Mini-Session Response: What Atka Wants

Atka lied in bed, thoughts racing between seeing Imperius, screaming at Orion, sorting things out between Nomad and Illidrex… She knew she had to square with her inner demons, which seemed to be external devils – herself included. Could she reconcile that every devil she had come into contact with had, in some way, tried to influence her to feel, think, do a certain thing–most of them in petrifying ways? Simply because the results had turned out in her and the party’s favor due to Imperius’s suggestion/role/influence, should that directly exclude the very “nature” that seems to become them all?
 
“Us all,” she corrected and threw the pillow over her face. How could promise to end Nomad but save Mamnen for ultimately the same crime? Foolish girl, she thought. You can’t befriend everyone; there will be those you like who don’t like you. Her observations–the facts:
 
Orion has been her companion.
Orion has had Imperius aiding him for a long time.
Imperius is a devil.
Orion and Atka descend from devils, as tieflings–Atka more recent in the bloodline, as her mother is half-blooded.
Nomad admitted to working and living as a devil.
Nomad admitted to a change, and a risk of regression.
Imperius suggested Atka embrace hate as fuel for prejudice and not experience.
 
Insofar, evidence suggests that it’s not devil and angel–just like Mamnen said all along. Devils appear to do good–but it had never been Atka’s contention that they were impervious to good, just impervious to altruistic intention.
 
She threw the pillow off of her face and rolled onto her side, sighing loudly. Atka saw Illidrex’s three cards circling her mind’s eye. Elementalist, Enchanter (reversed), and Missionary. What did she truly want? She knew she didn’t want to hurt the people she loved, she knew that she wanted Mamnen to be safe, she knew that she wanted not to fear the storm that Illidrex was talking about just because she heard it roar. The Missionary discussion weighed on her a bit. Illidrex had suggested that she find what she wanted or not, and bring that out to the world around her.
 
Atka squinted into the darkness and attempted to recall those late nights reading in Neverwinter at the Hall of Justice. She had found some old prayer books that were likely from prior to the priests of Torm’s and Lord Dagult’s moving in for Tyr. Very intriguing, and Atka had always remembered loving the idyllic beliefs but didn’t dare pursue more about Tyr, as she would’ve directly opposed Lord Dagult. The prayer had suggested that Tyr considered them all as family, who encouraged them to try and want to be perfect, who valued trust, courage and love toward one another. That had always made her think of how she would’ve wanted those in her life to feel around her.
 
Did she dare ask for guidance from a god she’d never spoken to?
 
As if she’d asked rhetorically, she said aloud, sitting upright, “Oh, wise and mighty Tyr, if you’re listening to this humbled and confused tiefling mercenary, I ask for your directive guidance. I’d like a nudge somehow on how I break the need to fulfill two perceived expectations of me–be a natural devil, or be a natural angel–when I don’t have sure-footing on a natural me? Please, please consider this appeal to your wizened, altruistic nature as an honest cry for help.”
 
Atka opened her eyes, leaned back onto her hands while sitting upright on the bed, and waited to feel or perceive anything.