeah. The shock and awe factor is amazing." Rekhyt draws and levels his long knife while pulling the slaver up by the hair. The slaver catches your eye contact. His eyes are unfocused, but there is no fear in them, no shock. Just...acceptance. "I mean, how many times have you had to change a pistol mag? Why carry extra?"

"That's....that's fair, yeah." You dip your head in a nod, and Rekhyt cuts the slaver -- ...like a pig.

"So, I figure -- why not put that power to use."

You nod again as Rekhyt cleans his blade. The slave-buyers are sitting patiently.

"They're waiting for us to start selling." He explains.

You turn towards the crowd to glare at the eighteen masked individuals that stare back at you. With your only arm, you lift your hand and gesture to the exit. A low murmur breaks out through the crowd, but they leave -- only after a glance back at 'Khudal,' who tilts his head and lifts his pistol.

"Do you know a safe house we could use?" You question, starting towards the cage. The huddled masses, clad in rags and smelling of filth, nervously shift away, but you don't have to speak a word. You lift your mask and give a smile to your people. Shock, then surprise, then tears  -- tears of joy. Of hope. Some fall to their knees in prayer. While not quite sure who you are, the Outlanders relax a little when their comrades in chains explain.

With one smile and not one word the crowd of slaves knows what you represent.

"Touching. You've got a place." Rekhyt interrupts, and you twist your attention away from the 'slaves'.

---

Shepherding twenty-nine former slaves through the city to the hover-dock takes the better part of two hours. Boarding and explaining the situation to your guard takes another hour -- the only thing they want to know is if they should leave now or later to deliver them home. Rekhyt, however, shakes his head.

"No, no. Leaving would be suspicious. Stay. I'll pay for the food bills." He pulls out a bag of coins and tosses it at your captain's feet. "Enough for a week."

The Crusader, to her credit, only looks to you. When you dip a nod, the captain snatches up the bag and gives a duck of her head to Rekhyt.

---

You step out on to the landing pad and stretch. Rekhyt yawns, "So, where to next, Goddess?"

---

"I was just advising on strategy. You want to free them, right?" Rekhyt shrugs, eying the guards who begin to drag the bodies away. The lead slaver steps back up on stage. His gaze drags across the dimly lit crowd, falling on you. He stares you down, before doing the same to another person on the other side of the aisle.

 "Alright. Drag out the next one. Come on." The slaver barks.

"But if you want me to take over, just say the word." Rekhyt jokes, his mask grinning for him.