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>>477410

Feeling a bit shaky after so many downvotes in the archive, but I'll try for another round.

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

Rolled 46, 21, 12 = 79 (3d100)

>>477410
>[] Try to calm Lucy down with a musical number. About what?
Maybe a song about a calming harvest song?

And don't worry, you've got plenty of readers.
It's just that it takes us a while to trickle in.

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>>477731

Yeah. Not sure how I'll manage the slow running nature of the quest when I get back to school and work, honestly. We tend to drift a good bit between enough votes to update, but we'll just have to see.

For now, glad to have you, and I'd be thankful if anyone surfing the archive could bump thread thirteen a bit to keep it out of the red. Not sure if it was just intensely disliked or if one anon is trying to get it removed. Either way, it'd be nice not to have gaps if other people decide to pick up the quest at a later time.

Rolled 41, 91, 39 = 171 (3d100)

>>477410
>> [] Try to calm Lucy down with a musical number. About what? [3d100]
Why is it so down voted. This quest is quite fun.

>>477766
>I'd be thankful if anyone surfing the archive could bump thread thirteen a bit to keep it out of the red.
I did my part.

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>>477776
>>477811
>>477731

Thanks.

>>477410
> 46, 91, 39

“Come now my dear”
“There’s no need to fear”

“LEE, I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD!” the elf threatens, but Margy gently grabs her by the cheek.

“It’s okay, Lucy,” she promises. “I’m not going to let go and maybe a little singing will help take your mind off of things.”

As the elf’s words dissolve into quiet mutters into Margy’s bosom, you start up again.

“Sun above and field below
The time it flies, so now we sew
It’s far away, we’ve a ways to go
But idle hands won’t fill these rows
-With-

“Breads, puddings, peaches, pears
Cheese and milk and sweet eclairs
Afore knives clatter, ‘gainst fork and platters
We must attend to all our matters

-Like-

“Soil, oxen, seeds, and stores
Pile the silo and feed the boars
Make ‘em fat, chase off the rats
Do it now, afore you touch those doors

-And come for-

“Breads, puddings, peaches, pears
Cheese and milk and sweet eclairs
A frothy stein, I’ll call it mine
When sun dives down beneath the pine”

-And I’ve attended to-

--

It’s a simple, aimless tune, the sort sung out in the open fields of many an honest farmer and never a disappointment at a packed tavern after a long day’s work. Of course, Lucy wasn’t a farmer. She was a former rogue turned slightly less disreputable rogue in your service, and her fear of heights doesn’t seem to want to budge itself for a simple ditty.

Still, she stops screaming or shooting you dirty looks somewhere in the mix of things and Margy’s kind enough to go in for a chorus or two. You guess that’s the best case scenario you could have hoped for, all things considered. In any case, you could think of worse ways to pass the time as you sail the countless miles through the night and well on into the next day in the beast’s paws, the tell-tale bristles surrounding the sprawling expanse of the Shadesborough palisade eventually clueing you in that you may be drawing near.

> Where to set down?
> [] Touch down in town. Go for shock and awe!
> [] Touch down far away. You don’t want to make big waves.
> [] Other

>>478011
>[] Touch down far away. You don’t want to make big waves.
We don't want Harrison to be able to escape or know that we're coming for him.

>>478011
> [] Touch down far away. You don’t want to make big waves.

Falkor would not appreciate being shot at, chained or collared in any varient of.

>>478011
>> [] Touch down far away. You don’t want to make big waves.
What can we make of the town from this height.

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>>478062
>>478038
>>478028
>>478011

“Alright, Falkore,” you say as the first houses come into view. “I’ll need you to set us down a ways outside of the settlement. No sense causing a stir on our entry, as it’ll only make hunting the man down that much harder.”

“Tell your women to hold on,” he says. “I’ll take you down.”

You relay the instructions to your party members as instructed, something between a sigh of relief and a sickly groan escaping Lucy’s mouth as the beast tilts and sends the lot of your hurling toward the earth like a comet. The wind whistles through your eye holes, your bones chatter, but just as you begin to doubt whether he can pull up in time, it ends, Falkor gently coming to a halt on the forest floor before releasing you from his clutches and putting all four paws on the ground.

It’s then up to your companions to collect themselves and dislodge their aching thighs from the saddle, an apparently Herculean feat from the terrible slowness with which Margy slowly pulls herself away from the beast’s back, her head now obscured beneath a shock of frizzled hair, a humorous site that unmistakably draws your eye. However, you quickly find yourself much more engrossed with every other inch of the woman as she swings herself from the saddle with Lucy in her arms, the soft-spoken nun seemingly having grown a foot taller than when you had taken off and her muscular physique now pulling her otherwise loose habit tight about her.

“D-don’t stare!” she whispers quietly, turning her back to you. “Are you alright now, Lucy?”

“The world’s kinda spinnin’ kid…” she murmurs dizzily. “Reckon I might need to lay down for a while.”

> Your boots are on the ground, but what to do?
> [] We can wait.
> [] Do you think you could carry her for a while, Margy?
> [] Other

>>478093
>[] Do you think you could carry her for a while, Margy?
We still have a bit of a walk to get to the town.
Let's not waste any time if we can help it.

>>478093
>> [] Other
I'll scout ahead a bit. Wait here.

>>478093
>> [] Other
Unburden Falkore

>>478128
I'd like to add to mine that we tell them to meet us in town when they're ready

>>477414
>>downvotes
Why the hell?
>>478093
> [] Other
Scouting. at the very least, mark possible exits, or places Falkore could get in through unseen.

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Your guess is as good as mine, anon (>>478197).

>>478197
>>478195
>>478192
>>478128
>>478114
>>478093


“Well, not that it doesn’t paint a lovely picture,” you muse, looking to the muscular woman cradling the battle-hardened elf like a princess, “but I believe we may draw a bit of extra attention given Lucy’s present predicament. How about this instead? You two make your way along when you are ready. In the meantime, I’ll scout out the city.”

“F-Fuck you…” Lucy shakily spits.

“I’ll take that for a yes then,” you rattle, moving along before she can try to stumble her way after you into the gathering dusk.

It’s a long, but not unpleasant walk to civilization from there. The woods, so close to a major city, are sparse of dangerous beasts that would concern a weary traveler. In fact, the first animal you see bigger than a large dog is a cow as you emerge from the woods, the bovine innocently mooing at you from its pin in a lazy salutation.

Still, no time to stop and smell the flowers as you turn on your heels and make your way up the road to where large wooden battlements rise. The palisade’s banners wave proudly in the breeze as you casually stroll their way, and truly, they must have been doing well for themselves with the way the roads ran thick with traders even at this hour, casks of wine and exotic delicacies, fine satin and far less innocent looking carriers just trying to blend into the crowd.

Oh yes, you knew this sort of place all too well, from the crowded streets and bright, magically lit signs hanging in the distance to the musical tones you can practically feel pounding through the air and into your bones. This was a place where fortunes were made and lost on the roll of a single pair of dice and things with no price were bought, sold, and gambled without batting an eye. How a goodly woman and a former merc will fare in such conditions is anyone’s guess, but to you it feels somewhat like home as you pass the gate with a tip of the hat and a couple of coins placed in the right hands at the right time.

> Now the question is, where do you start your search?
> [] The brothels most likely
> [] The nearest pub might have news
> [] Never hurts to speak with a guard
> [] Other

>>478287
>[] The nearest pub might have news

>>478287
>> [] The nearest pub might have news

>>478287
> [] The nearest pub might have news

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>>478500
>>478327
>>478322
>>478287

Word spread quickly among the guards of a city in a place like this, you remind yourself, and while a man might run around to a dozen bars in a given night, he’d hardly stray from a given brothel once he’d gotten a taste for it. The ladies would talk, of course, notorious gossips that they were, but you’d be searching for a prick in a metaphorical haystack.

*Rattle-Rattle*

So a bar it is then, but which one? So many choices and flavors to choose from, from The Naughty Goblin to The Prim de Soleil, each seemingly packed yet somehow inviting. In the end, you simply decide to split the difference between high and low and wander with the current to a place called The Winking Skeever.

A quaint little tabernacle with old bottles and young scotch greets your eyes as you saunter in, a bevy of faces, fresh and worn, turning to greet you. Not every day an armored stranger stumbled into the garish mesh of interior design they called a pub, you’re sure. Still, you’d had worse, and eyes are soon turned back toward drinks and ears toward private conversations as you casually shuffle your way to the bar. There, a man with a well-groomed mustache and little other hair to speak of greets you with a warm and genuine smile.

“Evenin’ stranger,” he chuckles, sliding a drink down to a thankful recipient, handing off a serving platter to a waitress, and then turning back to you. “A busy night, but the weather’s fair. Now what can I get for you this fine evenin’?”

> What do you say?
> [] Order a drink. Any preference?
> [] “Some information, if you’d be so kind.”
> [] Other

>>478508
>[] Order a drink. Any preference?
A shot of whiskey.
Then ask questions.
> [] “Some information, if you’d be so kind.”

>>478508
>> [] Order a drink. Any preference?
Something with high alcohol content. Possibly we could burn it it all as it goes down.
>> [] “Some information, if you’d be so kind.”

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>>478556
>>478533
>>478508

“A glass of the strong stuff, if you would,” you say, nodding to a bottle on the top shelf. “It’s been a long road and I’ve some cobwebs to shake off.”

*Ratt-* Whoops. Not right now. Fortunately, the bar tender doesn’t seem to pay you any mind as he goes and grabs you a glass, filling it with a generous portion of fire water before ducking over to what appears to be a tiny chute. At first, it confuses you as to what he may be doing, but with a quick pull and a rattle, a large chunk of ice is soon to follow, landing in the glass with a satisfying plink.

“A genuine ice maker?” you laugh, delighted as he sets the drink in front of you. “You must be the envy of everyone around these parts!”

“We get by,” he agrees. “’Course, everyone’s got their gimmick.”

Speaking of which, with a leisurely swirl, you take the shot in your glass and knock it back, willing the flames in your chest to surge as the fluid passes into your ribcage and immediately dissipates in a puff of vapor. Some of it seems to be flowing out of your armor, unfortunately, but again, a quick cough and a wave is more than enough to allay the bartender’s suspicions.

“Wantin’ another then?” he questions, once more hefting the bottle, but you wave him off.

“Maybe in a moment,” you say, “but a bit of casual conversation in the meantime might hit the spot as well.”

“Well, I can spare you a minute, if you can give me five,” he chuckles, moving about the bar at lightning speed as he makes sure all of his orders reach their designated customers on schedule, finally wiping his hands as he returns to you.

> What do you say?
> [] Shoot straight. I’m looking for a man by the name of Harrison.
> [] Other

>>478653
>[] Shoot straight. I’m looking for a man by the name of Harrison.

>>478653
>> [] Shoot straight. I’m looking for a man by the name of Harrison.

>>478653
> [] Other
"You heard of any good hunts from bragging drunkards?"

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>>478972
>>478671
>>478667
>>478653

“I’m looking for a man by the name of Harrison,” you say, figuring there isn’t any point in being coy. “We’ve reason to suspect he covered up his involvement in a murder, and that’s brought me around here looking to bring him to trial. So, if you’ve heard of him, then you’d be doing me a huge favor in helping me find his location.”

The man looks surprised from the second you’ve said the name, but that quickly turns into a grin as he continues listening.

“You wouldn’t be the first,” he notes, his voice dropping a few decibels but his smile remaining wide, “not even concernin’ today if I’m bein’ honest. Somethin’ tells me you won’t be the last either, but I like the cut of your jib. So, let’s just say that Mr. Ford hasn’t been a good friend to the Skeever in recent weeks.”

“Oh?” you lead.

“Oh, aye,” the man responds. “Starts feelin’ up the girls like they were low class prostitutes on a full bill, some of the boys too. Then he pulls a gun on the owner when he tries to tell him he’s bein’ a drunken ass. Needless to say, he won’t be welcomed back till he brings that fuckin’ baron of his down and pries the title out of Leslie’s cold, dead hands.”

You follow the man’s eyes to a pair of elves in the corner, a beautiful woman smoking away at her pipe and what you assume to be her tattooed husband unabashedly raising a glass in your direction as you continue your conversation with the bar man.

“Last I heard, he was getting’ plowed down at the silver canary,” the man finishes, pointing the location out on a nearby map. They’re decent enough folks, though, so spare them the trouble, if you can. Any other questions then?”

> Any other questions
> [] Can I have a chat with the owners? About what?
> [] That’ll be all. Cheers.
> [] Other

>>479046
> [] Other

Inquire to the man about the sale of dangerous magical beasts in some form.

While we are here we might as well. Mr Harrison would not have gotten far from selling the thing before trying to blow his money load.

>>479046
>> [] Can I have a chat with the owners? About what?
Ask about Harrison and if she knows anything about the manticorn in his possession or was in his possession

>>479140
>>479125

Might be good to get an idea of when he arrived in the city as well, seeing the timeline lets us narrow things down.

>>479046
>[] That’ll be all. Cheers.
We don't really need anything else since we can get the manticore cub's location from Harrison.

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>>479046
>>479125
>>479140
>>479143
>>479168

“So when was he last here?” you ask the man behind the counter.

“Been about on a week,” he says. “He’d been in for a couple of days at that point, gettin’ progressively more pissed until he went and did somethin’ real stupid.”

“Speaking of, is there any way I could get a word with the owners before I take off? And did the man of the hour happen to stumble in with an exotic pet or blather on about who he sold it to?”

“Lots of questions,” the barkeep sighs, looking to the crowds lining up at the bar, “but I just don’t have the time, I’m afraid. Lysana and Leslie might though. Can’t give you specifics, but his drunken ass bragged about plenty, mentioned how he ‘rescued’ a wee manticore after killin’ its parents in single combat. Blowin’ it out of his arse is what I say. In any case, last drink’s on the house. Happy hunting.”

With a quick pour, the man turns back to his other customers, leaving you to quietly slide away into the room. Fortunately, at this point, you seem to have blended into the scenery, fewer eyes following you as you shuffle your way to the well-appointed corner where the elven couple lounge. A thick pillow lies beneath the maiden in their corner booth, her lips spilling a continuous stream of smoke as she gently puffs on a water pipe. The male has a drink in hand and several more that are empty on the table. However, whatever their preoccupation, their eyes are sharp and quick to turn to you as you approach.

“Well met,” the lady of the house sighs, languidly rearranging her legs, straightening her boa, and setting away her pipe.

“Guessing you had something on your mind after your talk with, Mannie,” the man adds, polishing off another mug before turning to you. “So what can we do you for?”

“A spot of information would do me well,” you say. “You see, I’m in town looking for a man by the name of Harrison.” The lady’s eyes narrow. “No friend of mine, of course, and clearly no friend to this establishment either from what I’ve heard.”

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>>480563

“That’s one way to put it,” the male sighs. “Not every day you get a gun waved in your face by someone stupid enough to use it.”

“You could have just killed him,” the woman points out tersely.

“Instead, I had the guards walk him out, Lisa. Less bad for business that way.”

It’s in that moment that you can’t help but notice the company you keep beneath the finery. Tone bodies, scars that you can only get by wielding a sword or taking one hidden away. These two were warriors, and still sharp from the way they were handling their distractions.

“Anyway,” he continues. “We kicked Harrison to the curb about a week ago and made him someone else’s problem.”

“Several someone else’s if what I hear is correct,” Lysana adds.

“And from the way people keep showing up to ask about him, I imagine he’s the same treat everywhere he goes,” Leslie sighs.

“How many other people?” you ask, but the man laughs.

“It’s never how many. It’s what kind of people were after him. Some of it was the usual: people looking to collect on tabs, a jilted lover here or there, and then you have the others: the kind that come in with big weapons, lots of questions, and tip like shit on the way out. If you need the guy alive, you might want to hurry.”

“Not guessing he spouted the exact location where he dropped a certain manticore cub at, did he?” you ask.

“A dozen places once the drinks ran through him,” Lysana sighs. “Sometimes it was a litter. Sometimes it was just one. Sometimes it wasn’t a cub at all, but a full grown manticore he tamed and had lurking outside of the city walls ready to pounce on whoever defied him.” She laughs. “He was a drunk and an ingrate, but he told good stories.”

> Well, seems they may not have the info you seek:
> [] Ask some more questions. What?
> [] Go to The Silver Canary. Time is of the essence.
> [] Other

>>480569
>[] Go to The Silver Canary. Time is of the essence.
> [] Other
Tip generously.

>>480686
Agree

>>480686
i'll back this

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>>481928
>>481596
>>480686
>>480569

“Well, hopefully he’ll be in a talkative mood when I get ahold of him,” you say. “However, the sooner I leave, the more likely that is. Thank both of you for your time, and take care.”

With that settled, you’re off toward the door, a few extra coins leaving your palm at the tip jar before you’re out in the bustling night time atmosphere, pressing your body against the throng as you let the sound of the night life and a few drunken fingers guide you toward your destination. Along the way, you truly begin to wonder if you hadn’t stumbled upon this place during some sort of festival. A swirl of music, food, and street performances erupt from seemingly nowhere and everywhere as you walk, painted faces giving way to painted bodies twisting in magical neon lights as you work your way further into the right wrong neighborhood.

“Take a load off, why don’t ya?” calls a bawdy girl from the front of one such shop, but unfortunately not the right one as you continue searching for a sign.

“I’ll put that sword of yours to good use~”

The list of catcalls goes on and on, a bevy of beautiful faces daring you to answer their call to action as you casually stroll down the street. Toothless, you laugh somewhat bitterly to yourself as you imagine what their reaction would be if they could see the man behind the helmet. Then again, some women might be into that… though likely not the kind you want to associate with.

No, you simply keep your eyes scanning for the right shop, looking for something, anything to catch your eye. However, in the end, your ears beat your vision to the punch. Gun shots, the sound of horses, screaming in the street followed by the sound of hooves: your bardic senses tell you that’s probably all coming from where you are presently heading toward. Now if only there wasn’t still a crowd in your way!

> What to do?
> [] Try to muscle your way through the crowds.
> [] Take your travel to the roof. How?
> [] Call Falkore!
> [] Other

>>482007
>> [] Try to muscle your way through the crowds.

>>482007
>> [] Take your travel to the roof. How?
time to whip grapple!

>>482007
>[] Take your travel to the roof. How?
Push mana into our leg bones and jump up onto the rooftops, enhancing our legs to be faster and stronger.

>>482132
>>482131
>>482128

A slight pause, unfortunately. I'm preparing for a move and need to attend to a couple of things.

>>482007
> [] Take your travel to the roof. How?

I like the idea of whip lineing it.

>>482007
How about both whip and leg strengthening magic

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>>482227
>>482210
>>482132
>>482131
>>482128
>>482007

With an impassable street, you turn your eyes to the roofs instead, unsheathing your blade before willing magic into your legs and taking a straight vertical leap into the air. The power of the gods being what it is, that alone is enough to carry you above the heads of most people, drawing wide-eyed stares that erupt into shouts as you will your blade to rapidly extend and retract, the tip slamming through an upper support beam before near instantaneously reeling you up to the roof’s precipice.

And from so high a perch, the source of the chaos becomes unfortunately clear, a team of horses already thundering away from the pleasure district at frightening speeds amidst the shouting throngs of people. That meant one of two things, the less favorable of which you try not to think about as you race across the rooftops, divine assisted legs giving a mighty leap that lands you in front of The Silver Canary.

“Wh- Wha-?” a young woman stammers, but you haven’t the time.

“Where is Harrison?” you ask firmly but with as much kindness as you can spare as you help the woman to her feet.

“The-They took him!” the terrified thing whispers. “Gave the lads at the door and some of the girls a good thumpin’ while they were at it!”

Mentally tracing their line through the city, you’ve yet another choice to make.

> What to do?
> [] Run after them! (3d100)
> [] Call Falkor!
> [] Stay. Ask question. Make sure everyone is alright.
> [] Other

Rolled 65, 90, 39 = 194 (3d100)

>>482703
>> [] Run after them! (3d100)
And> create illusion of fire in front of the horse to cause them to freak out and or create a thunderous noise.

Rolled 85, 36, 36 = 157 (3d100)

>>482703
>> [] Run after them! (3d100)

Rolled 15, 39, 36 = 90 (3d100)

>>482703
>[] Run after them!
We can come back and make sure they're alright, but we're not a healer (nor do we even have mundane healing skills) so we'd be of no use to the people here that the brothel's own girls couldn't do better.
What we do need to do is to catch up to these folks.

Use illusion magic to create the image, sound, and smell of flames right in front of the horses to get them to stop, then punch our mind into them to dominate them into obeying our will while we catch up.

Rolled 64, 20, 1 = 85 (3d100)

>>482703
>> [] Run after them! (3d100) Call falkore only if they make it out of town

>>482726
We should be thankful that your 1 was too late.

>>482730

No worries, anon. Good rolls can be as entertaining as bad rolls sometimes.

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>>482726
>>482722
>>482717
>>482712
>>482703

> 85, 90, 39

“Tend to anyone who was hurt,” you entreat her, realizing you are a skeleton and not a doctor. “I’ll deal with those ruffians.”

With that said and little time to lose, you take to the rooftops once again, launching yourself upward with explosive force before another furious bout of running sends you flying over rooftops and alleyways. It’s a surreal feeling, honestly, realizing how fast you can run in a city setting, how quickly the houses fly by and how immense the surprise in the onlookers’ eyes is. You may be no horse come the end of the day. However, you were collectively in the city now and that was allowing you to gain ground by traveling as the crow flies.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to be the case for long as they near the edge of town, the gates still open wide in the distance and showing no signs of closing as the kidnappers hit open ground and a straight stretch of road. And so, with no time left to stall, you give up waiting on the perfect moment and simply throw an illusion in their midst: a hellish ball of fire exploding in their ranks at the absolute edge of your range.

And the results are nothing to sneeze at. As a sound like rolling thunder and a roar of a demon echoes in their ranks, searing light and illusory fires consuming all, the horses do what is only natural: panicking and throwing their riders about like ragdolls in an attempt to put the fires out. Only one experienced rider even makes it out of that exchange still on horseback.

It would be your luck, however, that he seems to be the one in possession of an oversize package as he makes a bee-line for the gate and right toward your companions who are just making their way in.

“Outta my way!” you hear him shout, the man swinging a club at them as you thrust yourself down on top of a riderless horse and prepare to continue the chase.

However, before you can manage to get control of the terrified creature, before you can parse what is even going on, you see the horse simply go flipping end over end, a horrific whinny echoing through the streets as its brief flight ends with it slamming back (make that rider) first into the pavement, a pair of powerful, yet feminine arms wrapped around its chest.

Did she… Did she just suplex a horse?

> More importantly, what to do?
> [] Round up the criminals near you. Use terror? (3d100)
> [] Check on the hostage. That’s what’s important.
> [] Other

>>482795
>[] Check on the hostage. That’s what’s important.
Gotta prioritize.

>>482795
> [] Check on the hostage. That’s what’s important.
God DAMN though, woman

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>>482795
>>482811
>>482862

Assuming she didn’t just kill your target, you’re going to buy that woman a drink later, but for now, the time has come to narrow down the uncertainties. And so, ignoring the screaming throng still trying to pat the illusory fire off themselves and the rampaging horses bucking in the streets, you kick into high gear and go charging after the fallen rider.

“Lee, what in the hell is going on?” Lucy shouts, knife to the former rider’s throat even as she drags his limp body to safety.

“Well, I’d say we found our man, but there were some complica-“

Where the devil was that duffle? As if in answer to your question, there’s a sudden sound of ripping cloth and a flapping noise in the nearest alley, a shadowy form quickly racing out of site while screaming at the top of its lungs. Quite an impressive volume considering he seems to still be gagged with a sack cloth cinched about his neck

Oh lord.

> The chase is afoot!
> [] Chase after him alone! Leave the round up to your allies! (3d100)
> [] Take them with you! Catch that man! (4d100)

Rolled 6, 88, 5 = 99 (3d100)

>>482908
>[] Chase after him alone! Leave the round up to your allies!
"Where do you think you're going?! You've got debts to pay, and I aim to collect in blood!"

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>>482908
>>482921

Well, the quest has reached a stand still for the night, and I've got a busy day tomorrow. No promises on if I can get back to writing, but check back in periodically here or on twitter.

>>482908
> [] Take them with you! Catch that man! (4d100)
Call Falkore!

>>483051

Don't forget to roll.

Rolled 14, 66, 8 = 88 (3d100)

>>482908
> [] Chase after him alone! Leave the round up to your allies! (3d100)

Rolled 86, 44, 20 = 150 (3d100)

>>482908
>> [] Chase after him alone! Leave the round up to your allies! (3d100)

>>483021
Wish you luck with the move and thank you for the quest.

can lee do this later?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k-J3nJerAyQ#t=09m06s

Rolled 37, 46, 23 = 106 (3d100)

>>483057
Sorry, sorry

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>>484861
>>483401
>>483212
>>483051

>>483912

You can set the stakes as high as you want, anon.

>>482908

> 86, 88, 20

“Should we-“ Margy begins.

“You two round up these men before they can flee! They assaulted dozens back at the brothel!” you shout over your shoulder, already on the move. “I’ll handle Harrison!”

Hopefully they heard all of that clearly, but it’s not like you have time to check, not when Harrison is already turning a corner down the end of a dark alley, bolting away at a truly impressive clip for a man with no shoes... nor any other article of clothing if your unfortunate eye sockets don’t deceive you. Still, questions later, action now. You clear your mind of everything as you throw yourself up the nearest roof and continue pouring energy into your godly might, a trail of upset screams and shouts of confusion doing wonders to help you follow your otherwise invisible target below.

And from the sounds of things, he knows someone is still hot on his trail, never slowing for a second as he barrels through shops and apartments alike in an attempt to get away. Still, you may be no horse but neither are you quite human, and with a bit of illusion at your beck and call, he breaks left when you appear to break right across the rooftops, the hunter emerging in a nearby street and out in the wide open for you to pounce at him from the rooftops.

Call it luck or blind intuition, but his speed slightly increases in that moment, a somewhat sideways lunge narrowly carrying him out of your reach as you grab for his body, but only grasp air. Scratch that, air and then his cloak.

“Where do you think you’re going?” you begin. “You’ve got debts to pay, and I plan to collect in- Hey!”

In a flash, he produces a knife from nowhere, sharp metal shearing through tense fabric like butter to send you both tumbling in opposite directions.

“In blood!” you shout, redoubling your efforts as the chase after the slippery bastard begins anew, armor and bones rattling as you use everything at your disposal to hem him in.

Bounding off of walls, using your whip as a barricade, throwing illusory walls in his way to try to force him to double back, he’s nothing if not an expert coward as he matches you move for move, even with your enhanced speed. Still, every chase has an end, and as you duck through a produce stall, you find your solution sitting in a corner.

“I said-“ You heft a sack of flour and take expert aim, hurling it with all of your might at the back of the man’s head as he runs down yet another alleyway: a direct hit! “Stop. Right. There-“

“STOP RIGHT THERE, CRIMINAL SCUM!” a guard finishes for you as you get within arm’s reach. However, his crossbow is aimed at you.

> Damn it. This looks bad. What to do?
> [] “Um, well you see officer…” [Insert Explanation]
> [] JUSTICE ANSWERS TO NO ONE. Try to intimidate. (3d100)
> [] Cheese it! Call Falkor!
> [] Other

>>487678
>> Fast talk
My name is Lee Townsend! I was on official business here to find Mr.Harrison when that person and his crew attempted to kidnap him and have been creating chaos in your town. If you feel like doing your job than I must implore you to stop threatening me and help catch the culprit who's getting away!

Rolled 75, 20, 34 = 129 (3d100)

>>487678
>[] Other
Intimidate and fast talk.
"Criminal?! I am an agent of the Church here to arrest this scum for the murder of a child! The Sister back at the gate collecting up the gang trying to take our quarry has our paperwork. Now would you kindly lower your weapon so I can arrest this child-killer?"

>>487678
> [] JUSTICE ANSWERS TO NO ONE. Try to intimidate. (3d100)
No time to stop. Flare up some fire and cow him out of the way, not like a bolts going to do much more then hurt a bit anyway.
"I Am an agent of justice, and if you do not want to burn along with him then MOVE!"

Rolled 55, 77, 18 = 150 (3d100)

>>487933
>>487976
supporting these

Rolled 16, 85, 63 = 164 (3d100)

>>487984
dice dice dice

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>>488018
>>487986
>>487976
>>487933
>>487678

> 75, 85, 63

“Criminal scum?” you scoff. “My good man, my name is Lee Townsend, and I assure you that I’m here on official business.”

“I’ll beg your pardon,” he interrupts, pointing to the unconscious, flour-covered man on the ground, “but what part of this would be ‘official’.”

“The part where I am here as an agent of the Church!” you insist. “More specifically, I’m here to arrest this man, Mr. Ford, for the murder of a child! The Sister back at the gate has our necessary paperwork on the matter. She’d be with me presently to explain it all were she not busy doing your job for you and collecting the gang that assaulted The Silver Canary. Now, if you would kindly lower your weapon and follow me to a series of easy arrests, I think we could both benefit.”

The man looks at you, then to Harrison and back again, finally sighing before lowering his crossbow and motioning for you to get moving. First, however, you stoop down to grab Harrison, rolling the now flour covered sap in the remains of his sack-cloth cape before slinging him over one shoulder and strolling casually in the direction you think you had come from, down a street where curious eyes now stare from every window.

So much for a quiet operation, you silently condemn, but it’s at least mercifully without further incident as you retrace your steps along mostly empty roads. A few more guards attempt to stop you here and there, of course, as strange an image as you paint, but with one or more guards there to attest your innocence, they hardly form much of an impediment, choosing instead to follow in and share the credit for the capture.

Of course, there’s little actual capturing to be done by the time you are all back on the scene, a dirt-smeared Lucy casually sitting on a barrel and sharpening her knife over her newest captives, the most lively of which has a Margy in ragged robes sitting on top of him directly.

“Get your ass off of me you stupid, unnatural whore!” the man shouts. “Else I’ll carver yer tits o- AH!“

“Be polite,” Margy chides gently, one powerful arm casually wrenching his in what must be a truly excruciating position as his screams turn silent. “Oh, Lee! You’re back!”

“And you brought some guards. Good work, bonehead,” Lucy congratulates, hopping into a standing position as you approach.

“One does what one can,” you say, putting on airs as you direct the guards toward the would-be kidnappers. “Now, if you gentlemen would be so kind, these are the men who assaulted your brothel as well as trying to make off with Mr. Ford.”

“They wouldn’t be the only ones tonight,” the guard throws back. “Now where’s this proof that you are who you said you are, or that this is even your man?”

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>>488865

“Oh!” Margy pipes up, moving off of the man and fumbling in her robes. “I know I had this in here somewhere. Was it here? Here? No, maybe here… Aha!” With a grin, she produces a small ledger which she presents to the guard. “As a sixth level acolyte of the church of Orrin, and by the authority invested in our organization by the cross-barony judicial authority summit in the year-“

“Yeah, yeah!” the man gripes, walking over to the still sack covered head and cutting it loose to reveal a rather handsome face beneath. “This your guy?”

“Looks like it,” Margy agrees, stooping to get a better look.

“Then my job here is done. Grab the rest boys and let’s get them in a locker!”

“You’ve gone and done it now!” the man formerly beneath Margy laughs menacingly. “Ye’ve made some powerful enemies tonight! Remember, The Family always pays its debts!”

“That’s enough out of you!” says the guard helping him to his feet, mailed fist slamming into the man’s solar plexus and silencing his rhetoric. “You see-“

Before he can finish, another guard’s boot slams into the man’s privates sending him crumpling into a heap.

“See around here, we also pay our debts,” the second guard finishes. “Did ye know? Got a sister that works at The Canary.”

“Well,” you interject, adding emphasis as it appears the one guard is going in for another kick. “I’m sure that won’t blind any of you gentlemen in seeing justice is done properly and within the extent of the law.”

“Piss off and mind your own business!” the guard shouts.

> What to do?
> [] This doesn’t concern you.
> [] Threaten. (3d100)
> [] Beat him up! (3d100)
> [] Other

Rolled 70, 96, 91 = 257 (3d100)

>>488878
>[] Threaten. (3d100)
Spirit of Justice not Vengeance

Rolled 81, 71, 82 = 234 (3d100)

>>489134
I'll support those roll's

Rolled 56, 38, 72 = 166 (3d100)

>>488878
> [] Threaten. (3d100)
We're already here chasing one wrongdoer, dont think we're too busy to interest ourselves in another.

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>>489155
>>489134
>>488878
>>489582

> 81, 96, 91

“If you keep assaulting that man, you’re going to make this my business,” you assure them, voice calm but firm until you see the guard scoff and turn back to continue his violence.

“I SAID: ENOUGH!” you then shout, voice suddenly deepening like thunder and echoing with the same unnatural cadence as you will the flames to rise from within your armor and your illusions cast long shadows over the surrounding world.

“A monster!” one of them shouts.

“Are you some sort of a d-demon?” another murmurs, stepping away only for your blade to come erupting from the soil behind him.

“A demon?” you question mockingly, fire burning more fiercely as you will your eye sockets to glow. “Oh no, the gods are very much on my side, I’m afraid. You see, what I am is not a demon but an answer: an answer to every tyrannical prick who would use their power to bully those weaker than themselves. Justice exists to protect the weak, not enable petty vendettas.” In a blur of motion, you’re on the offending guard, seizing him by the collar and lifting him into the air as your eyes bore a hole through his skull. “DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR!?”

“Y-y-y…” Well, he’s wet himself now. That… That probably means he gets it, right?

And none of the other guards seem keen on challenging your assertion either. So, victory achieved, you carefully set the man back on his feet, straighten his coat and begin slowly walking away, Margy and Lucy soon following suit as you leave the stunned retinue behind, standing in the dust.

“Hehe, priceless,” Lucy laughs, but you’re already looking toward your next phase.

> What to do?
> [] Get some distance from the city. Call Falkor.
> [] Get information first. Falkor won’t make that easy.
> [] Other

Also, interrogation tactics:
> [] Forceful
> [] Professional
> [] Friendly
> [] Other

>>489624
>[] Get some distance from the city. Call Falkor.
> [] Friendly
We can be good cop to Falkor's very angry dad cop

>>489624
>> [] Get information first. Falkor won’t make that easy.
>> [] Unnervingly Friendly

>>489624
> [] Get some distance from the city. Call Falkor
> [] Forceful

>>489624
> [] Get some distance from the city.
First, try to get info from him, then call falkor if he isn't cooperating.
>Professional

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>>490034
>>490008
>>489647
>>489644

“So what’s the plan, skeleton man?” Lucy asks, breaking off from a casual whistle as you clear the gate and continue out into the night.

“Well, first we wake him up,” you begin, once again ignoring the elf’s unconscious couplet, “and then we’ll see if he’s in the mood for some pleasant conversation.”

“If that’s code for thumbscrews, I think I have a pair rattling around in one of these pockets,” she happily volunteers, slender fingers fumbling at her vest.

“No! How could you even suggest that?!” Margy immediately objects, eyes widening in shock. “It’s inhumane!”

“Did you forget the part where we’re going to hang this piece of shit back in Shadesborough, Bright Eyes? A little song and dance at the end of a well-placed iron beforehand won’t change much.”

“We’re here for justice!” the nun insists. “Not to torture people!”

“And for every minute we waste arguing with this shit bag, the cat’s cub is getting further away!”

“We don’t know that!”

“And you don’t know that I’m wrong! Look, it’s not like I’m threatening to skin his di-”

“Ladies!” you shout, breaking off the conversation. “Ladies! That is a stump. This is some rope. Lucy, you tie him up. Margy you explain what the hell his prospects even are in this case.”

“Yes ‘sir’,” the elf replies sarcastically, even throwing in a terse salute before getting to work securing the captive.

“And Margy?”

“Well, um…” she begins. “Typical penalties for misleading an investigation vary based off of the county it was committed in and the gravity of the crime interfered with. In this case, jail time is more likely than a straight forward execution. We could push for a lighter sentence though, as principle investigators. We have that right.”

> Hmm. What to do?
> [] Play the nice guy. Failing that, bring in Falkor (4d100)
> [] Rope Lucy in for Good Cop/Bad Cop (4d100)
> [] Other

Rolled 73, 67, 12, 18 = 170 (4d100)

>>490408
>> [] Play the nice guy. Failing that, bring in Falkor (4d100)

Rolled 99, 53, 99, 50 = 301 (4d100)

>>490408
>[] Rope Lucy in for Good Cop/Bad Cop

>>490543
At least, it'll start as Good Cop/Bad Cop.
When he's uncooperative, it'll become Bad Cop/RAGING INFERNO OF JUSTICE Cop.

>>490543
>>490446
>>490408

Well, I gotta go again. Continue to respond, and I'll be sure to announce when another window opens.

Rolled 8, 12, 43, 88 = 151 (4d100)

>>490408
> [] Rope Lucy in for Good Cop/Bad Cop (4d10)
Lets try Good cop/ vengeful Cop.
We seem pretty good at that, and were easily angry enough.

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>>491068
>>490811
>>490619
>>490543
>>490446

This thread's been in autosage for a good little while, but I'm finally free enough to keep writing. For that though, I'm going to try to start a new thread.

>>499152
Link?

>>499216

Gonna need a minute to create a new opening post. Apologies.

>>499216

Here we go.

->499450

>>499456

Dang it.

>>499450