>>372623

Perhaps because of the time you spent there, secluded in the private library, you leave just as the storm that had been brewing has reached its climax. Clouds that had been churning and gathering as you entered the Alkaev manor have now split, bursting open to cast their heavy drifts of snow down upon the city. You've seen storms before – bad ones, in fact – but the sudden violence of this outburst shocks you, pausing you in the middle of the street. At least, you think you're in the street – beneath this thick carpet of frost, the streets and the road are one.

Wading through deep snow and a low, clinging mist, you hiss out a low curse – the words crystallising in the air and adding your own small contribution to the mist. On a storm-blighted night like this, no right minded citizen would open their door, not even to someone seeking shelter. Neither would you, in all honesty – it's just not worth the risk. There are rumours, dark tales of beasts that can imitate the voice of a man. You've never seen any absolute proof of that, but you've seen the aftermath – homes with doors unlocked, the occupants butchered and torn apart.

For the citizens of Thar Dreyse, that's enough for them to hunker down and ignore any calls, no matter of desperate or panicked. When the storms are blowing, and beasts stalk the streets, it's every man for himself.

Grimly, you soldier on through snow that starts at ankle level and climbs, with every step you take, towards your knees. Dense fog shrouds the streets, cutting your vision down to few meagre yards. Carried on the piercing chill of the wind, a sound reaches your ears – a shriek, a shrill howl of fury and bestial rage. No man, not even Barroch – Morgana's unseen, lunatic husband – could give voice to that howl. As if you needed confirmation, you see a flash of movement darting through the low fog. Little more than a vague suggestion of a silhouette at this distance, it's gone nearly as soon as you've seen it. Nevertheless, that's enough for you – there's a beast stalking the streets.

Stalking you, perhaps.

With little shelter nearby, your best chance for staying out of trouble would be to hasten back to your tenement block and hope for the best. There's Lize to consider as well – leaving her alone all night might not be wise. Then again, Iosefka's bar is closer, and you know the owner well. She might trust you enough to open the doors, even during a storm like this. The last choice ahead of you is simple – track the beast down and kill it. With this snow, it's trail won't last long, but your Hunter's gifts might let you track it's scent.

Then again, you might not need a trail – it might find you first.

>Follow the beast's trail
>[Hunter] Track the beast's scent
>Hurry back to the tenement
>Head to Iosefka's bar
>Other

>>372627
>>[Hunter] Track the beast's scent
we are a hunter, time to kill this best we fear no best and the make fur coat to stay warm

>>372627
>[Hunter] Track the beast's scent
This is our job right?

>>372638
make

>>372627
>[Hunter] Track the beast's scent
blood is warm.

I-I mean, just doing our job.

>>372648
dont lose to the beast inside we are men

>>372627
>[Hunter] Track the beast's scent
Aim to roast a monster over a fire tonight, monster filet steak.

>>372627
>>Hurry back to the tenement
I think we've left Lize alone for long enough, we should check up on her. Then again, we might not get another chance to hunt so I'm fine with either option.

>>372627
>Hurry back to the tenement
Wasting our single Focus point this early into the session is retarded

>>372657
we can beraly see and all that
skuls for the huntress god???

>>372627
>>Hurry back to the tenement
But keep an ear open for that thing attacking us.
I don't see the need to hunt it, especially since we only have the pistol, and these are suboptimal conditions, but it shouldn't surprise us, if it is really stalking us.

>>372660
And I'd rather the +20 if the beast ambushes us and we need to defend, than to find it and have no OHSHIT button in case of bad rolls.
If we just keep going, it might not even attack us.
it does risk the beast going after someone else potentially plot important, but I'd rather the MC survive and have some trouble later, than take unncessary risk and waste our Focus

>>372623
>>372627

"It is degenerate", says the National Socialist
"It is misogynistic", says the landwhale
"It cuts into my whoring profits", says the kike
Smuggle dakimakura everyday
Fucking normies think they can impose a waifu tax
Can't spell smuggle without smug
Smuggle 'em, smuggle 'em everyday so you have enough practice when TTIP comes
And don't forget: if you think TTIP is bad for dakis then wait until you see the moralfags and tumblrcucks

>>372660
OK you don't get to talk anymore.

>>372657
We've gone a couple sessions without even using it. Might as well use it on the only ability we have right now. Once we get more abilities, then I'll start getting stingy.

>>372665
As I understand it, we won't be getting more abilities for the most part, more like updates.
And I still maintain that I'd rather the +20 in combat than finding it.

>>372667
it's not just finding it though, it's getting proper initiative for a first strike.

Which, for a Hunter, is pretty much the only thing you want.

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>>372665
you dont have the badges to control me
>>372667
yer about getting first hit

Tossing in my two cents, what are the chances of this beast being one of the 12 we need to hunt? If it is, might as well take it down now. If not, I think it's fine to ignore it and head home to at least warn Lize since she might not be familiar with the whole "Don't open the door to anyone" thing.

Also, in case I lose connection, some reminders:
>Get Lize tk write something, compare her writing to that in the book
>The book is very obviously referring to Artemis, for explanation see the end of last thread, and the "maybe look in Artyom(the town possibly named after Artemis)" we read today.
>we got cheated out of a second chance to ask the engineered about the plants, so they're probably important
>The cop lady was a qt

>>372678
Like 1% that this is one of the 12 if you ask me, if even that much
>>372672
Considering the storm and we can only see a couple yards, I'd rather +20 to combat since it'd need to be pretty close range, and finding it doesn't guarantee killing it.
>>372677
I'm about getting the hit on targer, instead of having initiative and missing.

>>372678
yer i was thinking its one of the 12
gota kill them all
and even if its not we will get lots of high 5 from the towns people for killing

>>372678
Low. Beast in the blizzard seems like a common occurrence and I assume whenever we do fight one of the 12 beasts Artemis hypes it up beforehand.

>>372678
Low. We can't smell it right now, but if this is the beast that's killing people in their homes, the whole "scent of the dead" thing would be noted in the rumors.

>>372684
You generally need to be quite close when you aren't a pouncing creature. In that sense, the storm is an advantage over whatever the beast potentially is.

>>372690
I disagree, the storm is a clear disadvantage. We have a pistol, which is a ranged weapon, and hunters are not known to get closer to prey than needed. The beast, as far as we know, needs to be in melee range to attack. We don't.
Therefor, our range of sight being limited is a negative.

>>372627
>>Hurry back to the tenement

>>372703
We have our knife man. Dude this is our job. We track and hunt beasts preferably before they kill someone that didn't make it to shelter.

>>372703
we could try to make sum fire from a st lantern to help us in a fight/ run away you know setting the oil n fire in a o around us or some thing ideas people

>>372627
>>[Hunter] Track the beast's scent

>>372703
pistols are not primary hunting tools. If you're striking from a distance, then yes a storm would be a disadvantage. You would ALSO be carrying a proper rifle. Or shotgun. Pistol is too low caliber to reliably do it in one shot or keep it down long enough to plug some more rounds.

Between the tools we have, the knife is more suited to hunting.

>>372712
Yes, we have our knife, which means we aren't useless in close quarters, but long range is still better for us, if only because we aren't useless at range, while the beast is(for the most part)

>Okay, in the interests of moving things along, I'm going to close the vote here. I'm sorry for taking so long with this - I hadn't anticipated such a close vote.
>As it stands, it looks like we're going with hunting the beast. Please correct me if I miscounted, though.

>>372721
save the gun for when we are able hit it in the eye or mouth like surprise bitch, use it to stun well we go in for the kill stab

>>372721
Well if it makes you feel better, Hunter Sense should allow us to use our pistol reliability even in this storm by using the enhanced senses.

>>372726
A question, did you just forget to, or did you intentionally ignore the engineer after "leave him be for now" won? It doesn't matter much now, I suppose, but I'm curious.

>>372721
>if only because we aren't useless at range, while the beast is(for the most part)
that's not a very good reason

>>372732
>engineer
Anon I was the tie breaker and I just got here.

>>372732

>That was when he was on the ship, sedated, correct? If so, then I didn't forget about him. However, I wasn't quite able to find a good place to bring him back into the story. Now that I've had a chance to plan ahead a little more, I feel happier about bringing him back in, sometime soon.

You've never liked doing this much in the middle of the city – to your heightened senses, the city streets become a chaotic tapestry of conflicting scents. Still, you know that when it comes to tracking down a beast, this is simply the most effective way of going about it.

And, truth be told, you enjoy it. Setting your wits and will against that of your prey... it's the best part of being a Hunter. So, allowing a small but eager flame to light within your heart, you focus your mind and let your senses expand. What rushes in to meet you is impossible to describe in precise terms – the smells of garbage, burning oil, and buried sewage all strike you, threatening to drown out the better, sweeter smells. Behind every locked door and shuttered window you can smell men, and the warm lifeblood in their veins. It's distracting, disorientating, sickening you down to your very core. It's-

Too much. Focus.

Gritting your teeth, fighting back the urge to drop to all fours and sniff the snow-covered street, you push past everything that misleads you and find your prey. The sour tang of beasts, tempered with the cloying sickness of diseased flesh, finally reaches you. Once it has, though, the beast's fate is sealed. It might as well have left a trail of bright blood, a trail to guide you through the low fog and thick snow. With your mind narrowing to a single killing point – like the tip of a dagger, ready to spill blood – you plunge into the streets. As the scent grows heavier and heavier, you know that the distance between you and the beast is shrinking with every step you take.

Perhaps hindered by the gathering snow, the beast is slowing. You, on the other hand, still have the strength to fight against the storm's fury. When the next keening cry pierces the night, it comes from somewhere much closer, and you drop low at the sound of it. Ahead, the street opens up into a pavilion, a popular spot for citizens to gather in finer weather. Through the haze of blustering snow, you spot the beast. Not the kind of wolf-like creature you saw in the woods of Port Steyr, but a more upright creature.

Not human – it could never be mistaken for human, not with a head crowned by curving ram's horns, or the crooked legs ending in cloven hooves. Save for a few shuddering motions, the beast stands as still as the statue it faces, it's back offering you a precious opportunity.

With your knife, you might well be able to slit its throat – the kind of death a beast deserves. Your pistol is a less certain option, but you can use the blustering snow to hide yourself if need be.

>Approach and slit the beast's throat
>Shoot the beast down from a distance
>Other

>>372741
A

>>372741
>>Approach and slit the beast's throat

>>372741
>Approach and slit the beast's throat

>>372741
Sounds like using the Hunter's Blood too often is a bad idea.

>>372741
thow a rock or something to make a nose so it expose its neck to make cuting the beast throat easyer

>>372744
Sorry
Approach

>>372749
think of blood born, you use too much blood you become a beast that gets hunted,
sooo im thinking this might happen to us. only use it for big things

>>372749
totally safe. 1000% safe.

>>372741
>>Approach and slit the beast's throat

>>372751
that....is a terrible idea.

>>372755
y?

>>372741
>>Approach and slit the beast's throat

>Okay, that seems pretty unanimous for using our knife. In that case, could I get a Physical Combat roll? That'll be 1D100+10, and I'll take the highest of the first three
>This will be aiming to beat 60/80

Rolled 21 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>372764

Rolled 77 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

also its sounding its one of the 12 we need
The sour tang of beasts, tempered with the cloying sickness of diseased flesh, finally reaches you.

>>372759
look, do you throw a rock near a rabbit to distract it? An animal is both predator and prey; if they feel that they are being hunted, they can and will break into a full sprint.

Rolled 1 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>372764

Rolled 91 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>372764

>>372741
>>Approach and slit the beast's throat

>>372768
Wow

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>>372765
>>372768
we would have ended up dead
>>372769
the man we needed
>>372767
i dont think itl run as its walking around loooking to kill things its not going to run if anything itl walk tpwards the noise

>>372768

>I feel this is an excellent time to raise the issue of critical success and failure. Simply put, I don't use them.
>This means we pass with an 87, a good result

>>372775
>Simply put, I don't use them.
That's boring. I'm struggling to keep any interest in this. Not because of the predictable and lower-than-average storytelling, mind you. Because you seem to suck as a QM and I don't want to be around when you inevitably screw up on a major level and destroy the quest.
With that said, I will now leave before I have to witness your fanboys scream at me.

>>372779
god dam man
not one to beat around the bush are you? fucking rough dude, do you even use lub

>>372779
>insult the qm repeatedly
>offer no constructive criticism
>Says the qm will destroy the quest when he's competed 3 quests and not done anything like that once
>Anyone who disagrees with me are qm fanboys who are biased

Just, just go back to spooky anon and have fun roiling in your filth.

>>372779

Feel free to let the door hit you on the way out, you seem like the kind of person who needs a swift kick in the fundament.

>>372774
it's standing still. If it doesn't identify the noise as danger, it could just as likely pounce on it, which throws off our ambush.

>>372775
Whew, I could've sworn I read about crit mechanics in this quest, guess I was just misremembering.

>implying this beast isn't somehow special, sapient or something, and had we not killed it it's have been a plotpoint
>>372794
Anon, this is really low tier shitposting, you could at least show some class
>hurrhurr qm is shit quest is shit I hate this pls gimme (You)s

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knife best grill

>>372795
>I know he's right
>Let's insult his shitposting! That will teach him!
Low blow, but it won't hide the poor quality of both this quest and its narcissistic QM.

>>372806
Shotgun best girl who hasn't had enough time to shine yet.

>>372810
Well at least you admitted you were shitposting.

No sense in wasting ammunition on this filth, you think as you ready your knife, you'll settle this up close. For whatever reason, the beast seems distracted, its attention stolen away by some nameless compel. Maybe even the same conflicting tide of sensation that assailed you not so long ago – with a little luck, that combined with the chaotic storm blowing around, should allow you to approach undetected.

Taking every step with precise care, you begin to approach the beast. What would take less than a minute under any other circumstances is drawn out into what seems like an hour, an eternity. When the distance between you has halved, the beast suddenly stiffens, twisting it's head – uncommonly bloated, you notice with a thrill of revulsion, like it was swollen with some vile fluid – towards the sky and howling. The braying cry lasts a long moment before dying, the beast folding and clawing at that tumorous head.

It's a moment of distraction that you won't waste. Casting aside subtlety, you rise from your crouch and close the remaining distance. With vicious speed and brutal force, you slam the heel of your boot down into the back on the beast's knee, the sound of snapping bone like music to your sharp ears. Throwing back its head to scream once more, you reach around and drag the knife across the beast's throat, stilling its voice before it has the chance to cry out. Blood, as dark as ink against the snow, sprays out and splatters across the pompous statue. Without so much as a murmur of protest – for how do you murmur with a slit throat? - the beast slumps to the ground.

With your curiosity rising up, you can't help but crouch low and examine the beast, peering at the thing's swollen skull. The skin is split in places, revealing slashes of red muscle beneath. When you see its eyes, though, you recoil in disgust. They are pure red, filled with blood and bulging from their sockets. Red Eye Sickness – it could be nothing else. But how, you ask yourself, could a beast with this infection be here? You've only ever heard of people catching it in the northern territories – never in the Free States. The week long journey through the northern passage also serves to slow the spread of any infection – any carriers would show visible symptoms long before their ship reached Port Daud.

This could be serious – this is something the Ministry needs to know about. Without evidence, though, they can't do a damn thing.

-

You would have needed to do this anyway – leaving the corpse to rot in the street is unthinkable, a breach of multiple League regulations – but the act of hauling the beast to the nearest Ministry office still leave you sore and bad tempered. You're tempted just to leave the corpse on their doorstep, but – with a resigned sigh – you begin to pound on the door.

[1/2]

>>372819
You didn't understand that I was merely making fun of his attempt at insulting what he perceived to be shitposting? By rightfully calling this quest shit and the QM shit, I am shitposting? You have low qualifications for shitposting, newfriend.

>>372819
>>372795
Stop taking his bait, he's obviously trolling for a response.

>>372820
>killing the killer monster, like it very much :), Snow Hero is born

>>372820
Still writing, or?

>>372844
He's still writing, no worries.

>>372820

When the door opens, you're confronted by the gaping maw of a shotgun, the barrel as black as a pit. This, you think as you rein in your temper, is exactly what you should have expected. Frankly, the fact that they opened the door at all is a miracle, even if you had been hammering at it for several minutes straight. It's almost enough to suggest that the man behind the door wanted you to be a beast, just for the excuse to blow you away. When you explained your situation, the corpse slumped by your side as proof, he grudgingly let you inside. With the sigh that speaks of a long, weary life, the clerk returns to his desk and slumps down.

“Take it through to the back,” he sighs, “Someone will need to examine it in the morning. Someone qualified – a doctor from the College, I expect. I'll send a telegram to Petrovar when the lines are back up. With this storm...”

Nodding, waving off his glum explanation, you carry the slain beast through to a dimly lit room, laying it out on a cold metal slab. When the time comes, it'll be cut open and studied, checked over to see if it is indeed what it looks like. When that bloody task is done with, it'll be burned, to purge any contamination that might remain.

“And you might want to clean yourself up,” the clerk adds as you're about to leave, a faint timid note creeping into his voice, “You can use the washroom here if you must.”

Clean yourself up, you repeat, why? Then, when he discretely clears his throat, you look down at your jacket, and the blood that is drying onto it. Ah, you reply, he may have a point there...

-

“You're going, then?” the clerk asks, when you're finished scrubbing the blood and filth from your clothes, “The storm looks like it might be dying down a little, but it's still not safe out there. Not totally safe, at least.”

You don't have much choice, you reply with a shrug, you've got a home to go back to.

“Stay here,” he offers in response, “Like I said, it's safer than walking the streets.”

>I'll be fine, I've got to get back
>Maybe you're right, I'll stay here for now
>Other

>>372855
>I'll be fine, I've got to get back
Make sure Lize didn't leave in this storm.

>>372855
>>I'll be fine, I've got to get back

>>372855
>I'll be fine, I've got to get back
>Anything that hunts me will be in for a rude surprise. Although I hope nothing happens, I'd hate to drag another corpse here.

>>372857
This.

>>372855
>>I'll be fine, I've got to get back
hmmmm i wounder if the dragons blood turns people into beast when there time is up?
do we want to take a trophy?

>>372855
>>I'll be fine, I've got to get back
Finally time to check on Lize.

>>372862
Nah. We only need to take trophies of the 12 main beasts.

>>372855
>I'll be fine, I've got to get back
Disregard storm, acquire daughteru

>>372855
>I'll be fine, I've got to get back

>>372855
>>I'll be fine, I've got to get back
"I am the one who knocks."
Got a girl to warm up.

>>372855
>>I'll be fine, I've got to get back

lets play a jok on the liezza
walk in like we got hurt and see if she trys to save/help us

>>372882
No.

>>372882
Fuck No.

>>372882

Nah

>>372882
>being a pussy
no, thanks.

>>372914
howw is this beening a pussy?

The clerk might be an officious shit, but at least he's kind enough to extend the offer. That said, it's an offer you have to refuse. You'll be fine, you tell him, you need to get back to your own home. You're not worried about any beasts that cross your path – worst case scenario, you'll have another corpse for them to dispose of.

“Suit yourself,” he replies with a faint shrug, “You're welcome to stop by tomorrow morning – if the examination uncovers anything, you've got as much right to know as anyone.”

You'll keep that in mind, you announce as you leave. Once more, the storm – dying as it may be - swallows you up when you leave the warmth of the Ministry outpost. Steeling yourself against the piercing winds and slushy snow, you plan out a route back to your tenement and forge ahead. Fatigue haunts every step that you take, snapping at your heels like a stubborn hound, but you force yourself to keep an even, steady pace. As you walk, your mind whirls with vague, half-formed thoughts.

Beasts, sickness and gods – a few weeks ago, your life seemed so much more simple. You just needed to think about beasts. No, you didn't even need to think about them, you just needed to kill them.

Maybe nothing has changed.

-

To your great surprise, Anders – your balding, sullen landlord – is actually relieved to see you, eagerly welcoming you back into the tenement. Just as you're about to consider the idea that he might have been worried, he opens his fat mouth.

“I'm just glad to have a professional here,” he grunts, “In case we have trouble, I mean.”

Without wasting another word on him, you brush past and tackle the first of the many, many flights of stairs that stand between you and your humble quarters. Letting the unwashed man bluster and curse behind you, his voice soon fades to a background hum and then vanishes completely. That's how you prefer it, in all honesty. A few more sets of stairs, and then you find yourself at your door. Quietly opening the lock, you slip inside.

The small apartment is silent, save for a small and fluttery sound – the light sound of someone breathing peacefully. Like someone who has truly made herself at home, Lize is stretched out on your meagre sofa, feet dangling off one end. Her sleep remains unbroken, even when you cross the room to make sure the straw doll is still hidden. Shrugging out of your jacket and slipping your boots off, you fetch a blanket from the other room and drape it across her sleeping form. Then, with that small kindness out of the way, you collapse into your own bed.

You don't dream.

[1/2]

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>>372922

It's afternoon when you finally rouse yourself from the abyss of sleep, the smell of cooking dragging you back to the waking world. Rubbing your eyes, yawning and scratching yourself, you follow that scent and shamble into your main room. Lize has her back to you, focusing on her cooking with the intensity of a man tracking his quarry.

“I'll be finished in a minute!” she calls out, “Just wait, I've made enough for two.”

Enough what, you ask with a vague and formless dread, what's she cooking?

“Eggs,” the girl replies, sweeping the pan off the stove and pouring its contents onto two plates.

Eggs, you repeat in the bleary voice of sleep, just eggs?

“I'm... not so good at cooking,” Lize admits, sitting down at the table and poking at the quivering lump on her plate with a fork, “But I can scramble eggs. Uh... I thought you might want something to eat. I mean, you weren't back when I went to sleep, so...”

It's fine, you tell her as you scoop a forkful into your mouth and chew, you've had far worse. Without wasting words on further conversation, you turn your full attention to the plain meal and work on settling your sudden hunger. You've cleared your plate before Lize has even finished half of hers, leaving her to stare at you with a kind of wondering amusement.

“If I knew you were that hungry, I would have made more,” she replies, with a faintly bemused smile, “So... last night...”

Something came up, you tell her, business. Not a big deal.

“Okay, I see,” Lize pauses, “Kinda. What's today like, more business?”

You'll have to check your mail first, you reply, you might have something important to take care of. Then again, you might not – your job can be like that, sometimes.

-

Downstairs, you feel a faint thrill of trepidation before opening your mailbox. Last time you checked it, you found evidence of witchcraft, and all the paranoid speculation that came with it. Also, you got a bill – no more pleasant. This time, there's only a single item, a telegram from Vasily. The message is simple, written with the blunt language inherent to the medium.

The surviving engineer, Vas writes, has woken and will be returning to Thar Dreyse today. He's going to be meeting the man, and you're welcome to come along. The train is due mid afternoon, so you've not missed him yet. You're not entirely sure why Vas is offering you this invitation, but you wouldn't turn down the chance to speak with the engineer now that he's lucid.

Your next move, then, is simple...

>Meet Vas at the station
>Head to the Ministry outpost to check on the beast
>Other

>>372939
>>Meet Vas at the station
Gotta follow older leads before taking on a new side quest.

>>372939
>Meet Vas at the station

>>372939
>Check beast first

>>372939
>Meet Vas at the station
It's already afternoon and the train leaves soon. More time sensitive.

>>372939
>>Meet Vas at the station
No time to look at that beast. It won't run away..

>>372939
>>Meet Vas at the station

>>372939
>>Meet Vas at the station

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That beast isn't going anywhere, you figure, not with a slit throat and a broken leg. The train, on the other hand, is due to arrive soon – soon enough that you don't have much time to stand around thinking. You'll be able to stop in at the Ministry on the way back, you remind yourself, to see what they found out there. If, that is, there was anything to find. With just a few things to pick up from your apartment before you leave, you should just make it in time.

Lize is waiting for you, the dishes washed and neatly stacked, when you arrive. Even as you hurry to get yourself ready, she stammers out a few words. “Hey, Henryk, I know you said one night,” she begins, “But...”

Can't talk now, you reply, you've got a train to catch. This will have to be a conversation for another time.

“Really?” Lize can't quite hide her relief – indeed, she doesn't even try. “Great! I mean...” a pause, “We can talk about it later, yeah, that's no problem. I'll keep an eye on things here, no worries.”

Fine, you tell her as you're heading out the door, but she'd better not mess with your things.

-

You make it to the station with just a few moments to spare, crunching over the slowly melting remains of the previous night's storm. Thick piles of snow are gathered wherever the shadows of looming buildings stops the sun from doing its work, but they too will fade eventually. At one point, you pass a site of bustling activity – a shop, broken into and looted under the cover of the storm – but you don't bother to stop and investigate. There's nothing to investigate, nothing that you've not seen before. Except... there is one abnormality. Scrawled across a nearby wall in pitch black paint is a slogan, each letter ragged and brutal - “Freedom for the south”, the graffiti reads.

Already, the Ministry officials are working on scrubbing the paint away. By evening, you wager, there will be nothing left – officially, its very existence will be denied. That's how it goes with anything speaking up in favour of the southern colonies. Scrubbed out, wiped from the records and quickly forgotten.

If the looters are found, you think with a bitter smile as you spot Vas, being caught by beasts would have seemed like a pleasant alternative.

-

“Henryk, glad you could make it,” Vas shakes you warmly by the hand, “I'll admit, I'm not sure what to expect. I was told that he was well enough to go free, but...” a vague gesture, one that conveys precisely nothing, “Well, I'm not sure – we'll have to wait and see.”

So, you ask as a train pulls into the station, why did he bring you out here?

“You saw what was down in that engine room, I didn't,” Vas sounds somewhat gladdened by that, “I figure you'd want to talk with him as well.”

True enough, you murmur.

[1/2]

>>372974

“I'm not sure how much I can tell you,” Nystrom, the scrawny, neurotic engineer, tells you, “I mean, I'm not altogether sure how much of what I remember is... real.”

“Don't worry about it,” Vas murmurs, his voice a rough purr in the gloomy bar. Lit from beneath by the spark of his cigarette, Vas looks older than he normally does. “Just tell us whatever you remember, and we'll worry about what's important or not. If we have any questions, do you mind answering them?”

“Sure, but like I said...” Nystrom takes a cigarette of his own, lighting it with a small brass lighter.

“You're not sure how much you can tell us,” Vas nods, “Right.”

You're surprised by how gentle Vas can be, at a side of him that you've never seen. Behind the helm of a ship, he's normally a hard man, but not unfair. Off-duty, he's always been a wild one, drinking and whoring until the early hours. This... fatherly concern isn't something he shows often. Then again, it might be exactly what Nystrom needs to hear.

“Alright, look, I checked every inch of that machinery before we left Port Daud,” Nystrom heaves in a lungful of smoke, letting it bleed out his nostrils, “There was nothing there, nothing wrong. So, what I got to thinking is... it wasn't real. There was something wrong, but none of us could find what it was. We all got stressed, and we saw something that wasn't there.”

All three of you, you ask, seeing the same thing?

“It can happen!” Nystrom protests, “I read about it, see? Mass hallucinations are all kinds of common in situations like that. It's a kind of hysteria, nothing I can do about that now, is there?”

That's his story, you press, is it?

“What else do you want me to say?” he whines, “You think that stuff we... you saw was real? C'mon Captain, you don't believe any of this, do you?”

“I wasn't there,” Vas says simply, shaking his head slowly, “I can't offer a single damn fact. You two are the only surviving witnesses.”

For the sake of his own sanity, you think darkly, he's fallen into denial. He won't give you anything, not while he's busy convincing himself that it was all a delusion. To do that would be to compromise his own desperate defence, no different from a man unlocking his door in the middle of a deadly storm.

“Look, are we done here?” the engineer asks suddenly, “I've told you my side of things, and now I just want to get on with my life. Put this all behind me, you see? So, can I go now?”

>Let him leave
>Press him for the truth
>Ask him a specific question (Write in)
>Other

>>372991
>>Ask him a specific question (Write in)
>You 'hallusinated' plants as well?

>>372991
>Can you tell us when exactly the engine stopped working, what were the symptoms and how long before then was the last time did you checked the engine?

>>372991
>Ask him a specific question (Write in)

Do you remember when the hallucinations turned visual, did it grow at all?

(Might as well keep playing into his delusions but if he can place it it might give us an idea of when we were targeted)

>>372991
Just double checking Moloch.

This is the engineer that ran for it first, not the burly engineer that pulled the plate off the engine correct?

>>373009

>Yes, that's correct. The burly gentleman was lost with the ship itself

>>372991
>Other
"Okay lets put aside the plants in the engine. Whether you lie to yourself doesn't matter to me."

>Ask him a specific question (Write in)
"Prior to the attack and engine failure was there anyone suspicious hanging around the engine? Someone that shouldn't be there or an engineer acting strangely?"

>>372991
>Ask him a specific question (Write in)
Ask if there was anyone around who shouldn't have been before the "mass hallucination".

You just want to check a few more things, you tell him coolly, just the get the base facts straight. His hallucinations – they were plants, correct?

“Right,” Nystrom reaches up with a bony hand, taking the cigarette from his lips, “I'm no gardener, I couldn't tell you what kinds they were – all vines and thorns, weeds and even a few flowers. So you see how ridiculous it was, right? Plants... they don't just... grow like that, out of nothing at all. They can't grow like that!”

Not in any sane or logical world, you think to yourself, but those rules no longer apply when witchcraft is involved. When these hallucinations struck, you ask, does he remember seeing any growth at all? Any signs that the plants were alive?

“I... no,” he shakes his head, “But they were... pulsing, I guess. Like there was a heart beating within the ship, and those roots and weeds were the veins. Reaching out to strangle us, smothering us in our sleep, choking the life from-” Crying out suddenly, he drops the smouldering stub of the cigarette and flaps his burnt hand. When he speaks once more, his voice has grown tight, as if he had woken from a mania and regretted his loose tongue. “Well, as I said, it was only a hallucination.”

Fine, you grunt, forget about plants for now. You want to focus on mundane matters – that should be fine to talk about, correct?

“Sure, right,” Nystrom looks sickeningly glad to move on, slumping back and grasping at the offer, “I'll tell you whatever I can.”

When exactly did the engine stop working, you ask, and what were the first apparent problems? How long was it, also, since the engine had been last checked.

“I checked it over a week ago, just before we left Port Daud – no problems, nothing that should have even slowed us down,” he shakes his head, reaching out for a new cigarette before reluctantly pulling his hand back, “When the problems started, I thought maybe there was a blockage in something. It was like the engine started to struggle, like it had to work twice as hard just to keep power. It started... let me see...” A pause, before he snaps his fingers, “Yes! Captain Vasily, it was just after you announced that we'd bagged the whale. We were celebrating, so it took us a little to notice the problems. Maybe... maybe if we'd been paying more attention-”

“Never mind that,” Vas interrupts gruffly, “You weren't to blame for this.”

But someone was, you think, you need to know who. Before everything went wrong, you ask, was there anyone suspicious hanging around the engine room? Maybe just an engineer who was acting strangely?

“That fancy dressed guy,” Nystrom answers after a moment, “I never got his name – he had us calling him “sir” and everything.”

Ornstein.

[1/2]

>>373049

Good call PHP
>>348713

>>373049

“Okay, so he was down... not immediately before everything kicked off,” Nystrom begins to explain, “It was a few hours before we took the whale, I think. He was down, demanding a tour and acting like he owned the place. Not that he was interested in anything we had to say, mind, but I think he was trying to look impressive. See, it was that little miss he had with him.”

A girl, you ask sharply, he had a girl with him?

“A woman,” Nystrom corrects you, “She had dark hair, I think, and she wore these tinted glasses. No idea why – the engine room is dark enough as it is, see? Anyway, the way I see it, he was acting like a petty lord to impress this lady, like he was trying to get her into bed. I mean, she looked the type, you know?”

You have no idea what “type” he's talking about, but you nod for him to continue. As you do, a strange thought strikes you – when you realised that he wasn't talking about Lize, you felt relief. Genuine relief. That... worries you a little.

“So, like I said, he had us show them both around,” Nystrom shrugs, “Course, she looked more interested than he did. I remember that quite clearly – not often you get a young woman into engines and grime, after all.”

“Give us a minute,” Vas asks, rising and taking you aside to speak privately. “Fucking Ornstein,” he hisses, “I'm going to wring that bastard's neck!”

He'll have to get in line, you agree, because you've got a score to settle with the plump gentleman yourself. Then, logical sense returns and you find yourself shaking your head. He really thinks Ornstein had it in him to sabotage a ship like that?

“I don't know. That mistress of his sounds just as likely,” Vas pounds a fist into the palm of his hand, “But to get to her...”

You'll need to get her name, you finish, and that's where Ornstein can “help”.

“He shouldn't be a hard man to find,” Vas allows a hard smile to touch his lips, a smile that never even tries to warm his cold eyes, “What's he going to do, run away from us? That fat prig wouldn't make it two steps before tripping over his own feet. Do you want to go and have a word with him now?”

Maybe, you murmur as you consider your options.

>Track down Ornstein with Vas
>Head back to the Ministry outpost
>Other

>>373095
>Track down Ornstein with Vas
Suppose we should keep following this lead while we can.

>>373095
>Ask Nystrom if anything else happened after that.
Then we can go hunting for Ornstein.

>>373095
>Track down Ornstein with Vas

>>373095

>>373104 seems sensible.

>>373095
>>Track down Ornstein with Vas

>>373095

Seconding >>373104

>>373095
>Head back to the Ministry outpost

At this point they'll probably move forward with the autopsy without us, Ornstein isn't moving just yet. Let Vas know we've got hunter business and to figure out where Ornstein is now but not to confront him yet

>>373128
>>373104
Actually, naw that you mention lets do that before going after Orn, does Vas even remember who all the passengers were?

>>373138
>does Vas even remember who all the passengers were?
That may be a good question, depending on how many passengers where on the ship.
Altough I'd imagine that number to be not all that high, what with where we were going and all that.

Just one matter to clear up first, you tell Vas, and then you can get going. Returning to Nystrom, you stop him just as he's leaving. Was there anything else he remembers, you ask, anything at all after that?

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, “Look, I know what you're thinking, but you're on the wrong track – I didn't let either of those two out of my sight for a minute. There's no way that they could have done something to the engine. Hell, the only time they even so much as touched it was when she put her hand on it.”

She touched it?

“To feel it vibrating,” Nystrom explains, “She said it was making a lot of noise, and I said that it was the inner workings moving about. She asked if she could feel it for herself, and I let her. But... you're not saying that she did something to it, just by touching the thing, are you?”

It's too early to be sure, you say as you shake your head, you might never even get the chance to be sure.

“I see,” that uptight note returns to Nystrom's voice, “I think I'd rather not know.”

Not everyone, you think as you return to Vas, has that luxury. Then, leaving the bar together, you head off to track down Ornstein.

-

“I did a little digging, after the ship sank,” Vas explains as you walk through the streets, “I was looking into the passengers, looking to see if anyone had good reason to bring us down. My proper records went down with the ship, but I had a few rough notes left at my place, leftover from when I was taking people on. Ornstein is a lawyer, and he gave me an address.”

What about the other passengers, you ask, does he remember them all?

“Not all of them,” the captain shrugs, “A bunch of plump cityfolk looking to scratch an itch and play at being adventurers. Most of them blend together after a while. Might be, I'd recognise a name if I saw one, but people can always fake a name.”

That's about as good as you expected, you reply, good enough. This is it, you add as Vas stops outside a relatively new building, this is Ornstein's office?

“This is the address he gave,” Vas frowns, looking at the nicely crafted building, “His home, I wager. It might be better this way – we could take him off guard, showing up at his home like this.”

And he'll be easier to crack, you decide as you knock on the door, not that you're expecting him to be a hard man. Before you can say anything else, the door is opened by a woman just as plump as Ornstein. Glancing down, you spot a gaudy ring on her finger – the wife, you believe.

“Hello... gentlemen,” she has to force that last word out, “Can I help you with anything?”

“Just looking to speak with your husband, ma'am,” Vas turns on the charm, “Just a small matter we needed to discuss.”

A small matter. That's one way of putting it.

[1/2]

File: Ornstein.jpg (139 KB, 512x938)

139 KB JPG

>>373222

Ornstein's first name is Silas. You never knew that.

After calling for her husband, the wife retreated into the building with the kind of discretion more often seen in a well-trained servant. Emerging from a back room, Ornstein spots you and freezes. For a brief moment, you're certain that he'll try to run. In a way, you actually find yourself urging him to run. If nothing else, it would amuse you to see. Then, as if realising the futility of his situation, Ornstein shuffles across and offers you his hand.

Needless to say, you don't shake. A long minute stretches out, and then his hand flops lamely back to his side. Without waiting for anything else, he turns and leads you into the private room at the back, closing the door once you're all inside.

“This is a serious matter, isn't it?” he begins, sensing the tension in the air, “I only ask that we keep this a discrete and respectable matter. This is my home, yes, but it is also my place of business. I have clients to see later, so I simply must keep this room in a presentable condition. No mess, and no fuss. I hate to be a tyrant about this, but I must insist.”

Glancing down at the low table separating you and him, you picture yourself flipping it over, sending the papers stacked up on it flying all about the room. Tempting, but you don't want to waste it on your opening gambit.

“How have you been keeping, Silas?” Vas begins, his voice absurdly jovial, “Terrible bit of business up north, wouldn't you say?”

“Oh, well, yes,” the plump lawyer coughs into a clenched fist, “It's long past time that the Ministry did something about it. Put together an army and settled the matter once and for all. I'll be able to sleep soundly once that's done – I've been having such terrible dreams ever since our ship went down.”

Vas, you notice, stiffens a little when Ornstein says “our ship”. You can't really blame him. What kind of dreams, you ask Ornstein, how terrible are they?

“Every time, I'm standing on the burning deck of the ship,” Ornstein begins, “And the fire must have burned my clothes, because-”

That's enough, you interrupt, you don't need to hear anything else about that particular subject matter. A short silence falls over the room as you consider your options. Vas, it seems, is content to let you take the lead on this. Perhaps he trust your instincts to sniff out Ornstein's weaknesses. His many, many weaknesses.

>We're friends, Silas, so let's work together. You visited the engine room with a woman. Who was she?
>You have a charming wife, Silas, does she know about your mistress?
>Why did you want to go north, Ornstein? You're clearly not suited for it
>Other

FEE FI FO FUM

I SMELL THE BLOOD OF SOME SHITPOST FUN!

>>373258
>>You have a charming wife, Silas, does she know about your mistress?

>>373258
>You have a charming wife, Silas, does she know about your mistress?

>>373258
>>You have a charming wife, Silas, does she know about your mistress?
You're a lawyer, so I'm sure you know-how badly some divorce proceedings go... especially with eye witness testimony.

>>373258
>>You have a charming wife, Silas, does she know about your mistress?

>>373258
>>You have a charming wife, Silas, does she know about your mistress?
Getting to the main point hard and fast.

>>373258
>>You have a charming wife, Silas, does she know about your mistress?

>>373258
>You have a charming wife, Silas, does she know about your mistress?

>>373258
>>You have a charming wife, Silas, does she know about your mistress?
> Pull knife. "How much would that hurt her?"

>>373300
>threaten divorce
Hunters of the olden days stalked and killed their prey without mercy. The modern Hunter knows the law and tells the wife of evildoer.

>>373319
The fuck are you pulling a knife for?

>>373347
And what are you pulling out of your ass here?

He certainly has a charming wife, you begin in a voice as sly as a stiletto dagger, but does she know about his mistress? He's well acquainted with the law, so you don't need to tell him how harsh some divorces can be – especially when there are people willing to act as witnesses.

“She is not my mistress!” Ornstein protests, his immediate reaction only sealing his fate.

But he wanted her to be, you press, is that it?

“I... don't...” through gritted teeth, Ornstein spits out his words as slowly as possible. Stalling for time, perhaps? “I know exactly what you're implication is, and I must say that I resent it,” he hisses eventually, “You are taking a mere politeness, and you're spinning out like some tawdry gossip. Well, I won't stand for it!”

So explain the situation, you offer with a shrug, put an end to this “tawdry gossip” before it becomes a rapidly spreading rumour. You've heard that stories like that can pass from person to person very quickly indeed – it can be impossible to stop.

Oh, there's anger in Ornstein's eyes now – the sick, gutless anger of a man who knows when he is beaten. “She told me that her name was Hebona,” he sighs eventually, “She was supposed to journey north with a friend – a male friend – but circumstances forced her to travel alone. By a twist of fate, we found ourselves sharing conversation and common interests. I had always wanted to sail on one of the great ships, and she had always wanted to see the heart of one. Yes, I won't deny it – we went down there together. I know what you're trying to imply, but I simply must urge you to reconsider. How could you think I had anything to do with what happened? Do you really think I'd put myself in that much danger?”

You look him up and down, taking in his paunch, his fine clothing, and his lack of resolve. No, you admit, he doesn't seem the type. Vas snorts out a derisive laugh at that, and Ornstein colours angrily.

“I suppose I should feel glad to be insulted in such base terms,” he mutters, “When the alternative is laid out before me.”

Hebona, you ask as you steer the conversation back on track, what can he tell you about her?

“She was... enchanting,” despite himself, Ornstein lets out a pathetic little sigh, “Really. I can't say what it was that drew my eye at first, but-”

“You see her naked?” Vas asks suddenly, “Her body, her breasts?”

“I'll thank you not to bring such vulgar language into this house,” the plump lawyer protests, “Our relationship – brief as it was – was entirely platonic. There was no... none of that kind of thing!”

So no way of knowing whether this Hebona was covered in tattoos or not. Damn.

[1/2]

>>373060
Thanks senpai

>>373441

“In either case,” Ornstein stiffly tries to bring the conversation back to what he must consider safer ground, “We didn't know each other very long, so I don't know how much I can tell you. She offered little about herself – she was more interested in me, in fact. But I know one thing, and that is that she is innocent as well. She was no saboteur, no assassin or barbarian. I can promise you that, at least!”

Flattering his ego, you think, and making him easy to manipulate. She played him like a fiddle, and now he's still defending her. There was nothing else he can offer you, you ask, nothing about her that springs to mind?

“Her dark glasses,” Ornstein says after a moment, “That was how we started our conversation – I still had my spectacles at that point, and she said I'd be better off with tinted lenses. The glare from the snow, she said.”

Suggesting, you think to yourself, that she has some experience of the north. A pampered city lady wouldn't have thought of something so practical.

“But that's all I can tell you!” the lawyer insists, “That's it - no address, not even a city of birth. Perhaps if we'd had the chance to talk some more, she would have opened up a little, but...” he flaps his hands in a futile gesture, “I've told you everything I can. Now, I need you to promise me something. This... grubby talk of mistresses. It ends here, now, and it never leaves this room. Is that understood?”

Looking at Ornstein, then, you see him for what he really is – a fool, putty in the hands of a skilled manipulator. A vain, gullible idiot who eagerly swallowed the hook, just because it was baited with a few compliments.

“Henryk?” he presses, leaning forwards a little.

You wouldn't waste your breath, you tell him scornfully.

>I think I'm going to have to end things here for today. I'll pick up here tomorrow, starting at pretty much the same time, and I can stick around for a while in case anyone has any questions
>Thanks to everyone who contributed today!

>>373523
Thanks for running Moloch.

>>373523
Thanks for running!

>>373523
Thanks for running!

>>373523

Thanks for running man

>>373523
Thanks!

>>373523
Thanks for running Moloch, see ya next time.

>>373523

Ayy Moloch, what exactly is the tech level we're dealing with here as far as our weapons are concerned? Are they like ww1 era bolt actions rifles and pistols? Civil war era stuff? How long does it take to reload our guns?

>>372664

The fuck you on about?

>>374736
Shh

Don't talk to it.

Don't engage it.

Don't think about it.

Don't breathe near it.

>>374045

>Hello, sorry for the late reply. Our weapons are fairly modern - our pistol is magazine fed and semi-automatic, while our shotgun is pump action. Specialised hunting rifles tend to be single shot, due to the size of the ammunition used. In terms of reloading, we're reasonably quick – Henyrk is pretty good at this!
>The next post should be up in 15 minutes or so

>>376232
Flamethrower when?
Explosive Pile Driver when?

>>376238

>Well, flamethrowers are a thing, but they're typically only used against swarms of smaller creatures - nobody wants a burning werewolf to lunch at them!
>Never ever

Ornstein's hand shakes a little as he pours out a measure of brandy from a crystal glass decanter. It's no wonder that he might be feeling a little nervous, a little uneasy – he's had quite the shock. Just having two gentlemen – although there was nothing gentle about the chain of events that brought you and Vas to his doorstep – show up and start throwing about accusations would be enough to unsettle anyone. Even so, there's no excuse for forgetting the basic rules of etiquette.

The bastard hasn't even offered you a drink.

As Ornstein stares forlornly at the wall, Vas pulls you aside and drops his voice low. “I don't think we're going to get much else out of him,” he murmurs, “This woman, this Hebona – she's the one we're looking for.”

Agreed, you mutter back, but how are you supposed to find her?

“I can check my records, but I wager she'll have used a fake name. If she got off the ship, though, some of my men might have seen her. She would have needed to get one of the rafts,” Vas pauses, a bitter look crossing his face, “Though... I don't recall seeing her at all when we were picked up. Some of the rafts went missing sometime between the ship sinking and the rescue ship picking us up. She would have had plenty of time to give us the slip. If she was working with those barbarians...”

She could have made it onto their ship, you finish, and out of your grasp.

“I'm going to do some more digging,” Vas nods to himself, “Speak to some people. These things take time, though, so I'll write to you when – if - I get anything.” Grim faced, he claps you on the shoulder, “We'll get to the bottom of this, Henryk, even if it takes us two hundred years. For now, though... the sooner I get started the better.” He turns to leave, but then he pauses, “Oh, your girl.”

Lize, you say the name with a frown, she's not “your” girl.

“She was up on deck while the rafts were leaving,” Vas gives you an unreadable look, “Maybe she saw something. If you can track her down, it might be worth speaking to her. A long shot, I know, but...”

But anything is worth a shot, you agree, you'll keep that in mind. With one final, firm nod, Vas strides out of the house. He doesn't even spare Ornstein a passing glance. You start to leave as well, before pausing and considering your next move. You've probably missed the autopsy at the Ministry outpost by now, but you might still be able to get the results. If it really was Red Eye Sickness that had left the beast deformed, it would be an unprecedented event.

Interesting times.

>Head to the Ministry outpost
>Head back to the tenement to speak with Lize
>Ask Ornstein a few more questions (Write in)
>Other

>>376244
>>Never ever
Dropped.
>>376246
>Head to the Ministry outpost

>>376244
>>Never ever
pls

>>376246
>Head to the Ministry outpost

>>376246
>Head back to the Ministry outpost

>>376248
>>376249

>Fun, unfortunately, is against League Regulations!

>>376246
>Head to the Ministry outpost

File: Spoiler Image (20 KB, 408x409)

20 KB JPG

>>376246
>>Head to the Ministry outpost

>>376244
aw at poilers

>>376251
Maybe we should head down south, then.

>>376256
Long live the the south

>>376246
>Head to the Ministry outpost

You might as well check in at the Ministry outpost before you do anything else. You might have missed the performance, but you can still catch the review. If nothing else, it'll satisfy your curiosity – you've never much cared for leaving a matter half-finished. As you start to head out, following Vas on his way, Ornstein speaks up one last time. Still facing the wall, facing away from you, his voice seeps lifelessly from him.

“Henryk,” he says flatly, “Don't come to my home again.”

You won't, you promise, so long as he doesn't give you good reason to.

He doesn't reply to that. There would be no point - you've both said everything that there is to say on the matter.

-

In the afternoon sunlight – weak, distant sunlight it may be – the Ministry outpost looks very different. In the dark of a storm-blighted night, it seemed like a beacon of comfort and safety, but now, it looks like just another sterile office building. Save for the discrete sign above the door – the bull's head mark of the Ministry – it could be a shop, a home, or a craftsman's workshop. The impression you get is so different that you have to check to see if this is the same place. When you're sure that it is, you push the door open and enter.

The same clerk that you met last night is still here, his eyes dark with fatigue and lively with caffeine. Southern coffee, you expect, a luxury that he might soon come to miss. He sits behind the front desk, his back stiff and his shoulders bunched, and you can't help but notice the flinch that runs through him at the sight of you. Perhaps he had been expecting – hoping – you would have forgotten the matter by daybreak. Tough luck then – like any good hunting hound, you're not easily shaken off.

The entire office has a strong medicinal smell, like every surface has been scrubbed down with disinfectant. Of the doctor, there is no sign.

[1/2]

>>376283

“I'm sorry,” he yelps out when you approach him, “But there's nothing here for you. You might as well leave, I've got nothing to report.”

Nothing, you repeat softly, that's unusual. Listen...

“Nils,” he offers reluctantly, wincing as if confessing his name was a grave and fatal error.

Listen Nils, you continue, there was something wrong with that beast when you brought it in. You could tell that just by looking at it – so is he trying to say that you were wrong, that there was nothing special at all about it? What did the doctor have to say about it?

“He...” Nils swallows hard, “Nothing. They... he, I mean, he just looked at it and disposed of the body. That's all – he never said anything to me.”

There was more than one doctor, you realise, and that seems excessive. Even for an infection like this, something that might as well be unheard of in the streets of Thar Dreyse, it's odd for several College doctors to take on a single case. By nature, they tend towards paranoia and secretive research. All in all, this entire situation stinks – and you don't just mean the disinfectant smell that hangs over you like a shroud.

“As I said, you might as well go away,” Nils snaps, “There's nothing here for you.”

Just what is he hiding, you wonder, and why?

>Could I get a Diplomacy roll please? That would be 1D100-5, and this is aiming to beat 60/80. I'll take the highest of the first three rolls.

Rolled 18 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>376286

Rolled 66 - 5 (1d100 - 5)

>>376286

Rolled 23 - 5 (1d100 - 5)

>>376286

Listen, you press, you know he's lying about something. You know all too well that he's trying to cover up some kind of mess – you just want the details. After doing the hard work of bringing the damn beast in, don't you deserve a few answers at least?

“I wish you'd never brought it in!” Nils snaps, slamming his palm down on the desk, “That damn thing... I should have just burned it straight away, I wish I had!”

Why, you ask as you sit opposite him and look the nervous man dead in the eye, what happened while you were away?

“It...” the flash of anger, of backbone, vanishes as Nils wilts a little, “Two doctors arrived, far sooner than I had been expecting. It would have taken several hours for them to arrive from Petrovar, but they were here within the hour. When I explained what happened, how you brought it in and the condition it was in, they seemed... unsurprised. Like they had been expecting this, like they were prepared for it.”

The autopsy, you press, did they perform an autopsy here?

“Not much of one,” Nils shakes his head, “They looked the body over, and then they started to cut into it. They started with the... the head.” He lapses into silence for a long moment, but before you can press him again, he speaks up once more. “What a fucking mess,” he mutters to himself, “They opened up the skull, and...”

A horrible suspicion begins to form in your mind. Closing your eyes for a moment, you picture men cutting open a whale, a tide of parasites boiling forth from the beast's innards. Every one of them, hungry and desperate to find a new host.

“I don't even think they, the doctors, expected so many of them to burst out, or for them to be so active,” the clerk shudders, “Maggots, with piercing jaws... I've never seen the like. One of them bit onto the first doctor. I shut the door then, and I didn't open it until I thought it was over.”

That bite, you think, would have spread the infection to a human host. League regulations are very clear about this – the contaminated doctor needed to die, to shut down any infection before it could become an epidemic. What happened then, you ask, what did the doctors do?

“The second doctor told me to burn the beast's body. He had the other doctor in a body bag, but... but I could see it moving slightly. Like he just stunned, drugged, I don't know,” Nils shudders, “Then he took the body bag and left. I burned the beast's corpse not long after.”

And that's it, you conclude, neither doctor gave a name?

“No names,” Nils breaks eye contact, looking down at his desk, “They barely spoke at all. I've told you everything I know, so please – just leave me alone.”

>Fine. I'm going
>I had a question for you... (Write in)
>Other

>>376311
>Fine. I'm going

>>376311
>>I had a question for you... (Write in)
"Did these doctors have identification that they were from the Ministry or did they just say they were?"

>>376311
>>Fine. I'm going
We can come back later to check whether anyone official talked to him again.

>>376316
They knew about the monster, still wanted to cut it open, failed, let Nils burn it and left with one infected body - intrigue? rogue section 9? cultists?

>>376316
Seconding this, and ask if they know where they went. After all, the other doc may be infected as well. We don't know how long the symptoms stay undetected.

>>376331
Please don't namefag.

>>376334
Taking part in a seperate civ thread where I need this to keep it clear,as there are a shitton of factions. No point in taking it off.

>>376316
Supporting

>>376311
I think we should just leave him be. Maybe come back again at a later date when he's had a chance to regain some decorum.
>Fine. I'm going

Before you leave, you mention, you just had one question – these doctors, did they present any kind of identification? They should have been carrying League papers – did he, Nils, ever see them?

“They...” Nils pauses, looking down at his desk once more as he tries to conjure up a likely story, “I never asked. I didn't think I needed to.”

So he never saw any papers, you confirm, and he only assumed that they were from the Ministry.

“I wasn't thinking clearly,” he whines, rising to defend his competence, “They arrived so quickly, I hadn't had the time to think things over! I mean, who else would they have been? For anyone else to carry out an autopsy on a beast like that, without League training... it's illegal, the consequences of it-”

It doesn't matter now, you sigh, you're finished here. He can go back to his important work.

-

After leaving the Ministry outpost, you decide to wander for a while and clear your mind. You're almost certain that the two doctors weren't legitimate, either operating without training or trying to avoid official attention. Neither option is particularly good – you've heard horror stories about backstreet doctors operating without training, and the butchery they so often left in their wake. Bad enough with a normal disease, but something like the Red Eye Sickness could be a true disaster.

And why, you ask yourself, would the remaining doctor keep his infected colleague alive? Of course, you don't really need to think long before a horrific idea surfaces in your mind – a live test subject. When you consider that possibility, the idea of the doctors threatening Nils to silence becomes increasingly likely. Just what could they be trying to protect?

As much as your curiosity urges you onwards, you start to wonder if this is really an avenue worth following – it's dangerous, and no mistake. Even if you wanted to pursue the matter further, you're not sure where to start. Someone at Petrovar, the College city, might be able to tell you more, but they hardly have any reason to trust a wandering Hunter like you. Perhaps it's best just to report the matter to the Ministry and leave it in someone else's hands. In either case, you think as you return to your tenement, you'll decide later.

-

“You got mail,” Anders grunts as you enter, not looking up from his mop.

Sparing him the exact same courtesy – barely acknowledging his presence – you check your mailbox. A priority telegram from the Ministry – new orders, new work that needs doing. Breathing out a faint curse, you stuff the telegram into your pocket and head up to your apartment.

[1/2]

File: The Free States.png (264 KB, 816x1410)

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>>376390

Halfway up, curiosity gets the better of you, and you tear into the sealed orders. The brief is simple – head to settlement of Nebel, meet up with the local Ministry representative and settle the matter. It's not hard to imagine what the matter might be – when you're a Hunter, your jobs all tend to boil down to the same task, search and destroy. It's work you do well, and you don't begrudge it the monotony. Still, would it kill them to be a little more specific about what you have to kill?

It's still a novelty, coming into your apartment to find someone else there. Lize sits by the window, staring off into space as a radio play murmurs away in the background. Her lips follow along with the words, as if this was how she had learned a rougher way of speaking. Maybe it was – her acting was transparent enough. When you close the door, a little louder than you needed to, she jolts up and turns around.

“Henryk, hey,” she tilts her head, “I thought you had a train to catch?”

Long story, you tell her, but you might have one later. Work again – and you might not get back for a day or two. Then, as you remember Vas' words, you ask her a question. That night the ship went down, you begin, did she see a woman getting onto one of the rafts? You don't have much of a description to go on, but she might have been wearing dark glasses.

“Yeah? Yeah!” Lize snaps her fingers, “That's weird, isn't it? I mean, wearing dark glasses like that at night – I DO remember her. The raft she got into was only half-full, but she cut it loose right away. Things were so messed up that I guess nobody really knew what was going on, but... I don't know, I remember seeing that pretty clearly. She didn't look panicked or nothing, like she knew exactly what she was doing when she left the others behind.”

Cold bitch, you murmur before returning your thoughts to Lize, did she ever see this woman again?

“You mean when we were picked up? No, I never saw her,” Lize shakes her head, “I guess she didn't make it. Some of the boats went down, you know? She might have been on one of them.”

Maybe, you mutter, or maybe not.

“So hey, you said you had work, right?” Lize tries to brighten the mood a little, forcing a lighter tone into her voice, “Where are you headed?”

Nebel, you tell her as you take a map from your desk, a little place on the coast. Ever heard of it?

“Never in my life,” she shakes her head, “I guess it's not anything you need my help with, right? I mean, not that I could be much help. Oh hey, I know what I could do!”

You know exactly what she's about to say...

“You'll need someone to look after things here, right?” Lize offers, with a big foolish smile, “And I could use a place to stay. Great idea, right?”

You just sigh.

>Fine, maybe you're right
>Lizbeth, we need to talk...
>Sorry, you'll have to find somewhere else to stay
>Other

>>376465
Hey Moloch, is hair dye a thing in this world?

>>376465
>Fine, maybe you're right

>>376465
>>Lizbeth, we need to talk...
Might as well talk this over now before it gets too late.

>>376465
>>Lizbeth, we need to talk...

>>376478

>In a fairly crude form, yes. Hair can be bleached or darkened, but bright colors aren't possible. Black or brown hair would be possible, but not something like blue.

>>376465
>>Lizbeth, we need to talk...

>>376491
Mmmk

>>376465
>Fine, maybe you're right
>Lizbeth, we need to talk...
>Other
"Look if you are going to be staying here while I am gone you'll eventually want to go outside and since this is your home city your bright red hair is kind of a big give away. So let's darken it to black and if anyone asks you are my younger sister."

>Acquire Dye before leaving.

>>376504
Fine maybe you're right

>>376465
>>Fine, maybe you're right
>>Lizbeth, we need to talk...

>>376504
This could work, supporting

>>376511
>>376504
Whoops I meant supporting this.

>>376504
>dye hair, younger sister
Makes sense!

Fine, you sigh again, maybe she's right – maybe having someone here to watch the place isn't such a bad idea. There's just one matter you've got to settle first.

“Yeah?” Lize, still riding high on this small victory, grins as she waits for you to continue.

Lizbeth, you tell her grimly, you're going to need to have a good long talk with her.

“This... name thing again?” her smile falters a little, the colour draining from her face, “Henryk, c'mon, I'm not-”

Lizbeth Akilina Alkaev, you allow the name to slip from your tongue before falling silent and waiting for her reaction. What will it be, you wonder, sullen resignation or a petulant tantrum?

If Lize hadn't already been sitting down, you wager she would have stumbled and fallen. The strength seems to leave her body, and she slides a few inches lower down. Silent for a long moment, she finally lets out a hollow little laugh. “My parents, right? I guess...”

A missing person poster, you explain, up in Port Daud.

“You've known since then?” Lize's eyes first widen in surprise, and then narrow in suspicion, “And you never turned me in. I mean, I reckon my folks would have put up a reward or something, so...”

There is a reward, you confirm, and you're sure it would be quite the substantial purse. Still, the money was of no interest to you. There, in the Alkaev manor, you saw what she was getting away from. Her parents..

“My grandmother was seventy when her blood first soured and turned on her,” Lize begins, “By the end of it, she couldn't leave her bed, she barely recognised us half the time, she was... she wasn't herself. My mother is fifty – or close enough – and it's started already. Say the same thing happens with me, and I start to feel it at thirty, that means I'm halfway dead already. I know that I can't run from what's in my blood – I know that – but... I just wanted to see a bit of the world.” She meets your eye, a burning desperation filling her face as she does so. “You can understand that, right?” she insists, “I mean, you get to travel all over the place, up north and everything. I just wanted to live like that for a change, rather than being sealed away in that manor all my life.”

The rush of words nearly leaves you stunned, caught off-guard by the sudden confession. It's as if every fear and pain that Lize had been keeping inside of her has come rushing out, pouring out like water spilling from an upturned glass. When she has run out of steam, she simply falls silent and waits, waiting for you to... what, throw her out, cast her aside like a broken toy?

That's not going to happen, you decide with a sudden rush of resolve, it won't.

[1/2]

>>376571
Well since we do travel the world it wouldn't hurt to go out of our way a little to ask different towns and people about potential cures to the Dragon's Blood Madness if there is one.

>>376586
I think our dear Artemis will be the most prolific choice regarding that

>>376601
Yeah probably. Can't really tell Lize about that one though.

>>376607
Maybe ask Artemis' permission to tell Lize?

>>376609
She probably won't care as long as it doesn't get in her/your way. Lize is the problem, she might not know what to think about it and we have no real reason to tell her. Maybe if she asks, but no reason to go out of the way to tell her we're killing things for a possibly bloodthirsty goddess.

>>376609
Eh for right now I think we should keep Artemis' existence to our self. If we somehow have a cure for Dragon's Blood we can just say we pieced it together from our travels.

We should make a little trophy space for the 12

>>376632
i think we just give the goddess of the hunt the trophy and we dont keep it

>>376465
>Artyom
>Melnick

Did someone play/read Metro not long ago?

>>376633
I think she gets a metaphysical part of our quarries and we get stuff like the ear.

>>376642
I don't even know where the ear is anymore.

>>376636

>Maybe
Yes
>Sorry that this next post is taking a while, I can't quite get it worded right. It should be finished soon

>>376647
It's fine dude. I enjoy your writing, so I doubt I or anyone else is gonna harangue you for it.

>>376571

She can't stay in this small apartment, you begin, not all the time. What she needs-

“You're throwing me out,” she groans softly, “I knew it, I knew you would-”

She'll want to go out now and again, you cut in, won't she? But that hair of hers – it'll attract too much attention, and someone might get suspicious. There are enough people out there desperate enough for that reward, and they wouldn't think twice about dragging her back to her family. So what you're going to do is, you'll help her dye it black. If anyone asks, she can say she's your sister – maybe not a perfect excuse, but it should be enough for now.

“You really mean that?” Lize's voice is very small, wondrous and amazed, “I mean, you'd do that for me?”

Sure, you reply with a shrug, but you couldn't say why. Perhaps it's just nice to have someone else around the house. Besides, you've seen what she'd be returning to – you wouldn't wish that on anyone.

“Yeah, it's...” her voice catches, faltering for a moment, “It's not much fun.”

A memory, then, of Barroch's maddened roar, a roar that seemed to shake the manor to its foundations. No, you agree quietly as that memory echoes through your mind, you can't imagine it is.

-

You've never dyed someone's hair before, but you're almost entirely sure it isn't supposed to stain your hands coal black. Still, the deed is done, and Lize's hair has been darkened down to near-blackness. That, paired with the difference in length, should be enough to fool a passing glance. She looks a bit like a drowned rat, but that will pass.

So, you ask, what does she know about this affliction?

“It's something to do with the Dragon's Blood, and it's not just my family that suffers from it,” she pauses, glancing at her unfamiliar reflection, “I hear the other noble families fall victim to it as well. If the precise cause has been discovered, I was never taught about it.” A bitter smile touches her lips, then. “But I suppose that makes sense. I found out myself, and look what happened to me.”

Someone at the College might know, you offer, you wager all knowledge finds its way through their archives sooner or later. Still, that would require them to reveal their secrets....

“Yeah, maybe, but-” Lize pauses, glancing up at your clock, “Henryk, hey, you had a train to catch!”

Cursing aloud, you check the clock. You're not late – yet – but you don't have much time to waste either. When you start to check your pack, however, you come across your latest trophy. Lifting it out and carefully setting it aside, you begin to wonder if Artemis could tell you anything about the Dragon's Blood. Who else could you turn to, if mundane sources of information fail you?

Worry about that later. If you want to catch the next train out, you'll have to make a move now.

>Head for the next train
>Catch the next train, you've got something else to take care of (Write in)
>Other

>>376658
>>Head for the next train

>>376658
>>Catch the next train, you've got something else to take care of (Write in)

>Crap, that should have been the train after next. My mistake

>>376658
>Head for the next train

>>376670
seconded.

>>376658
Head for the next train

>>376658
>>Head for the next train

>>376658
>>Head for the next train

>>376658
>>Head for the next train

>>376658
>>Head for the next train
What do people think about bringing Lize along for future adventures? I'd also like to develop some in character reason for helping her out since it does seem a bit out of character for Henryk. Maybe she can be useful and cook meals or something?

>>376693
I don't doubt that she is going to ask sometime later. We'll see what the situation is when she does.

>>376693
She only can do scrambled eggs.
Maybe just give Henryk a soft spot for a younger sister he never had.

>>376702
We could tell her to put herself to good use, not just be a freeloader. Tell her to try to learn how to cook and maybe clean up the place a bit.

>>376717
was thinking more in skills of helping us in ur job, she seems to be good at pocketing,, mybe we can use that as in get her used to finding info for us and distracting people, going to have to teach her how to use a knife at sum point

>>376717
>Tell her to try to learn how to cook and maybe clean up the place a bit.
Supporting

>>376693
She knows how to fight with a sword remember?

>>376729
i forgot lol thats right we walked in on her swning it around, well then she can help us kill things then

>>376729
I'd like to teach her to protect herself after we get a bit closer, some swordplay might not be all that much.

>>376658
>>Head for the next train

>>376729
>>376736
You gotta be really good at fencing to actually use it a real life battle other than fancy noble duels. We'll have to give her more practice and in the practical fighting sense.

>>376743
learn faster if you life is on the line
ether way we need her outside working/ learning with us fristhand exp and all that, she wount get better or usefull if all she dose is chill at home and cook eggs

>>376736
>>376743
>Trying to hunt with a sword.

You're going to at least need a spear. Though a gun would still be leagues better.

>>376751
the things we are hunting i dont think a gun would do to much other then to piss it off.
sword should be fine for killing people which we probs going to have too at some point

>>376751
We hunt with a knife. I think a bit of a 'rule of cool' is in effect here. A sword would work fine as long as you're competent with it I'd imagine.

>>376756
Don't forget we are a professional hunter. If we're carrying a handgun, it means it works.

Besides, do you really want to send a 16-year old girl into melee combat?

>>376766
Not if we can help it, but if she does come with us she'll need to learn how to protect herself competently, against man and beast.

>>376766
isnt that how we sorta become a hunter?
druged out and had to kill things in the woods to find our way back home?
but cqc is going to happen and she needs to be able to fight, at the same time, do we even have the funds to buy her one and ammo? sword play will be cheaper and easyer at this point since you dont need things to shoot at

Slinging your pack over your shoulder and grabbing the shotgun Vas gave you, you begin to head out. Just before you leave, you call out to Lize, reminding her to be careful. Even with your recent precautions, there's no need to take any unnecessary risks.

“I'll be fine,” Lize flaps her hands at you, urging you away like a child waiting for their parent to leave them alone, “Go on, you'll be late!”

Nagging you already, you think with a faint smile as you hurry from the apartment.

-

For the second time today, you arrive at the main station just as the train is pulling in. You get a few funny looks – as a rough looking man carrying a shotgun, you could easily be mistaken for a common criminal – but your League papers smooth out any problems the guards have. A Hunter needs to travel freely, and he needs to travel armed. Two perks of the job that you won't turn your nose up at. Settling into the worn leather seat, you look out the window and let the clatter of the train lull you into a trance. As it begins to crawl out of the station, you think about the last train journey you took, and the passenger you had shared the journey with.

Just why, you wonder, have you gone so far out of your way for Lize? She's not much of a cook, and she showed little sign of cleaning up after herself. True enough, it's nice to have someone else around, but that's more of an advantage than motivation. Could it just be pity that motivated you? Maybe so, or maybe it was just a whim, a spur of the moment decision. You've never been much of an introspective person – you trust your instincts, and those instincts led you to take the girl under your wing.

Still, it would be nice if she could cook a little, and pull her weight. Maybe you'll teach her a few things when you get the chance, when you can scrape together a little free time.

As you think on these matters, the train rumbles on towards Nebel – towards whatever beast awaits you.

-

Compared with the grand station at Thar Dreyse, the shack that the train pulls up next to seems like a slum, something thrown together from the ruins of a far nicer structure. Then again, that could describe most of Nebel – it was nice once, but not the creeping touch of disrepair and decay has settled in. Surrounded by thick forests and the open ocean, the settlement mainly deals in lumber, tinned fish and misery.

From the moment you step off the train, you know that something is very wrong here. Sharpened stakes have been driven down into the ground either side of the train tracks, and in a wide circle around the town itself. A forest of spears to keep away some terrible monster. The same monster, you don't doubt, that you're here to kill.

First things first, find the local Ministry official and get your orders. The rest can wait.

[1/2]

>>376781
I think as a Hunter we are requisitioned guns and ammo.

>>376790
but she isnt a hunter so might have to buy them for her
or we just get the right to go hunting but have to get your own wepons for it? idk its up to op
we better be getting good pay for this shit

>>376789

“The problem, as it first appears, is simple,” Ingvar, the local Ministry man, begins, “Yet, like most things in life, there's more going on than first appears.”

Speaking of first appearances, your first impression of Ingvar is one of great tiredness. He looks like the kind of man who sleeps two hours a night, and feels grateful for getting that much. A straggly beard covers his chin – a beard worn more out of apathy than anything else – while his hair hasn't seen a brush in a very long time indeed. So, you prompt him, what's the problem?

“We have a beast stalking us by night,” he explains slowly, “We used to have a Hunter living here permanently, until he was mauled to death. By the same beast he was hunting, I reckon. So, I send word to the capital for a better man. That would be you – the simple part of the task, then, is to track down this beast and kill it.”

Which is indeed simple, you agree, so where's the catch?

“Someone else has decided to take this monster down,” Ingvar's voice grows contemptuous, “An amateur – someone without League training. I'd like you to get him to stand down. That, or drag him to the capital so he can get his papers in order. I run a tight ship here, and having an unlicensed hunter running about makes me look bad. Not only that, but it's only a matter of time before he gets himself killed.”

That sounds like it would solve the problem, you point out, so why not let them take a shot at it?

“If he was just putting his own life on the line, I might just do that,” Ingvar runs a hand across his bearded chin, “But there are two problems. First of all, he seems intent on whipping the people up into a frenzy. He's already talking about hunting parties and sweeping the forests clear. The people here are not trained for that – not even close.”

And the second problem?

“This pretender... he owns the largest lumber mill in Nebel. If he died, it would go to his three sons – and every one of them is an idiot. The town, I fear, would suffer for his death. That's why I want you to talk him down,” Ingvar slumps an inch lower, “Or at least keep him alive. When the beast is dead, escort him to Thar Dreyse so he can be dealt with properly. His name is Nero Zelkova, and anyone in town will be able to point you to his dwellings. Those are your orders, Hunter – any questions?”

>Can you tell me a little about Nero?
>Do you know anything about this beast?
>I had a question for you... (Write in)
>Other

>>376848
Tell me, do you know of anything this Nero would want hidden?

>>376848
>Can you tell me a little about Nero?
>Do you know anything about this beast?
"Any obvious weaknesses?"

>>376848
>>Can you tell me a little about Nero?
>>Do you know anything about this beast?

>>376848
>Can you tell me a little about Nero?
>Do you know anything about this beast?

>>376848
>>Can you tell me a little about Nero?
>>Do you know anything about this beast?
Maybe something we can use to make Nero stand down and let us do our job. Then asking about the monster to be a bit more prepared and make sure our weapons will cover the job.

>>376848
>>Can you tell me a little about Nero?
>>Do you know anything about this beast?

>>376848
>>Do you know anything about this beast?

What can he tell you about this Nero, you ask, any interesting details?

“He's old, he's rich, and – if you ask me - he's got far too much time on his hands,” Ingvar grunts, “I'm almost convinced that this is all some misguided attempt at acting young. As I understand it, he spend most of his life building up a business here – making money first, and then making heirs later. Sometimes, with men like that, they start to wonder if they've wasted their lives – often, they end up doing something stupid to make up for lost time.” He adds a derisive snort at the end of his answer, as if brushing off the entire matter as a farce.

Is there anything he might want hidden, you ask carefully, any reason he might have for keeping outsiders from prying?

“When he was younger, there was talk that he had a mistress in the capital – maybe even a second wife,” Ingvar allows a nasty smile to show on his face, “But I think he's long past worrying about mistresses, and in either case, that's not a local problem. As local matters go... I don't know.” He shrugs. “Really, he's quite open,” Ingvar's expressions sours, “About a lot of things. His place in this town, for example. He makes little attempt to hide the fact that he considers himself the leader of our little settlement.”

Could it be, you suggest, that he resents an outsider coming in to solve a problem in “his” town?

“Maybe so,” Ingvar gives a vague shrug, “I dislike the man, and he's never been very fond of me either. I've lived here half my life, and he still thinks of me as a capital man. He certainly has little love for cityfolk.”

You can't entirely disagree with Nero in that regard, but you keep that opinion to yourself. Can he think of anything that might convince Nero to stand down, you ask, or are going to have to improvise?

“Oh, I don't know,” Ingvar throws his hands up in frustration, “I've told him before that he's too damn old for this, but he won't hear it from me. Coming from a Hunter – a professional – might make it easier to swallow, though.”

Good enough to start with, you decide, so what about this beast – what can he tell you about it?

“Ask three different people and you'll get four different stories,” the Ministry man snorts, “Sometimes, people will talk about hearing things in the forest – heavy breathing, breaking branches, whatever – and other times, they'll talk of seeing shapes moving outside of town. You saw the stakes when you arrived, didn't you? They were set up to guard the train lines, and to ward off anything from attacking that side of town.”

[1/2]

>>376964

You asked if he knew anything, you stress, not what the people are saying. People say a lot of things, especially when once rumours start to circulate. You're looking for concrete details – how much firepower will you need to put this thing down?

“Alright, fine, the most consistent reports seem to agree on a few things,” Ingvar stands, heaving himself painfully from his chair, “It moves on four legs, although some say it can stand on two. It's both taller and broader than a man, although the exact degree varies. Some say it has horns, others don't – about a half and half split, I wager. As for weapons, give me a minute.”

Lurching away – you find yourself vaguely wondering what trauma left Ingvar with that nasty limp – the Ministry man unlocks a small back room and crashes about for a moment. When he returns, he has a dusty old rifle in his hands. Carefully setting it down on his desk, he gestures at the weapon, inviting you to take a look. It's not unusual, you think, for local Ministry outposts to keep a few weapons on hand for visiting Hunters. Usually, though, they're-

“That's not a gift, by the by,” Ingvar interrupts your thoughts, “I'll want that back when you're finished. As I recall, that should put a hole in anything that stalks these territories, and it's reliable... mostly.”

Perhaps that's where he got the limp, you think as you draw back the bolt on the rifle and peer inside. A little dusty, just like the outside, but otherwise flawless. Looking up from the weapon, you give Ingvar your genuine thanks.

“Just don't break it,” he grunts, settling back down in his well-used chair, “Now don't you have any work to do?”

One last question, you insist, does he know of any obvious weaknesses this beast might have?

“Just shoot the bastard in the face,” Ingvar sighs, staring up at the ceiling, “That should do the job.”

That does tend to do the trick, you agree. His pithy response tells you one thing, at least – Ingvar himself has never even come close to seeing this beast. Perhaps Nero himself might be able to offer more reliable information.

Reliable, at least, for an amateur.

>I think I'm going to have to stop here for today, I'd like to do the next bit in one sitting. I'll pick this up tomorrow, and I'll be lurking in case anyone has any questions!
>Thanks to everyone who contributed today!

>>377015
Thanks for running Moloch.

Quick question.

Lize has Dragon's Blood which if I remember right came with the abilities to get in close gaps and do a lot of damage to an opponent. So does that mean potentially if she had training Lize would be better at CQC Melee combat than us if she had better training?

Or does would she need to go through some crazy Hunter ritual to 'activate' her blood so to speak? I know we had some initiation thing, but I think that was just a final test of our abilities as opposed to activating them.

>>377044

Lize, with her Dragon's Blood, would make a pretty effective close combat fighter with a little training. She wouldn't need any special rites or rituals to achieve her potential - upon reaching physical maturity, her blood would automatically grant her its power.
Still, she is a teenage girl, so I wouldn't expect too much from her at the moment.

>>377069
>would make a pretty effective close combat fighter with a little training
Sidekick! Robin to our Batman!
>>377015
Thank you for running this quest! I enjoy reading it!

>>377467
>Sidekick! Robin to our Batman!
Not quite. Remember her blood hasn't activated yet and won't for quite a few years. As it stands she is a regular teenage girl. Teaching her to defend herself better is one thing, but we shouldn't take her Hunting or any other dangerous task that we get saddled with.

haha i knew it
mybe not when we are hunting the 12 but eaasyer jobs we can take/show her the ropes.
also thanks op

>>376848
>“This pretender... he owns the largest lumber mill in Nebel. If he died, it would go to his three sons – and every one of them is an idiot.


Hey there Yuan Shao

Leaving Ingvar and the local Ministry office behind you, you step out into the streets of Nebel and take in the atmosphere. Cold air, the soft rustle of wind stirring the trees, and the smell of the wilderness, mingling with the salt scent of the nearby ocean. Your kind of place, you've got to admit, far more than the industrial hell of Port Daud or the controlled chaos of the capital. Here, out on the frontier, you can really let yourself relax.

Well, as much as you ever relax. Which isn't much.

The rifle Ingvar loaned you already has a sling – a worn strap of cracked, musty leather – so you hang the weapon over one shoulder and begin to wander, picking a street at random to start your explorations. Lit by the pure flame of whale oil lanterns, the streets seem to deny the night that presses in with the advancing hours. Nightfall, in your experience, is the best time to hunt down beasts – and the best time for beasts to hunt men. If it's hiding somewhere, the darkness will bring it out into the open.

The path ahead, then, is simple – gather as much information as you can before darkness falls. Before you find Nero Zelkova – the amateur hunter claiming leadership over this settlement – you want to learn a little more about him. The best place to start with that, you figure, is asking the people that he claims dominion over. That reason alone, and no other motivation, is what leads you to a diner of sorts, the rich smell of cooking wafting out from within.

The bowl of fish stew that you order is nothing special, nothing to write home about, but it's certainly more filling than scrambled eggs and it gives you a good chance to speak with the woman who serves it up. The woman who brings the food would best be described as “sturdy” - her arms are meaty, and she has a bosom like the prow of a ship. Her face, meanwhile, turns surprised when you ask her about Nero, as if she expected nothing more than a sullen silence out of you.

“Won't rightly say he's a good man,” she begin, “I wager I'm not one to judge that. What I will say, mind, is that he's been good to this town. He's given us jobs when times were slim, and he's been there when times are tough. Those boys of his, they're the opposite – spending all their time gambling in the city. Why, when we started having trouble here, they flat out left on the first train out. Still, I won't lie – it's not all easy having Nero at the helm.”

No, you ask quietly, why not?

“He don't much like the League,” her jowls shake a little as she shrugs, “Had some bad dealings with them in the past. Left their mark, they did.”

Inwardly, you curse – it'll be much harder to deal with Nero if he's already nursing a grudge. For the outward world, however, you retain a calm, polite smile – a smile that encourages people to speak freely.

[1/4]

>>380611

“Might be, I've said too much already,” the ageing woman muses, before launching back into her story with all the enthusiasm of a veteran gossip, “Well, you see, way back when, old Nero almost had a daughter as well. The poor thing, she was born cold and still.”

Terrible, you murmur, a real shame.

“Isn't it just? It all caused a bit of a stir round here. Our doctor, see, she never had any of that League training. She learned the old way – mother teaching daughter. Course, when word of that got to the capital, they had her brought up on charges. Endangering public health, they said,” she snorts derisively, “Said they'd send out a “real” doctor. Only, before they arrived, old Nero's wife went into labour. With no doctor around, there weren't nothing to be done once things got complicated.”

That, you consider, would certainly explain the animosity between Nero and the League – indeed, between him and any outsiders. Already, you can tell that the negotiations are off to a bad start. Covering up your thoughts by spooning the last dregs of stew into your mouth, you decide to move on. You've heard talk of a monster, you begin, has she ever seen it?

She has – that much is obvious from the way she pales. As if you needed the confirmation, she gives a stiff nod. “Not so long ago, in fact,” she explains, “When that storm hit, I happened to be at the edge of town. Took me a while to get back here, but just before I did, I looked out beyond the fences. Saw... something, I did. It was like a whole new mountain had sprung up overnight, just looming in the mist. Well, I shouldn't have to say that I didn't hang around to see what it was going to do.”

So, you think to yourself, it's been sighted recently. That's a good start, at least. Laying down your spoon, you give the woman a slight shrug. She makes it sound big, you remark, bigger than the usual wildlife that can be found in these parts.

“Oh, it was real big,” she whispers, before forcing on a mask of cheerful detachment and sweeping up your empty bowl, “You come back again, alright? You're too thin as it is – a man's gotta eat!”

Sure, you reply, you'll keep that in mind. One last question though – where can you find this Nero guy?

“His house is a ways out of town, right up in the forests,” she replies, leaning forwards a little and pointing out a vague direction, “Might be a bit of a walk, but it's easy to find. It'll be the only house out there.”

A bit strange isn't it, you remark, living all the way out there?

“Just his way of it,” the woman dismisses the matter with a shrug, turning and shuffling back into the kitchen to attend to her duties.

[2/4]

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>>380616

Walking through the streets of Nebel, under the darkening sky, you get a real sense of the tension in the air. The town has the air of a besieged fortress, with every home you pass having lowered the gates and raised the drawbridge. Some of the precautions on display are simply routine for a frontier settlement – window frames lined with keen nails, for example – but others, like the hastily boarded up windows, speak of more recent developments.

As you walk, it becomes clear that you're not the only one seeking out Nero Zelkova – other men, rough types burdened with weapons, are following the same path. Members of a potential hunting party, you suspect, armed from anything from harpoons to modern style rifles. For all the grim resolve on their features, barely a handful among them carry their weapons with any kind of confidence. If it came to a real fight, a real hunt, these men would be more of a hindrance than anything.

You put a little extra haste in your steps, and draw ahead of them. If possible, you'd like the chance to talk Nero down before he starts to gather the mob.

-

The Zelkova manor, you've got to admit, is a pretty classy place. Neither too big or too gaudy to appear ostentatious, it nevertheless has a distinct nobility to it. Built around the shell of a far older building, if you had to guess – the doorways all show signs that they were once far higher and wider, built for inhuman inhabitants. Pushing that thought aside for now, you knock on the heavy wooden door and wait.

With Nero's three sons away, the only other occupant of the manor is a maid – the dark cast of her features lending her a distinctly southern air. Mutely, with the detached formality common among lifelong servants, she leads you through the musty corridors to a back room. While the outside of the manor was pleasing to the eye, the inside is far less impressive. Apathy and decay have faded what glory might once have been found here, and a thick layer of dust lies over much of the furniture.

Your first impression of Nero Zelkova is not so different from the manor itself – the phantom of something that was once far greater. A bone thin old man, he sits hunched by the light of a blazing fire. As the maid bows and backs out of the room, he turns to examine you. In those eyes, you spot an unbroken will, the intelligence undimmed by the advancing years.

“So, they finally sent a Hunter,” he begins, his thin voice breaking into a creaking laugh at the surprise that must show on your face, “Oh yes, I know what you are – you wear your allegiance on your sleeve, Hunter.”

Well, you reply as you glance down at the League patch on your jacket, true enough.

[3/4]

>>380626

“Come, sit down,” Nero waves a thin hand at the seat opposite him, “I'm willing to discuss business like a gentleman, at least. Are you prepared to say the same?”

That, you agree, would be an excellent place to start. Taking the rifle from your shoulder, you prop it up against the side of the fireplace. There's another gun there, thicker and heavier looking than your rifle. A fine weapon, you remark as you sit, is it his?

“Ah, yes. The old Maus Four-Sixty...” a note of fondness creeps into Nero's voice, “She has a kick like an irate northerner, but there isn't a thing alive that can survive a shot from her. I don't care what's stalking these woods – with this old girl at my side, I can bring it down. That's what this is about, isn't it? You're here to settle this matter yourself.”

You're just here to do your job, you tell him politely, you're not looking to cause any trouble here. When the matter is settled, and the beast lies dead, you'll be on your way again.

“Huh, well, you've got enough sense not to come in and start barking orders,” Nero laughs again, a nasty undercurrent to his voice, “I think that's worth something. Very well, Hunter, let's assume I'm willing to listen to what you have to say. That doesn't mean I'm going to agree to anything, mind, but we can talk. Keep one thing in mind, though – this is my town, and I'm not prepared to let an outsider handle this alone. I'm not a man you want to cross, Hunter.”

Leaning back in the overstuffed seat, you consider your options. Asking too much of him would be an insult, but bowing to whatever demands he makes would be a show of weakness. A delicate balancing act, then.

>You're going to get yourself killed, Nero – what good will that do this town?
>Just stand down and leave this to a professional
>We'll hunt the beast together, you and I. Leave the rest of the town out of it
>If you lead the hunting party, I'll fight by your side
>Let's talk a little, I had some questions I wanted to ask you (Write in)
>Other

>>380630
>>Let's talk a little, I had some questions I wanted to ask you (Write in)
Ask him to tell us what he knows about the monster. After that, ask him to give you a week. If we can't kill it in that time, he can continue his own hunt. That should keep him from our back, yes?

>>380630
>>Let's talk a little, I had some questions I wanted to ask you (Write in)
Lets talk about his kids. Ask him if he really feels like he can leave the town in their hands should something happen to him. Is it really a good idea to place any kind of hope in a few kids that run the instant things look a bit sketchy?

>>380630
>>You're going to get yourself killed, Nero – what good will that do this town?

>>380630
>You seem to be steeled enough, but I'm not too sure about your little hunting party.
>Can I teach them where to stand and position themselves so they don't end up shooting each other?
I get the feeling the most help they'll be able to give is carrying light and a lot of noise. Emphasis on not helping them with the actual shooting.

>>380630
"Nero may I ask just to have a few days to attempt to kill this thing by myself? If by then I haven't killed it or I end up dead by all means protect your town and go on your own hunts. Hopefully the town will be okay during that time since the beast will be too busy dealing with me out there to attack."

>>380643
seconding

>>380656
This