>Corundum Sword. While it's not an important heirloom, it was made for you by master smiths in your grandmother's homeland.
>Architectural Focus. The Magic of the Men of One toys with the fundamentals of the world, all but the most expert mages of your people use a crystal focus to prevent themselves from becoming 'lost within the world'
>Air Rifle. A brand new model, it was gifted to you by your mentor on your final hunt together, air rifles are a weapon exclusive to the Men of One.
>Your bare fists. You were trained in unarmed combat during your youth and adolescence, with your preternatural strength you've never relied on weapons. Besides your own body that is.

>>3271653
>Air Rifle. A brand new model, it was gifted to you by your mentor on your final hunt together, air rifles are a weapon exclusive to the Men of One.

Gun > Everything

>>3271656
>Air Rifle. A brand new model, it was gifted to you by your mentor on your final hunt together, air rifles are a weapon exclusive to the Men of One.
Hm.

>>3271656
>Architectural Focus

about time waifu you nerd
>Architectural Focus. The Magic of the Men of One toys with the fundamentals of the world, all but the most expert mages of your people use a crystal focus to prevent themselves from becoming 'lost within the world'

building powers go

>>3271653
>>Air Rifle. A brand new model, it was gifted to you by your mentor on your final hunt together, air rifles are a weapon exclusive to the Men of One

>>3271653
Magic, or Gun?

...Gun.
>Air Rifle. A brand new model, it was gifted to you by your mentor on your final hunt together, air rifles are a weapon exclusive to the Men of One.

>>3271679
>>3271686
>>3271702
>>3271703
Gunning manlets down

>>3271697
>>3271698
Destroying brainlets with FACTS and LOGIC

Gun wins. Writing.

>>3271708
I swear to god if it's a dinky airsoft gun I'll riot.

File: air rifle.png (204 KB, 600x151)

204 KB PNG

The intricate air rifle you received from your mentor at the end your last hunt together is a weapon unique to the People of Haryun who live on the island of Koppesmor, situated halfway between the Old World and the New.

003 is delicately inlaid on the side, amidst the orichalcum leafing of the barrel and firing mechanism. The third rifle of the new model.

With a slow and steady exhale, you raise the beautiful weapon to your shoulder. You pull back the hammer until it locks, the soft click a familiar and nostalgic sound. The sound that escapes the barrel once the trigger is squeezed is almost as quiet as the click of the hammer locking.

But the devastation of the ball is evident. The leftmost of squat blue men collapses as the left side of his head explodes into gore. The slaver to his right turns in shock, and for his distraction you reward him with the second ball of your rifle's forty-round capacity.

After the second of his men goes down, the Binarvicq leader grunts and squeals in rage, heaving his harpoon at you with surprising strength for his size.

Before the spear has even closed half the distance towards you, your stomach is already touching the ground. From your prone position, you cock your rifle once more and send the third round through the Binarvicq leader's mustache. The largest blue man's cranium is hollow when his face hits the ground. But by that point you've already downed the fourth and fifth of the fat blue slavers.

The sixth native has fled when you stand, running away from you through the dense forest, back towards the desolate city.

To hit a deer at this range, through such dense underbrush would be quite the feat.

But a fat, short-legged seal hunter is no deer. The sixth Binarvicq falls when your round pierces his heart.

Searching of the seal hunters' bodies reveals nothing of interest, the leader doesn't even have a map.

Only a short walk through the pine forest in the direction the last slaver fled leads you to an ill-kept gravel road, on which is a large, uncovered carriage. Unfortunately, there are no mounts, it seems like the Binarvicq drive their own carts by hand. How barbaric. Two people sit, bound, in the back of the cart. Both of their heads are covered by black sacks, both completely still.

When you approach the side of the cart, the figure closest to you speaks up. To your surprise, it's in Isler, the Common Tongue of the westernmost parts of the Old World.

"Who goes there? Your footsteps are too light to be one of them, pray tell are you here to free us?" By his accent, he's from the Unbroken Isles. Which is strange, while intrepid colonizers, the men of those lands are lackluster explorers.

You suppose it wouldn't be harmful to give him your name.

>Artur
>Kyra

And are you going to free the prisoners?

>Yes, there's no real reason to leave them here.
>No, they'll probably want to go with you, and you don't want anyone slowing you down.

>>3271839
>Artur
>Yes, there's no real reason to leave them here.

>>3271839
>Artur
>Yes, there's no real reason to leave them here.

I'll assume the first choice is a name as well as choosing our gender.

>>3271839
>Artur
>Yes, there's no real reason to leave them here.

>>3271839
>>Artur

>Yes, there's no real reason to leave them here.

>Kyra
>Yes, there's no real reason to leave them here.

>>3271839
>Artur
>Yes, there's no real reason to leave them here.

>>3271845
miss gantz man, Paula was bringing him back hehehe

>>3271839
>Niggur
>Leave them, but take their shoes.

>>3271844
>>3271845
>>3271851
>>3271857
>>3271865
Soggy knees and white knighting.

>>3271864
#woke

Artur wins. And nobody wants to leave them. Writing.

"Artur," you answer the man, rifling through a leather bag at the front of the carriage. There's nothing of value or interest there to be found, just like on the bodies of the Binarvicq. What you do manage to find is a crude bone knife. It's not something you'll keep, but it will do for now. Stepping up onto the cart, you run the knife through the ropes binding both men's wrists and ankles.

"Artur, that's it?" The Isler man removes his hood, "I see, you're Elsofeny."

He must be a scholar to have surmised your race so quickly.

You nod, "I am, and you are?"

"Gregory of Oakmill, I'm a scholar at the University of Thrandon," he rubs the angry red marks around his wrists, grimacing. He's an older man, as expected of a self-proclaimed university scholar, around fifty if you had to guess. His short, mousy brown hair is streaked with grey and he has what at one point was probably a well-kept goatee. "You have my gratitude," the scholar adds.

At this point, the other man has removed his hood as well.

Clearly a man of the New World, his appearance is striking to you. The sclerae of his eyes are a dull grey, and the irides are a deep maroon, his skin is the color of ashes, at first glance his long hair appears black, but when the light hits it, you can see that it's a dark blue. Another native of these lands.

Both men are dressed in brown rags.

The man's speech is incomprehensible to you, though it sounds like language, unlike the tongue of the Binarvicq. A flowing, intricate language.

Immediately, the scholar interprets. "Hastiin wishes to extend his thanks to you as well, and asks if you are one of the men of this land."

"I came from across the sea, from Koppesmor," you answer mostly-truthfully, "I meant to visit Hokkap to learn more about the New World."

The Middilman strokes his short beard. "Are you part of a new wave of colonists then, or a fellow seeker of knowledge?"

>Neither, but your business is your own.
>Neither, you are here in the New World to fulfill your destiny!
>You are seeking something, but not knowledge. You're looking for four great artifacts.

>>3272007
>Neither, you are here in the New World to fulfill your destiny!

>>3272007
>Neither, but your business is your own.

Seems the most open ended answer but don't make it sound too dismissive.

>You are seeking something, but not knowledge. You're looking for four great artifacts.

Always good to have goals.

>>3272007

>You are seeking something, but not knowledge. You're looking for four great artifacts.

A scholar may know about artifacts, lets mention it.

>>3272007
>You are seeking something, but not knowledge. You're looking for four great artifacts.

Changing mine >>3272014
to support these.
>>3272025
>>3272036
>>3272039

>>3272007
>Neither, you are here in the New World to fulfill your destiny!
Wish we had something else but this is open enough.

>>3272047
I'll specify when you can't write in in the future.

>>3272052
So write ins are available in this vote?

In that case you should add a
>Write in?
or
>Other?

prompt when it's available and take it away when it's not going forward.

>>3272058
Right, thanks.

>>3272025
>>3272036
>>3272039
>>3272043
Being frank.

>>3272011
>>3272047
Being pompous.

Try to glean some information from the scholar.

"I came here seeking something, but it isn't knowledge. I came to this New World to find four great relics," the scholar nods as you step off the carriage, letting the two previously-bound men stretch their legs. "Tell me scholar, how much do you know of the Intermarine Exchange between the Old World and the New?"

The scholar steps off of the cart as well, followed by the grey man. "It's my area of expertise, my young friend," he answers you, rolling his neck to work out the stiffness. "Well, the New World is, not the Exchange in particular. But I know a great deal about that still, what is it you wish to have knowledge of?"

"Fifteen hundred years ago, during the end of the Second Mythic Era-"

"The Latter Theogony," the scholar "corrects" you, preferring his peoples' terminology to your own.

This earns him a scowl.

"Just before the Silent Era began," you change the phrasing for the sake of ease, "the smiths and Architects of High King Arpect forged for him six devices to symbolize his rule."

"Ah yes, if I'm not mistaken, once the Elsofeny were scattered in the East, each of the Tribes took two of the crown jewels for themselves, while the Orb-Spanning-the-World and the Blade Merciful remain on Koppesmor, the remaining four relics were carried west by raiders at various times. It is said that a detachment of 'wolves in the shape of men' crewing a Binarvicq ship conducted a raid which saw the sacking of the settlements of the Broken Hand took Evermorn and the Realm-Shaped-by-Sceptre back west with them."

The scholar then turns to his native companion, who has been silent throughout this conversation due to the language barrier, and speaks to him in his own language.

The two then engage in a conversation, measured and scholarly.

Turning back to you, the Isler informs you what his companion told him about. "It's become legend here, the Skinwalker tribe, as those raiders are known here, who stole the relics was favored by Shashiz, the Bear-God of the Earth. They gave him the relics, and he gifted the ring Evermorn to Malo'o, the Fish-Goddess of the Sea, and his consort." The scholar fixes you with an almost apologetic gaze, "It's said that to this day, the Ring and Scepter remain in their palaces."

The native man once again speaks to the scholar.

"It is also said," the man almost reluctantly adds, "that the gods of this land dwell on the Earth among the people, that each of them rules a country in one of the corners of the New World."

His easy dismissal of his native companion's beliefs causes you to roll your eyes, it's typical of the Middilman. Even more typical for a Middilman "intellectual."

>Continued

"The Crown Anointed and the Finestra of the Two Sides were carried south by a great treasure barge, in a raid said to be the advent of firearms in the east," the scholar once again strokes his beard, "ah yes, the mirror was either stolen by the Daughter of Hwaasta, the Eagle-Goddess of the Sky, or given to her in a trade by Sha Yee'Adi, the Serpent-God of the Sun."

"Those relics are also kept by the gods themselves," the finish the story yourself.

"Or in heavily fortified temples." the scholar once again decides that you're in need of correction.

Hastiin, the ash-skinned native, speaks once more, and the Middilman translates. "Funny, I was just about to ask. But if you already know the story, why did you come here, why do you pursue such a dangerous goal?"

>Because you are the one who will usher in the New Era
>Because the Westermen deserve to have those relics returned.
>Because your people have been downtrodden for too long, and this is the only way to restore them.
>Perhaps you're just following an old woman's delusions, but you've come this far already.
>Other?

>>3272487
>>Because the Westermen deserve to have those relics returned.

>>3272487
>Perhaps you're just following an old woman's delusions, but you've come this far already.

>>3272487
>Other?
"Pirate."

>>3272487
>Perhaps you're just following an old woman's delusions, but you've come this far already.

Maybe a prophecy, maybe not. An adventure either way.

>>3272511
>>3272528
Switching to pirate.

>>3272528
>>3272547
What do you mean by Pirate?

>>3272549
I was trying to think of a median between Thief and Adventurer. Just "thief" didn't feel apt. Figuring, we know these powerful treasures exist, so why not just steal them?

Oh yeah, those gods' names are local. So you won't be seeing them all the time.

>>3272487
>Because you are the one who will usher in the New Era
or
>Perhaps you're just following an old woman's delusions, but you've come this far already.

>>3272487
>Other?
Tomb raider, for fun and profit

>>3272561
This is also good.

>>3272561
Also fine with tomb raider.

>>3272549
We want them because we're a pirate and pirates steal stuff.

>>3272573
>>3272561
>>3272547
>>3272528
Sorry, but I'm going to say say no on the piracy thing.

You can be in it for profit though, if you really want to be. It's a lot of rist if you're just in it for profit though.

>>3272588
You can probably spin it as primarily following some prophecy, but it'll be nice to somehow make lots of cash on the side during.

Or something.

>>3272487
>>Perhaps you're just following an old woman's delusions, but you've come this far already.

>>3272588
Piracy is gay and if you chose this you are gay and orange man bad.

>>3272588
KAY

>>3272487
>Because you are the one who will usher in the New Era

>>3272526
>>3272536
>>3272559
>>3272612
Being a good son wins. I think I'll update once more tonight.

But I'll try to spin something in there about profit.

I think I might have to save the update for tomorrow.

"Perhaps I'm just chasing an old woman's delusions," while at some point you did honestly believe in your mother's words, once you became a man and spent more time with mentors and tutors, you began to doubt her. Either way, you're in the New World now, and the reward for retrieving Arpect's should be worth whatever trouble you have to go through. "I've come this far though," you hold up a finger to silence the academic's protestation, "and scholar, if the nature of these countries is as you say they are, the task should not be that hard."

The university man stammers a moment, "But you would be delving into great heathen temples! The hearts of this pagan world!"

"If there are truly no gods in these lands, then I have little to fear on my journey." The matter-of-fact statement takes the scholar aback.

For a few more minutes, the scholar attempts to debate you on the New World's nature. Unfortunately, by this point you've grown tired of it.

While your culture is not an open one, Men of One academics do not shun the beliefs of the other men of the world. Instead those beliefs are investigated and cataloged, both what those people hold true and what is the truth.

More pressing than the characteristic arrogance of a Middilman is where you will head next on your journey. The map you had brought on your boat only detailed sea lanes and charted currents, along with the coastline surrounding Hokkap. Globes and charts of the New World had been consulted before your departure, but such things were too valuable to send West with you, especially charts detailing the approach to Koppesmor.

Hastiin, the ash-skinned native, (through interpretation) tells you of the largest settlements of the High Cape, and the tribes of his people therein. Though, the Middilman interpreter adds that his companions comes from farther west originally.

The first of your options is to head north, following the Whispering River. Hastiin and Gregory came south over land to reach Hokkap, but following the river should be a quicker journey, albeit not as safe. This will bring you to Kag'ah, the largest inland city of the east of the towering mountains of the pagan heartland, and the seat of a large tribal confederation centered around the large lakes and highlands to the north of Hokkap. Hastiin seems to prefer this course of action.

Next is the option, endorsed by Gregory, is to travel northeast, into the highlands and towards a deep valley bordering the Whispering River's northeastern neighbor. According to the scholar, this will bring you to a fortified village built by the people of Hokkap during the last summer. What the Middilman doesn't bring up is that the location and existence of this redoubt are questionable.

The final option laid out is the most reasonable. Your party could head west, fording the Whispering River and crossing a relatively empty floodplain. Once you reach the Mountains Gloaming, a large, fortified city of traders sits in the pass that gives the mountains their name. There will certainly be people who speak your language there, and a great deal of useful supplies. If you're lucky, there may even be a gunsmith, firearms did come from the New World after all. For whatever reason, neither Hastiin nor Gregory were enthusiastic about this idea.

>Head north along the Whispering River, to the Kag'ah and the Haudeno-Kag.
>Go east, taking the overland route towards the Eimmeler fort.
>Head west to the Gloaming Mountains. To the trader city.

The vote will be open till whenever. I'll close it when I start writing the next post.

>>3275744
>Head north along the Whispering River, to the Kag'ah and the Haudeno-Kag.
Being new here, we should listen to the locals. If they don't want to go west, there's likely a reason for that.

>>3275744
>Head west to the Gloaming Mountains. To the trader city.

Preparation is never a bad thing. Our companions can be as unenthused as they want, they've demonstrated that their sum capability without us is being caught by walrus cosplayers.

>>3275744
>>Head north along the Whispering River, to the Kag'ah and the Haudeno-Kag.

>>3275744
>>Head north along the Whispering River, to the Kag'ah and the Haudeno-Kag.

>>3275770
>>3275838
>>3276242
Looks like you're going North, I have to go out for a while so the vote will stay open if anyone else decides to vote.

>>3275744
>Head north along the Whispering River, to the Kag'ah and the Haudeno-Kag.

>>3277405
>>3276242
>>3275838
>>3275770
Vote called for going north. Post this evening at some point soon-ish.

>>3275836
Only one of them was cosplaying a walrus.

>>3275836
Imagine knowing you're not being guarded and not trying to struggle out of your bindings until some oaf comes along with delusions of grandeur and an upgraded airsoft rifle.

By Gregory's own words, the land of Haudeno-Kag is one exceptionally civilized, for this part of the New World.

The Middilman scholar goes onto explain that the men of the Haurdeno-Kag venerate the porcupine as the most praiseworthy of Shashiz's children. Their admiration for the arboreal rodent has lead them to become some of the most prolific metalworkers of Oreseia, as well as one of the only cultures of the northeastern continent who actually don metal armor. Well-traveled roads follow the Whispering River north, skirting the highlands which rise from the west of the Muffled Forest, a sprawling woodland that takes up the High Cape's south. Luckily for you, this system of roads will provides quick and easy travel from the Haerdeno-Kag to Hokkap. Unfortunately, the roads are rather exposed, and Binarvicq slavers have been far more active as of late.

Escaping your initial once-over of the carriage was the fact that under the seats for the prisoners doubled as chests. The scholar and native find their possessions under the seats, and you give them a few minutes to dress themselves.

The scholar is dressed more for travel than you would have expected, a durable cotton jacket and trousers, heavy black leather boots, and a domed white helmet.

The native is dressed more casually, though his leather and fur outfit would doubtlessly go for a higher price than his companion's. His vest is buffalo leather and beaver fur, as are his pants, both of the dark brown garments are fringed; his shoes are a lighter, softer leather.

Also among their gear are a one-handed iron axe belonging to Hastiin, a waterproofed vellum map belonging to Gregory, a heavy leather bag also belonging to Gregory, and a number of stone knives which belong to the native man.

According to the map, it will take you around ten days to reach the southernmost outposts of the Haudeno-Kag, going at a reasonable pace.

Unfortunately for you and your companions, there are no bedrolls in the cart, and you would rather sleep on the ground than on gore-splattered seal furs.

Roll 1d10, highest of 4

Rolled 10 (1d10)

>>3278850

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>3278850

>>3278856
Oh. I see.

The first five days you spend in the New World are uneventful save for the initial foray.

They're nostalgic even.

On the third day, tired of salted seal meat which has to be boiled for two hours to be edible (courtesy of the Binarvicq cart) and the mariner's biscuits you had brought with you, you had ventured off of the beaten path and shot a deer. Knowing that it would take some time to find a deer, you had bade your traveling companions to leave the road and make camp in a nearby sheltered clearing.

Once you had returned with your prey, a doe of middling size, the ash-skinned man informs you, through the Middilman's interpreting, that a group of Binarviqc armed with nets and bone spears passed by shortly after the two of them had made camp.

Two nights later, halfway through your trek to the Haudeno-Kag, you've just finished a dinner of deer and tubers, which Hastiin showed you how to spot and dig.

After Hastiin and Gregory have fallen asleep, you discover that the water skins plundered from the Binarvicq cart are running low. To solve this issue, you take it upon yourself to refill them.

While sitting by the river and refilling the skins, you take a moment to gaze up at the stars. It's the clearest night that you've spent in the New World so far, and you find yourself captivated by the vibrancy of the night sky of Orseia. Unlike the skies of your homeland or the land where you grew into a man, the six Travelers distinguish themselves from the stars, surrounded by a dull corona of blue, green, or red. Each of the slowly-moving bodies acts as a minuscule moon, clearing a cocoon of darkness around their halos. The moon itself, funnily enough, is seemingly diminished, despite being the True Moon of the West. The unerring moon which shone over Koppesmore after midnight is ever-present in the New World, never changing its shape as the False Moon of the East does.

A deception of the Easterneaux's gods, a successful attempt to fool the men of the Old World that the Silver Era had returned after war came out of the west.

"You have a strange scent."

A woman's voice snaps you out of your stargazing.

In an instant you've thrown the water skin onto the riverbank and backed up, your hand going to your rifle. But the air chamber is still at your belt.

"Skittish too," the woman. Well, you suppose she might be called a nymph, or a daemon. She's on the taller side, you suspect the top of her head would be at a level with your eye line, were she standing directly in front of you. Her face is quite attractive with large, brown eyes accented by thin, curved brows and lush lashes. Her small nose is slightly upturned, and her lips full. Complementing her beauty is the fact that she is largely nude, her shapely figure only covered by a light, unadorned breast band and similarly plain short skirt. However, what stands out more than her beauty is the fact that her upper arms, shoulders, stomach, and legs are covered in a cinnamon-colored fur, broken up by dark brown spots. Her feet, while humanoid, are tipped in three black hooves, rather than any sort of toe, and amidst her silky brown hair are four velvet antlers, one pair on the sides of her head just above her ears, and the other emerging just above her forehead.

The nymph-woman grins, "That's ironic. That you would be nervous around me, and yet I'm the fawn."

She's speaking your tongue.

No, you can understand what she's saying, but the movements of her mouth are off.

"You aren't a native of this land," your eyes narrow at her, and you relax slightly, though your hand stays hovering above your shoulder.

"I am, of a sort," she grins, "you are strange, man." She takes a step closer to you, the hooves of her feet clicking softly against the stones of the riverbank. :I can tell, that you, man, are strong. Quite strong," she inhales through her nose, sniffing at the air, "your scent, your blood, very strong."

Her pink tongue shoots over her lips, wetting them.

"Come man," she beckons with a finger, her other hand raising itself to her breast, "let us share in the strength of one another."

>There's something wrong about this. Turn down her offer. Who is she, why is she offering that to you?
>No, you're not the type to do something like this, especially not with a woman you just met.
>Perhaps it's not such a bad idea. After all, Orseia is the western Land of Fertility.
>Tell the daemon to leave your sight immediately, or you'll make her.
>Other?

>>3279047
>There's something wrong about this. Turn down her offer. Who is she, why is she offering that to you?

>Tell the daemon to leave your sight immediately, or you'll make her.

B E G O N E T H O T
E
G
O
N
E

T
H
O
T

>>3279047
>Perhaps it's not such a bad idea. After all, Orseia is the western Land of Fertility.

Well, sharing strenght sounds good, we may get a blessing out of this

>>3279099
We are on patrol. Backing.

>>3279047
>>There's something wrong about this. Turn down her offer. Who is she, why is she offering that to you?

desire to know more

>>3279166
I change mine to

>There's something wrong about this. Turn down her offer. Who is she, why is she offering that to you?

>>3279047

>There's something wrong about this. Turn down her offer. Who is she, why is she offering that to you?

>>3279047
>There's something wrong about this. Turn down her offer. Who is she, why is she offering that to you?

Sorry about not posting yesterday. Grabbing this because it's good to err on the side of caution.

>>3279047
>There's something wrong about this. Turn down her offer. Who is she, why is she offering that to you?

>>3279047
>>Perhaps it's not such a bad idea. After all, Orseia is the western Land of Fertility.

>>3279053
>>3279311
>>3279495
>>3279522
>>3279686
>>3279703
Oh well you're no fun.

>>3280621
Gimmie some class instead of some gross wild furry-lite vampire, boss.

>>3280686
Vampire?

And you'll get your class, don't worry. It'll take longer since you decided to go to North.

Anyway, I'll update a few times tonight again.

>>3280690
hey, I still may want to get the nymph, just want to know her better is all

"I'm sorry to reject such a generous offer," you allow yourself to relax just a little, the hand hovering over the action of your rifle dropping someone. "Who are you, and what are you doing here, more than just 'a sort' of native."

"I am of the longhouse of my Father," the word "father" resonates in your head, as if instead of saying it, it had been played on a drum. "My Father, the Father of my mother also. I am of the longhouse of He," again, the last word she says echoes in your head. "And that reason should be enough, no? Any man should accept it, would accept it, from a Fawn Daughter of the Wood."

Gritting your teeth to weather the assault of her words, you respond with a half-grin. "I'm still not sure I understand, who is this father of yours? Is it this Shashiz then?"

"You know of a name of His? Then you, man," she takes half a step to close the distance, and you similarly take a half step back, "know well to accept my offer. So man, you accept it then?"

>No, this still doesn't feel right.
>Perhaps, but you would like to know more about her, and her father.
>Yes, but you expect something of her in return. Her father is a god and all that.
>You've always fantasized about nymphs, it's not like there were any in Koppesmor. [Accept her offer. Maybe a few times.]
>Absolutely not, this daemon-spawn has a minute to get out of your sight. [Fight the Fawn Daughter of the Woods]
>Other

File: What could go wrong.jpg (35 KB, 594x383)

35 KB JPG

>>3281227
>You've always fantasized about nymphs, it's not like there were any in Koppesmor. [Accept her offer. Maybe a few times.]

>>3281227
>Other
Say nothing and shoot her before she finishes casting.

>>3281227
>You've always fantasized about nymphs, it's not like there were any in Koppesmor. [Accept her offer. Maybe a few times.]

Anyone want to think up a plan b if/when this goes wrong?

>>3281227
>Perhaps, but you would like to know more about her, and her father.

Again, err on the side of caution with these...things.

>>3281260
Make sure she has a longer afterglow than us.

>>3281227
>>Perhaps, but you would like to know more about her, and her father.

>>3281253
>>3281260
Deer pussy.

>>3281257
Act like an American cop and an unarmed black man.

>>3281265
>>3281279
Getting to know a girl before banging her.

Ah, it's tied. I think I'll wait.

>>3281319
Never let a black man finish casting, that's the rule!

>>3281227
>You've always fantasized about nymphs, it's not like there were any in Koppesmor. [Accept her offer. Maybe a few times.]

>>3281260
>plan b

I don't think those pills are around yet.

>>3281341
>>3281253
>>3281260
Alright looks like plan Totally-Not-a-Bad-Idea is a go.

When we wake up with a root dildo shoved up our butt remember you could've shot her.

>>3281363
Look at this way. If she is telling the truth her father is a god of this land who we'll probably run into sometime and we don't know how the culture works here. Snubbing (or shooting) the nymph might have bad consequences down the line.

So when we wake up with that root dildo up our ass we can take pride that her dad might high five us somewhere in the future!

I'm only partially full of shit here!

>>3281388
If we're going by the logic of incestuous wild gods of dubious origins there's a good chance he'll want to fuck and I don't think a god of the Wood would be a catcher over a pitcher.

Just saiyan.

On second thought it can't be a bad decision because we're not being asked to roll. Worried over nothing, I guess.

>>3281403
>he'll want to fuck and I don't think a god of the Wood would be a catcher over a pitcher.

Wait what did you think I meant by 'high five'?

Kidding

The half-grin that had been gracing your space turns into a full grin.

During your education on the East, you had learned about the naiads of the water and the dryads of the wood. Nymphs. It had always been a fantasy of yours to lay with one. And now that boyhood dream will be coming true. In a way at least, this "Fawn Daughter of the Forest" isn't technically a nymph. Though what she is is a child of the god of these lands, and a grandchild. But it's best not to worry about that in the moment, from what you know of the "gods" there's no real concept of incest when it involves them.

The Fawn Daughter of the Forest's breasts are bare of fur, her nipples a darker shade than the tanned skin around them, and the globes themselves are pert, the smooth skin taught and firm. The fur of her stomach comes to a point above her lower lips, almost in imitation of the manner women in Koppesmor shave themselves. It's rather cute, in a way.

Before you have the chance to remove your trousers, the pseudo-nymph is upon you, arms around you, and lips greedily sucking at your collarbone.

You shove the Fawn Daughter of the Forest to the ground, tumbling down with her as your trousers come off. The Western godling turns the tables on you, ending up on top of you once you hit the ground. Her slit is burning hot against your manhood, compared to the cool night air of the riverbank.

And just before you can penetrate her and finally get a taste of nymph sex. The mood is ruined.

"I know you. You're familiar." It's the voice of a child.

Without missing a beat, the fawn girl stands and spins around, leaving you to scoot backwards and pull up your trousers.

"What in the name of the Four are you?" Your almost-lover hisses at the new arrival.

The new arrival is a child. She seems to glow in the moonlight, her skin a near-translucent pale, practically white. This is offset by the absolutely saturated shade of yellow of her long, thick, straight hair, which seems like a completely solid mass, if not for the two thick side bangs protruding from either side. The child's eyes are even more iridescent than the rest of her, a soft silver, reminiscent of the Unerring Moon above your head. Her manner of dress is quite strange, made up of what look like giant flower petals. Each layer of the petals flares out into frills, the first pair forming a large ruff, like some kind of Moeran noble syndic, the second extend down towards her chest, providing modestly, the next pair are large, forming a skirt that hangs to her mid-thigh, another to pairs of the petals extend down her legs, on terminating at the knees and the other at the ankles. Her feet are bare.

"Familiar. You're familiar." The child repeats, in a monotone. "I think I know you," she cocks her head, some emotion coming into her initially blank stare. "Where do I know you from?"

The almost-nymph sniffs the air again, "Your scent, this feeling," you can see the scowl form on her face as you stand. "I do not know you foreign creature, get out of my sight!" Her hand cuts through the air angrily, and she makes an aggressive step towards the girl.

"Foreign? This isn't home? Did I go the wrong way? Where am I?" The child rocks her head side to side. "Do you know where this is? You aren't foreign. Is this where you're from? Do you live here? Where is here?"

"Enough with the questions!" The Fawn Daughter of the Forest takes more steps towards the child, who stays in place. "Begone from my sight, foreign creature!"

"Creature. That's not my name," finally, the girl responds to the deer woman's aggression, putting her hands on her hips. "I know my name. Please, tell me where I am. Then I will go."

At this point, you're on your feet again, and the air chamber has been screwed onto your rifle.

"I'll make you go," when the Fawn Daughter raises her hand to strike at the girl, something strange happens.

Once more, the child's eyes go blank, but this time, it's accompanied by her throat expanding like that of a frog. Before the pseudo-nymph's fist reaches the girl, the strange child's bulging throat glows blue for a fraction of a second. Then you're blinded by a brilliant white-blue flash.

Once you blink the afterimages out of your eyes, you're dismayed by the scene in front of you.

The Fawn Daughter of the Forest has been bifurcated from left shoulder to left hip. Even more than that, she's been turned to stone, the outermost layer resembles her a mere moment ago, but instead of any viscera or bone, there's nothing but a solid, monolithic mass of stone.

The child's eyes focus themselves after a few moments. And then she bends down. And puts a sliver of stone that had broken off of the Fawn Daughter in her mouth.

"That's not food!" She exclaims, spitting it out of her mouth and into the river. "Eh," she looks down to the statue at her feet, "what happened?"

>She just stopped you from getting laid, you're mad at her.
>You're even more confused than she is. Ask her her name, and what's all this about home?
>This is too weird. Perhaps you should just run away.
>Did she just kill a godling? She must be a monster, shoot her!
>Other.

>>3281829
>You're even more confused than she is. Ask her her name, and what's all this about home?

Just taking it in stride.

>>3281829
>You're even more confused than she is. Ask her her name, and what's all this about home?
Time to bite the hook.

>>3281829
>This is too weird. Perhaps you should just run away.

>>3281829

>why would she do that? Can't she control herself? Leave, that child is a monster.

Man, what a bummer, poor fawn

>>3282295
>>3282279
this

murdering children are not for me, ask if she can bring the fawn back at least, if she can do that to a godling maybe she can undo

>>3281829
>>She just stopped you from getting laid, you're mad at her.

>>3281829
>>You're even more confused than she is. Ask her her name, and what's all this about home?

We should totally keep this one around for crowd control.

>>3281829
>She just stopped you from getting laid, you're mad at her.
>You're even more confused than she is. Ask her her name, and what's all this about home?

How mad do classical gods get when you're in the vicinity of the death of their children?

>>3282704
Well Shashiz is a busy bear-man. Sure he loves with his children, but does he love his children?

Nobody really knows.

>>3282926
Ominous and ominous.

>>3281829
>>She just stopped you from getting laid, you're mad at her.
Dumbass loli. Also struggling to see the point in the nymph encounter if she was just going to get blown apart. Should've got more information before it happened if this was the case.

>>3282948
>Should've got more information before it happened if this was the case
Could've tried.

>>3282948
We should at least make this stupid kid turn the fawn back to from stone, don't know if a godling can survive or regen that but we can at least give her a proper burial.

what the hell is that dipship kid doing, the sooner we get away from it the better

>>3281829

Changing >>3281835
to
*>She just stopped you from getting laid, you're mad at her.
>Other.
"Do you know how long I've wanted to sleep with a nymph? I was *this* close. What do you have to say for yourself?"

I feel the need to bully.

>>3283253
>Bullying the instakill creepyloli

>>3283253
You want to bully something that beat whatever inherent magic resistances a nymph has?

>>3283270
>>3283271
There is no better target to bully.

You think it's worth bullying some normal little girl? Nah, you gotta worthy targets.

>>3283280
You know what, you're right.

>>3281829
Changing my vote: >>3281926

To seconding this: >>3283253

>>3282467
>>3282704
>>3283253
>>3282948
>>3283305
Bulli loli; penis big

These are all basically getting mad at here, so I'll try to integrate all the things.

"That was a nymph," you state to the girl, getting a few steps closer to her. "Sleeping with a nymph meant a lot to me," your sneer and icy tone combine to convey a hostility that can't be missed.

"What's a nymph? Why sleep with someone else? It's just sleeping. It sounds boring, uncomfortable too." She unceremoniously kicks one of the Fawn Daughter's petrified hands into the river.

"That was a nymph," you gesture to the remains on the ground with the barrel of your rifle, "and it's not about the sleeping, it's about what you do before that." Rolling your eyes, you come to realize that this line of conversation won't go anywhere, "Who are you anyway? Where do you want to go?"

The child's expression brightens, "I am Ititl! I want to go home."

"And where is home?"

She shrugs, "I came from that way." Ititl points behind here across the river, southwest. "I knew I had to go that way," this time she points up the river, north. "But I thought that this way," she points past you and to the right, "was right. I was wrong. So now I have to go that way." She points past you to the left.

"You want to go west then, and north?"

Ititl nods, "If that's what that way is called. Westthenandnorth."

Sighing, you shake your head, "No, that's north," you point up the river, "and that's west," you point across the river, and the girl nods.

>Now that she knows where she's going, tell her to get going.
>You're going northwest too. She seems like she can defend herself at least, ask her to come with you.
>Ask her where she came from.
>Other.

>>3285805
>>Now that she knows where she's going, tell her to get going.

do whatever burial we can to the poor fawn

I actually want to shoot that little shit but it would probably result in our death

>>3285805
>Ask her where she came from.

>>3285829
This

Not having the option to at least try to intervene was kinda shit.

>>3285805

>Now that she knows where she's going, tell her to get going.

Kids begone!

>>3285805
>>Ask her where she came from.
>Now that she knows where she's going, tell her to get going.

>>3285805

>Now that she knows where she's going, tell her to get going.

Leave and never come back!

Hopefully the nymph's father can reincarnate her spirit or something, he's a God afterall.

>>3285805
>>Ask her where she came from.

>>3285829
>>3285863
>>3285868
>>3286032
You know you could've propositioned her for sex instead :^)

>>3286106
You've misspelled "get petrified and exploded"

>>3286111
You don't know that would happen.

>>3286106
Nah, thanks, this bitch be crazy, better just get rid of her, I like my skin in skin form not stone.

>>3286119
Well the skin did stay the same.

>>3285805
>Now that she knows where she's going, tell her to get going.

I have no doubt this won't be the last we see of her, but I'd rather not have an autistic, aloof loli potentially blasting anyone we meet.

At least for the moment.

>>3286106
I would much rather kill her for what she did to the other girl but I think we won't survive attacking her so just getting away seems nice for now.

>>3286189
You're awfully vindictive over the death of someone we barely knew.

I'm not saying that's a bad thing, just odd.

>>3286226
Maybe, it just pissed me off how gratuitous and useless it all was, but I'm not risking death to kill her, not right now anyway.

"Now that you know where you're going, leave." The barrel of your rifle remains pointed at the ground between yourself and the child as you back off, taking the water skins with you as you go up the riverbank.

"How will I know when I get home?"

"That isn't my problem, but I suppose you'll just feel it when you get there," you finally feel comfortable enough to turn your back on her, but you keep the rifle in-hand.

A few moments later, the child calls out to you, "Thank you for the directions stranger!"

And that's the last you hear from her, or any other sort of supernatural being. At least for that night.

Not that you sleep, the incident leaves you on guard, and you keep watch until the brilliant golden sun peaks over the horizon and the distant Mountains Gloaming.

Soon after the sun rises, the native man and scholar wake up and prepare for the day.

"Artur, you were up early," Gregory addresses you as you set out on the road, "did you get a wink of sleep last night?"

Before you respond to the scholar, you roll your eyes. Sometimes the scholar can be too perceptive. "I can carry on for a few days without sleep before my performance suffers," you reassure the Middilman. "Besides, there was good reason to keep on lookout last night."

The scholar cocks an eyebrow, "There was?"

>Tell him what happened.
>Lie about last night.
>Tell him about the "nymph," but leave out most of the details.

>>3286334
>Tell him what happened.
"I was *this* close Gregory. Can you believe that? Are lost, powerful frog girls normal around these parts?"

>>3286334
>Lie about last night.

>>3286334
Tell him some kind of monster killed a nymph and we were on lookout

>>3286359
Why lie? He might give more details on what exactly the little girl was.

At the end of the day we don't have many details about this area and could use all the help we can get.

>>3286367
You know what, I change to

>Lie about last night.

Let's just get out, he may want to investigate if we tell him something and we better move.

>>3286334
>>Tell him what happened.

>>3286380
Because he is probably going to tell us something along the lines of
"Oh, you are very lucky, that amazing little girl actually saved your life, you need to be grateful and protective about the loli"
And then I would not be justified in my anger kek.
But really, because I don't want to make the scholar curious, we can talk to him later I guess.

>>3286439
>Oh, you are very lucky, that amazing little girl actually saved your life

Which honestly would be prudent information if we ever meet another 'nymph'.

Just saying, we might not get another chance to fill him in on this and get information in return before a frog girl bisects him and I don't see any reason to not tell him now rather than later.

>>3286334
>Tell him what happened.

>>3286493
>>3286400
>>3286353
Being honest about chicks, bro. Is a go.

Why not ask the loli if she wanted to sleep with you btw? Just asking randomly haha.

>>3286530
because she is a murderous little shit and a kid?

>>3286544
Not all lolis are kids.

>>3286549
1000 year old lolis are such a meme.

>>3286549
but they still look like one

>>3286558
And?

>>3286556
no u

>>3286572
Fucking kids( or things that look like kids) is gross

File: right here.png (936 KB, 644x644)

936 KB PNG

>>3286575

>>3286530
Because then a snake toddler would appear and kill her for no reason while we can't react or do a thing about it.
Besides, tge other girl was way hotter than she can ever hope to be and she killed (literally) the mood.

File: 1471351007230.gif (186 KB, 511x394)

186 KB GIF

>>3286602
>Because then a snake toddler would appear and kill her for no reason

Perhaps the scholar knows enough to tell you about what happened last night. So you decide to be honest with him. Though you won't go into the most intimate of details.

"When I went to refill the water skins last night, a nymph who called herself a 'Fawn Daughter of the Forest' came out of the forest and offered herself to me," the Middilman blanches at your forwardness, even if you gutted the details. "I did accept her offer, but then something strange happened. A young girl dressed in flowers appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. When the nymph attempted to strike her, the child swelled up and slew her with a flash of light."

The Middilman ponders for a few minutes, even conferring with his native companion. "You say that this mysterious child destroyed the nymph in a flash of light? Did they exchange words?"

"The nymph called the girl a 'foreign creature', and the girl seemed generally confused. She said the nymph looked familiar, but that was all really," then you remember what the child told you, "the child said that she came from the southwest, and that her name was Ititl."

"I don't know why it would be here, but it sounds like you encountered some kind of elephant-fish child of Malo'o, and that it killed the nymph in self-defense. Well, you call it a nymph," he chuckles, "but any creature that claims descent from a god of this land is daemon. Perhaps you should be grateful to the elephant-fish girl." Then the older man shrugs, "Why the nymph was hostile to the girl I couldn't say, I don't even know when the last time the peoples of Quarastrana and Orseia warred against one another."

Well, that answers some of your questions.

Roll me 1d10, highest of four.

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>3286688

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>3286688

Rolled 10 (1d10)

>>3286688

>>3286696
>Perhaps you should be grateful to the elephant-fish girl

Sigh, I knew it, now I hate the loli even more.
Let's hope we never find her again.

Rolled 10 (1d10)

>>3286688

>>3286704
>>3286696

>Double 10

Can we find a hot woman that is not hostile and that won't get killed now? Lol

>>3286708
It's going to be running joke that every time Artur tries to get some he's looking over his shoulder for the bisecting laser isn't it?

>>3286530
That thing already showed what its definition of getting someone rock hard is.

Is this a Dominions quest?

>>3292950
I think it may be a dropped quest.

>>3293651
>>3292950
No, just been busy-ish the past couple of days, there will be more Ur today.

>>3293840
WOO

By the time night is falling, the surroundings have changed somewhat.

For the past league and a half, the road alongside the Whispering River's banks has been steadily inclining upward and gradually widening, separating itself from the riverbank proper and hugging closely forest which has itself been growing sparser. For the first time since departing from the countryside around Hokkap, the river road is bordered by trees on both sides. On the horizon to the north, the terrain becomes hillier and the trees even fewer and far between, and the road more clearly marked.

But before that country is reached, your group comes across a grizzly scene.

In a circle perhaps nine yards wide, the bodies of at least thirty Binarvivq are laid out in the crude shape of a wheel, the spoke of which is a stake of hardwood, which the sealers' skins stacked upon, along with three of their skulls.

"Zaz-Guacha Wedzi." The ash-skinned native says, breathlessly. He then glances around, with abject terror between his eyes.

In an instant, your own senses go into overdrive, though you remain calm, unlike the native. "That name, what does it mean?" You ask the scholar without breaking your gaze into the trees.

"It's their name for the Wild Men, likely just a particularly vicious native tribe," the Middilman's dismissive tone, along with his invoking of the Wild Men almost makes you strike him. But you restrain yourself.

It seems that the native man takes notice of his companion's tone as well however.

Hastiin launches into a tirade in his choppy tongue at the Middilman, gesturing angrily and even raising his hatchet once or twice.

"Allow me to correct myself," the scholar says with apprehension and bit of fear. "It seems that the Sons of Zaz-Guacha-" he then adds, "-a word which I don't have a translation for," before continuing, "are a man-like beast which inhabit the deepest woodlands of Orseia, they only worship the First Son of Shashiz. He doesn't see much very much veneration otherwise, apparently." He strokes his short beard, "though I have heard of various cults to him on the other continents of the New World."

The tension eventually dissipates as your group realizes that whatever Zaz-Guacha were here have departed. What lets you all fully relax is a carving you spot on a tree, seemingly some kind of note.

It has to be translated twice, since Gregory can't read it, and you can't understand Hastiin.

Here the Sons fell upon men in skins of fat.
This meeting was foretold by a lightning without thunder.
Carried off by this light was the whore-daughter of the King's Father.
To those who come from that way.
The Sons thank you.
Accept the gratitude of the Sons.

Laid out at the foot of the stake is a small horde of treasure. A large ivory horn inlaid with a dark brown-red metal, a pile of walrus tusks, a mound of irregular golden and silver nuggets, what seems to be a burnished mirror framed by ivory (though it proves not to be reflective), and three large ingots of that same blood-red metal.

>Divide up the treasure equally.
>Since it was you who prompted the Fawn Daughter to emerge from the forest, you should take the largest share. Split it 60/20/20
>Gregory and Hastiin slept through the whole incident last night. Take all of the treasure for yourself.

>>3295870
>Since it was you who prompted the Fawn Daughter to emerge from the forest, you should take the largest share. Split it 60/20/20

>>3295870
>Since it was you who prompted the Fawn Daughter to emerge from the forest, you should take the largest share. Split it 60/20/20

Neato, a beastmen race that leaves treasure for thot killers. Definitely nothing suspicious about this.

>>3295870
>>Since it was you who prompted the Fawn Daughter to emerge from the forest, you should take the largest share. Split it 60/20/20

>>3295958
still mad at the frog bitch tho

>>3295962
me too don't worry

>>3295870
>Divide up the treasure equally.
To do otherwise would be like taking credit for the weather.

Also, why the hell did the Sons attack the Binarvivq? Not to rob them, definitely.

>>3296223
you know what?I agree, we didn't do a god damn thing there.
I change to this

Update(s?) tomorrow cause I'm pretty tired right now.

>>3296223
>Also, why the hell did the Sons attack the Binarvivq?
Well, the Binarvicq are slavers so it could've just been the Sons saw an opportunity. On the other hand, the Sons are known as beasts for a good reason, as they have been persecuted in Orseia for a long time. Or it could be a mix of both.

>>3296223
Sport and opportunity with some ritual/sacrificial veneration with those styled up corpses, would be my guess.
Or, smell of blood on treasure you leave around is an easy bait that lets you hunt whoever's stupid enough to grab it and get tracked.

I may or may not be able to update tonight cause shitty weather has been causing power/internet problems all day.

Expect some updates tonight.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>3295878
>>3295934
>>3296223
>>3296245
At least like your original vote when you change it in the future.

>>3300996
*link

I guess I'll update tomorrow instead actually.

>>3301442
>t. picture of a dying man

Surprisingly, once the decision to divide the pile of treasure evenly is made, the native readily accepts his share. Evidently, he had been greatly calmed by the note. As far as you can tell, since the Sons of Zaz-Guacha have left the area, and expressed an interest in giving you gifts, Hastiin's attitude has done a complete turnaround.

On the other hand, Gregory is rather reluctant. He is of the opinion that the pile is nothing but worthless baubles, besides the relatively few gold nuggets. The Middilman argues that the silver nuggets are too small, the walrus tusks are part of an over-abundant ivory trade in the New World, and the dark violet ingots worthless rock. Though he mentions that the violet fixtures on the horn may be real "liverstone."

The native man and yourself eventually convince the scholar to take his share, that being the gold, so he's not as weighed down as either of you are.

Hastiin himself takes most of the silver, all of the ivory, and the mirror; leaving the ingots and horn to you.

Examining the horn, you find nothing special about it. It appears to just be an ornate mustering horn, the inlaid "liverstone" on the side not forming any kind of rune or letter. However, when you overturn the horn, a thin golden chain falls out. The almost wire-thin necklace is warm to the touch, and opposite the clasp is a golden orb surrounded by two extremely thin concentric rings. Since it was part of your share, you decide to keep it, dropping it into an interior pocket of your garb.

The following three days pass without note or incident. The Sons of Zaz-Guacha's gifts had no impact on your traveling speed, as both you and the native man are experienced outdoorsmen.

While the sun is high on the fourth day since finding the hoard, your group comes over a low, long hill. The hilly highlands are gradually giving way to a flat grassland with sparse copses of trees and tufts of higher grasses tipped with fat ears of grain.

Atop the next hill, three groups can be seen engaging in battle. The one with their backs to you are Binarvicq, their sealskins eye-catching in the sunlight. Opposite them are men dressed in the distinctive pelts of wolves, taller than either of the other groups but more lightly armed, they appear to be fighting largely unarmed, though a few have crude stone axes. The third group are clad entirely in dark heavy metal armor, with entirely-metal spears; their armor is of a uniform style, skullcap helms with fixed cheeks, unadorned cuirasses with attached codpieces, bracers which take up the entire forearm, and boots which only go up to the ankle.

You count ten Binarvicq, twelve of the second group, and seven of the armored men.

Gregory points out that the armored group are men of Haudeno-Kag. He can't identify the group wearing wolf pelts, but Hastiin seems skittish when he sees them.

>Assist the armored men, they'll likely be grateful if you help them out.
>Allow the situation to play itself out, if the Binarvicq and armored men whittle each other down, you'll have an easier job.
>Take some shots at the Binarvicq, but let the other groups fight it out. You don't want to make enemies if you don't have to.

>>3303570
>>Allow the situation to play itself out, if the Binarvicq and armored men whittle each other down, you'll have an easier job.

>>3303570
>Allow the situation to play itself out, if the Binarvicq and armored men whittle each other down, you'll have an easier job.

Sorry no more tonight, tomorrow probably but right now I feel really sick.

>>3303570
>Assist the armored men, they'll likely be grateful if you help them out.
We're going to Haudeno-Kag, aren't we?

>>3303570
>Assist the armored men, they'll likely be grateful if you help them out.

>>3303570
>>Allow the situation to play itself out, if the Binarvicq and armored men whittle each other down, you'll have an easier job.

I think the tall dudes are the ones that gave us gifts, it would be rude to just go and kill them, ask the native if they are the sons while we wait

>>3303570
>>Assist the armored men, they'll likely be grateful if you help them out.
Their backs are turned to us so shooting a couple shouldn't be a problem.

Oh shit, I meant to say "if the Binarvicq and unarmored men whillte each other down..."

>>3303601
>>3303623
>>3303818
>>3303879
>>3304222
>>3304328
Aaaaand it's tied.

>>3303570
>>Take some shots at the Binarvicq, but let the other groups fight it out. You don't want to make enemies if you don't have to.

>>3304903
>Take some shots at the Binarvicq, but let the other groups fight it out. You don't want to make enemies if you don't have to.

>>3305267
I change to this

>>3303570

Changing
>>3303623

To
>Take some shots at the Binarvicq, but let the other groups fight it out. You don't want to make enemies if you don't have to.

To move things along

>>3303879
I change to this

>>3304328
>>3303879
>>3303818
>>3305267
>>3305268
>>3305296
I suppose these aren't contradictory?

"Find some cover," before you've even finished the sentiment, your rifle is in your hands, the air chamber almost fully screwed in. "I'll pick some of the sealers off, they're fighting the Haudeno-Kag, right?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure about the third group," Gregory informs you, retreating up the road and toward one of the grassy tufts along with Hastiin.

With a nod, you shoulder the air rifle, fixing your sights on the back of the largest Binarvicq's head. Unlike the last group, none of these are clad in walrus-skin, either they're an isolated group or their leader is elsewhere.

With a slow exhale you pull the trigger. The fat Binarvicq falls to his knees, the front of his throat exploding outward and painting the cuirass of the Haudeno-Kag in front of him a portrait of pink and red. Freed from melee combat with the fat slaver, the short armored man moves to engage one of the wolf pelt-clad warriors. Next, your sights stray to a rather lithe Binarvicq, lithe for one of the whalers at least, you would imagine he weighs at least thirteen stone. The thinner slaver is dual-wielding a sword made of sharpened whalebone and a whalebone-hafted stone club, when your first shot practically tears his left arm off at the elbow he breaks, attempting to run from the battle behind the line of his fellow Binarvicq. He doesn't get far, as a Haudeno-Kag iron spear finds the side of his head, clearing the shoulder of one of his compatriots.

At this point, the Haudeno-Kag have turned most of their attention to the tribals in wolf-pelts, only two still engaging the thinned numbers of the Binarvicq.

The other half of the Binarvicq have been killed to a man by the third group. When the last one attempts to flee, you shoot him in the ribs, just below the armpit. While you don't see an exit would, he still falls ass-over-teakettle, a glut of blood issuing from his mouth. The final slaver gets run through by two of the armor-clad men's metal spears.

Despite the Binarvicq having all been felled, the Haudeno-Kag and unarmored men turn on one another.

Two of the armored warriors are unfortunate enough to catch axes to the face. One not even getting a chance to get into position with his fellows before a particularly feral looking man drives the spike at the bottom of his axe through the Haudeno-Kag's eye. The second gets into the back-to-back formation with the other armored men, but a lucky tomahawk slams into his face, embedding itself deep enough to remain unmoving when he falls on top of it.

After that, the luck of the Haudeno-Kag changes. Five more of the feral men clad in wolf pelts fall before the spears of the Haudeno-Kag, and then the remaining few break off into a sprint towards the river. None of the Haudeno-Kag break off to pursue them, instead turning their attention to you.

As they make their way down the hill towards you, your suspicions about their armor are confirmed. It's rather crude and unwieldy, the boots have no articulation, causing their gaits to be long and awkward. It's almost a comical sight, though you cringe internally when you remember that these are apparently the best metalworkers in all of Orseia.

Up close, you can see that the Haudeno-Kag are rather short, between Hastiin and the Binarvicq in height, and their skin is a relatively uniform earthy red-tan.

You lower your rifle when they approach in an attempt to show you aren't hostile. They seem to realize this, but still address you tersely in their tongue, which is more halting and low than Hastiin's.

As if on cue, the native man and scholar reveal themselves, approaching with their hands up. Gregory responds to them in a different language, from what you can tell some sort of pidgin or trade tongue.

He and Hastiin step ahead of you, and begin conversing with the Haudeno-Kag. They continue on in the trade tongue, occasionally gesturing to you or to up the road. Eventually, Gregory returns to you, Hastiin remaining with his fellow natives and continuing to talk.

"Good news Artur," the Middilman addresses you with a smile. "These Haudeno-Kag have a village nearby, just a short trip by raft up the river. We can rest there for a few days, then take a river barge up to Kag'ah."

The end of the first leg of your journey is in sight.

To everyone who played, thank you!

I'll try to have a better pace and more concrete system ironed out for next time. Hope to see you then.

>>3305916
Thank you WidePride! I wish I had been here for the beginning.