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>>168157

Welcome to RE: Animated chapter 6. For the previous threads, please see the sup/tg/ archives, here:

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=RE:%20Animated%20Quest

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=re%3A+animated

And for future quest announcements, please see my twitter, here:
https://twitter.com/bananon_QM

>>168157
>[] Strike up a conversation, try to get some information about where you are going
We need to know more about the world as it is, since we've been on vacation for 20 years.

>>168157
>> [] Strike up a conversation, try to get some information about where you are going

> [] Strike up a conversation, try to get some information about where you are going

Gregarious as fuck.

>>168157
>[X] Strike up a conversation, try to get some information about where you are going

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>>168157

A few moments pass as the much larger cart comes closer into view, apparently accompanied on either side by a duo of men on horseback, two more afoot, and of all things, a minotaur apparently heading up the back. To a man, they are clad in leather, faces dirty from their travels. However, the voice of the front-most man, a scruff-necked rogue with messy black hair, is friendly as he calls to Michael:

“Good day, father! I trust your travels are going well!”

“Weather’s fair,” Michael agrees, “and the beasties are findin’ something else to snack on come the night time.”

“Better than the other option!” the man agrees with a laugh. “Anyway, thank you for moving aside for the lot of us! We’ve a long way to go with a cart so large and roads so small!”

“Aye,” he says, maybe with a hint of sarcasm. “It’s our pleasure.”

> How would you like to go about striking up a conversation?
> [] “Really, where are you going?”
> [] “Where are you coming from?”
> [] “Any troubles to report on the road ahead?”
> [] Other

>>168346
>[X] “Any troubles to report on the road ahead?”

>>168346
>> [] “Any troubles to report on the road ahead?”

>>168346
>> [] “Any troubles to report on the road ahead?”
Also, start talking about weird traveling story, like the one with the mimic wagon and the undead horse.

> [] “Any troubles to report on the road ahead?”

Play it cool.

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>>168346

“Anything you might tell us about the road ahead?” you question, before the carts can get back into swing. “Specifically, are there any troubles we should be wary of?”

The man stops fully, rubbing his chin in thought.

“Well, I’ve heard tell of a horrible monster haunting these here roads, a mad gorgon that prays on simple traders and caravans in the dead of night. Guess it’d be best to be wary of that, though once she’s set her eyes on you, you’ve hardly a ch-”

“If I might interject,” you say, clearly throwing the man’s practiced speech off-kilter. “That gorgon is far from mad, but is rather reasonably upset that her property has been besieged of late due to false allegations of her activities. She’s a simple mother trying to raise her child in safety, and we’re due for a talk with the baron to rectify this situation. In the meantime, spread a revised rumor for us, would you?”

“You mean to say, you’ve had a chat with the monster and lived?” he questions, awe and incredulity in his voice.

“I mean to say, she isn’t a monster at all!” you correct.

The man seems ready to offer an objection to that, but a grunt from the minotaur seems to remind him of his manners.

“Ah. Right then! We’ll be sure to set the record straight with anyone we happen to run into. In the meantime, safe travels and good luck in your talks with the baron.”

With a click of his tongue, he ushers the cart back into motion, heading down the road with a clatter of hooves and thumping of boots, leaving Michael to do the same. The cart rolls and sways as it takes back to the main road, jostling your helm and rattling your bones before it sets back on course. However, you can’t help but notice the way Galblassa’s hand remains on his axe and his eyes continue to stare down the road after the departing merchants.

“What seems to be the problem, my good man?” you ask, a bit concerned he might switch his grip to his bow in a few more moments.

“Never trust a traveling salesman,” Gal advises. “Least of all ones who smell like blood and dirt.”

> How do you respond?

>>168579
>> How do you respond?
Just be careful to not start another conflict, will ya?

Blood and dirt? Nah, it's fine. I'm sure it's just Dibbler's meat pies you're smelling.

>>168579

Also, just as a note, would you guys prefer more prompts for these sort of written dialogue situations? I know it can be difficult to come up with words on the fly. On the other hand, I don't want to feel like I'm limiting you guys one way or the other. Thoughts are appreciated.

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>>168579

“Just try not to cause another incident,” you say, putting an arm on his shoulder until he finally relaxes his grip. “Honestly, it’s not like we smell like spring roses either, I’d imagine. They may have just been hunting along the road, or maybe butchering fresh meat at a cook fire.”

“Maybe,” he acknowledges with a sigh.

“Good, now let’s get back to our game, shall we? As I recall, it was your turn to draw…”

--

“Hmm… Well, that’s peculiar…” comes Michael’s voice sometime later, and you’re suddenly aware of the cart slowing to a stop.

“What’s peculiar?” you ask, fighting the temptation not to lower your hand to better observe your surroundings.

“Last I checked, trees don’t just snap themselves in half… or get bloody in the process.”

With a grunt, Michael and Ricky dismount, wading through the brush and leaves further into the forest where a smallish oak has been broken and bent to the ground, your own footsteps and Galblassa’s following close behind.

“Something heavy hit the dirt here,” Ricky posits, looking at a patch of swept up leaves and flattened brambles.

“Aye, looks like it weren’t quite dead either, judgin’ by the hoof marks in the ground. Probably a horse then, but who the bloody hell chucks a horse?”

“Got an idea…” Galblassa grumbles as the two men continue sweeping eyes over the scene, the only indication he gives before heading further into the forest, nose in the air as he carefully picks his path.

> What to do?
> [] Follow Gal
> [] Help Ricky and Michael examine the scene

>>168778
>> [] Help Ricky and Michael examine the scene
I am going to guess an ogre or a giant

>>168778
>[X] Help Ricky and Michael examine the scene

>>168778
>[] Follow Gal

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>>168778

“Hmm… Not as much blood as I’d be thinkin’ if a horse fell here,” Michael grumbles as you step in closer.

“Possible someone was trying to cover it up,” Ricky points out. “Some of these leaves aren’t from the same tree, and it looks like someone dug down deeper here.”

“So, a horse goes flying into a tree after being hit by what I can only guess is a giant, who then takes efforts to cover up his kill?” you question. “I’m not thinking giants are known for their subtlety.”

“Aye, not by a long shot, and ye’ll notice the lack of giant arse boot prints all over the place.”

“Besides, giants take mostly to the mountains, the nearest of which is two days ride from here,” Ricky comments.

“Not a long walk for a giant, but I reckon they’d have easier prey not in the middle of human lands.”

“I also don’t think giants use axes,” you point out, noticing out of the corner of your eye a thick wedge having been taken out of a tree somewhat further in.

“Not ones this size at least,” Michael admits, looking it over.

“Hm. Gold coins… and an emblem,” Ricky says as he stoops to the ground. “Don’t recognize where it’s from, but it looks like a city watch pendant.”

“So a city watch member gets unhorsed in a rather violent manner and then gets assaulted by a man wielding an axe… Then somebody comes behind and covers it up.”

“And buries the evidence,” Gal finishes, coming from the shadows with hardly a sound, a broken horse’s bridle in hand.”

“Gal, where did you…?” you begin.

“There’s a shallow grave a bit further in, one butchered female human and her horse inside.”

“Did you find anythin’ on them?” Michael asks.

“Looks like someone field stripped them before dumping them off,” he answers, “and I’ve got a sneaking suspicion as to who.”

“The minotaur…” you finish, and get a stern nod in return.

> Response
> [] “There isn’t enough evidence here.”
> [] “They’re probably long gone by now.”
> [] “We have to go after them!”
> [] Other

>>168999
>> [] “There isn’t enough evidence here.”
Lets not jump to conclusions.

>>168999
>[X] “There isn’t enough evidence here.”

>>168999
>> [x] “They’re probably long gone by now.”

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>>168999

Your spirit of adventure briefly wars with your logic as you consider all the evidence laid out before you. Finally, exasperated, you let out a long sigh.

“I’m afraid there just isn’t enough evidence, Gal.”

“What do you mean, there isn’t enough evidence?!” he demands. “I’m showing you a fresh grave on an empty road, and pointing to the last guys we saw, one of which was a giant kin that smelled like blood and fresh earth!”

“It wouldn’t hold up in court,” you sigh, “and that’s assuming we could even catch them. It’s been a couple of hours now, and they’re probably long gone.”

“B-but-“

“The lad’s probably right,” Michael says, chewing on the words with a sour expression, “much as it may pain me to admit it. Guess we’ll just have to trust providence to catch the murderers, wherever they may be. In the meantime, we’ll just have to get on to the next town.”

--

What follows is a tense, quiet journey as your card playing companion turns quiet and despondent, muttering angry curses into his hands as his ill-concealed anger ebbs and flows. None of your assurances seem to reach him through that wall, eventually leading you to stop trying. In the end, you are simply relieved that as night falls, the lights of the town of Hastor comes twinkling into view.

“Guess we’ll check in to the inn for the night,” Michael says, helping Margy down off her horse before entering the nearby establishment.

“In the meantime, I’m gonna go check with the town guard about what we found,” Ricky says. “They’ll send someone to give her a proper burial.”

> Seems you have options:
> [] Go into the inn
> [] Go with Ricky
> [] Wander about town on your own
> [] Other

>>169236
>> [] Wander about town on your own
Try to find wrong to right, ladies to woo and adventures to have!

All the while keeping an eye on the others making sure they don't fuck up.

>>169236
>[] Go with Ricky

>>169254
How are we going to keep an eye on the others when we're going about town on our own, away from the others?

>>169581
Good question. Lets just follow the one most likely to fuck up.

>>169236
>> [x] Go with Ricky

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>>169236

As the humans go off to finish their business, Gal remains sitting there like a stone, and something tells you he won’t be moving for a while yet unless he’s forced. All around you, you see empty city streets, the quiet berg peacefully sleeping off the fatigue of another day to start fresh in the fields tomorrow. So, with nothing better to do, and no real desire to be the third person trying to order the same set of rooms, you set off after Ricky, who rather quickly finds the lit building with “Guard Outpost” written on the sign.

“And how may I help you on this fine evening, young man?” asks a sleepy looking, rather portly gentlemen sitting at a desk.

“Dire news, I’m afraid,” Ricky reports. “Along our way here, my companions and I stumbled across a body freshly buried alongside the road with a horse, a woman we presume to have been carrying this badge.”

As you wander in the office, you see the guardsmen’s eyes suddenly light up with an expression of shock.

“Oh my! Oh dear!” the man exclaims, frantically dabbing at his forehead as he takes the badge in hand. “This symbol, there’s no mistaking it! You see, a young woman came through town earlier this morning. Wenry Rider was her name, and she claimed to be on the trail of a group of kidnappers who had taken a young Arachne hostage. It seems she must have found them… or something else, a most unfortunate fate for such a fine young lady! Tell me, where is the body? What happened?”

To the best of his ability, Ricky recalls the events, sparing no details about the tree, the apparent scuffle, the suspected activities of a giant.

“Though my friend seems to expect a group of merchants may have been involved,” you add. “A group of four men and a minotaur, to be precise.”

“B-but, no such group has passed through our quiet little town…” the man says, “and we’ve but the one road heading in that direction… Oh dear! Oh dear!”

> What to do?
> [] Give him their descriptions. It’s the least you can do.
> [] Offer to help. How?
> [] There’s no need for you to get involved.
> [] Other

>>169806
>[] Give him their descriptions. It’s the least you can do.
Huh. Guess it was the minotaur.

>>169806
>> [] Give him their descriptions. It’s the least you can do.
>> [] Offer to help. How?
Offer your blades and your wits! Mission be damned!

>>169806
>> [x] Give him their descriptions. It’s the least you can do.
>> [x] Offer to help. How?

>>169806
Bananon, is Lee faster when running than the horse and cart?
Since Lee doesn't need to stop for breath or rest, he might be able to overtake the minotaur's group.

>>169921

That's a good question, honestly. See, Lee is a skeleton, meaning he doesn't suffer from the breakdown of muscles that a normal human would. A good horse traveling long distances can run 60 miles per day over the course of roughly 12 hours. So, during that time, the horse's average speed would be about five miles per hour, with burst speeds able to reach as much as 40-50 miles an hour.

In theory, if he ran full sprint (in Lee's case roughly 12 miles per hour), he could outrun them eventually. However, if the horses were to burst, they could probably outrun him.

>>169972
A human can outrun a horse eventually, e.g. persistant hunting, simply because horses overheat and we carry water.

Lee shouldn't even have fatigue unless he runs off of his own mana. As a skeleton he could theoretically run forever, and if he does run on mana, then all he needs is a powerful enough ambient soak ability and he'll run forever.

Big thing about undead is usually that they Never. Stop. Coming.

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>>169972
>>169993
Lee is the ultimate expression of a pursuit hunter right now.
It doesn't matter if the horse can outrun him; the horse has to stop sometime, but Lee doesn't. He'll just keep coming, and coming, and never stop.

Hey, we even have the glowing eyes!
Next we just need to get our bones chromed up, use a Stone to Flesh spell to create a skin/muscle suit to wear, and speak with an Austrian accent.

>>169993
>>169806


That's more or less what I was implying. Sorry, lost my trip. Lee could probably outrun them given enough time. It's been roughly six hours since you've seen them, which would put some theoretical distance of 30 miles between them. Assuming Lee runs at 12 miles per hour with no delays, he catches up in roughly four hours.

However, a reasonably fast horse might help him catch up even faster and pursue if their horses bolt for it. It's up to you whether you want to bolt off like a mad man into the night or ask for a horse.

So, what to do:
> Ask for a horse
> You are the horse

>>170059
>> Ask for a horse
Once the horse gets tired, we become the horse

>>170059
> Ask for a horse

>>170059
>> Ask for a horse

>>170059
> Ask for a horse

>>170059
>> Ask for a horse
When we find the arachne, we should direct it to the tower if its too far away from home or if it does not have one

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>>170059

“There was a man, roughly five foot-nine with a scruffy neck and long black hair, leather armor, and a scar to the left half of his face near the eye socket. The minotaur, his companion, was roughly 7 and a half feet tall, black furred, bare chested, and well-muscled. The others included a brown haired man with sunken eyes and a bowl cut, a dirty blonde with a twisted nose, and a red headed woman with a scar on her right breast and jaw.”

Ricky gives you an odd look.

“Please, I’m a bard, remembering details comes with the territory!”

“You look more like a knight to me,” the portly man mentions, “but I’ll not pick an argument over such a thing when there’s work to be done. However, by whom becomes a difficult question. You see, we don’t have many guards in this town, let alone those that work the night’s watch, and I can’t send what few we have careening off into the dark.”

“We’ll take care of it ourselves,” you offer. “All we need are four fresh horses.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Ricky questions, to which you offer a hopeless shrug.

“Wise, maybe not, but do you think Father Michael will simply let this go once he’s been told?”

Now, it’s Ricky’s turn to sigh and roll his shoulders.

“I’ll inform him and Margy immediately,” he groans, moving toward the door.

“Well, see here now!” the older man interjects. “I can’t simply loan you horses to chase rumors that have yet to be confirmed! I want to believe you, believe me, but I have to consider the possibility you’ll just gallop off into the night with our only horses and never return!”

Seems you may need to offer collateral.

> What do you offer him?
> [] Your own horses and cart
> [] One of your companions
> [] Nothing. You’re wasting time
> [] Other.

>>170173
>> [] Your own horses and cart
We'll get them back anyway

>>170173
>> [X] Your own horses and cart
or
>> [] One of your companions
depenting on Rickys worth towards this ordeal

>>170173
>[] Your own horses and cart

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>>170173
>Your own horses and cart
Target designated...executing pursuer subroutines...3...2...1...
The hunt begins

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>>170173

“We have three horses and a cart,” you offer. “And we can leave one person here in lieu of another horse.”

“Margy’s not much of a fighter,” Ricky mentions. “She likely wouldn’t object.”

“Well,” the man says with a sigh, looking you both sternly in the eye. “I suppose that would be sufficient… Hrm… Best not to think on it too much, then. You’ll have your horses, and god willing, Wenry will have peace before the night is through. Now, if you’ll attend to your matters, I will attend to mine.”

Without another word, he casually scoots his chair back, straightens his back with a groan, and goes waddling toward the stables, leaving you to wander back outside where Margy and Michael appear to have already come back and are chatting with Gal.

“Sooo…” you say, with as much casual ease as you can while walking toward them. “It would seem that mistakes have been made.”

“Galblassa was probably right,” Ricky elaborates. “Those men are most likely kidnappers and the woman we found, murdered while trying to stop them from fleeing with a young Arachne hostage.”

“An Arachne?” Michael questions, creases deepening in his brow. “Shite! That’s not good at all.”

“Worse than a regular child being kidnapped?” you question.

“Lad, have you ever seen a pissed off Arachne before, let alone a pissed off mother Arachne when her child’s been taken from her?”

“Not to mention if she was taken from their lands to the east,” Margy adds. “The Council of Monarchs, they’d-“

“Look! We can talk about the bullshit that’s gonna happen and the people that are gonna get hurt in the process, or we can try to put a stop to it!” Michael barks. “’Course, we’re gonna need new horses for that…”

“Actually,” you say, pointing toward the approaching figure with several reigns in hand. “That’s already been taken care of.”

“But only on the condition Margy stays with our present cart and horses,” Ricky explains.

“Fair’s fair,” Michael confirms, “presuming the lass is alright with it.”

“I’d like to help if I can…” she says quietly, “but if that means staying, I will…”

“Tempted to just leave it to you all after earlier,” Galblassa huffs, though you see he’s already grabbing the reigns of the horses, “but now ain’t the time.”

“Lovely,” you say, hoisting yourself up into the saddle. “Then, we’ve no time to waste!”

Once social contracts are cleared, Michael and Ricky also hop into their respective saddles, the four of you thundering off into the night, passing familiars markers now shrouded in twilight.

> Alright. So, it’s just about dinner time for me, and you guys have a bit of time to plan. Assuming you catch up to them, how are you going to deal with the crew?

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>>170314
>Lee absolutely will not stop until he catches them
Wait.
>is a caster
>is a skeleton undead
>wearing full suit of armor to hide his bony self

>>170367
Try to sneak in on foot, take down their watchman silently, find the hostage, rescue her first, then spread some gratuitous fire around.

>>170367
We have to figure out how to take out the minotaur. Poison? Magic? Confusing Riddles?

We could also jump him from behind in skeleton mode, if he's big and not very flexible, he might have a hard time reaching us.

>>170367

Well, looks like my power is out, and that will unfortunately make posting rather difficult. If this lasts until tomorrow, I may try to pick it backup then. Apologies everyone.

>>170834
Power is out, as in you've lost electricity?

>>170838

Yes. I only have internet right now by virtue of my phone, and I don't see myself continuing to run on just that.

>>170834
Take care Bananon.

Good night.

>>170854
Alright. Good night, bananon.

>>170385
We already had that comparison last thread

>>170367

The woods are dark and the night is silent as you make your way along the trails, nothing but the waning moon and the stars above to bear witness to your journey. The clip and clop of well-shoed hooves forms an ever increasing metronome as you press your mounts to the limits of their abilities, turning the surrounding foliage into a pastel smear of greens and greys, dancing shadows, and the occasional flicker of the eyes of beasts glowing in the dark. Your steed’s breathing soon grows pitched beneath the strain, and you almost feel sorry for the abuse you are putting the poor creature through. However, with time being so tragically of the essence, you’ve no choice but to simply tighten the reigns and continue to press onward.

“So what exactly is the plan here?” Ricky asks. “If we’re sure they’re the ones we’re looking for, are we just going to charge in, swords drawn and start shedding blood? Or do we want to try to parlay?”

“An excellent question!” you say, repositioning your helmet. “Truth be told, I don’t have a perfect answer for you yet. Perhaps I could sneak into their camp, confirm their hostage, and then provide some form of distraction.”

“If ye’ve got the chops for it, I don’t mind, but with rattlin’ bones and rattlin’ armor, might be a bit of a feat!” Michael fires back.

“I could try illusions,” you suggest, “something to mask my approach along the way. That is unless we have other volunteers.”

“Ain’t gonna be me,” Galblassa answers. “I can take a deer from 100 yards, or break its back with my hands, but I’m too heavy to go quiet nowadays.”

“I’ve some skill at stealth,” Ricky says, “but am by no means an expert.”

“I can be stealthy!” Michael pipes up.

“No, no you can’t!” Ricky objects.

“What do ye mean? I’m plenty sneaky! Remember that time, I snuck into the middle of Branscomb during the riots?”

“Does it really count as sneaking if half of the town is in flames as part of a ‘distraction’?”

“Well, they didn’t notice me, now did they? Regardless, it’s not like I’m much good in a long range fight.”

The back and forth continues for some time as each party debates how to best utilize their strengths and weaknesses during the ensuing conflict, but it isn’t long before you spy something on the horizon, the flicker of a bonfire cast on the side of the road. Still ahorse, it would seem you have some decisions to make:

> What to do?
> [] Try to parlay?
> [] Full Frontal Assault!
> [] Approach stealthily. If so, who do you bring?
> [] Try a ranged battle. How?
> [] Some combination of the former.

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>>175525

As a note, here are Lee and company’s abilities:
> Galblassa: Strong in melee and archery, Weak in stealth, tremendous physical strength
> Ricky: Strong in melee, average archery and stealth
> Michael: Strong in melee, weak in stealth, regenerates, has the ability to emit holy fire as an aoe
> Lee: Weak in melee, Weak in archery, can create illusions using the five senses, can perform spiritual attacks, can absorb enemy magic, is a skeleton

>>175525
>> [] Full Frontal Assault!
Considering 3 out of 4 of us are strong in melee and bad at stealth.

Maybe have Ricky and Michael attack from the front with support from Galblassa while lee sneak up on them, casting illusions and blasting their mind with spiritual attacks.

>>175525
>[] Approach stealthily. If so, who do you bring?
Bring along Ricky.

>>175525
>> [X] Approach stealthily.

>>175525
Approach in disguise, tell them you are a wandering bard who lost his company in a {insert common beast here} attack, distract them with a show so Ricky can conform if they have the child.

>>175579
cover our approach with illusion magic by turning the area 2spooky4them

>>175594
>>175579
>>175560
>>175550

Alright, so, we seem to lack a 100% consensus on this one, but I'm seeing a lot of "Approach stealthily". In the interest of taking bits from each one, what I'm seeing is this:

> Approach silently and bring Ricky
> Send Ricky around the back to check for the hostage
> Meanwhile, Lee distracts the guards by posing as a lone traveler
> While all of this is going on, Galblassa and Michael make their way up to attack position.

Is this acceptable?

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>>175707
>>175707
Fine with me banana

>>175707
Good enough

>>175707
that'll work

>>175707

Alright, I will need you guys to roll 4d100 then.

Rolled 6, 63, 53, 47 = 169 (4d100)

>>175818
rollin

Rolled 5, 62, 38, 22 = 127 (4d100)

>>175818

Rolled 15, 56, 99, 8 = 178 (4d100)

>>175818

Rolled , , , = 0 (4d00)

>>175843
>>175835
>>175831
The fucking dice gods are trolling us

>>175831
>>175835
>>175843

Give me one more d100, please.

Rolled 97 (1d100)

>>175885

>>175893
Huh. That's either very good, or very bad.

>>175936
I am thinking very very very bad.

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>>175707

“Ricky and I will go forward from here on a single horse,” you decide after some consideration. “He’ll take off near camp and approach the rest of the way on foot while I approach openly on horse, playing the role of distraction as a wandering traveler and try to hold their attention. In the meantime, you both approach slowly and try to keep out of sight. They’ll likely have eyes on the main road, so keep that in mind.”

You get a chorus of nods in return, and that’s all you wait for before you begin shifting your armor. After all, these men had seen you earlier today, and it wouldn’t do to walk around looking like the same person. It takes extra time and effort, of course, but you manage to change your apparent shape as well, willing the liquid metal to add bulbous curves and thicken its siding until you hardly look like the same man… err, skeleton, though you suspect you won’t move as easily in this setup.

“Lovely,” you say into your suddenly echoing helmet, “Now let’s get a move on. Shall we?”

The ride is far from comfortable for your traveling companion, bent over the saddle as he is like a sack of flour. He ensures you know of his discomfort, angrily and often, but he keeps his voice low as you casually approach, rolling off the horse with nary a sound before entering the underbrush. Likewise, off in the distance, your two companions have already vanished. That just left the camp itself for you, though through some small mercy you can already see a familiar cart in the bonfire clearing, the minotaur dozing with his head against the side.

“Who goes there?” comes the eventual call as a certain blonde youth rounds the tree bend to look in your direction.

“Just a tired old man who put too many hours in on his saddle today,” you assure him, mimicking the voice of the town guardsmen who had handed off this horse to you earlier. “If you’ve a spot by the fire where I could warm these old bones for a spell before continuing on my way, it would be much appreciated.”

The young man looks apprehensive for a moment, nervous.

“I don’t know if that’s-“

“Curtis!” comes the interjection, the black haired rogue’s hand on the boy’s shoulder causing him to jump. “Don’t be rude! This man is clearly saddle sore and in need of a quick respite. The least we can do is show him some of our hospitality!”

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>>176009

“B-But-“

“No buts, young lad! Now go grab some ale for our guest.”

And with that, the young man is off with a nervous skitter, leaving you to more casually dismount and walk in with his superior at your shoulder.

“Most gracious of you!” you compliment. “Though I must say, I haven’t even gotten your name yet, good sir.”

“Benjamin!” he says with a casual smile, “and the boy there’s name is Curtis! The big lug there sleeping by the cart’s name is Big Ben.”

“Ben and Benjamin?” you inquire. “My word! That must become confusing from time to time!”

“Somehow we manage to get by,” the man laughs as he motions to a seat by the fire. “So, tell me, what brings a Brother of the Steel Rose such a ways from home on this fair evening?”

A brief moment of shock and panic strikes you as you realize why this design came to mind, of the order of knights who used to wear it and their position as judicators of the law. It seems you may have accidentally painted a target on your head. Anyway, the last thing you need to do right now is panic.

“I’ve heard tell of a gorgon in these lands,” you pass off nonchalantly. “A troublesome beast that needs to be put down before it takes the lives of anymore kind folks.”

“Ah, yes,” the man says, something relaxing in his expression, “quite the noble endeavor, if I do say so myself. Good to know the baron is sparing no expense in seeking competent aid.”

“Justice is its own reward,” you intone, remembering at least that much about their oaths, “Though I’ve a mind soon to leave it to the younger pups.”

“You must be well seasoned indeed,” he praises. “Surely you must have a wealth of experiences to share.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

So it is that you begin telling the tale of Sir Gotfried and his many trials and travails, weaving a story as intricate as it is fictitious as you describe the many battles that this imaginary knight has seen, oaths of love sworn and vendettas hounded to their bitter ends. Your audience’s eyes light up with each new admission, his attention fully falling onto you and remaining there as you a shadow moving behind the cart from the corner of your eye, followed shortly by the symbol for confirmation. Now all you had to do was give the signal.

“Oh, would you look at that? Curtis has come back with the ale!” the man says pointing behind you.

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>>176093

Without thinking, you follow the pointing digit, head swerving along with your eyes to gaze back over your shoulder at its target. However, before you can truly see anything, a blinding pain explodes against the other side of your craning neck, the sounds of separating mail shortly following as you find your field of vision rotating at a dangerous velocity: the stars, the ground, the fire blurring into a sickening tornado of imagery as you realize your head is sent careening across the grassy field.

“I-It’s empty!” you hear Curtis feverishly mumble as he drops what sounds like a heavy weapon to the ground. “B-By the gods it’s e-e-empty!”

As your roll comes to an end, you find yourself looking back at your still seated, knightly form from your new vantage on the ground, and more curiously, seem to have no trouble waggling its fingers.

> What do you do?

>>176097
Calmly pick up your head while they are shocked.

Tell them softly "I am vengeance. I'll let you have a 30 seconds headstart, as you were so polite."

>>176097
"Well now. That's no way to treat your elders, boy!"
Have our body stand up and grab the weapon from the ground, then our head. Restore head and restore the connection, then advance on Curtis.
"It looks like you need a lesson in how to treat the elderly! Maybe having your head separated for a bit will instill some respect in you, boy!"

>>176097
MAke a spooky atmosphere with your illusions.

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>>176097

“Well now,” you say casually, voice ringing even more hollow and metallic now from the suddenly headless armor’s chest cavity, its fingers wrapping around the dropped weapon. “Tell me, boy, is that any way to treat your elders?”

You see the pure fear consume the lad’s expression in an instant, the horror in his eyes swelling as the armored form now turns to face him, gauntleted hand creaking around the axe head meant to end its life. Unfortunately, before you can then turn to walk towards your head, the rogue sees fit to take a running leap at you from behind, brutally thrusting a dagger and short sword through your armored back. Unfortunately for him, all he hits are your hollow insides, the wider blade perhaps scraping a rib, but leaving your body still standing after the weight of the thrust.

“But what else could I expect from you lot?” you admonish coldly, turning now from the boy and back to the stricken man, his weapons still firmly implanted in your back. “From thieves and murderers, liars and kidnappers!”

“Who the f-fuck are you?” the leader demands, the unnatural situation finally seeming to strike a chord in his hardened heart.

Now to play it fully before the minotaur comes to.

“Who am I?” you question, voice deepening as you loose an unearthly laughter into the night sky, conjuring illusory flames in a horrific simulacrum to replace where your skull had once resided. “WHO AM I? My boy, I am the vengeance that never rests, executioner of the damned! I AM THE ANSWER TO ALL YOUR SINS!”

With a mad cackle you fully throw yourself into your theatrics, silhouette darkening, shadow growing long as the flames surge brighter and your armor shifts into something more ominous (and functional). It doesn’t hurt that it seems someone took the liberty of setting the tents aflame while no one was paying attention, so that now your shadows dance along the tree tops in a chaotic swirl of twisting light, giving the emerging humans a vision akin to the spectre of death itself having fallen to earth and roaring into the night sky.

“Surrender!” you demand of their trembling forms. “Surrender or die!”

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>>176218

“WHAT IN THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?!”

It would seem some men are not to be cowed: which is ironic, you suppose, as the minotaur jumps to his feet, hefting axe in hand. He looks to the trembling bodies of his comrades on the ground, then to you, eyes alight with something much different than fear as he stamps one foot on the ground and readies to charge.
> How do you respond?
> [] Evasive actions!
> [] Stand and fight!
> [] Try to intimidate!

> Roll 2d100 either way. Special consideration and/or bonus dice for good plans.

Rolled 97, 48 = 145 (2d100)

>>176249
>[] Evasive actions!
Let him charge, and sidestep away.
When he prepares to charge, just before he lunges forward, cast a burst of light right in front of his eyes.
If he gets spooked, we can get in and take out his Achilles tendon.
If he charges, we sidestep away.

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>>176249

>>176249
> [] Try to intimidate!
Raise your sword and enlarge it with an illusion.
evade after.

>>176264
>>176257

Need dice folks

Rolled 62, 30 = 92 (2d100)

>>176266

Rolled 85, 51 = 136 (2d100)

>>176249
>[] Stand and fight!

Rolled 99, 37 = 136 (2d100)

>>176266
WE CAN DO IT

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>>176249

“Get on with it!” you command, raising your sword toward the revving minotaur.

Like a blur made of shadows, he’s suddenly right next to you, axe in mid swing and ready to deliver a world of pain before you can even will illusory flames onto the edge of your sword. So, instead, you simply focus on something simple, namely creating as bright a flash as you can manage in that single instant. Like a star fallen to earth, the white glow flashes with a painful radiance, prompting a bellowing roar as it sears it’s intended recipients eyes.

To his credit, his shot still follows through, clean and devastating. Unfortunately for him, it was aimed at your illusory head, the heavy blade easily felling a small tree with its residual momentum as he stumbles and presses one hand to his eyes. In the opening, you even manage to give him a strong slash to the back of the leg, wheeling about and stepping back toward your head, just in time to see Ricky already scooping it off the group.

“Catch!” he shouts, as with no further prompting, he chucks your head toward your body.

However, a little known fact emerges as a consequence of this, namely that it is very hard to catch your own head as said head goes flying through space, spinning like a top. You feel the pain and hear the clang as metal meets metal and you collide with your own chest, your cranium dancing in midair as your flopping arms try to juggle it to its proper place. And that lapse in attention costs you dearly as something heavy comes cratering into your side, shredding armor and bone and once more sending your head rolling to the sidelines.

> What to do now? 2d100
> [] Keep fighting!
> [] Make a dive for your head!
> [] Other

Rolled 78, 64 = 142 (2d100)

>>176386
>[] Keep fighting!
Use the fact that no one is watching our head to observe the fight from a distance and therefore not be limited by the arc of our viewpoint.

Create the illusion of our head being back on our torso, so that they will try to aim for it again.

The minotaur is the biggest problem. Have we increased our illusion ability to include sounds, as well?
If so, create deafening sounds of church bells in the minotaur's ears to disorient him. Approach him from the sides and back, using his restricted mobility against him, and attack at his legs, the back of his legs aiming for his hamstring and Achilles' tendon.

>>176412

Lee can produce sounds with his illusions, yes. Also, need a couple more rolls folks.

Rolled 24, 51 = 75 (2d100)

>>176450
Lets see if I can beat my previous roll

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>>176386

“You can put a stop to this any time you want,” you taunt, conjuring the spectral flames back to their previous intensity and giving the illusion of the armor sealing closed. “All you need to do is-“

“I KNOW!” he shouts, explosively slamming a hoof into the ground with another defiant roar.

Like a cold shock, you can feel it in your bones, a tremble as his mana surges from within and silver tracery runs over his black fur like water. With a loud snort he stands tall once more and turns to you, blood trickling unheeded down his hoof.

“NOW LET’S FINISH THIS!”

You can feel the tremor as he leaps at you with a surge of power, all of that weight suddenly hurling toward you like a cannonball. It’s terrifying, almost fit to freeze you in place, but somehow you manage to dodge, once more releasing a blast of light in your opponent’s face before he goes crashing into a copse of trees, throwing up a cloud of earth and splintered wood before instantly bounding back.

He has to be just about blind from that, but his hit still doesn’t fall far off the mark, the next taking your arm as he goes into a mad series of horse killing blows, the hulking brute advancing on you with uncanny efficiency. You have to blind his other sense, you realize, but for that you need time to catch your breath, time clear your mind. What you really need right now is a distraction.

“That lass Wenry sends her regards!” Michael shouts as with a mad charge, he slams a pair of knives into the back of the minotaur, using them as handholds as he readies another knife.

At that same moment, a javelin comes slamming into his thigh, followed shortly by another as Galblassa closes in.

“HOW MANY OF YOU VERMIN ARE THERE?” the bull roars, grabbing Michael by the neck and sending him flying back toward Gal. Fortunately, the two don’t collide, but you can see several things wrong with his posture as he rolls into a landing.

“I ain’t gonna take that from an overgrown side of beef!” Michael shouts, forcing a cadre of his bones back into place with a sickening snap. “Now put up or shut up!”

Seems they’ve bought you a minute.

> What to do?
> [] Recover. Bide your time.
> [] Use illusions to distract him.
> [] Re-enter the fray.
> [] Use magic
> [] Try to think of some way to counter his magic
> [] Other

> Also, friendly reminder that I take best of first three.

Rolled 42, 31 = 73 (2d100)

>>176511
>[x] Use magic: Repair our bones
>[x] grab up our arm so that we can re-attach it.> >[x] Try to think of some way to counter his magic

>>176511

Ah, right. 3d100 on this one.

Rolled 92, 88, 65 = 245 (3d100)

>>176522
Plan from >>176520

>>176562

Good rolls, but it seems we're lacking somewhat in terms of people at this hour. That's not entirely unexpected, but just the same, I'd prefer to hold off on continuing until we can get more responses. If this stays on the board until tomorrow, I will try to start again at 6:00 PM CST.

Rolled 42, 88, 37 = 167 (3d100)

>>176522
>[] Use illusions to distract him

Rolled 89, 94, 67 = 250 (3d100)

>>176522

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>>176511

Back and writing.

>>178388
Prove it!

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>>176511

First things first. You reach down to the ground and pick your head up from where it lies at your feet, snapping it back on with an unearthly crack and finally returning your world view to its proper height. Now for the arm. Unfortunately, a quick glance reveals the detached limb resting near the frenzied minotaur’s stamping hooves, his blade moving like a storm as he somehow manages to fend off the full frontal assault of both Michael and Gal. You’re pretty sure even in that state, however, he’d still notice you diving towards his feet.

That leaves you only one real option. So with a false steadying breath and a surge of will, you hold out your newly made stump and try to call forth your missing extremity with all your might. You’d managed it in training once or twice following some… unfortunate incidents, and Yesh had been more than a little interested by it.

“A useful ability, if you can learn to control it,” he had said, and you have the sneaking suspicion he had done his best to take off your limbs through the rest of your sparring for ‘practice’.

You let your consciousness fade for a moment as you lash out with your will, forgetting the body that you are in, letting the background noise fall away and instead just focusing on the flow of mana that surrounds you, pervading every part of you, even those that are no longer attached. All you have to do is connect them, to will a bridge between the disparate pockets of your own being, and there!

With a rush of wind, your arm comes rocketing back toward you, locking back in place with a snap as you force magic into the connecting joint that had been severed. At that exact moment, Gal goes stumbling back with a gash to the chest, the minotaur roaring in outrage as Michael drives two daggers into his dominant arm and his axe goes tumbling to the ground.

“How do you like that, ye sorry sack a-“

Michael doesn’t get a chance to finish that thought as the minotaur’s other hand goes slamming into his head with a dull thud, the priest reeling back on unsteady legs. Now, it seems they need a distraction, and so you assist with a blast of magical sound. Church bells and sirens, sounds of a pitch only animals can hear, you slam them into his long ears as you go diving in to take his back, already summoning another light blast to hit him with when he turns around. His magic is coming from those symbols, you can feel it, the silver lines amplifying his strength just like Yesh’s light silhouettes had, and you only know of one way to counter that.

> Roll 3d100
> Strategy?

Rolled 19, 67, 94 = 180 (3d100)

>>178588

Rolled 59, 19, 81 = 159 (3d100)

>>178588
>> Roll 3d100
Focus on disrupting the symbols while the other 2 work on getting its attention.

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>>178588

Even as you approach, the minotaur doesn’t turn, his attention instead focused on the two up front. Before you can count your blessings, however, a kick comes rearing back, slamming your recently reattached arm and sending your weapon flying across the ground behind you. Fortunately, you don’t need a weapon for what you are about to attempt.

Instead, you simply splay both hands outward and press them against the bull’s bare back, the thrum of mana beneath your palms like a tantalizing rhythm. Warmth radiates through your bones as you feel the flow of magic, the armor humming with excitement as with a sudden surge it begins hungrily devouring the enchantment beneath it.

“What the-“ you hear the beast grunt, but a blast of holy fire from the front seems to take his attention back to other matters.

Galblassa, lands a blow on his head, Michael placing a few new knives in his leg, and by then, you can already feel the magic waning, see the symbols retreating from his fur, and much more curiously, a strength surging within your own bones.

> Roll 3d100

Rolled 43, 19, 46 = 108 (3d100)

>>178863

Rolled 17, 43, 13 = 73 (3d100)

>>178863
>> Roll 3d100
SPOOKY SCARY SKELETON!

Rolled 84, 70, 86 = 240 (3d100)

>>178863

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>>178863

“Just a little more,” comes the silent plea as you will your armor to speed up the process and take it all, all while you struggle just to hold on for dear life.

Yet with every second, it seems the task becomes easier, the mana surging into the plate now, flooding past the gauntlets and filling your body with a warmth your undead body shouldn’t be able to register and a strength you shouldn’t be able to muster.

“NO!” you hear the minotaur shout as a massive fist comes pounding down on top of your head. “NO! NO! NO!”

With each denial, he beats you further into the dirt, armored boots piercing the mud beneath you, plates shrieking and groaning as they are pressed together. Yet curiously, to your mind, it feels no different than being beaten down by a normal man, perhaps even less. The pain is there, of course, and you can feel your bones creaking beneath the weight of his blows, but there is something else, something that has to be released.

“ENOUGH!” you shout, as with one fist you come smashing upward into the larger man’s jaw and send him careening around into Galblassa’s heavy left.

Left, right, left, right. In a surreal moment, you find yourself matching the lizard blow for blow as you thoroughly ring the bull’s bell between you, allowing the massive minotaur not even a moment to recover as the two of you endlessly pound on the pressure and Michael throws in his own shots from the side. Eventually, the large man’s knees give out beneath him, breaking the rhythm as he falls to the dirt, spewing blood from his mouth in a thick stream. However, no sooner can you register the thought of him having lost consciousness, then he pounds a hand in to the ground.

“What are you waiting for?” he demands. “Finish it!”

> What to do?
> [] Kill him
> [] Knock him unconscious
> [] Other

>>179068
>> [] Knock him unconscious
We still don't have the baby arachne

>>179068
>[] Knock him unconscious
I want to kill him, I really, really do.
But, we need to secure the kidnapped arachne first.

Once she's safe, THEN we will execute these scum.

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>>179068

One solid punch to the temple and another from Galblassa on the other side and the bull finally collapses into a heap. It’s almost certainly not the ending he had in mind, but you have more important things on your mind right now, like the Arachne child… who you may or may not have left in a sea of burning tents.

However, before you have a chance to panic, you see Ricky, the man standing far from the pyre and with the cart stowed safely behind him. A couple of bruises and scrapes, plus a few knots on the heads of the unconscious and bound bandits behind him tell their own story, but again, some things will simply have to wait.

Your body feels light and heavy all at once as you walk alongside Gal and Michael, the former dragging the heavy minotaur behind him as he goes. It’s quite a lot like being drunk, actually, right down to the way the world is swaying back and forth with every step, but somehow you manage to make your way to the cart all the same and undo one of the straps binding the heavy tarp secured over the central cargo.

Shadows dance in the fire light as you and Ricky work together to slowly peel the thick material back, breaths held, voices hushed, so much so that you can hear the sound of limbs scrabbling against the lining of the cage before you even see it. And quite a few limbs there are, a dizzying array of brown and many jointed appendages fleeing from the light as it steadily creeps its way upward, past the arachnid base and to the dirty rags above.

Soiled, stained, and tattered, the thin raiment does little to conceal the modesty or the protruding ribs of the young woman beneath, her black eyes sparkling and wide with terror as she catches a glimpse of your faces and the site of the camp behind you.

“It’s alright, lass,” Michael offers as the young girl panics and retreats further from you, twisting her arms behind her back and emitting small noises from the gag between her lips. “I said, it’s alright! We’re here to help!”

“We’re going to take you home,” you promise.

Home. The word seems to strike her dumb for a moment as it soaks in, eyes widening before sinking closed as she continues to cower at the back of the cage, as far from you as she can manage. A shiver runs through her body as Ricky begins looking for a lock and then a key among the unconscious bandits, that little noise evolving into something like a choked stutter as something inside of her breaks down and the tears finally flow. All the sadness, all the misery she must have known from everything that happened to her comes pouring down from those six eyes in a torrent as her nightmare comes to an end.

“There, there, lass,” comes Michael’s voice, seemingly from so very far away. “Ye’ve nothin’ to worry about now. We’re here to help you get back where you belong.”

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>>179336

When had you started looking at the sky, you wonder? When had the ground grown so very near? Why was it so comfortable and your armor so heavy? All pressing thoughts, all deserving their own answer, but ones you’re not quite able to give as your consciousness floats away.

How long had it been now? Through the chaos and noise, the action and adventure, when was the last time you had dreamed? It’s something you never thought about, never had time to think about. Maybe that was for the best, but this wasn’t bad either. It feels strange, like you are floating on rippling water, not a care in the world as the waves lap against your skull.

“Hey!” comes a young man’s voice, echoing through your silent void. “Are you just going to lay there forever then?”

> How do you respond?
> [] “Maybe…”
> [] “Where am I?”
> [] Say nothing.

>>179365
>> [] “Where am I?”
Is this real life or just a fantasy?

>>179365
>[] “Maybe…”

>>179365
>maybe...

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>>179365

“Maybe…” you say, not so eager to look for the source of the disturbance as you let yourself lie back. “Would it be a problem if I did?”

“Maybe not…” the voice answers, “but it looked to me like you had a lot going on before you wound up here.”

“Here?” you question idly. “Where is here? Where am I?”

“You are where you are,” the cheery voice responds enigmatically. “Nothing has changed really.”

“But if I am where I am, and nothing has changed, how can I go back?” you query, seizing the upper hand through his flawed logic.

“Well, you’re always here,” the voice answers calmly, “but you’re also always there, just like I’m always here, but also other places. I’ve simply brought here and there a bit closer together so we can talk.”

“And who would that make you?” you question. “And where is the ‘there’ that is now ‘here’?”

“Hmm… This is getting confusing,” he admits. “Am I not explaining it right, Gyold?”

A measured grunt is the only response he receives in turn, but the name sparks something inside of you, motivating your spine to bend to finally look around. With irritable longing, you feel the water vanish from beneath you at the slightest twist, leaving you now sitting with a plush rug beneath you instead, one apparently sprawled out in the shadow of two great thrones.

The denizens of those thrones look down on you from their seats to yours, kingly and regal in equal measure yet entirely different in appearance. The one with piercing blue eyes and a boyish face has a smile on his lip and a proper crown on his head, a gilded throne beneath him and a banded staff in his hands as he regards you with amusement. The other is much larger and imposing, wearing armor made of spikes and jet black metal, his single eye blood red and glowing as he sits upon a throne of skulls, iron, and blood red upholstery.

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>>179712

“Gyold and Lothry, then?” you probe incredulously, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice. “The twin gods of battle?”

“The same!” Lothry smiles, smile growing larger and eyes crinkling with joy. “Though it seems you’ve stopped by earlier than we expected.”

“Does this mean… Does this mean, I died?” you ask, quivering as Gyold lets loose a laugh like thunderstorms and clattering steel, like crumbling city walls and the rasp of a man’s last breath.

“Oh no,” Lothry answers. “No worries there. You simply, well, over-exerted yourself might be the right word, and so your spirit came here to rest.”

“B-but I’m a skeleton!” you object. “I don’t get tired!”

“Correction! You are a risen spirit inhabiting a golem crafted from his own skeleton. You’re basically haunting yourself!”

Now it’s Lothry’s turn to laugh, his boyish voice human, yet filling you with a host of other sensations, of battles won honorably and feast halls filled with song, of horns sounding reinforcements on the march, and duels fought for sport rather than blood. Still, he must catch something in your expression as he stops himself short.

“Now, now. No need to be so upset,” he insists. “It’s simply something that doesn’t happen very often. You may be the most unique champion we’ve had to date because of it!”

> How do you respond?
> [] “Champion?”
> [] “Nope! Not interested!”
> [] Write-in

>>179721
>[] Write-in
"Champion? Of battle? I may have scrapped here and there, but I'm far from a fighter. Much more a singer of songs and wooer of maidenly hearts."

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>>179721

“Champion?” you question. “As in ‘Champion of Battle’? Listen, I may have scrapped here and there, but I’m far from a fighter. I’m much more a singer of songs and a wooer of maidenly hearts.”

Lothry turns his head oddly as he looks to you, lips twitching curiously.

“Hmm,” he says, as if sizing you up. “Well, you are a bard. There’s no arguing that. Still, as it stands, you kind of accidentally absorbed the gift from our previous champion then sealed the deal by knocking him unconscious. By the rules… that kind of makes you the new champion.”

“Now see here! I’m not about to-”

“Wait, wait wait wait!” Lothry says. “I know what you’re thinking, but you don’t need to worry too much about interference on our part. We don’t interfere in the affairs of mortals often. This may be the last time you even see us. All we really require is that you fight honorably.”

“Honor!” Gyold spits, finally speaking with a voice like rust. “All I care is that you WIN, or that you find me someone else who can!”

“Winning is also good,” Lothry says. “but there isn’t much sense in bullying the weak or taking underhanded advantages. Our last “champion” hardly deserved the title, and that’s why you took it so easily from him.”

“I’ve no objection to slaves,” Gyold grumbles, “but the boy surrounded himself with nothing but weaklings. Probably why he fell prey to the likes of you.”

“Anyway, that’s really all there is to it! The mantle of the champion will make you stronger and faster at the cost of mana in a pinch. You just need to be careful not to go over, or you might pass out!”

“I still don’t know about this,” you warn.

“Alternately, if you know of someone more worthy, we could give it to them instead. Or, if you just don’t want it, maybe we could give you something else?” Lothry’s smile dims a bit at that, but remains friendly and genuine.

“You’d be a fool to turn this power away, boy,” Gyold growls, hands gripping his throne. “You’re nothing but bones as you are now, weak and brittle! This power will make you strong!”

> Seems you have a decision to make.
> [] Keep the power. Who knows when you might need this?
> [] Bestow the power on someone else. Who?
> [] Sacrifice the power to choose a new gift. What?

>>179975
Before we agree, let's figure out if we can get out of this when we want.

"So, assuming that I agree to this, can I end this contract, we call it a wash, and we all go our ways?"

>>179975
> [] Keep the power. Who knows when you might need this?
> [] Bestow the power on someone else. Who?
let's keep it till we find someone who fits the role of HOLY WARRIOR.

>>180076
Well yeah, it's only professional if we put forth a reasonable effort to find a replacement Champion of Battle.
Give our two weeks, as it were.

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>>179975

“So, let’s say I agree to this,” you begin. “Is there any way I can end it afterward? You know, perhaps without getting punched in the face repeatedly?”

“Not even started and already looking for a way out?” Gyold questions scornfully. “Perhaps, we should find someone else.”

“Now, now,” you tut. “I may not look it, but it seems that I’m a regular beacon for both trouble and battle in this life. Something tells me I’ll meet any personal quota you set for me in spades. However, should I find someone else, someone more worthy, could I pass the mantle on to them instead?”

“Normally, the next champion would not need your invitation to take what is theirs by rights,” Gyold intones.

“However, yes, you can give the mantle to someone else,” Lothry clarifies.

“But be warned, once forsaken, the mantle shall never again be yours to take up.”

“I think that that will be fine,” you say.

“Then we’ve no more to discuss,” Gyold growls. “Awaken back to your unnatural coil, creature.”

“And thank you,” Lothry finishes. “May fortunes ever favor the righteous.”

It’s much like being hit in the chest with a shockwave as with one wave of his hand, Gyold sends you flying away from the thrones at an impossible speed, faster, faster, until the eternal darkness of the horizon gives way to light.

>>180223
Yeesh. These guys are gonna be a pair of THAT MANAGERS, aren't they?

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>>180223

“Lee! Oi Lee!” the words reach you as if from the bottom of a well even as Father Michael shakes you about the shoulders. “Wake up ye undead prat. We gotta get a move on!”

“Who- What happened?” you stammer.

“Well, Ricky cracked the lock on the girl’s cage and next thing we know, you crack yer noggin on a rock. Damn near gave us the chills when you didn’t pick yerself up after.”

“I was dreaming,” you explain. “Perhaps the dead can know some measure of rest after all.”

“Well, that’s fine and dandy and all, but we’ve got places to be, shortly, right after this bastard tells us where!”

A gruesome scream fills the air as you watch Michael casually lean forward, resting more of his weight onto a wedge of wood you realize has been driven directly into the thigh of the bandit’s leader, a sickening squelch and a welling of blood accompanying the sound.

“I a-ain’t t-telling you s-shit!” the bandit spits even as his body convulses from the pain.

“Of course ye will!” Michael says, and you suddenly remember the fear that grin once inspired in you as he grabs the man’s head between his hands. “It’s just a question of how long it’ll take, ye rotten bastard, and how much penance ye’ll have to endure along the way! See, I’m only just getting’ started here! The night’s still young, I’ve an entire book of tricks I’ve been dyin’ to try, and if I can’t tear the truth out of yar lying face with yer last blood soaked breath, I’ll mount yer fuckin’ skull on a lamp post and have the girl make it talk for me!”

With another kick, you hear a bone finally give way and are treated to an even more horrific, unnatural scream as the man chokes on his own spit.

“Ye’ll talk,” Michael assures him, eyes flashing with demonic glee. “Even if I have to drag yer soul back kicking and screaming from whatever bloody hell it’s bound for, ye’ll talk. SO TALK!”

“SERATHIN’S QUARRY!” he screams, the fear of god flashing behind his eyes. “IT’S IN SERATHIN’S QUARRY, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!”

“Thank ye, kindly,” Michael says calmly, the last thing he adds before once more slamming his heel into the wedge and snapping another bone, the man’s eyes rolling into the back of his head as unconsciousness finally takes hold.

“Well, lad, seems we’ve found our lead!” he says cheerily, offering you a hand as he helps you off of the increasingly blood soaked dirt. “Now to get the rest of those fucking mongrels.”

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>>180344

So... I can end it on this note, or something a bit more wholesome. You guy's thoughts?

>>180377
Well, if the plan is to go after the rest of these guys, shouldnt we do something about the emaciated arachne child first? Taking her in with us doesnt seem smart.

>>180377
Nah, it's fine.

Though we should bandage Gal's wound before we go.
Michael and Lee may be able to simply bumrush the opposition due to not be able to be killed, but Gal still is mortal and doesn't have troll blood.

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>>180344

“We can’t take the girl with us,” you insist, “and dear god I hope you kept her away from this grizzly scene!”

“She’s up the road a ways with Ricky, Gal, and a cart full a hogtied bandits” Michael explains, stooping to pick up the unconscious man and tying off his leg. “Poor thing hardly said a word, didn’t even want to come out of her cage once it was open.”

“She needs serious help.”

“Don’t we all,” Michael laughs, now throwing the man over the saddle of a nearby horse and offering you the reigns to your own, “but it’ll be easier done with less of those bastards on the prowl what kidnapped her in the first place.”

“So, you want to keep going?” you question.

“Like I said, the night’s young, but I figure we’ll ask the lads before we do anything too crazy.”

And so you trot off into the night with the pastor at your side, not entirely sure of what will come next, or the ability of your present retinue to truly judge anything on a scale of sanity. All you know is that as the carts draw near, one piled high with captive bandits and the other housing a shivering girl, now wrapped in a cloak and tearfully gulping down trail rations, the world feels a bit more right than when you started. Maybe you guys weren’t too bad at this.

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>>180473

Okay, and that's where I'll end it for tonight. Sorry to say, the next couple of weeks may prove difficult for me to run. I'll be moving states and trying to get a lot done. So questing may happen at irregular times or be delayed. In the meantime, just keep an eye on the twitter. Hope you guys had fun.

>>180473
Right then.
Ricky took some hits and may not be able to fight.

So how about Lee, Michael, and Gal go on and take care of the rest of the bandits while Ricky takes the girl and the cart to town.
The girl to be sent back to her home with escort, and the bandits to get crucified or hanged.

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>>180489
It was a fun session, and it let us indulge in Lee's theatrical background.

Next we should get a new mandolin and start playing again.
Maybe even use a carrying case/weapons stash.