You’ll add it to your quest log. Though you’re not sure if you can pull off a spark-wuln or cat; You got stubby legs and a long muzzle. But changing your fur color might be going somewhere. Perhaps you can look like a random assorted hunter amongst the population, just less gray.

Wait… aren’t disguises kind of a Sorya thing?

Sure, you’ll try to take his mind off of whatever he’s freaking out about now.

“Zeb, let’s go do something.”

Zeb stammers. “O-Okay, what do you want to do?”

“We don’t have art like this back home– I’ve never seen anything like it. Want to take a closer look?”

“I-I can see them just fine from here.”

You take Zeb’s arm and drag him to one of the murals.

“H-Hey! Your claws!” He squeaks.

You look at the first mural. This painting is massive. The surrounding art looks faded and much older than the centerpiece. But what’s more interesting is the lack of graffiti. Back home, something like this would not last a second before people start scribbling their just as massive “imaginations” on it.

“Hmm, what do you think is happening here, Zeb?”

Zeb peers up at the text. “The inscription says, ‘Daunto showers the Shintari Valley in light from his coruscating trunk, creating the Mandanto, first of his kind.’”

“So he’s raining down light? Like holy stuff?”

“That’s what they claim,” Zeb faintly scoffs.

“Well, good thing he used the upper trunk, eh?”

He giggles. “Glass! Where are your manners!?” 

“What? It’s not your God. Yours is Shama, right? See? I’m learning.”

“We’re looking at a different one, before you get us in trouble.”

Yes. Now, do you mind? The art here is pretty.

As you continue walking, you ask Zeb, “Okay, how about those guys on the ceiling? Do you know who they are?”

“Probably idols. And no, I don’t know anything about them. You should probably ask literally anyone else in here but the Pasturist.”

“Fine.”

You ask the guard next to you about the ceiling art.

He turns his head to you. He stays silent, aside from the metal plates shifting.

“Uh, hello? Mister?”

“…”

“Zeb, what language do they speak here?”

“The one you’re speaking right now.”

An official looking bovani notices you and hurries over.

“Child, the Eternal Guardsmen do not speak. Is there something you need?”

“Oh. I’m just curious about some of the art you have here, it’s very pretty.”

She bows, “Well, I’d be happy to help. I’m Sister Roni.”

You smile. “This here is Zeb.”

“Ah, light guide you, Zeb. Have you any interest in becoming a Daughter of Daunto?”

“I’m… a guy.”

…

“Right. That explains the male Herdish name…  I’m so sorry– I could not catch a wink of sleep; my studies have been exceptionally hectic as of late. You’re very pretty, though; the light has shaped you quite elegantly.”

“Oh, I– eh— th-thanks?” Zeb stammers.

“And you,” she turns to you, “I must ask as you don’t look like the average pilgrim, have you come to bask in the light of the Grand Architect?”

You speak up, “I’m from Gnomanya. I don’t really know how any of this stuff works.”

“Oh my! You very well might be the first Gnomanyan to set foot here! Well, child, I admire your extreme curiosity, traveling this far to learn! I’ve noticed you’ve taken interest in the Lightkeepers above us. They are the founders of this beacon and this city, and the reason our glorious culture has been allowed to spread this far east!”

She continues, “Is there anything else that strikes your curiosity?”

Your eyes wander, and a couple murals over, you catch one that appears gnarlier than the others.

You approach it, “This one looks wild. What’s this one about? Why are they burning that poor man?”

“Ah– that, child, is no innocent man. This is the story about the Mandaskan Empire’s triumph over it’s oldest foe: The Circle. Thousands of years ago, the horde, once the size of an empire, sought to gain control over the light by consuming the flesh of grazers and stealing their light within. Dauntos’ Children would stand firm and decisively defeat their meat king at Sunara Pass, ultimately leaving the rest of those meat wizards to starve or be culled until The Circle would be completely eradicated. Today, we live in a world free from that scourge, and as long as the world has faith in Daunto and his children, such a thing will not happen again!”

“I-It’s still a problem,” Zeb speaks up.

“Excuse me?”

“The Circle, they’re still out there. W-we barely survived an encounter with a group of them just yesterday!”

“You’re telling me you ran into members of a long extinct cult? How can something return if it is dead?”

“It’s never gone away, hunters just lack the souls to control their impulse.”

“No, child. When Daunto forged the hunters from their primal crucibles, he removed any such temptation of the flesh from any person who had the spark of sapience inside. Hunters and grazers are kin under God. To partake in this evil is choice, for there are no natural proclivities..” She raises an eyebrow. “You’re a Pasturist, aren’t you?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Do not be afraid, child. All walks of life are accepted at the beacon. It does not matter if you’re a criminal, scabber, or a Pasturist. Just as long as you see the error in your ways, such as how you view your friend here. You truly believe she is one without a soul?”

“Yes.”

“How can you find that amusing? Do you know what they do to hunters in Hwombazu? How can you believe in anything that he is prattling?”

“Sister, I don’t know nothing about souls—No one ever told me I had one. But the part about The Circle is true. We ran into them off the path from Vebruk. They were wearing the hides of people and they claimed they were hunting for some Nanzuul.”

“And you supposedly survived this encounter?”

“I managed to convince them I was one of their own.”

“What? How so? Did you participate in any rituals?”

“What…”

She leans in, “Bathe in grazer blood? Snort bone ash? Consume any offerings from them? Anything?”

…

“No,” you lie. “I-I just pretended Zeb was my prey and told them to back off. I even cut one of them to show that I meant business.”

“You cut one?”

“It was in self defense, I swear.” 

She straightens up, adjusts her glasses and sighs. “Ah, forgive me, child. Praise the Grand Architect! He has blessed you with cunning. You see Zeb? Perhaps her actions will convince you of her light.”

Sister Roni continues, “Regardless, if what you say is true, then I’m going to have to make an inquiry for Lightkeeper Kivari.”

“Actually, we have an audience with her.”

She peers at her scroll.  “Mmm, no. You are yanking the balls now. Lightkeeper Kivari doesn’t have an audience with anyone until tomorrow.”

“Zeb’s cousin, Janko, said he was working to get us one. He said he was affiliated with you guys?”

“What? Why am I always left at dusk about these things?” she huffs, “I’ll look into this at once. You two wait here. Light guide you.”

---

Special thanks to FoxxArie for additional help with editing :>