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File: RE_Animated13.png (1.51 MB, 1474x1137)
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“Hehehehe…” a deep voice booms in the void, like war drums sounding an advance. “Perhaps you weren’t such a bad decision after all!”

Oh dear.

Seems you’ve overdone it once again and as a consequence have once more found yourself floating in the liquid abyss between worlds. More specifically, you find yourself in the antechamber of the gods Lothri and Gyold. Yet, once more, despite such a prestigious host, you’re tempted to just lie there for a good long while and let their words and the world pass you by. Perhaps it simply feels too right, to be so close to what you had left behind, just lying still in a place of spiritual rest.

Funny how it was only here the weight of the world you’d been thrust back into seems to affect you, the weariness of countless sleepless nights making themselves known, singing in chorus with the bruises of constant battle where bones and steel had shattered only to be forced back together with the sheer might of your resolve and shattered again against the next foe. Such was the road you had chosen.

For you are Lee: bard, lover, fighter, more recently numbered among the walking dead, and self-styled spirit of vengeance. And in the course of pursuing that profession, you have been nothing if not thoroughly bound to your word. Whether it was saving a young mother from near certain death at the hands of misguided priests, breaking the back of a ring of slavers, or convincing a manticore there were still things left to live for in this world after mutually beating each other to a bloody pulp, you had seldom found yourself wanting for things to do in the death-defying thrill ride that had become your second shot at existence, and it wasn’t about to end here.

Cognizant of that fact and still uncertain of how much time in one location meant in another, you will yourself once more to your feet, taking on physical form in the empty void to once more stand before your unlikely sponsors. The gaze of the blue-eyed Lothri, boyish and beautiful, remains unchanged as he gazes down upon you from his gilded throne, and Gyold, his brother of blood and iron, still glares at you from his own twisted counterpart, though you notice a mirth in his expression this time that was absent before.

“A pleasure to see you again, Lee,” Lothri offers as with a wave of his hands, you feel the weariness of your form cast away like mist in a morning breeze.

“And a pleasant surprise to see you have not been sitting on your ass and squandering your title in the in-between,” Gyold remarks. “Giant beasts, the champions of other gods, slavers, and foul spirits, and here I thought bards were only good as sheathes for one form of blade or another. Hehehe. To see one such as yourself already fit for advancement, it’s…. surprising, to say the least.”

> Did Gyold just make a bawdy joke? That aside, what do you say, do?
> [] Advancement?
> [] Ask/Say something else
> [] Other
>>
>>452231

>[] Advancement?

The mystery is real OP, also, welcome back.
>>
>>452231
>> [] Advancement?
>> [] Ask/Say something else
We took out another god's champion?
>>
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>>452231

Welcome to RE: Animated Quest. For those dropping in for the first time, welcome to the tales of Lee Townsend, a re-animated skeletal bard on a personal quest to do some good and tie up loose ends in his inexplicably extended time on earth.

The backlog can be found here:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=re%3A+animated

And all announcements for the quest are posted to my twitter:
https://twitter.com/bananon_QM
>>
>>452278
>>452248
>>452231

“Advancement?” you question, a mixture of hope and dread vying for dominance within you. “What precisely would that entail, if you don’t mind my asking? Furthermore, there may have been a clerical error, because last I checked, I hadn’t done battle with another god’s champion.”

“In the lab of your former friend, you faced one of Orrin’s chosen and emerged victorious,” Gyold answers, “and the hunter from hell, though the lowly curs name so many chosen it hardly deserves the mention, also had a patron of sorts.”

“As for the advancement, I can understand your hesitance,” Lothri says, “but the truth is that it isn’t that different from what you were doing before. It’s simply that when a champion has done enough service-”

“He means when they’ve proven worth our time,” Gyold interrupts. “In a world of the fittest, the strong take what is theirs and the weak get the scraps. You’ve simply proven worthy of a slightly more generous portion.”

“In truth,” Lothri re-asserts himself, “we have only so much of our divine power to divide amongst our chosen, and as a result, we can only give so much to each without good reason. What’s more, even if we could give limitless power to each mortal, we prefer that they be able to stand on their own strength, sharpening their own skills rather than relying exclusively on what’s been given to them.”

“It is meant to be a trifling thing,” Gyold agrees. “Else it would never pass hands when the time was right. Yet, your fate has clearly been woven with strands of conflict, and for that reason, if not just for my own amusement, I’m willing to make an exception.”

“We both are,” Lothri confirms. “However, as before, you may name a boon instead, something of equal value to the station you are rejecting. Though should you continue to prove yourself worthy, other opportunities may become available in the future.”

> So what will it be?
> [] Accept an Advancement
> [] “Is there any way you could do something for my manticore friend?”
> [] “Is there any way I can become alive again?”
> [] Other
>>
>>452403
>[] “Is there any way you could do something for my manticore friend?”
>>
>>452403
> [] Accept an Advancement
Though something for the Manticore is tempting, I have no idea what they could do that would make it more worthwhile...though, they are gods...
>>
>>452590
On the one hand, he's a manticore; their lives are nothing but conflict. Whether it's against other evolved monsters or adventurers, there will be no shortage of battle in his life (even if he actually does just want to retire and be a family cat).

On the other hand, he's still an animal, not one of the sapient races. There might be some kind of divine rule we'd be breaking.
>>
>>452596
Ah what the heck, I'll change my vote to this:
> [] “Is there any way you could do something for my manticore friend?”
He's in need of some purpose and we're going after the same guy anyway. its not like conflict is a one person event.
>>
>>452403
>> [] “Is there any way you could do something for my manticore friend?”
But if it doesn't seem too good go for advancement
>>
We're setting Lee up with a lot of Human Guilt.
I wonder if there's a God of Beasts, and he/she/it will tell us to check our sapient privilege.
>>
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>>452590
>>452596
>>452624
>>452403

“Tempting as it may be. Is there any way you could instead help my manticore friend?” you probe. “Assuming he hasn’t eaten one or two of my compatriots during this little chat, my sympathies lie decidedly with him in this whole affair. He lost both wife and child, and I imagine vengeance will only sustain him so long.”

“If you mean can we bring them both back from the dead, I’m afraid the answer would have to be no,” Lothri says sadly. “Those are realms over which the gods of beasts and death have principle domain.”

“And I’ve never gotten along particularly well with that rotting prick,” Gyold grumbles. “He always scalps my best talent right in the thick of things.”

“Anyway,” the titan continues, cupping his chin in his hand as he regards you, “I can tell by your look that isn’t quite what you want to hear. Like I could give a damn about what you want to hear or not, but I’ll also throw this in as a bonus: the mother may be gone beyond the veil now, no sense worrying about her, but the cub is still very much alive.”

“Wh- But how?” you demand.

“Takes a tail to make a belt,” he replies. “No more, no less: and the man you are hunting had many bills to pay.”

“Then where is he now or the cub?” you question. “Can you-“

“I can tell you many things,” the god replies, “but information has its price. So, what’ll it be: advancement, three questions, or (since you seem so concerned for your pussy cat) a little care package to make his job and yours easier?

> Decision, decisions…
> [] Take the Advancement
> [] Ask three questions? What questions?
> [] Evolve the manticore
> [] Other
>>
>>452796
>[] Take the Advancement
We'll beat the cub's location out of Harrison when we catch up to him.
>>
Or, hmm...how difficult would it be for the Manticore to evolve on its own?

Does Lee remember anything about monster evolutions from his university days?
>>
>>452815
>>452796
Thats a good question. How does evolution work?
>>
>>452815

Manticores are a species that rarely -has- to evolve, as they are already pretty far up the food chain. Tends to be the stronger the monster is, the less they actually have to do to survive and that means slow evolution.
>>
>>452819
Hmm...then maybe evolving the manticore would be a better option; for now our goals align so that an evolved manticore would make our job easier.

But, once we get his cub back, there's no guarantee that he'll continue to work with us. He might just fuck off into the wilderness with his kid; maybe beyond the Arachne forest.

There's also the problem that this is ANOTHER time-sensitive mission we've gotten ourselves into, and we don't have cars or flying wagons (an archmage needs to put some flying brooms together under a carriage and turn it into his pimpmage-mobile).
If the manticore evolves he might be able to fly us to destinations (assuming he'll let anyone other than Lee ride him).
>>
>>452796
>> [] Evolve the manticore
Companion quest is a go
>>
>>452796
Okay, switch me to
>[x] Evolve the manticore
Lee is a strong independent bard; he don't need no divine blessings to get more powerful.
>>
>>452863
But seriously, don't say that to the gods.
>>
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>>452863
>>452853
>>452796

“Well,” you say. “Gracious as it may be for you to offer me a promotion, I imagine that what I have now is more than sufficient for the task at hand. I feel I have some growing to do before I truly come into my own with what you’ve already given me, so if you could instead offer a bit of aid to my feline friend, it couldn’t hurt. Don’t suppose you could make him a vegetarian and large enough to carry my entire entourage while you’re at it?”

“Unlikely,” Gyold chuckles, “but I think you’ll find him useful enough. However, enough talk. Good hunting, warrior.”

With another laugh and a wave of his hand, you are once more spinning away through the void, the world twisting and violently tumbling between shadows and light before you emerge back on the other side with a shock, drawing a shuddering undead breath in the evening air.

“Bring it on, ye mangy furball!” you hear a familiar voice shout over the ring of metal on bone. “Ye’ll have a hell of a time makin’ supper outta me ‘fore I skin yer arse and make meself a new coat!”

And predictably, now this is happening.

“Watch where you’re baiting that thing!” you hear Norris shout. “I don’t know why it wants near the camp site, but I swear to god if you get someone stung over this pissing match.”

“Reckon it’d be hard for them to do anything-“ *Clang* “Ye know, given the paralysis an’ all…” *Thump* “Not that I don’t get yar point, but I’m not about to let the would-be murderin’ fleabag near the fire till Lee wa-“

“For the love of the gods, enough!” you shout, body feeling like granite as you force your spirit back into control and pull yourself up.

“Oi, Lee,” Father Michael replies, turning back to regard you. “Welcome back to the land of the livin’, you know, sorta- Whoa!” He narrowly ducks a swinging tail. “Ye’ll have ta do better than tha- Ah! That’s my favorite tibia ye damn stupid cat! Leggo!”

“And how long has this been going on?” you ask, seeing the people all around you as you stand up and begin brushing off the dirt.

“Since about the second you passed out,” Lucy replies, eyes fixed on the action. “My guess is it isn’t going for the kill and Michael was hoping you could make heads or tails of the situation when you stopped being dead.”

> What to say/do?
> Try to physically intervene. (4d100)
> Shout at them to knock it off. Shout what?
> Just let them have it out. It’s bonding and they’ll get tired eventually.
> Other
>>
>>453002
> Shout at them to knock it off. Shout what?
Your Child is alive.
>>
Rolled 17, 3, 4, 73 = 97 (4d100)

>>453002
>Try to physically intervene.

>>453006
Maybe we should get it to calm down before we drop something like that?
>>
>>453006
>>453031

Need a tie breaker here, or maybe some more rolls.
>>
>>453002
> Shout at them to knock it off. Shout what?

Chillax mates
>>
>>453134
Is the spiritual connection between Lee and the Manticore still up? Because you said that it's not really sapient, so saying anything to the Manticore with human speech is going to be a waste of time.
>>
>>453180

That was actually going to be one of the complications for a straight "shout them down" option. Good eye, anon.
>>
>>453183
Then I'd like to change mine to:
>Other
Shout at Father Michael, "I've got things under control, so please don't kill the family cat whose mate we just murdered!"
And pump mana into our spiritual connection with the manticore to get it to back off, we've got things under control and we'll get the crazy human to stand down. And we have something very important to tell it concerning its cub.
>>
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>>453198
>>453167
>>453006
>>453002

“Well, I wouldn’t hold my breath on that one.”

*Rattle-Rattle*

“But best to break these things up before they get out of hand, right?” Or before the elf finds a way to kill you with her mind … rekill you? So many questions, but for now:

“Knock it off, the both of you!” you shout as Father Michael appears to tighten a misplaced headlock between the beast’s jaws and it continues trying to bash his skull in with his tail. “We’ve had quite enough death today, haven’t we? And I have something important to tell you!”

You point decisively to the manticore who returns a blank, uncomprehending gaze.

“Oh right, you don’t understand me right now,” you sigh. “Father Michael, if you would kindly stop trying to force feed the cat, I need to pass on a message.”

“Aye,” Father Michael acquiesces, breathing heavily, “but only cuz ye asked nicely.”

With a grunt and a swift series of movements, the good father then somehow manages to extract himself without getting bitten, rolling clear of the large beast far enough that you can grab hold before it can follow after him. Seems your magic isn’t 100% right now, something you realize as you attempt to pull enough from your reserves to resume the connection. Thankfully, it doesn’t take as much as last time, or else, you’d have been very much out of luck.

Perhaps it has something to do with your prior connection having forged a channel, or maybe the beast isn’t resisting you as much as last time. Whatever the case, you are soon once again diving into its psyche, your minds meeting somewhere in between as a jumbled series of thoughts becomes something more like a thought.

“Human’s fault. Not mine. He was angry when you fell. Thought you were dead.”

“I am dead,” you insist, “but I understand what you mean. Anyway, seems when I push myself too far, I tend to become inactive for a time. Not always a bad affair, really. Sometimes I even have a little chat with the greater powers that be, this being one such occasion.”

“Your child is still alive,” you whisper quietly, watching the big cat’s eyes widen. “There’s still a chance to find her.”

“I’LL KILL THE HUMAN!” he roars. “Tear out his entrails and feed them to the little one!”

“No, no, no!” you emphasize. “Remember what began this cycle. There’s only one way to end this properly and that is to see him hung or otherwise disposed of within the law. Then you and your little one can find someplace safe, and resume your lives.”

“He has my little one,” the beast growls. “I will have her.”

“Yes, you will,” you assure him, “though this man has already traded her to someone else.” You can feel the vibration through your skull as that thought hits him. “However, we need him to tell us to whom before we can go and rescue her.”

“When!?” he demands forcefully. “When do we leave!?”
>>
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>>453291

> That’s a good question.
> [] Tomorrow, as soon as I know where he was last heading and once you’ve rested.
> [] I need time to gather information. Maybe a week.
> [] I have other things to do…
> [] Other
>>
>>453294
>[] Tomorrow, as soon as I know where he was last heading and once you’ve rested.
Father Michael can continue on his way, and Lucy will probably be able to get more information if she's not dragged down by the rest of us. And while not a lot, a night will give us enough time to re-plan everything.

We've got to work on increasing our mana reserves so that Lee can just run to the destinations he needs to go to. Maybe increase strength so that he can pull a wagon at 30 MPH, so that we can get all this shit done that we're trying to do.
>>
>>453291
>>Other
We'll find out where he went, and then we'll know how long it will take to prepare. Probably could leave within the next 3 days, provided the the Manticore(who really needs a name) comes with us and can be somewhat discreet.

And on another note, Imnot completely sold on the whole hanging thing. once the guys indicted, I dont seee why they couldnt have him, its not like trial by combat isnt a thing. thats not even considering if he resists arrest.
>>
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>>453294
>>453291

“As soon as I know which way he went,” you promise, “and once I’ve spoken with my allies to settle how to handle what I assume will be my absence for several days. For now, though, I need you to rest. You’re in no shape to be moving, let alone flying around after all of that blood loss.”

“I’m fit enough,” he insists, though there’s desperation in those thoughts. “Fit enough to hunt a human at the very least.”

“And tomorrow you will be even more fit,” you stress. “So sleep. Sleep and get well.”

“I just woke up,” he reminds you. “And unless you want me eating the things you rode in on, I must hunt.”

“Just try to be cautious,” you relent with a sigh, and like that, he’s bounding off into the night.

Of course, answers only lead to more questions, whether you’re giving them or receiving them. Norris may know the last direction that Harrison was heading, but what are you going to tell your companions?

> What to do
> [] Tell everyone else to go on without you.
> [] Ask people to wait until you get back
> [] Take everyone with you. How?
> [] Take one or two people with you. Who?
> [] Other
>>
>>453392
>[] Take one or two people with you.
Lucy. She is the most skilled person when it comes to interrogation, tracking, forensics, and I'd wager even law and politics.

She may be the best to help us track down Harrison and extract the information we need from him, as well as tracking down the manticore cub's buyer. Unless she says that Margey would be better for it.

We really don't appreciate her enough.
And we need to be able to conjure an illusion of being alive; we're a bard, for gods' sakes, and we can't even do any negotiation/information gathering without scaring people off.
>>
>>453392
Who all is with us at the moment again?
>>
>>453477

You have, in no particular order: Michael, Lucy, Margy, Ricky, and Norris, who will be going home at the end of this, most likely. His best plan would be to draw you up a warrant for the lawful arrest of the hunter, Harrison Ford in connection with the murder of James Whitaker.
>>
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>>453477
>>453416

Anyway, we're looking pretty dead here. So, I'm gonna sleep. Will get back to posting tomorrow, probably.
>>
>>453567

Well, guess I'll check back a bit later.
>>
>>453392
Take Lucy
She can help and the Father has other things to attend to
>>
>>453392
I say take Margy with us. She seems to know a lot about monsters, and animals, maybe she'll be some help.
>>
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>>455601
>>455396
>>453477
>>453416
>>453392

“Alright folks,” you say at last, moving away from the spot you were standing and back toward the fire. “So, as fortune would have it, we’re in for another change of plans. You see, while unconscious I had another chance meeting with my divine patrons.” Norris’ mouth gapes, but Lucy simply grabs him by the shoulder and shakes her head. “And part of that discussion yielded an interesting bit of information.

“Namely, Mr. Ford didn’t actually kill the manticore cub. It’s still alive ‘somewhere’, presumably tailless but whole, and I made sure to mention this to our furry friend off in the woods there after breaking up he and Father Michael. However, needless to say, this newfound rescue operation is now somewhat of a timely matter, and I’ll likely be waylaid for a few days trying to sort it out. That leaves a question as to how we should redistribute manpower in light of this.”

“I’ll go with you,” Lucy sighs. “Chances are we’ll be held up on the other end, waiting for you otherwise.”

“And, if you wouldn’t object, Margy, I’d also like you along for the ride,” you mention, turning to the surprised priestess.

“Well, I uhm…. I likely couldn’t do much on my own, anyway,” she admits.

“And you’ve knowledge about countless things that could prove extremely useful,” you mention. “Not to mention judiciary authority for when we try to take Harrison in.”

“That is true…” she agrees. “In the event that the baron gave him judiciary authority superseding local authority, it would take another party with authority superseding the barony to issue his lawful arrest, assuming we couldn’t get a writ from the baron himself, which seems unlikely. The Church of Orrin is one such organization.”

“And so, once more, into the breach,” you proclaim, “though it would help to have any idea of where we were off to in the here and now.”

“Well,” Lucy begins. “It’s not the easiest trick in the world to make a manticore, cub or otherwise, disappear. They’re a dangerous species with natural poisons that turn an easy dime on unsavory markets.”

“However, there are places that train them,” Norris throws in, “for the right price.”

“And given that the manticore survived the removal of its tail, it can be presumed the amputation was done professionally,” Margy mentions.

“Which probably means it was going for sale on the open market,” Lucy says. “Tail docking is a common practice in preparation for that. At least that means it won’t be moving around until it’s grown and ready for sale to some noble twit.”

“There are only a few training yards that could pull off that sort of conditioning,” Norris points out.

“But plenty dumb enough to try, despite that,” Lucy fires back.

> How do you want to proceed?
> [] Go to the training yards if there are only a few
> [] Go after Harrison for a definite lead
> [] Other
>>
>>455842
>> [] Go after Harrison for a definite lead
Spirit of Justice
>>
>>455842
>[] Go after Harrison for a definite lead
Hopefully we have the time to track down Harrison. If the cub was sold to one of the less capable and more stupid training yards, we may not have the time to do a thorough search.
>>
>>455842
>> [] Go after Harrison for a definite lead
Spirit of vengeance
>>
>>456201
And he was stupid enough to do all this in the first place, so its not out of the question he did.
>>
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>>456260
>>456201
>>455852

Sorry for the delay folks. Had a couple of real life complications to contend with:

>>455842

“Well, from what we’ve heard of this Harrison chap, we can’t exactly rule that out,” you sigh. “That means the quickest way to narrow down our leads is probably getting a first-hand account.”

“And not to sound self-serving,” Norris adds, “but I want to see the bastard brought to justice for his role in all this.”

“Unfortunately, hunting manticores isn’t a crime,” Lucy reminds everyone.

“But purposefully misleading an investigation to cover up one’s involvement is,” Margy insists.

“That still leaves the matter of finding him so that he can face a trial at all,” you speak up, “and then getting a confession.”

“Three seconds alone and my knife will get you that,” Lucy assures you, but you’re immediately shaking your head.

“Proper confessions are given in court and not under duress,” you remind her.

“In any case,” Norris interjects with a cough. “As a means of farewell, he said he would be heading for the pleasure district of the Shadesborough Palisade. That was a few weeks ago, but something tells me he won’t have left until the baron’s coin has run dry. It’s a place to start, at least, but that’s all I can offer save a warrant for his arrest.”

“Aye, that’ll do,” Father Michael says. “Meanwhile, yar delay will give me an’ Ricky some time to play catch up and cover some more ground. We’ll meet you at silk central not long after.”

“Well, I suppose that settles everything aside from the evening, and if I were any of you, I wouldn’t turn down a bed at the inn.”

“What about you, then?” Norris asks, apparently having somehow missed your earlier, ghastly reveal.

“I think I’ll wait here,” you say.

> The question is, doing what:
> [] Just relax. It’s been a long day.
> [] Try to train? With what? (2d100)
> [] Other
>>
Rolled 54, 70 = 124 (2d100)

>>456658
>[] Try to train? With what?
Our reserves of mana and reinforcing our bones so that they can run faster, longer, and with pulling weight.
>>
>>456658
> [] Try to train? With what? (2d100)
Given recent events, improving our Spirit magic seems prudent. Maybe something to hold a link to something even if were not in direct contact? I mean, really, we're just a spirit inhabiting our body, couldn't we just like, stretch some out of it a little?
>>
>>456658
>> [] Try to train? With what? (2d100)
Try transmutation and alchemic rituals to make yourself faster and tougher.
>>
>>456752
>>456772

Don't forget to roll.
>>
Rolled 42, 46 = 88 (2d100)

>>456774
Sorry Holy Banana
>>
>>456781

More like a banana nut muffin, honestly, but it's all good.
>>
Rolled 22, 11 = 33 (2d100)

>>456752
Ah, right
>>
>>456794
Yep, that figures
>>
>>456796
>>456794

It's fine, anon.
>>
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>>456794
>>456781
>>456701
>>456658

> 54, 70

Evening settles in and the stars come out, the bonfire crackling long after the people who once surrounded it are gone. That just left you and the crickets plus the occasional night owl, an inauspicious audience as you attempt to stretch out your body and your consciousness while preparing for your nightly routine. And as per the usual, the former proves no easy task. With so much going on, so many things to handle, it was becoming more and more like trying to match jagged puzzle pieces to get everything done, and there was no telling when the first vital piece was going to slip through a crack.

Still, you were never a worrier. As any performer could tell you, there was no sense being afraid or taking the wind out of your own sails when the audience would always happily do that for you. So, with a deep breath, you just let it all go, trying to focus on the mana that drives your spells, to feel it flow through your form and try to think of a way to strengthen its reserves.

For a normal caster, you recall endurance was the key. A strong body bred a strong spirit, and a strong spirit bred a stronger mana pool you could draw from before exhausting yourself. Something tells you, however, that this new body wouldn’t precisely benefit from the standard regime of pullups and crunches, though it would make an entertaining diversion for your group in a pinch.

No, you’d need to look external to yourself for the next step, maybe requisition some mana gems to store and discharge when the time was right or outfit yourself with a material focus. It’s the same thing with your durability honestly. Better materials would make better armor, alchemical treatments and transmutations preparing you for whatever the hell mess you wound up in next, but with Fannie nearly a hundred miles away, you were somewhat short on that end as well.

Damn, after all of this time spent improving on your own, strange to feel so hopelessly in need of other people to make progress now. What you needed were trainers or tutors. Even a book would suffice. Yet here you sat alone.

Well, maybe not entirely alone, you notice as the small passenger within your head slowly scrabbles its way out into the nighttime air, gently shaking out its furry carapace before descending to the log next to you.

> Hmm, maybe…
> [] Try to forge a spiritual link with the spider (2d100)
> [] Leave Jerry be. Maybe one of those moths around the fire instead. (3d100)
> [] Other
>>
Rolled 1, 100 = 101 (2d100)

>>456908
>[] Try to forge a spiritual link with the spider
Though the moths do intrigue me.
>>
>>456940

Hmm...
>>
Rolled 22, 33 = 55 (2d100)

>>456908
> [] Try to forge a spiritual link with the spider (2d100)
Spider friends
>>
>>456940
This is an incredibly unlikely roll
>>
Rolled 54, 1 = 55 (2d100)

>>456908
> [X] Try to forge a spiritual link with the spider (2d100)
I'm the best at rolling, you rotten banana.
>>
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>>456986
>>456947
>>456940

Hmm... Well, this is interesting. Gonna have to think on this one. In the meantime, I guess roll me a d10 and offer up suggestions.
>>
Rolled 1 (1d10)

>>457000
Im kinda stumped. I hope we didnt just like, magically separate the spider from its body or something like that. or make suddenly uplift it to sapience.
>>
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Rolled 1 (1d10)

>>457000
So maybe a two-way transfer of abilities?
Lee gets the reflexes and spatial perception and awareness of a spider, and Jerry gets the ability to carry a tune.

Or maybe he can start giving us advice on the situation, and providing running commentary? Maybe even a small field where he can telepathically banter.
>>
>>457051
>>457033
>>456986
>>456940
Whaaaaaats going oooooonnn?!
>>
>>457058

I don't know, but I guess I'll get writing.
>>
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>>457051
>>456908
>>456940
>>456947
>>456986

> 1, 100, 1?

Alright. Simple enough and probably far less dangerous than your flight with the manticore.

With that thought in mind and a gentle hand you reach down and pick up Jerry from the nearby log, the tiny spider seemingly undisturbed by this series of events as he stares up at you from your open palm. Now you just needed to forge the connection, solidify your will, and project it into him with a little more tenderness than you spared for the big cat.

Honestly, you probably still don’t have that much to spare after such a brief recovery period, but as you feel your energy densify and leap out to make the connection, you can still feel a definite reaction on the other end, if a bit weak. You don’t let it bother you, however, as you rub something itchy off of your head and make to address the skeleton in front of you.

….

Skeleton?!

> Seems your connection has gone a little off kilter.
> [] Fixitfixitfixitfixitfixit (1d100)
> [] Alright… Let’s take a deep breathe here…
> [] Other
>>
>>457111
>[] Alright… Let’s take a deep breathe here…
>>
>>457111
> [] Alright… Let’s take a deep breathe here…
This is fine.
>>
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>>457138
>>457116
>>457111

SQQQQQQQEEEEEEEEE!!!! [AAAAHHHHHHHH!!!]

Oh my god! Is that what a spider screaming sounds like? Also, dear Orrin, you have lungs again, which would be absolutely thrilling if YOU WEREN’T A F- A spider. It would be thrilling if you weren’t a spider right now, but you are a spider. And while you are sure this is a transitionary condition, that is likely contingent on you not losing your mind right here and right now.

So, you are a spider, and- Ah, so that’s how you move your legs! It’s completely different from how you’re used to moving them, yet somehow… intuitive? Or maybe instinctual would be a better word. Whatever the case, you aren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth when you are looking your own self in the mouth. Speaking of which, does that mean the spider has control of your body now? If it does, it certainly isn’t showing it.

“In the realm of spirits,” Yesh’s voice echoes back in your mind. “Magnitude is key. You could no more possess a mountain than an ant could possess a lion. Of course, that would depend on the ant…”

He’d then gone on at some length to explain how the magnitude of spirits within a realm effected everything around them, essentially blurring the lines between what is real and what is merely in the spiritual realm on the greater scale and being subject to the influence of greater beings on the lower scale.

Seems your pint-sized compatriot isn’t quite in possession of the faculties or raw power to go rampaging around in your body at any rate. A windfall for you and a tragedy for the comedic arts everywhere. Whatever the case, you were going to need to rectify this situation as quickly as possible before something went wrong, and if your memory isn’t failing you that had something to do with your head.

> What to do? (Roll 2d100 either way)
> [] Scurry forth! To the head!
> [] Hold on. Maybe you can learn something from this experience.
> [] Other
>>
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>>457191

Anyway, it's late, and I'm super tired. Take care folks, and I'll be back in tomorrow.
>>
Rolled 75, 10 = 85 (2d100)

>>457191
> [] Hold on. Maybe you can learn something from this experience.
>>
Rolled 2, 69 = 71 (2d100)

>>457191
> [] Hold on. Maybe you can learn something from this experience.
is our spirit migrated to this body or are we just kind of overlayed onto it?
>>
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>>457240
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6QhfkmEbQto ET FOOTAGE

http://lovkap.blogspot.com/2014/09/holocaust-fake-pics-1.html
>>
text
>>
Rolled 28, 100 = 128 (2d100)

text
>>
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>>457191
>>457204
>>457240
>>457662

> 75, 100

Then again, maybe it would do you some good not to return immediately. A new body meant a new perspective, and with it new things to learn. Your present eyes would be a good example of that. Taken at a passing glance, their perspective feels holistic and natural, and yet, just below the surface, you realize that it’s far more complicated, several smaller images being pieced together from the individual view of each eye on top of and the sides of your head to make one big- Well, hello!

As you twist and turn your eyes, trying to get a better view of the world around you, it’s as though a pulse of light goes off, sweeping through the air and to the edges of your field of vision. And wherever that light touches, things remain, like strands of luminescence twisting in the wind. It’s beautiful and surreal, the world sparkling and shimmering even past the edges of the light and revealing much that would otherwise be hidden to the naked eye.

Somewhere in the woods a family of rabbits lies nestled in their burrows, a wolf roaming just past none-the-wiser of an easy meal. Moths dance in the firelight in numbers you’d never have suspected before, hungry bats eyeing them greedily from their circles against the void of the midnight sky as they wait for the prime time to strike without getting burned.

So this is how your little friend saw the world and everything within it, and as you gaze upon yourself with that knowledge, you quickly realize why you must have stood out for him when he was searching for a new home. Like a bastion of light, ghostly armor shining against the void, your form writhes and twists with flowing mana like nothing else that surrounds you, ancient glyphs and other curious symbols appearing and disappearing while flowing about you in unknowable patterns.

To tell you honestly, most of it is beyond you. You’d never had a knack for runes or rituals, never been able to “see without seeing to the true heart of the craft” as Bjorn Ironhand had said. Maybe this is what that dark-eyed dwarf had meant, the glimmer he had oft lamented that his students and even his fellow mages could not appreciate.

Whatever the case- THAT IS A BAT!

With a desperate hop and scuttle, you flee from your diving, rat-faced assailant, ducking beneath an unmoving arm just in the nick of time to avoid a swift departure into the night. However, as you see his form swerve around in the firelight, he doesn’t seem to have given up yet.

> What to do? (3d100)
> [] To the head! Fixitfixitfixitfixit!
> [] Smack that bat! Show it who’s boss!
> [] Other
>>
Rolled 29, 27, 31 = 87 (3d100)

>>458066
>> [] Other
Try to hop from spider to bat
>>
Rolled 25, 79, 37 = 141 (3d100)

>>458066
>[] To the head! Fixitfixitfixitfixit!
>>
>>458066
> [] To the head! Fixitfixitfixitfixit!
>>
>>458175

Don't forget to roll.
>>
Rolled 76, 69, 70 = 215 (3d100)

>>458175
>>
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>>458202
>>458104
>>458103
>>458066

> 76, 79, 70

Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope!

You can put yourself back together, but Jerry probably isn’t that lucky. This is his body, you have to remind yourself, and it’s high time you got back into yours. So, quietly resolving that there will be no fighting giant, flying murder rats today, you duck in between the nearest crack in your armor and begin quickly ascending your arm, ignoring the impotent plinking of the bat on the outside of it. Or was it two bats? Three?

It’s not long before a rattling rain storm of the ignorant creatures are clacking against your plate and seemingly between their combined weight, shifting your immobile form sideways. And as your rotten luck would have it, it isn’t long before their pushing it over. You hold on for dear life during that unfortunate spill as best you can, a minor inconvenience in your human form becoming a death defying tumble in your present situation.

Honestly, you have no idea how your passenger survived half of the antics you got up to given all this, struggling to shake off the shock as you hit the ground before continuing toward the head. In fact, how had he survived all of the times you’d lit your skull on fire since you’d learned that trick or any of those near catastrophic skull fractures? In the end, the steady rattle of your armor still being assailed from without forces you to shelve those concerns.

What you need now is your body back, but how? You stare into the glowing confines of your skull looking for an answer and find a spiritual apparition of a spider staring back at you from its place crouching on what appears to be a magic circle centered about your crown.

“Sorry!” you apologize mentally, but you’ve no time to judge whether or not he can understand you before you are once again summoning up your spirit, centering your will and forcing it against his, another ever so silent transition landing you once more back in your own flesh and… Well, you know what you mean.

And these bats are about to learn you mean business, an unnaturally large one falling into your iron grasp as you rise to your feet and attempt to glare it into submission.

> What to do?
> [] Try to spiritually bond with the bat (2d100)
> [] Just punt it somewhere
> [] Kill it. Feed it to Jerry.
> [] Other
>>
>>458358
>> [] Kill it. Feed it to Jerry.
>>
Rolled 72, 88 = 160 (2d100)

>>458358
>[] Try to spiritually bond with the bat
I'M BATMAN!
>>
>>458358
>> [] Just punt it somewhere
had enough violence and head sharing for the night
>>
>>458618
What? And just rest, like some fleshy mortal that needs sleep and gets exhausted?
That's some meatbag talk there you're spouting.
>>
This situation reminds me of a freinds D&D character who walked round wearing a tarantula companion as a rastifarian hair hat thing.
It lived in his skull and hung its legs out (warforge).
>>
>>458641

Feel free to weight in, anon. Seems we are at a three way deadlock at the moment.
>>
>>458358
>> [] Just punt it somewhere
>>
Rolled 86, 62 = 148 (2d100)

>>458358
> [] Try to spiritually bond with the bat (2d100)
>>
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>>458697
>>458687
>>458618
>>458395
>>458371
>>458358

> 86, 88

“I don’t suppose you and your compatriots would kindly flap the hell off?” you demand of the squeaking, thrashing mongrel in your hand but it simply continues trying to sink its teeth through your armor. It might even be making headway, disturbing as that is. “Well, don’t say I didn’t offer.”

With a burst of concentration, you then force your mind back into action, driving a new spiritual connection into the winged beast. However, it seems you may not be the first as what you get back as a result is… disturbing, something like a hellish, molten eye glaring back at you through smoke and shadow, its soul vying with yours over a sparse and fragile piece of territory.

It sees you. It knows you. In the spiritual tug of war that ensues you find bits and pieces slipping through the cracks from his mind into yours and likely the other way around. What’s more, he seems to be preparing something in the background, trying to hide it oddly only making it that much easier to discover as his end of the spiritual channel flares with energy.

In a split second, the bats squeals turn into hellish shrieks, body bursting into flames as a ball of energy threatens to burst out from within. And with little time to think, you simply opt to toss the thing away, hurling it at the nearest tree before it explodes in a blast of light, heat, and sound that practically leaves you deaf. Well seems you were making friends in all the wrong places, didn’t it?

And what’s more, there now seems to be a rather healthy fire started on the forest right next to where you are standing.

> What to do…
> [] Try to magic the fire out! How? (Roll 3d100)
> [] Screw this! Time to run!
> [] Other
>>
Rolled 42, 69, 86 = 197 (3d100)

>>459027
>[] Try to magic the fire out! How? (Roll 3d100)
Good old transmutation spell to manipulate earth. Smother the fire.
>>
>>459088

Unfortunately, Lee is not a transmutation specialist, but an illusionist. He also has spirit magic, the ability to absorb magic he's in contact with, and an as yet not really understood ability to channel and control fire.
>>
Rolled 74, 79, 88 = 241 (3d100)

>>459027
>> [] Try to magic the fire out! How? (Roll 3d100)
>>459107
>channel and control fire
Try doing that
>>
>>459120
>>459107

Sorry, I guess the ability "to channel and control fire" seems a bit obvious. More precisely, Lee has managed to set parts of himself on fire and then put them out. That's about all he's actually attempted thus far. He may be able to do more though. Anyway, just waiting on one more set of rolls.
>>
Rolled 3, 53, 4 = 60 (3d100)

>>459027
> [] Try to magic the fire out! How? (Roll 3d100)
>>
>>459204
>>459120
>>459088
>>459027

> 74, 79, 88

Alright, well, the fire is small enough for right now, by some definition of the word, and thankfully, it isn’t near the harvest season, so the ground hasn’t dried out yet. That at least gives you time to think about your approach. Illusions won’t do any good here, nor spirit magic provided you don’t want to conjure up a bucket brigade of bears. Tempting and potentially hilarious, but as you grasp hold of your arm in a mock gesture of rolling up your sleeve, it occurs to you that there might be a less outside-the-box way to deal with this whole situation.

After all, you had devoured fires before, granted unnatural fires being thrust at you by a denizen of hell, but still fire. You’d even be able to conjure some afterward, on your helm and hands, then put it out without jumping in a lake. This couldn’t be so… Okay, it’s potentially completely different, but that didn’t mean you shouldn’t try.

And so, centering your mind amidst the spreading flames, you slowly step forward and try to focus on making them recede. In your minds’ eye, you can see it, the larger flames dwindling down into embers. However, despite that train of thought, in the real world, things were not so lukewarm.

“Come on!” you demand, lighting a flame in your hand and extinguishing it.

At least that still worked, but what about the flames in front of you. Experimentally, you place a hand on a nearby burning tree trunk and think again, this time feeling your mana wane as the flames obediently darken within a certain radius of your hand.

“Lovely…” you sigh, looking to the lofty tree tops. Now all you had to do was climb every tree in sight before another one caught. That is, unless you could come up with a better idea.

> How to make a fire extinguisher. Offer suggestions.
>>
>>459343
Can we connect with the tree spirits and use them as conduits to excert this spell to absorb the flames?
>>
>>459360

Well, you did see trickles of spirit running through the plants as well through Jerry's spirit sight. It's possible.
>>
>>459360
I can't think of anything better so I vote this
>>
>>459343
We could create a large ring of our own flames around the forest fire and then let them burn for a bit before extinguishing them. The actual fire wouln't be able to spread because the fuel would be spent.
>>
>>459360
Seconding this.
>>
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>>459412
>>459397
>>459360
>>459343

Obviously this had to have something to do with the radius of your ability, most likely tied to the silhouette of your personal aura if you don’t miss your mark. Yet, as with seemingly all of the things Yesh tried to teach you, changing the shape of that nebulous mass and empowering it had never been your strong suit.

What you needed instead was a focus, something already touching the fire, and as you look to the trees themselves, it hits you. Faintly glowing in Jerry’s sight, you had already seen it, the weakest hints of spirit slowly pulsing through those lofty branches. All you needed to do was reach out from where those flows stemmed at the trunk, trace it back, and temporarily make those spirits a part of your own.

Worst case scenario, you wind up as a tree and very shortly thereafter a charred stump, but you try not to let that bother you as you condense your spirit and once more force a channel into one of the more flammable oaks surrounding you.

Vacant: that’s perhaps the best word you can use to describe your feelings plunging in, like your spirit had been thrust alone into empty air with nothing to grasp. And so, you move on to the next one, rationalizing that perhaps that one was already dead. Yet, even on one of the healthier specimens the result is the same.

Emptiness, echoes, and burning wood seemingly surround you as the seconds tick on into minutes. Only then are you aware of the growing feeling that surrounds you. Like dull whispers amongst the flames, a chorus of slow pulses carrying a frantic rhythm, you can feel the distress echoing beneath the soles of your feet where roots twist and leaves are already beginning to smolder.

“Plants are slow,” Yesh had told you. “With spirits all their own, they speak with voices too slow to be heard, rushing for no one. Yet, like all things with a spirit, they can be manipulated, their veins used to channel your will. Like this wooden man here or his brother behind you. Now. Dodge.”

Ah, wonderful memories. Good times. In any case, the voices echo beneath your feet, but you must find a way now to make them your own.

> Try to speak for the trees! Roll 3d100
>>
Rolled 36, 77, 65 = 178 (3d100)

>>459671
Yesh said their voices are slow, and Lee is a bard used to the much faster pacing of human thought.
So let's put that music theory to work, providing a slow, measured beat that can synchronize the trees' thoughts, then increasing the tempo slightly while Lee's own thoughts slow down till the two tracks are closer together in tempo.
>>
Rolled 72, 68, 29 = 169 (3d100)

>>459671
>>459673
I'll back this guy up
>>
Rolled 81, 67, 95 = 243 (3d100)

>>459671
Rotten banana!
>>
>>459774
>>459681
>>459673

Will get back to writing soon, just as soon as I win this fight with my stomach.
>>
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>>459774
>>459681
>>459673
>>459671

> 81, 77, 95

An adagio tempo when what you need is an allegro, plus a cantankerous, off-beat chorus: you’ve worked with worse during a hangover, but you don’t relish a repeat. First things first, however, analyze the tempo.

*Snap*

With a loud roar, a tree branch comes falling down from on high, breaking against your head and throwing your train of thought distinctly off course for a moment. Still, you’re pretty sure the tavern caught fire at some point in that performance. Best to just keep focused on the task at hand.

And so, you quietly deafen yourself to the world outside and focus exclusively on the rhythm beneath your finger-tips, the dull, mismatching thud of a hundred green hearts beating at their own snail’s pace with no rhyme or reason. At least, that’s what’s there on the surface for anyone to see, but first impressions can often be misleading.

So it is that amidst the burning trees, you attempt a feat much better suited for a concert hall, to hear the echo through the roots, and not just the originating note. After all, what is heard is often not what is said, and the truth of art is solely in the ear and heart of the beholder. Unfortunately, trees have many ears, it seems, each root receiving an orchestra unto itself in its own underground world.

However, if you can just grab one, maybe the largest one. Wait, no, that’s not right. The tree itself is like an instrument, mana and consciousness surging not from the great wells being drawn from the earth but the smaller ones that control the valves. What you need to do is force those open.

And interestingly, as you look to all of the various trees, it seems at least one part remains relatively in sync between them, a main valve playing a refrain through their collective husks in steady tone. Now if you can just dampen that and replace it with your own melody, everything will be fine.

Thus, with course of action determined and another surge of mana, you force yourself into the collective of roots, mind straining from the weight of the task as you attempt to reach through so many channels at once, winding down different, labyrinthine pathways for control of a single valve. In the end, you can only manage one or two trees, but you force that to be enough, opening the valves wide as you thrust your consciousness through the heavens and toward the flames above.
>>
>>459987

It’s an odd feeling, really, to realize how small your crouched form is when you have drawn your consciousness so far away from yourself, but you don’t let it stop you as you issue the command to the flames to recede from every branch and leaf, your expanded influence finally reaching them as a solid third of the spreading fire immediately cuts out. And from the feel of things, the same could be said for your remaining mana.

“Could I please get a minute here!?” you shout to the heavens, but only the remaining, crackling flames answer. “Of course… Two more to go then.”

And so it is that you spend the rest of the night putting out a forest fire you had absolutely nothing to do with, draining every last drop of your mana dry convincing the stupid trees to protect yourself before you finally just collapse against a trunk, unable to stand back up.

> Actions?
> [] Check on Jerry
> [] Is that a manticore you see?
> [] Other
>>
>>459989
> [] Is that a manticore you see?
>>
>>459989
> [] Is that a manticore you see?
>>
>>460060
>>460039
>>459989

And low and behold, out of the blue, now would be the time your manticore friend chooses to return, looking much the same as before minus all of the horrible, bloody wounds from your prior engagement.

“You look terrible,” a voice echoes in your mind as he gazes at you curiously.

“And you’re talking,” you fire back, trying not to sound surprised. “So I suppose either I’ve taken one too many blows to the head or something has changed.”

“The gods offered me a gift of strength,” he acknowledges, “and explained the price to be paid: to assist you and whoever may come after in what ways I am able.”

“Well, we’ll have time to talk over the finer details of that later,” you grunt. “For now, though, a hand up would be appreciated.”

You could swear you hear a chuckle as you offer the beast your hand, a strong set of jaws grabbing hold of your forearm gently before it flings you onto its back like a ragdoll.

“Ow,” you complain feebly as you struggle your way up to a proper seating arrangement.

“You’re weak,” he idly comments without missing a beat, walking along and bouncing you with every step.

“I’m tired,” you correct. “I’ve been up all bloody night putting out a forest fire.”

“For that some would thank you,” the beast responds, “but I need you to be strong for the journey.”

“If you’ve got some milk, I hear it’s good for the bones…”

*Rattle-Rattle*

“No mate, no milk,” he replies, his tone hard to decipher, “but I have mana to spare. Take what you need from the symbol on my back and we’ll travel the rest of the way by air.”

You were really beginning to question whether this was the real life or just some mad fantasy of a dead man, but you find the symbol all the same, emblazoned where neck and shoulders meet in an image of crossed blades and toppled crowns. Seems Lothri and Gyold had spared you the branding, but as you run a hand across it, you can instantaneously feel the mana well up from within, rich and full and waiting to be tapped.

In the end, it would be rude to turn down a free meal, and so you let no further misgivings slow your hand as you take from your ally the essence you so vitally need, bones cracking and armor creaking as you pour the excess into fixing the wreck your body had become over the past twenty-four hours. And for his part, the beast hardly looks winded in the least after having topped off your reserves.

“Do not make me regret this.” That’s all he offers before with one mighty pull, he takes to the air with you on his back, flying swift and agile over the canopy and toward the town far off in the distance.

“No promises…” you say, as you realize he likely still doesn’t have a name.

> You should fix that…
> What do you want to call the manticore?
> [] Manny
> [] Alfred
> [] Jeffrey
> [] Other
>>
>>460090
Ned
No real reason
>>
>>460090
Falkor
>>
Oscar
>>
>>460241
>>460268
Either of these works
>>
Sting.
>>
>>460090
Artarax
>>
>>460090
Jane
>>
>>460090
>>460241
>>460269

“Well, I suppose I can’t just keep calling you manticore, now can I?”

“You could,” he points out. “It makes little difference.”

“Let’s just say I disagree,” you say. “So what’ll it be? What would you like to be called?”

“The name of a great warrior would be preferable,” he says after some thought. “Or something to bring us luck on our road.”

“Hmm… I don’t know of any named manticores in legend,” you admit, “but one can never go wrong with a bit of extra luck. How about Falkor?”

“If it suits you,” he replies. “Now hold on.”

With a sudden twist, you’re once more plummeting toward the earth at uncomfortable speeds, tree line rushing up to meet you as you try to silence the chattering in your jaw. Fortunately, this time you have the benefit of your friend not trying to kill you both, and he levels out just before you would meet, barely grazing a few branches before descending beneath the canopy.

“The rest of the way, we travel on foot,” he explains, pointing toward the direction of the village with his tail. “I won’t be welcomed there, but I won’t be far. Call me when your business is done and I will fly you to wherever you need to go.”

“About that,” you say. “I’ve two companions who will be joining as well, and I don’t imagine you could carry us all.”

“You underestimate me,” Falkor snorts. “I’ve carried elks heavier that the three of you put together. With two on my back and one in my paws, I am still swifter than any land animal.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you promise, and with that, you are off to the village.

> The real question is. How are you going to leave it?
> [] Take the horses. It will be two extra days, but you may need them.
> [] Take the manticore. Time is of the essence.
> [] If Falkor Express, who gets to ride on the underside? [Draw straws/Volunteer?]
>>
>>461160
>> [] If Falkor Express, who gets to ride on the underside? [Draw straws/Volunteer?]
We get princess carried
>>
>>461160
>[] Take the manticore. Time is of the essence.
> [] If Falkor Express, who gets to ride on the underside?
Lee should take that unenviable position.
>>
>>461160
>> [] Take the manticore. Time is of the essence.
>>
>>461192
Agree
>>
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>>461160
>>461186
>>461192
>>461240
>>461334

Another sleepy day in Dark Haven, as bellows pump and a sparse few horse carts mill the street, you make your way along with a minimum of surprised stares. After all, skeletal insides showing or not, armored investigators prowling the streets was an uncommon sight in places like this. Thankfully, the locals keep their curiosity respectful and afford you your distance as you make your way to the inn where your party had been staying, Michael and Ricky’s horses conspicuously absent among those parked outside.

“Good morning, Lee!” Sheriff Norris greets the moment you walk in the door, your companions seated at the same table as he tips his hat to you. “Glad you made it back in one piece.”

“It was a narrow balancing act,” you sigh. “Some magical mishaps happened, a small forest fire broke out, and I may have incurred the wrath of some being beyond the veil, nothing out of the ordinary if I’m being honest.”

“Great, more demons,” Lucy sighs, quickly polishing off a mug of ale before ordering another.

“At least I’ll be along with you this time,” Margy says. “Maybe I can keep them from attacking during the night.”

“And it’s not as though fleeing isn’t an option,” you add.

“Though if you’re feeling brave, there’s an indefinite bounty on demon skulls honored at any baron’s estate,” Norris points out. “Say what you will about the old king, but he had his priorities straight.”

“We’ll hedge our bets when they’re on the table, I suppose. Anyway, ladies, whenever you’re finished eating, we can depart for Shadesborough. It should be a short trip, so I recommend packing a light travel bag and leaving the rest at the inn along with your horses. We’ll be back in hopefully two or three days’ time to collect them.”

“More like three days on horse just to get there,” Norris points out. “Unless…”

“I’ve arranged for some overland travel.” You can’t help but notice Lucy chokes a bit on her ale at that. “That is, if that’s agreeable to everyone…”

“Y-yeah,” the elf replies shakily. “Just got something down the wrong pipe.”

“Let me get you some barding straps, then,” Norris insists. “You ladies can finish up while we take care of business.”

With a groan as he stands, the Sheriff’s quick on his feet to show you to the stables, the elderly quartermaster and he clearly sharing a certain rapport as he goes about buying everything he needs while warding off unnecessary questions, quite a feat when he asks the man to part with an old griffin rider’s saddle he just so happened to still have in stock.

“I take it you haven’t mentioned exactly what happened out there,” you posit, as the two of you walk away and toward the woods.
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>>461354

“Don’t want to throw around too many specifics in the here and now,” Norris admits. “Didn’t know if you were just gonna drag your new friend into town and cause a riot.”

“Please, I’ve more tact than that!” you insist.

“Well, guess I can see that now. Still, doesn’t hurt to limit the number of ears that could make your jobs harder for you. However, you can bet your bottom copper, people will know about the time you make it back this way with Harrison. Anyway, where’s what I’m guessing is your means of transport?”

“We’re probably far enough away now,” you conclude, cupping a hand around your mouth and creating an illusion to amplify sound as you bellow to the sky. “FALKORE!!!”

It rumbles against the clouds like thunder and is answered by a far-away roar, your beastly companion breaking through the clouds before he quickly comes crashing back down to earth not ten yards from your location.

“You called?” he questions, looking between you and the man curiously.

“Just something to make the ride a bit smoother for our other passengers,” you explain, pointing to the saddle. “Also a bit of reinforcement should your back be attacked.”

“Normally, I’d bristle at the thought of being saddled and ridden like one of your land creatures, but there’s no time for petty arguments,” he growls. “Just get it done.”

And so, for the next several minutes, you and Norris both go about slinging the saddle over Falkore’s back, resizing clasps and ropes by increments and occasionally having to torque certain parts to better match the contour of his form. Still, by the end, as you step away, the fit isn’t all that bad. What’s more, in the woods, you can already see Margy and Lucy making their way toward you.
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>>461363

“Try yelling a little louder next time, why don’t you?” Lucy complains as she steps into the clearing.

“Of course,” you reply sarcastically. “Maybe I’ll even summon the great dragon himself next time. Now, if you two ladies would kindly take your seat, we’ll get this trip underway.”

“A tight fit for three…” Lucy notes, looking at the saddle.

“Not something you’ll have to worry about,” you insist, and thus with no further questions, you help the two ladies up and turn to Norris. “Thanks for all the help.”

“That’s my line,” Norris replies. “Now take care, and don’t be long.”

“No promises on either,” you laugh, but by then, you already feel a strong pair of paws around your shoulders, “but I can tryyyyyyyyy!”

In a great blast of air, you and your companions take to the sky like an arrow, voices drowned in the rush of wind as the heavens draw close enough to touch. It’s exhilarating, awe-inspiring, and apparently utterly terrifying to the elf as her screams carry even above everything else.

“I DON’T WANNA DIE! I DON’T WANNA DIIIIEEEE!!!”

Oh, you are never letting her live this down.
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>>461371

And I think that's where we'll end it for the week folks. Hope you had fun, and I'll see you all next time.

>>457196

Also, thanks go to Larro for the wonderful art.
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>>461371
>>461375
Nice thread
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>>461384

Thanks anon.
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>>461375
Have to say, just read everything and caught up and I have to say this is one hell of a great thread. Thanks for the fun, and I hope to catch the next one.
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>>461583

Glad to have you along for the ride.



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