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A quaint little tale told among the foresters of the north speaks of a man with golden eyes, before the land was filled with such. He was the first stranger to walk among them and speak their tongue, watching their dances and eating their food with none of the Sinaean prejudices. And thus they called him First Friend. For Friends are such beings who do not, by virtue of blood, belong to the Family.

Friends are chosen. Families are inherited.

The First Friend disappeared for a long while, the story continues. A very long while. Enough time for the children who met the First Friend to grow old and stoop-backed with the cares of age, then be buried into the barrows where all foresters went in the end.

When he returned, none remembered his face. But the children of the children who had first greeted the First Friend recalled the stories of their fathers, who themselves learned of it from their own fathers. They gave him succour from the wind and provided berries of the Forest and fire from branches fallen. They shared with him the songs of the trees-that-walked and the whereabouts of the ladies of the waters.

It is a cautionary tale, the story reminds its listeners, for the First Friend unmasked himself then and showed himself to be a powerful Fiend. The Fiend had brought Friends of his own. Entire forests were cut down, the great barrows of forest kings laid bare to be looted. Legionaries with city-steel and men-fire came under their banners of hateful eagle, and with them, the dreadful warriors of the night, they who called themselves...

The Black Company.

The story concludes with the maxim: Never trust outsiders. Friends are chosen. Families are inherited. The First Friend was enough for the foresters. He has a new name, now - the Last Friend. And when the story is finished for the first time, and the book closed and locked, the foresters take their children to the Tomb where one of the Last Friend's fiendish Family fell. The faded remnants of the inscription reads, in a rough translation, to wit:

I, Iases, lie here. The young man
renowned for beauty, of the great city.
The very wise admired me; and also the shallow
common people. I was pleased alike by both.

But by dint of the world's having me be a Narcissus and Hermes,
dissipation ravaged me, killed me. Traveler,
if you are an Alexandrian, you will not condemn. You know
the rushing torrent of our life; what ardor it has; what supreme pleasure.


---
Credit to C. P. Cavafy for the poem
>>
>>3651616

I dreamed a dream.

In the dream was a diminutive people wearing green and brown and all the shades between, the colours of the earth and the forest. They were reading a great column with inscriptions on it. I could not tell the words though it was carved out in High Imperial, because there was insufficient light. It looked like a gravestone.

I shared my dream as we broke fast. Sergeant said nothing. He said very little these days. Sister was more talkative.

"It means we're all going to die in the forest," he suggested. "Our fallen bodies will be worshipped as those of gods by midgets."

An oracle, Sister is not.

Runesinger only sniggered. She couldn't talk. Trevain had lopped off her hands and her tongue. Prevents spellcasting, you understand. We were not savages doing it out of vengeance. I was taking measures to prevent her wounds from getting reinfected.

That was part of the reason I'd decided to go north. Lee didn't know this part of the Scrivener training yet. I cleaned her still-seeping wounds, wiping the bone. Sores were starting to form, the bubbles containing within them pus. We were riding too hard. A fever was going to form if we continued.

Sergeant ordered us back on the saddle. We rode. We ate on the move when the pale wintry sun hovered over our heads, not breaking for luncheon. Evening fell.

I started the fire. It was getting harder to find dry firewood as we went north. Snow had found plenty of target practice in these lands. In the distance was the Forest.

"We'll be in the boundary of the Forest before we know it," Sister said. He was trying to cheer himself. "And hey, you never know, there might be pockets of resistance."

>"Black Company didn't survive all these centuries just to collapse in a forest. We'll find survivors." I am a liar. What reason had I to give voice to such thoughts when I knew, heart of heart, that it was a futile gesture?

>"We'll see what we'll see." A calming, if repetitive refrain. There are precious few certainties in life. I try to hold on to the little things.
>>
>>3651624
>"We'll see what we'll see." A calming, if repetitive refrain. There are precious few certainties in life. I try to hold on to the little things.
>>
>>3651624
>"Black Company didn't survive all these centuries just to collapse in a forest. We'll find survivors." I am a liar. What reason had I to give voice to such thoughts when I knew, heart of heart, that it was a futile gesture?

Getting soft are we? Women and children can make that happen.
>>
>>3651624
>>"We'll see what we'll see." A calming, if repetitive refrain. There are precious few certainties in life. I try to hold on to the little things.
>>
>>3651624

>"Black Company didn't survive all these centuries just to collapse in a forest. We'll find survivors." I am a liar. What reason had I to give voice to such thoughts when I knew, heart of heart, that it was a futile gesture?

The past feel happyness that we found cursed us with hope.
>>
>>3651624

>"Black Company didn't survive all these centuries just to collapse in a forest. We'll find survivors." I am a liar. What reason had I to give voice to such thoughts when I knew, heart of heart, that it was a futile gesture?
>>
>>3651715
>>"What's the point of a dead hostage?"
>>
>>3651715

>"One more day. After that, we have to pace ourselves."

One day could mean more people
>>
>>3651715
>whats the point of a dead hostage.
>>
>>3651688
>>3651714
>>3651720
>"Black Company didn't survive all these centuries just to collapse in a forest. We'll find survivors." I am a liar. What reason had I to give voice to such thoughts when I knew, heart of heart, that it was a futile gesture?

"That's the spirit," Sister smiled. He was a handsome lad in his early twenties, brass-coloured hair against sun-browned skin. "I still can't believe you're going to be a father. You look younger than me."

"Older, though." I told him my age. Sister stared at me like I was a decrepit geezer.

"Guess there's some Emperor magic in your veins. Your dreams are getting more and more bizarre as we go closer to the Forest. Reckon it's prophetic?"

I shrugged. I did not control my dreams. Maybe Runesinger was intruding in my head, forming images and sounds unwanted in my somnic weakness.

Runesinger moaned. She was shivering in her sleep. "She's going to die," I said. She was in no form to control dreams.

"We all die." First three words Sergeant had spoken in as many days. He was feeling fatalistic lately.

"We're already near the Forest," Sister said. "We'll have to slow down once we get in."

>"What's the point of a dead hostage?"

>"One more day. After that, we have to pace ourselves."
>>
>>3651730

>"One more day. After that, we have to pace ourselves.">>3651730
>>
>>3651724
>>3651725
>>3651727
Sorry about that, prematurely updated and had the losing option. Fixed it with a delete as quick as I could, but 4chan hates rapid deletes.
>>
>>3651738
Well my vote stays the same
>>
>>3651738
Post when you start writing so as to prevent late voting to change the tide, that way we know itd no use to vote anymore.
>>
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>>3651730
>"One more day. After that, we have to pace ourselves."
I wonder if we can cannibalize the hostage if they expire too soon.
>>
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>>3651738

>>3651730
>"What's the point of a dead hostage?"
>>
>>3651730

>"What's the point of a dead hostage?"
>>
I swear if we find brothers recently dead just because we stopped a little I'm gonna be mad.
>>
>>3651724
>>3651727
>>3651771
>>3651786
>>3651835
Writing
>>
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>>3651844
>>"What's the point of a dead hostage?"

"A body to honour. Bones to bury. Funerals to conduct." Sergeant stared at the fire. His voice was hoarse from disuse.

"Happy thoughts, Sarge," Sister said. "You're the acting-Captain now. We need that morale boost." The loss of the Company had hit Sergeant the most out of all of us. Sister and I were relatively new, and had little of the network of friendship that Sergeant had outside of the platoon.

"We'll get more out of the Rebel if she's alive," I said. "Even damaged like this, she's one of the Sixteen. They might find ways to regenerate her limbs and tongue. Life is what keeps her value high."

"No value if all brothers are dead."

I couldn't argue against that.

"We'll reach the Forest's edge by tomorrow noon, looks like," Sister observed. "You can survive for that long, can't you, Singer?"

Runesinger mumbled. Our conversation had woken her up. "Uuhk ooo," she warbled.

"And we'll find some use for you," Sister said brightly. "Even if you die. Some people are into that, you know." If anyone would know, it was Sister. He had joined the Black Company to run from his crime of incest.

I tended to her wounds. They were clean. Cut with a single swing. Trevain knew his job, but travel was not kind to wounds such as these.

>Medical DC65
>3d100
>>
>>3651730

>"One more day. After that, we have to pace ourselves."
>>
>>3651795
I'm gonna be even more mad if the rebels have a group of company brothers but we have no way to free then with our hostage dead. We also don't have mages so no glamour.
>>
Rolled 70 (1d100)

>>3651850
>>
Rolled 92 (1d100)

>>3651850
SATAN GUIDE MY DICE!!!
>>
>>3651871
This must be the work of Shaitan Ahriman
>>
Rolled 53 (1d100)

>>3651850
Comon give us a 1 i want runesinger to live.
>>
>>3651877
Nah i just forgot you can only use satan for quest were you need to roll high. Satan, doesn't do low dcs.
>>
>>3651882
Nice dude
>>
>>3651871
Fuck.
>>
>>3651898
Don't worry its best of 3 and that is not a adouble
>>
>>3651882
>Pass

The wounds were not infected. I breathed out with relief. Sister handed me the pail of melted snow. Benefits of winter: colder climes reduce insect population, and make for a ready source of water as long as you have the means to start a fire.

"She's not going to die on us," I said as I rebandaged the nubs. I was rather proud of my handywork. "Soon your wounds will begin to itch, but you shouldn't rub them. Your sores might burst."

"Uuhk ooooo!" Runesinger answered. She was in good spirits for an Ensorcelled bound up and unhanded. "Uuhk! Ooo!"

"No need to thank me, just doing my job." If she could have flipped me the finger, she would have.

"We're running low on dried meat," Sister said wistfully. "Wish I knew how to hunt."

"Winter is a decent time to start," I told him. "Tracks on the snow, leafless branches. And no insects. Once we're in the Forest..." I fell silent. The Forest felt nearer than ever tonight. Of course it was. We'd been riding towards it all this time. But it loomed into our minds. The Forest where our brothers were ambushed. Killed. Slaughtered by enemies within and without. Lieutenant had mentioned treachery.

"I'll take first watch," Sister offered. I shook my head.

"I don't feel sleepy. Go get some rest."

The fire cackled against the winter wind. It seemed to mock me for even trying. The Forest will kill you, Goldeneye, I thought I heard it say through the popping sound of branches splintering under the heat.

>"Some things are worth dying for," I replied. "Black Company is family. And family means no one is left behind."

>"Fuck off." I was not in the mood to converse with an imaginary fire spirit.
>>
>>3651934

>"Some things are worth dying for," I replied. "Black Company is family. And family means no one is left behind."
>>
>>3651934
>"Fuck off." I was not in the mood to converse with an imaginary fire spirit

Shit anyone know an exorcist.
>>
>>3651934

>"Some things are worth dying for," I replied. "Black Company is family. And family means no one is left behind."
>>
>>3651949
>>3651977
>"Some things are worth dying for," I replied. "Black Company is family. And family means no one is left behind."

Your children. Orphans. Left behind. Like you. I must be tired indeed if I was starting to anthropomorphise a fire. I thought back to the moment of departure. I wished I'd seen Shamaness before we departed. She was the most mature of the three women in my life. The least broken. Strong, in ways Hood and Dumpling weren't. She would be a great mother.

Carelesstaker, the flame licked its tongues. Bold. Foolish. My imagination was growing vivid. Like fools. Entertaining. Call me when need comes, Uncaringtaker.

I woke up from the almost-sleep of the dozing sentry. The fire had nearly died.

Something stirred beyond the circle of the ember glow.

>I didn't want the others needlessly exhausted. Taking up my ancestral sword, I approached.

>"Hello?" I called in Sinaean. Then in Old Parthian, Coin, and High Imperial.
>>
>>3651991
>>I didn't want the others needlessly exhausted. Taking up my ancestral sword, I approached.
>>
>>3651991

>I didn't want the others needlessly exhausted. Taking up my ancestral sword, I approached.
>>
>>3651991

>I didn't want the others needlessly exhausted. Taking up my ancestral sword, I approached.
>>
>>3652001
>>3652004
>>3652019

>I didn't want the others needlessly exhausted. Taking up my ancestral sword, I approached.

I took care not to wake them. They had enough on their minds. As I passed the fire, I fed it more branches. The stirrer shifted further away, but not fast enough to hide its form. It was something canine.

"Good boy," I said uncertainly, feeling foolish as I did so. It sniffed, pawed the ground, and then slowly came forward.

Mars the Avenger. It was a wolf. In the darkness of a late winter's night, its pelt had almost a bluish colouration. There was something bloody in its maw.

Runesinger mumbled in her sleep.

>"...Good boy?" I said one more time.

>I attacked before it could attack me.
>>
>>3652020
>Scratch the ears!
>>
>>3652020
>"...Good boy?" I said one more time.

guard up
>>
>>3652020

>"...Good boy?" I said one more time.

Something bloody? What is it? A piece of a brother or runesinger's hands?

Youbare fast today
>>
>>3652020
I smell spirit fuckery. Best not piss it off.

>"...Good boy?" I said one more time.
>>
>>3652036
>>3652042
>>3652046
>"...Good boy?" I said one more time.

It snuffled, looking warily at my sword, as it gently placed the bloody thing onto the ground. There were other lumps on the ground of varying sizes. Bodies. Animal bodies.

It retreated back into the night before I could get a better look at the wolf. I have never seen a wild wolf do such a thing before. I don't think it was entirely wild, or wolf.

"You weren't kidding when you said winter hunting was easy," Sister said the next morning. "How did you manage to catch them in the dark?"

"I didn't." There were bite marks on the animals. Two rabbits, one young doe, and a male quail. "A wolf came in the night and brought them here."

"Asena," Sergeant said. "We are blessed by the gods." I didn't know Sergeant was into religion. "She will want a husband from one of us." So it was a good girl.

"I'm a happily married man," I said quickly.

"I'm too old," Sergeant added.

"Just because I like my sister doesn't mean I'm into every other fetish imaginable," Sister said.

>"Close your eyes and pretend it's your sister."

>"Technically she isn't a wolf, but a god. Goddess. Imagine it - Sister, consort of the She-Wolf Goddess."
>>
>>3652049

>"Technically she isn't a wolf, but a god. Goddess. Imagine it - Sister, consort of the She-Wolf Goddess."


We should help our degenerate brother into something more wholesome, said the degenerate polygamist.
>>
>>3652049

>"Technically she isn't a wolf, but a god. Goddess. Imagine it - Sister, consort of the She-Wolf Goddess."
>>
>>3652049
>>"Technically she isn't a wolf, but a god. Goddess. Imagine it - Sister, consort of the She-Wolf Goddess."
>>
>>3652049
>"Technically she isn't a wolf, but a god. Goddess. Imagine it - Sister, consort of the She-Wolf Goddess."
>>
>>3652049
>>"Technically she isn't a wolf, but a god. Goddess. Imagine it - Sister, consort of the She-Wolf Goddess."
>>
>>3652049

>"Close your eyes and pretend it's your sister."
>>
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>>3652059
>>3652063
>>3652065
>>3652071
>>3652075
>"Technically she isn't a wolf, but a god. Goddess. Imagine it - Sister, consort of the She-Wolf Goddess."

"Fuck off," Sister said. I laughed. This was the most talking we were having that wasn't all about doom and gloom Forest. Divine visitation has that effect on people.

"She'll take her pick," Sergeant said ominously. A few animals seemed a tiny price to pay for performing that deed. We got to skinning the animals.

After a while, Sergeant said, "Could be her paying her respects to the dead. We are heading into the Forest, after all."

"I think I like the wooing theory better," I said. Sister didn't seem so sure.

After we prepared the meat and washed ourselves, we began to move. The unexpected boon of fresh meat had taken us some of the early morning hours. We arrived at the boundary of the Forest in late afternoon. The sun looked bloody.

"Maybe we should wait until we have more light to get into the Forest," Sister tentatively suggested.

"No time. We go now."

"I haven't had a chance to check Runesinger's bandages yet," I said.

"She'll be with her friends, soon enough."

>"Listen, Sergeant. I know you are impatient for your friends. But we won't be any help to them if we lose your footing in the dark and break our necks."

>I accepted our continued descent into the belly of the Forest with a resigned sigh. Who was I to stand between him and his vengeance?
>>
>>3652049
>"Technically she isn't a wolf, but a god. Goddess. Imagine it - Sister, consort of the She-Wolf Goddess."
>>
>>3652106
>I accepted our continued descent into the belly of the Forest with a resigned sigh. Who was I to stand between him and his vengeance?
>>
>>3652042
I'm in that sort of mood, I was pretty fast with updating for the first thread too
>>
>>3652106

>I accepted our continued descent into the belly of the Forest with a resigned sigh. Who was I to stand between him and his vengeance?

Oh damn, we better help sister groom himself each morning so the she-wolf will pick him
>>
>>3652106
>>I accepted our continued descent into the belly of the Forest with a resigned sigh. Who was I to stand between him and his vengeance?
>>
>>3652106

>I accepted our continued descent into the belly of the Forest with a resigned sigh. Who was I to stand between him and his vengeance?
>>
>>3652118
>>3652142
>>3652146
>>3652149
>I accepted our continued descent into the belly of the Forest with a resigned sigh. Who was I to stand between him and his vengeance?

We dismounted. The footing was uneven here, slick with the melt of old snow. Leaves covered slippery rocks from view, which could prove hazardous to a rider. This was going to slow us.

No birds sang. Of course, it was winter. Gnarled branches greeted us in all their denuded glory.

"What kind of name did you have in mind for your children?" Sister asked.

"Children?"

"One per each broad- I mean girl, right?"

"Next time you call one of my girls a broad is a clip round the ears." I thought about it.

>Name suggestions
>>
>>3652164

I'll let the mothers decide, but nothing from the capital
>>
>>3652164
Fury, from Hood
Sage, from Shamaness
Hope, from Dumpling

The gender doesn't really matter for any of the names and black company names for black company kids.
>>
>>3652189
Damn Anon I like these. Seconded.
>>
>>3652189

+ 1
>>
>>3652207
If Dumpling kid is a girl we could also play a homage to her dead sister, I don't remember her name
>>
>>3652189

"You got no naming sense. You think a kid would like to be called Fury?"

"Quoth the man named Sister."

"The Half-Blind wrote that in, I didn't get a choice!"

"And rightly. Our names describe our selves, more than our old ones do." Some chose to keep the names of their old lives, before they joined the Company. Like Sergeant. His actual Annals-name was Iacob. My old name was too long to put to use.

"My name is actually Iacob," Sergeant offered.

"Sure it is, Sarge."

"I believe you, Sergeant."

"Fortuna damn the day I took you miserable jokers into the platoon." Sergeant hid a smile. That was the first crack on his moody exterior since Lieutenant shared the news.

We ate fresh meat for dinner. It was Sergeant and Sister's turn to take watch. I lay snug in my portable blanket.

>And I dreamed a dream.

>Falling into a deep and dreamless slumber.
>>
>>3652231

>And I dreamed a dream.
>>
>>3652231
>And I dreamed a dream.
>>
>>3652231
>>And I dreamed a dream.
in times gone by
>>
>>3652231

>And I dreamed a dream.
Clues!

Also, watch as fury becomes a scrivener and healer...who am I kidding? Hood will give him a bow and take him to hunt before he can even walk
>>
>>3652238
>>3652240
>>3652248
>>3652243
>I dreamed a dream.

In the dream was the same diminutive people. They wore the colours of moss and stone. The Forest was different. Brighter, livelier. Filled with a life that seemed to thrumm the air with innate excitement. Every colour was intense, reminiscent of the jungles of Nanman.

And the forest people danced around a tall man, whose back seemed noble and strong yet weary and careworn at the same time. Father. He turned around. A flash of gold.

"Dreams again?" Sister asked when I woke. He was making something that smelled like bacon.

"Dreams again," I confirmed. "Do you know if there are legends of little people in the Forest?"

He shrugged. "Never been this far north, not before joining the Company." Sister and I had signed up to the Company in Jian'an, a southeastern region of the Empire. It felt like years had passed. In fact, it was almost my one year anniversary of joining the Company. "You look terrible. Don't you have medicine to help sleep better?"

I did.

"Maybe you should take them, then."

I considered it. The dreams were leaving me exhausted, more and more. Like I was trekking through the forest all night long. Another one of the insidious Forest magic?

>I decided to start taking the sleeping medicines.

>"Maybe they're important dreams," I said. I wasn't sure myself. "Not prophetic, but... premotions."
>>
>>3652231
>And I dreamed a dream.
>>
>>3652255
>"Maybe they're important dreams," I said. I wasn't sure myself. "Not prophetic, but... premotions."
>>
>>3652255
>>"Maybe they're important dreams," I said. I wasn't sure myself. "Not prophetic, but... premotions."
If they can help us find even one brother they are worth it.
>>
>>3652255

>"Maybe they're important dreams," I said. I wasn't sure myself. "Not prophetic, but... premotions."
>>
>>3652255
>>"Maybe they're important dreams," I said. I wasn't sure myself. "Not prophetic, but... premotions."
>>
>>3652255
>>I decided to start taking the sleeping medicines.
>>
>>3652258
>>3652259
>>3652269
>>3652271
>"Maybe they're important dreams," I said. I wasn't sure myself. "Not prophetic, but... premotions."

"So prophecies."

"Not as strong as those, but sure. Prophecies."

"Not the best of times to go cuckoo right now, boss." I didn't blame him. I thought I was going crazy, too. And I didn't know if my earlobes vibrated while I was asleep.

Sergeant popped out from behind a tree. "We're nearing the main trail. I scouted ahead a bit, and the river is where it is supposed to be. We should start finding bodies soon."

"And river means a bath." Running water would do Runesinger good.

"Bloodbath," Sister joked. None of us laughed. "Okay, oldskaters. Should we really be following the river? That's what armies would do. You know, the Rebel army?"

>"It will get harder to find a good source of clean water. There's less snow in here, now that most of the old snow has melted away."

>I had to agree. As important as water was, the Rebel would be camped along the river.
>>
>>3652293
>>"It will get harder to find a good source of clean water. There's less snow in here, now that most of the old snow has melted away."

if we find the Rebel we may find prisioners too
>>
>>3652293
>"Where the rebel is camped so are the POWs."
>>
>>3652293
>"It will get harder to find a good source of clean water. There's less snow in here, now that most of the old snow has melted away."
>>
>>3652293
Now, the question is, would the survivors go near the water and risk the camp or stay away and thirst


>I had to agree. As important as water was, the Rebel would be camped along the river.

We can go for the prisioners after we find the survivors
>>
>>3652309
hmmm
I can change to this, we should check the battlefield first
>>
>>3652293
>>"It will get harder to find a good source of clean water. There's less snow in here, now that most of the old snow has melted away."
>>
>>3652331
>>3652303
>>3652301
>>"It will get harder to find a good source of clean water. There's less snow in here, now that most of the old snow has melted away."

"And Rebel presence means prisoners."

"If they have any," Sister said doubtfully.

"We'll find survivors," I said. We finished our fried meat and began moving.

"Wish we could have brought a wizard."

"Sorry I got them all pregnant."

"Braggart."

"Jealous."

"Shush," Sergeant said. The sound of rushing water was loud now. We quietly made our way down to the river. The shores were empty. Daylight was rapidly fading away with the characteristic curtness of winter. We camped by the river for the evening.

>I tried to catch some fish.

>I cleaned and re-bandaged Runesinger.
>>
>>3652340
>>I cleaned and re-bandaged Runesinger.


also, we didn't got them all pregnant, Marion isn't part of the harem
>>
>>3652344
Morion is also not a wizard, being a wizard is not 100% genetic
>>
>>3652340
>>I cleaned and re-bandaged Runesinger.
>>
>>3652347
oh shit I was sure she was
>>
>>3652340
>>I cleaned and re-bandaged Runesinger.
>>
>>3652340

>I cleaned and re-bandaged Runesinger.
>>
>>3652340
>>I cleaned and re-bandaged Runesinger.
>>
>>3652344
>>3652351
>>3652360
>>3652361
"You're never going to behave, are you?" I asked after the third time Runesinger splashed the freezing river water on me.

"Uuhk ooo," she answered.

"The cold water should feel good against your skin," I said. "Fever is receding, too. I wish we had some fruits. That would help greatly." Now that we were moving slowly, her sores were less prone to bursting. I suspected she wasn't big on horseriding. She seemed like a carriage-and-couch type of person.

"It's nothing personal, you know," I said. "And besides, you almost killed me that one time."

"Oo 'ook my irginity!" she replied indignantly.

"No, I didn't. Your hymen broke because you fell on your arse."

She rolled her eyes. "'ame 'ing." But she remained still this time when I rebandaged her nubs.

"Be happy it's Aurelius taking care of you," Sister called from his seat where he was stirring the everything-soup. The remnants of the meat that we'd gotten from the wolf were there, as well as random herbal plants we could find nearby. "He is chronically weak to women. Especially lookers, like you."

I rolled my eyes.

"Time for me to have a good night's sleep," Sister declared later. Sergeant and I took the night's watch in turns.

>Listening DC30
>>
Best of three, and also I'm also about to get knocked out by sleep so I'll continue tomorrow if the rolls are there
>>
Rolled 51 (1d100)

>>3652390
>>
Rolled 64 (1d100)

>>3652390
fuck this dc is hard

>>3652396
thanks for running
>>
Rolled 6 (1d100)

>>3652390
>>
>>3652406
ANON!
ANON!
YES ANON!
>>
>>3652340

Wait, I was sure only Hood was pregnant. Are really all three off them pregnant?
>>
>>3652406

You're the hero we need!
>>
>>3652412
looks like it

I'll try to come up with some alternative names tonight
>>
>>3652406
yey
>>
for Hood, Delius, greek name

for Shamaness , Tuya, mongol name, ray of light

for Dumpling , Rafa, arabic like hers, a tenderhearted girl

they can choose their black company names after they join, if they join

just an idea
>>
>>3652418

I think the names we already had are ok.
>>
>>3652443
I just felt like giving them some real names before they can adopt company names, like I said, just an idea
>>
>>3652442
Tuya is such a pretty name

>>3652412
The seed is strong
>>
>>3652406
I took second watch. Fog was clouding the night sky. The trees looked like shadows of brothers dead in the murky soup of grey. I added more branches on the flames and watched them blacken.

A-relly!

I was tired. Waking up every hour or so wasn't very restive. It took me at least twenty minutes just to fall asleep.

A-relly!

And now hallucinations plagued me. I couldn't talk about this to the others. There was no time for them to get a replacement Scrivener, and Lee was still an apprentice. Yesugei was catatonic from his loss. The gods are cruel to take what they freely give.

Fear, fire, foe!

I couldn't ignore the voice anymore. "Who is there?" I whispered. I was not going to wake Sergeant before his time.

Fiend. Blood feed trees. Her voice was like the clear waters that tumbled in the gorge down the river. She spoke too rapidly. Old men with grudges. I could not understand the rest.

The fire cracked, jolting me awake. This was the second time I'd fallen during my watch. My blood was pumping. I strained my ears to hear. Footsteps shuffled almost unheard among the rotting leaves.

"Five men," I whispered to Sergeant, waking him with a touch. "Could be more. They saw our fire." He nodded. The fire was too important not to have. We would freeze to death without it. Rebel scouts must have smelled us out, somehow. We'd our surroundings sufficiently well to prevent the light from being too visible.

"Mmmmhwu-?" Sister said. Sergeant clasped his mouth and quieted his panic.

"Swords?" I asked.

"Swords." This had to be done close and personal, lest we scared them off too early with crossbow fire. "No survivors."

We spread out. Our shortswords were blackened with mud to prevent glinting from the moonlight, and we were wearing black. Sister immediately disappeared from view. He'd always been the best of us three when it came to forests.

"-should be around here," a voice said, startling me with its closeness. I hadn't heard it come.

>3d100
>>
Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>3654066
An update late at night for full immersion, eh?
>>
Rolled 81 (1d100)

>>3654066
>>
Rolled 34 (1d100)

>>3654066
>>
>>3654096
>>3654075
>2 Successes
The dagger slid into his vital as comfortably as if it had belonged there, all this time. The darkness was a great aid. I do not like seeing the face of dead and dying men. Did he have children? Had he joined the Rebel because of a purge or a crucifixion? The Black Company had the Annals — the least of us would be remembered. But the Rebel had nothing.

How I admired the Rebel in their fearless anonymity. To deny yourself a legacy, remove any trace and imprint in the world of your self. A passing fancy - fatherhood softened me. I finished the deed with a swift turn of the head.

He fell, legless, an almost inaudible sigh the only sign of his soul's departure from the world. "Aexes?" a voice behind him asked. It really was too dark.

Now the dead had a name.

>3d100
>>
Rolled 68 (1d100)

>>3654122
>>
Rolled 68 (1d100)

>>3654122
>>
>>3654125
>>3654130
Twins, they were
>>
Rolled 63 (1d100)

>>3654122
>>
Rolled 78 (1d100)

Your AV
>>
>>3654138
>>3654125
>>3654130
I could not get the gladius out in time. As easily as it had gone in, now something held it from its egress, the corpse petulantly holding on to the murder weapon like a clinging lover.

The Rebel was quick. He didn't wait for the body to drop to unsheath his knife. The glint of moonlight against his dagger gave his position away. I watched in detached fascination as the light faded, the metal parts sinking into my flesh. The pain came shortly afterward.

Aurelius: Wounded
>Combat = +90DC [Wounded -5DC, Skilled II +10DC, Unnatural Strength +5DC, Unnatural Endurance +5DC, Unnatural Will +5DC, Divine Bloodline: Imperial Scion +20DC, Elite II +20DC, Dirty Fighting +15DC, Legionarius II +20DC, Chainmail +15DC, Darkness -20DC]
>Armour Value = 15AV [Chainmail +15AV]
VS
The Rebel
>Combat = +?DC [Obscured by Night]
>Armour Value = ?AV [Some cloth, possibly gambeson +?AV]

>Personal Combat DC?
>3d100
>>
Rolled 97 (1d100)

>>3654157
>>
Rolled 87 (1d100)

>>3654157
>>
>>3654158
oof
>>
Rolled 31 (1d100)

>>3654157
Don't die on me! Think about Honey
>>
>>3654158
>>3654159
>>3654166
>1 Success - 1 hit dealt and received

Ichor flowed freely. I grit my teeth as my senses returned to earth, temporarily disjointed was I from the flow of time. With consciousness came the pain. Ungodly pain. I'd thought myself dead. The Rebel was dead, my left hand clutching his windpipe. I'd broken both his throat and my hand with the desperate strength that came to dying men. We were sprawled on the ground, him above me. Something wet and warm flowed from his groin. I smelled urine. I couldn't push him away - there was something lodged in my chest. I looked down.

I should, by all rights, be dead. Praise the Emperor, I thought, only half sarcastic.

The forest floor of rotten leaves rustled as they approached. Now I was going to die.

"Aurelius?" came the whisper. Ah. The others had made it. They must have heard the death rattle of the Rebel. Or myself. "Is it you?"

"I'm going to die," I told them. Blood flowed free, glinting moonsilver and aurum-gold.

"Don't be such a crybaby," Sergeant said, and knelt. He pushed the Rebel on top of me away. Sister gasped. "Shhh," Sergeant said.

>"I'll only slow you down," I said with the calm of a corpse. "Go on ahead. I'll stay here to recuperate." Travel was only going to slow the rate of unnatural regeneration.

>"Maybe you can tie me on one of the horses," I suggested.
>>
>>3654182
>"Maybe you can tie me on one of the horses," I suggested.
>>
>>3654182
>>"Maybe you can tie me on one of the horses," I suggested.
>>
>>3654188
>>3654195
Every canter, every jolt, I relived the stab of the Rebel dagger. Sister tried not to look at my ruined chest, the leaking gold. A reminder of my alien heritage. "I won't bite," I told him when he peeked next.

"Do you feel pain?" he asked.

"Do I look like I am not in pain?" I retorted. Pain is a necessary component in life. It signals that something is very wrong. Unfortunately, our primitive ancestors never bothered to evolve that pain into something more specific. It would have been great if we could acknowledge the pain and dismiss it once we were fully informed of the wrongness.

I bore the wound with ill-humour, characteristic of men in godawful pain. Sister cleaned my wounds whenever we stopped, his unsubtle fingers finding ways to amplify the agony. Runesinger snickered.

Two days passed before I could move my hand reliably. That was also the day we met our first dead.

Sergeant stopped the horses. He walked as if in a trance and turned over the face-down body in black. "Shepherd." he said. I didn't know him. "We'll start finding bodies."

And start finding bodies, we did. Many of them were cut down in the back. Strategic retreat or a fear-fuelled flight for safety? The toll of names grew. I started using my left hand to write down the names. It is the one consolation of the Company, the Annals. A kind of immortality, the only thing that will remember us when we are far gone. Mercenaries like us do not take root in a small village in a valley to sire children and see grandchildren and so on. The Annals was their tombstone, their final epitaph.

So much more then the reason for me to find the rest of the Annals. It had to be with the Captain's train of luggage. Had it been looted by the Rebel? I found that likely. The Annals are unassuming documents, mostly filled with names of the dead, but also with tales of our past campaigns and victories and defeats. Even if the common Rebel could not read or write, the Sixteen would see value in the books.

Therein rested my faint hope. That they would not have simply burned and destroyed the venerable documents.

We started finding legionary bodies. Their red undershirts gave them away, though they had been stripped of their armour. The black bodies were untouched, unplundered. Superstition, perhaps. Cold kept their bodies in amazing condition.

"It's like they're sleeping," Sister said. I wished they would wake.
>>
>>3654221

We camped at the top of a small hill for the evening. There had been a small watchtower built here, in the olden days before the Emperor came and the land was filled with warring kingdoms. Only a ring of its foundation remained to crown the hill, eerily barren of trees. The stones were black with fire and soot, bearing their wounds centuries - or millennia - after their death.

"What is the plan?" I asked. Sister fed me dried biscuits ground and mixed with water.

"Negotiate a release of hostages for one of their Sixteen," Sergeant said. He was looking more and more like one of the dead as the list of names grew.

"They might just kill us and be done with," I said. "Rebel are factional. The one in charge of their group here in the Forest might be even happy to kill Singer."

"Then we die," he said indifferently.

>"I've had it up to here with your apathy. Do you think Captain would approve of the way you are slinking around with that wounded expression of yours?"

>"I want to see grandchildren before I die," I said. "Maybe great-grandchildren. So many that I can't fit them all in my hands."
>>
>>3654182

>"Maybe you can tie me on one of the horses," I suggested.
>>
>>3654223

>"I've had it up to here with your apathy. Do you think Captain would approve of the way you are slinking around with that wounded expression of yours?"

Tough love
>>
>>3654223

>"I've had it up to here with your apathy. Do you think Captain would approve of the way you are slinking around with that wounded expression of yours?"
>>
>>3654234
>>3654248
>"I've had it up to here with your apathy. Do you think Captain would approve of the way you are slinking around with that wounded expression of yours?"

A haunted face, wracked with guilt. It faced me with unmutable defiance. "They were better than me, Goldeneye. Mentors. Teachers. They'd lived through all, from the sieges of Vrax to the coastal invasions of Houguan. They'd done everything and more to keep their lives. And in a single moment, everything falls. The greatest soldiers I know, dead while on the run."

We weren't soldiers. We were mercenaries. "They knew what they signed up for. Wiser men would till the soil and watch their grandsires grow." I was irritated. Sergeant was acting as if he was the only one who was a member of the Black Company.

"We should have been here," he said sullenly. The last of the wolfmeat was cooking to a perfect brown. We would return to eating dried jerkies and marching biscuits. "We should have died."

So that was what had his knickers in a bunch. Survivor's guilt. And maybe, just maybe, a little bit of injured pride. Injured because the best he knew had tried to run. Injured because his teachers and mentors were dead.

It is easy to laugh at mortality amidst the throng of friends. Less so, when you are alone. That is the origin of cities.

>"Captain would have wanted some of us alive. To pass on the torch." I knew I lied as soon as I'd said it. Captain would not have minded a death by ambush. She was fearful like that. Fearful that her life would not go out with a bang, but with a whimper.

>"There is hope for a sick man, as long as there is life. Captain is not the Company. It will live on." Many times the Black Company faced extinction. The Annals were clear on that. It had also risen once more on the back of new recruits. And once, it had returned to mythical Khatovar.
>>
>>3654298

>"There is hope for a sick man, as long as there is life. Captain is not the Company. It will live on." Many times the Black Company faced extinction. The Annals were clear on that. It had also risen once more on the back of new recruits. And once, it had returned to mythical Khatovar.
>>
>>3654298
>"There is hope for a sick man, as long as there is life. Captain is not the Company. It will live on." Many times the Black Company faced extinction. The Annals were clear on that. It had also risen once more on the back of new recruits. And once, it had returned to mythical Khatovar.
>>
>>3654298

>"There is hope for a sick man, as long as there is life. Captain is not the Company. It will live on." Many times the Black Company faced extinction. The Annals were clear on that. It had also risen once more on the back of new recruits. And once, it had returned to mythical Khatovar.

She probably ordered some of them to run, Lt. Would never leave her side unless ordered.
That's why I still believe some of them lived.
>>
>>3654321
>>3654327
>>3654328
>"There is hope for a sick man, as long as there is life. Captain is not the Company. It will live on." Many times the Black Company faced extinction. The Annals were clear on that. It had also risen once more on the back of new recruits. And once, it had returned to mythical Khatovar.

Khatovar of the obsidian walls. Khatovar, that loneliest of isles. The Annals said little of that homeland of the Companies save for poetic platitudes and cryptic descriptions. The oldest books of the Annals were lost to us, perhaps from a similar near destruction long ago.

"They might want assurances that we won't attack them back," Sister said. Even thus ruined, the Black Company had a fearsome reputation. I could see Rebel leaders refusing to negotiate purely out of superstitious fear. After all, that's how the Rebel recruited. They spoke of prophecies, the downfall of empires, symbols and signs and stars. Eager recruits flocked to their underground recruitment cells, tired of taxes and corvée labour and dreaming of a new kingdom to come.

That is how every empires end. That is how every empire begins.

>"We have to try and find survivors, those who weren't caught. Just the two of you won't get them impressed enough to make a deal."

>"Tell them to buy our commission, then," I said off-handedly.
>>
>>3654376
>>"Tell them to buy our commission, then," I said off-handedly.
>>
>>3654376
>>"We have to try and find survivors, those who weren't caught. Just the two of you won't get them impressed enough to make a deal."
>>
>>3654376

>"We have to try and find survivors, those who weren't caught. Just the two of you won't get them impressed enough to make a deal."

People
>>
>>3654376
>"We have to try and find survivors, those who weren't caught. Just the two of you won't get them impressed enough to make a deal."

I bet there is already someone at the camp fire talking about the five dead scouts
>>
>>3654376
>"We have to try and find survivors, those who weren't caught. Just the two of you won't get them impressed enough to make a deal."

Company don't die easy
>>
>>3654376
>>"We have to try and find survivors, those who weren't caught. Just the two of you won't get them impressed enough to make a deal."
>>
>>3654376

>"We have to try and find survivors, those who weren't caught. Just the two of you won't get them impressed enough to make a deal."
>>
File: dmitry-vishnevsky-3-3.jpg (315 KB, 872x1406)
315 KB
315 KB JPG
>>3654383
>>3654384
>>3654405
>>3654410
>>3654422
>>3654475
>"We have to try and find survivors, those who weren't caught. Just the two of you won't get them impressed enough to make a deal."

We had to find more people if only to make the Rebel take us seriously. The only brothers in black who would have remained free would be those who excelled in forest lore. Some might even have escaped the Forest entirely and began making the journey to Bath. We hadn't seen anyone while we rode to the Forest, but that did not mean much.

The rest, we knew, would be in the heart of the Forest. Where the Rebel in their great numbers would be hindered by their one advantage. Trees grew thick there, and dark. It would be almost impossible to bring the horses.

We began to move by night and sleep by day. Rebel patrols were getting frequent, and more than once we were almost sighted. Sister proved quite able in distracting them, often slipping out from our group to make noise elsewhere and returning once more. "Forests are forests, north or south," he boasted.

The division between the truly old core of the Forest and the ones that grew after the destruction of the old forests was as clear as day, demarcated by an invisible boundary. On one side was the relatively average woodlands. Trees, rocks, traces of wildlife. On the other was the Heart. The trees looked meaner, their barkskin darkened stiff with age. There was no visible trail, not even one left by animals. Here the arboreal kings crowned in all their branched glory ruled without mercy, with no sunlight left for secondary and tertiary plants.

"Aurelius, you stay here," Sergeant said. "We're close enough to the Heart that the Rebel won't bother us."

"The fuck I am." I came here for a reason. I needed to find the Annals.

"You are in no shape for the trek ahead. We can't bring the horses."

>"I'm going with you if it kills me."

>"But you're taking Runesinger."
>>
>>3654489
Clarify the second option for me please? Who is taking? Are they leaving her here or are we protesting that they are taking her but not us?
I want to go but not say something as dramatic as "even if it kills me"
>>
>>3654495
Protest, the second option, write-ins will be considered
>>
>>3654489
Ah shit...
>"I'm going with you if it kills me."
Yeah this seems like the right one, I assume we're bringing Singer regardless
>>
>>3654501
Not necessarily
>Can't bring the horses
>>
>>3654489
>Listen Sarge, of the three of us I'm the one that knows how to take care of wounds, if our brothers escaped then it won't be unscathed
>>3654501
Swap to write in
>>
>>3654489

>"But you're taking Runesinger."
And if she goes I have to go too to make sure she is ok, don't worry I'll manage.
>>
>>3654509
this is a good argument, the survivors will certainly need medical assistance, he can't afford to leave us behind
>>
>>3654489
>"I'm going with you if it kills me."

Besides we already died once an returned. Surely we can do it again.
>>
>>3654513
That's a very interesting hypothesis, if you want to test it out I won't stop you
>>
>>3654509
>Write-in

"Listen, Sergeant." I put on my most officious Scrivener voice. I wasn't about to let them leave me behind without a fight. Sure, I could barely lift my sword and my stitches were barely holding from all the jostling the horse ride gave, but they needed me. "Of the three of us I'm the one that knows how to take care of wounds the best. If our brothers escaped then it won't be unscathed. There's going to be wounded and sick to take care of."

"If they're wounded that deep in the Forest, they're good as dead." There he went being pessimistic again. "It's not just because of your wounds, Aurelius. We need you to watch over the prisoner."

"You're not taking Singer?" I asked.

"Can't bring the horses. And she would slow us down too much." You would slow us down. "She'll be your insurance. Keep your crossbow loaded, and put a dagger on her throat if you hear footsteps."

>I insisted on coming. This was too important. We could butcher the horses for meat if we had to leave them behind. Sister was strong enough to carry her on his back. And I was fifty per cent sure I could manage walking on my own.

>"Fine. But I'm going to go in if you don't return in three days." I estimated that three days of rest would restore me to moving condition, though it would take much longer for me to be in top shape. That Rebel really did a number on me. Internal organs take longer to heal.
>>
>>3654530
>"Fine. But I'm going to go in if you don't return in three days." I estimated that three days of rest would restore me to moving condition, though it would take much longer for me to be in top shape. That Rebel really did a number on me. Internal organs take longer to heal.

And if you die i'm gonna find a way to bring you two back so i can kill you two again.
>>
>>3654530
>>"Fine. But I'm going to go in if you don't return in three days." I estimated that three days of rest would restore me to moving condition, though it would take much longer for me to be in top shape. That Rebel really did a number on me. Internal organs take longer to heal.

if only because if we slow him down it will be harder to find our people

"leave no one behind, even if wounded our sick, if you bring them here I can do something"
>>
>>3654530
>>"Fine. But I'm going to go in if you don't return in three days." I estimated that three days of rest would restore me to moving condition, though it would take much longer for me to be in top shape. That Rebel really did a number on me. Internal organs take longer to heal.
>>
>>3654530
>"Fine. But I'm going to go in if you don't return in three days." I estimated that three days of rest would restore me to moving condition, though it would take much longer for me to be in top shape. That Rebel really did a number on me. Internal organs take longer to heal.
>I am telling both of you in my official capacity as Scrivener, do NOT die on me
>>
>>3654530
>>"Fine. But I'm going to go in if you don't return in three days." I estimated that three days of rest would restore me to moving condition, though it would take much longer for me to be in top shape. That Rebel really did a number on me. Internal organs take longer to heal.
>>
>>3654553
+1. "No One Gets Left Behind Quest" by "Survive !!L7hVJqp0bqY" would love you on board for his quest.
>>3649797
>>
>>3654533
>>3654553
>>3654566
>>3654624
>>3655194
>>3655677
>>"Fine. But I'm going to go in if you don't return in three days." I estimated that three days of rest would restore me to moving condition, though it would take much longer for me to be in top shape. That Rebel really did a number on me. Internal organs take longer to heal.

Sergeant left without another backward glance, like the emotionally stunted man he was. I am being unfair to him. He had a lot on his mind, what with the destruction of the Company and all. But he could have at least said "bye". It was like he was going off to get some goldberry leaves and disappearing forever from my life.

"Bye," Sister said. It just wasn't the same coming from him.

The next three days passed in a breeze. Standard Black Company doctrine calls for a minimum of three Companymen in a combat unit. That would extend the survivability of said unit in a hostile land, allowing for better nightwatch schedules and quickened command decisions from the odd-number. I was alone in the middle of gods knew where with a member of a Sixteen with a week's worth of rations and four day's worth of water. Nowhere near enough people to put up night watchmen duty with. And my wounds were such that any movement was highly inadvisable. Tagging along on horseback had reduced the healing.

So I slept. You might think that I would be too nervous to sleep without anyone watching over me, but I knew my situation. I was fucked if any Rebel patrol consisting of more than one person saw me.

Crossbows are very useful things. They let an injured man shoot from a lying position. The reloading bit was not so simple. I would get one good shot before I was overwhelmed by someone kicking my crossbow out of my hands and reopening my torso wounds. There was nothing to do but try and help my unnatural body along in its quest for regeneration. It was very boring.

>"I'm bored," I told Runesinger on the third day. She was a terrible conversation partner, what with her lack of tongue and all, but maybe I could tempt fate into conjuring some entertaining scenario for me.

>I sat tight and recuperated for the entire three days. By the morning of the fourth day, I was mostly whole again. The wonders of the Emperor's bloodline.
>>
>>3657498
>I sat tight and recuperated for the entire three days. By the morning of the fourth day, I was mostly whole again. The wonders of the Emperor's bloodline.
>>
>>3657498
>>I sat tight and recuperated for the entire three days. By the morning of the fourth day, I was mostly whole again. The wonders of the Emperor's bloodline.
>>
>>3657498
>I sat tight and recuperated for the entire three days. By the morning of the fourth day, I was mostly whole again. The wonders of the Emperor's bloodline.
>>
>>3657498
>>"I'm bored," I told Runesinger on the third day. She was a terrible conversation partner, what with her lack of tongue and all, but maybe I could tempt fate into conjuring some entertaining scenario for me.
>>
Rolled 91 (1d100)

Something
>>
>>3657498
>>"I'm bored," I told Runesinger on the third day. She was a terrible conversation partner, what with her lack of tongue and all, but maybe I could tempt fate into conjuring some entertaining scenario for me.
>>
>>3657539
>>3657540
>>3657545
>I sat tight and recuperated for the entire three days. By the morning of the fourth day, I was mostly whole again. The wonders of the Emperor's bloodline.

I was doing my second exercise of the day when I heard first heard the bird call that the Rebel used to communicate with each other in the forest.

Idiots. It was still too early for birds to be singing. Old snow lay fetid on the ground and branches, refusing to melt, aided by the tightly wound canopies of the ancient trees above that blocked the sun. But they didn't need stealth to capture me. Our horse print must have rightened their tracking after all this time. Speed had been a greater concern for Sergeant than speed.

A summer thrush cooed in the distance. They were closer now.

"Your friends are here," I told Runesinger. She didn't look amused. She knew I would rather kill her than let her leave freely.

A scouting group of five, the Rebel's usual. And here I was, a mere Scrivener, all alone with naught but a loaded crossbow and a shortsword. I considered my choices.

>I could repeat the nocturnal performance that got me nearly killed, sneaking around with my sword to assassinate the patrol as they stomped around the Forest. My wounds were almost healed, and though I wasn't in top form, it was going to be easier to deal with Rebel one by one.

>I decided to set Runesinger up as a decoy, covering her with a cloak so her face couldn't be revealed. After making sure she couldn't dislodge her costume, I grabbed my crossbow and ten bolts, climbing atop one of the trees. I waited.

>I surrendered. Did you think I was going to ninja my way with five Rebel rangers, when I'd nearly gotten killed dealing with just two? Think again. Besides, it was Sergeant's fault that he was late. I hoped the famous Rebel naivete would make them take me as prisoner instead of killing me on the spot.
>>
>>3657571
>I decided to set Runesinger up as a decoy, covering her with a cloak so her face couldn't be revealed. After making sure she couldn't dislodge her costume, I grabbed my crossbow and ten bolts, climbing atop one of the trees. I waited.
>>
>>3657571
>I decided to set Runesinger up as a decoy, covering her with a cloak so her face couldn't be revealed. After making sure she couldn't dislodge her costume, I grabbed my crossbow and ten bolts, climbing atop one of the trees. I waited.

For the Company.
>>
>>3657571
>>I decided to set Runesinger up as a decoy, covering her with a cloak so her face couldn't be revealed. After making sure she couldn't dislodge her costume, I grabbed my crossbow and ten bolts, climbing atop one of the trees. I waited.
>>
>>3657574
>>3657580
>>3657582
"Don't fail me now," I whispered to my leg as I clambered on to the tree. I knew it was a little crazy to do that. But being alone - and Runesinger was hardly what you would call a conversation partner - had driven me nuts. I was used to listening to other people and writing them down for the Annals. The unwelcome silence was making me revert to my habits of when I was a single traveler.

How would I write of that on the Annals? 'In the last days of the winter of 1639 F.C., Scrivener Aurelius went mad.'

An unlikely epitaph. Unlikely in that I did not like it, not that it was impossible. I wanted to see my wives. I wanted to see the children that I had helped create. I missed Honey.

"This is stupid," I said aloud. Nervousness was hastening my devolution. Get a hold of yourself, Aurelius. In the end, it was the thought of never seeing Honey again that compelled me to do something very stupid.

The birdcalls stopped. I killed my breath and cradled the crossbow. They'd found the camp. The lone figure, hooded and cloaked, was giving them pause. They knew it was something alive, because she was moving, though much more like a furious larvae than anything human. My training with Dumpling on the esoteric arts of rope tying had paid off.

One of the Rebel decided to investigate the curious bundle closer. One by one, they appeared from behind the trees. Bows and arrows. A dead deer slung on a strong shoulder. Two hares dangling limpy on a feminine hip. It was a hunting party, not a patrol. There were three of them, tall and well-proportioned that was easy on the eyes even from this distance, and looking for all the world as though they'd just stepped out of a bath despite living in the Forest. Their yellow turban was tightly wound around their long hair. They could have been on the recruitment posters for the Rebel. Knowing their aptitude for propaganda, they probably were.
>>
>>3657587

"You there, identify yourself!" The leader's voice rang clear and strong in Coin, the language of Eskhatans. I couldn't see the details of his face from this distance. I bet he was handsome, too. The gods are too generous. Rare, but it happens. I waited. Runesinger intensified her struggle.

"Could be the one that killed Aexes, Wick," the woman of the group cautioned. What kind of a name is Wick? "One of the Foresters?" So the woman was jumping to the conclusion of this being a Forester trap. I'd never heard of them before. It came as a surprise to me that Rebel might have someone they feared in their own stronghold. Then again, I hadn't known that Rebel presence was so strong here that they could manage to overpower an entire legion and the Company.

"Horses," the third man said. He was blond instead of raven-haired like the others. Decidedly not Eskhatan. "Foresters don't use horses."

They were walking to the camp now, striding in that arrogant way of theirs in thinking that there was no one else here. I could smell the self-righteousness from way up here. The elimination of Foresters as a possibility had made them confident.

>This Forester business was a new development. I waited to see their reaction to Runesinger.

>I aimed for the blondie, the easier target of the three against the black-and-white snowed in backdrop. I fired.
>>
>>3657592
>I aimed for the blondie, the easier target of the three against the black-and-white snowed in backdrop. I fired.

I'd rather not bank on Rebel infighting to give us an opportunity
>>
>>3657592
>>I aimed for the blondie, the easier target of the three against the black-and-white snowed in backdrop. I fired.
>>
>>3657593
>>3657604
They were wary, I'll give them that. They were expecting something. A trap on the ground, perhaps, or a sudden burst of magic from the hooded figure. They approached Runesinger, arrows nocked.

What they weren't banking on was a crossbow bolt to the face. Or at least, that was the plan. I hadn't done my weapons training for a week. My fingers felt around the unfamiliar grip, the unremembered trigger.

Mars, god of my divine ancestor. Don't fail me now.

>3d100
>>
Rolled 12 (1d100)

>>3657610
Just think of Hood's tips for shooting.
>>
Rolled 98 (1d100)

>>3657610
Won't be talking our way out of this one, huh
>>
Rolled 29 (1d100)

>>3657610
>>
>>3657619
>>3657625
>>3657628

A second bolt was being latched before the Blond even dropped. I hadn't forgotten my lessons after all. They didn't waste their time. An arrow went through my left shoulder, pinning me to the treetrunk.

It hurt like fucking hell. It had also not hit anything important, unlike last time. I fired one-handed, and saw the black-haired man's head explode like a ripe melon. The woman screamed then. She dropped her bow and ran to her lover's side.

I was stuck. With my left arm immobilised, I couldn't reload the crossbow. I tried anyway. The pain made me black out.

When I came to, I was on the ground. My head ached something fierce.

"I should kill you where you lie," Ravenhair said. I angled my head to get a better look at my opponent. She was cradling what remained of Wick's head with no regard for the bio-matter that seeped into her clothes. Her eyes were puffed up and red. She had been crying.

How long was I out? "How long was I out?" I asked. My left shoulder was bandaged. Endlessly idealistic, the Rebel, though not enough to let me keep my weapon. My dagger was not in my belt.

"Why did you kill him?" she answered with a question. Her voice was dull. "What did we ever do to you?"

>"Everything." Hatred enflamed me, helping me ignore for a moment the cold and the pain and the dizziness of blood loss. "You killed my brothers. My Captain. And now, you will kill me."

>"Him?" I asked. "Don't you mean they?" I was beyond caring about angering the woman who currently held sway over my continued existence.

>"Don't take it personally," I said. It really wasn't, not for me. These particular Rebel trio hadn't personally caused the downfall of the Company, even if they might have butchered my brothers. They were fighting for their lives. We had been fighting for our commission. Personal feelings didn't come into it.
>>
>>3657650
>>"Everything." Hatred enflamed me, helping me ignore for a moment the cold and the pain and the dizziness of blood loss. "You killed my brothers. My Captain. And now, you will kill me."

we better let her know it wasn't for nothing
>>
>>3657650
>"Everything." Hatred enflamed me, helping me ignore for a moment the cold and the pain and the dizziness of blood loss. "You killed my brothers. My Captain. And now, you will kill me."
>>
>>3657650
>>"Everything." Hatred enflamed me, helping me ignore for a moment the cold and the pain and the dizziness of blood loss. "You killed my brothers. My Captain. And now, you will kill me."
>>
>>3657650
>"Everything." Hatred enflamed me, helping me ignore for a moment the cold and the pain and the dizziness of blood loss. "You killed my brothers. My Captain. And now, you will kill me."
>>
>>3657650

>"Everything." Hatred enflamed me, helping me ignore for a moment the cold and the pain and the dizziness of blood loss. "You killed my brothers. My Captain. And now, you will kill me."
>>
I just want to say we lost a great opportunity by attacking these guys, their superstition of the foresters could spread to the rebel camp and give us an edge on negotiations
>>
>>3657654
>>3657655
>>3657656
>>3657657
>>3657659
>"Everything." Hatred enflamed me, helping me ignore for a moment the cold and the pain and the dizziness of blood loss. "You killed my brothers. My Captain. And now, you will kill me."

She regarded me with glassy eyes, not comprehending. Grief had made her slow. Then in her pupil, a flicker of recognition. "You're Black Company."

"Scrivener Aurelius, at your service." At your mercy.

I was shivering. The bandage was soaking gold, leaking precious warmth to the melting snow on the ground. Hunger clawed my belly as my body began cannibalising itself. Even Alexandrians do not spontaneously regenerate. We need to eat and drink for the body to find the necessary material. I had been carefully rationing my food. I must have been out for a while.

Damn the compulsions of the flesh, I thought. I was going to die. Let me at least die with the purity of my hatred intact.

"We didn't do it," she said. "We were in hiding in the western parts of the Forest. We just wanted to be left alone."

Lies. All lies. Who else would have a grudge against the legions that represented Imperial control? Who else but the Rebel would hate the Company enough to so effectively annihilate the two-thousand strong brotherhood?

>"Save your lies for your propaganda posters." Posturing. Always the posturing. The self-righteous Rebel, the self-sacrificing Rebel. They thought themselves noble by protesting the ongoing annexation of the Peninsular Kingdoms, and the planned Eastern Expedition against the islands of Wae. I'd had enough of it.

>I sneered. "I am glad I took two of your kind before I die." And I really was. It's a twisted thing, to take joy in the taking of life. Some of my brothers of the Company were into such things. Battle rage, they called it. White Bitch was particularly renowned for her bloodlust. This was different. This was vengeance.
>>
>>3657667
>>"Save your lies for your propaganda posters." Posturing. Always the posturing. The self-righteous Rebel, the self-sacrificing Rebel. They thought themselves noble by protesting the ongoing annexation of the Peninsular Kingdoms, and the planned Eastern Expedition against the islands of Wae. I'd had enough of it.
>>
>>3657667
>"Save your lies for your propaganda posters." Posturing. Always the posturing. The self-righteous Rebel, the self-sacrificing Rebel. They thought themselves noble by protesting the ongoing annexation of the Peninsular Kingdoms, and the planned Eastern Expedition against the islands of Wae. I'd had enough of it.
>>
>>3657667
>>"Save your lies for your propaganda posters." Posturing. Always the posturing. The self-righteous Rebel, the self-sacrificing Rebel. They thought themselves noble by protesting the ongoing annexation of the Peninsular Kingdoms, and the planned Eastern Expedition against the islands of Wae. I'd had enough of it.

we apparently made a terrible mistake
>>
>>3657667

>>"Save your lies for your propaganda posters." Posturing. Always the posturing. The self-righteous Rebel, the self-sacrificing Rebel. They thought themselves noble by protesting the ongoing annexation of the Peninsular Kingdoms, and the planned Eastern Expedition against the islands of Wae. I'd had enough of it.
>>
>>3657673
Keikaku means plan.
>>
>>3657668
>>3657670
>>3657673
>>3657676
>>"Save your lies for your propaganda posters." Posturing. Always the posturing. The self-righteous Rebel, the self-sacrificing Rebel. They thought themselves noble by protesting the ongoing annexation of the Peninsular Kingdoms, and the planned Eastern Expedition against the islands of Wae. I'd had enough of it.

She was furious now, furious that I'd called on her load of drek. "There are five thousand of us in the Forest," she said, her voice trembling with anger. "Five thousand. Half of them civilians. Refugees from the iron fist of your Imperial overlords. We have barely enough weapons to go around. Yes, we were scouting your soldiers, but it was to make sure we could run away in time. We would not have launched an attack."

"Terrain advantage. Traps. Ambush is a force multiplier." Did she think I was born yesterday? I may have been merely a Scrivener, but I'd lived for a good long while. The Rebel excelled in guerilla attacks, nipping at the heels of Imperial forces.

"Look at my sword," she demanded. I braced myself for the execution. Instead, she displayed her weapon. Shit tier iron made brittle with cold, forged by someone who barely knew what he was doing. I wouldn't have given that sword to a child. Not that I gave children swords. It was heavily chipped along its blade with much use. "Does this look like something I would have looted from a legionary?" she continued. "Do I have anything on me that might have once been owned by your brothers?" Her armour was simple and piecemeal, homespun gambeson and crude woolen cloak.

Was it possible that I was wrong? Lieutenant hadn't actually mentioned any Rebel, just an ambush. And treachery of the legionaries.

>No. It was the Rebel who was wrong. "Congratulations. You are as terrible at looting as you are at lying." This harpy seemed intent on convincing me of her precious Rebel innocence before gifting me with blissful silence. "Kill me already. Or do you plan to let me bleed to death like your comrades did to mine?"

>"Legionaries wear heavy armour. Not good for foraging." Of course, the brothers in black moved in something more mobile, one that would suit scouts and huntsmen just fine. I didn't see fit to mention that.
>>
>>3657684
>>No. It was the Rebel who was wrong. "Congratulations. You are as terrible at looting as you are at lying." This harpy seemed intent on convincing me of her precious Rebel innocence before gifting me with blissful silence. "Kill me already. Or do you plan to let me bleed to death like your comrades did to mine?"

we are loosing it, breaking
>>
>>3657684

>No. It was the Rebel who was wrong. "Congratulations. You are as terrible at looting as you are at lying." This harpy seemed intent on convincing me of her precious Rebel innocence before gifting me with blissful silence. "Kill me already. Or do you plan to let me bleed to death like your comrades did to mine?"

If she actually tells us that they have some survivors and even helped them I'm gonna feel real bad.
>>
>>3657684
>No. It was the Rebel who was wrong. "Congratulations. You are as terrible at looting as you are at lying." This harpy seemed intent on convincing me of her precious Rebel innocence before gifting me with blissful silence. "Kill me already. Or do you plan to let me bleed to death like your comrades did to mine?"
>>
>>3657684
Hey what happened to Singer
>>
>>3657689
>>3657691
>>3657713
>No. It was the Rebel who was wrong. "Congratulations. You are as terrible at looting as you are at lying." This harpy seemed intent on convincing me of her precious Rebel innocence before gifting me with blissful silence. "Kill me already. Or do you plan to let me bleed to death like your comrades did to mine?"

She set her lips together in a grim line. She was a determined sort, one who didn't linger overlong on things she couldn't fi, only what she could do about the circumstances. I was reminded of Hood, my beloved Eskhatan.

"I won't kill you," she said at last. Coward that I am, I felt relief then. I'd been unconsciously holding my breath. Now that she confirmed the stay of execution, the cold and pain and hunger that had been shored up set upon me like warhounds.

Ravenhair got up to her feet and lay the grotesque corpse of her partner on the floor. After a small prayer, she began to systematically strip him of his weapons and clothes.

"That was a beautiful shot." Another voice. I painfully turned my head. It was Blond, very much alive, holding gingerly the goosefeather bolt that I had planted in his throat. The neck had been bandaged with the same skill that had tended to my shoulder.

His voice was hoarse from the extra hole in his throat, but the shot hadn't silenced him. His eyes glowed golden. "They taught you well, brother. The Black Company always was the best of the best. If you had known of my condition and aimed for the head, no doubt I would be truly dead by now."

Alexandrian. "You're Alexandrian," I said numbly, temporarily forgetting my anger. That was not possible. What was a member of the Imperial family doing among the Rebel? The gold in his eyes were strong, indicating strong inheritance of our common ancestor's blood. Most Alexandrians sported gold of a paler sort, non-glowing. Diminished.

His eyes were positively blazing.

"Just like you," he grinned, stretching the neck wound. "Knowing our curse, you should be feeling mighty hungry right about now. Raven will bring us food once she is done dispossessing her brother. The dead have no use for things, eh?"

An Alexandrian helping the Rebel. Now I'd seen everything.

>"I'm hallucinating," I said. I would have pinched myself, but I was tied up. "This is all a dream. Of course it is."

>My head was spinning. Too much was happening, too fast. "You're far from home," I managed.
>>
>>3657715
I haven't forgotten her
>>
>>3657722
>>My head was spinning. Too much was happening, too fast. "You're far from home," I managed.
>>
>>3657722
>My head was spinning. Too much was happening, too fast. "You're far from home," I managed.
So we weren't the only ones Intelligence was after.

Dollars to donuts he's part of the Sixteen
>>
>>3657722

>My head was spinning. Too much was happening, too fast. "You're far from home," I managed.
I guess we found a new commission
>>
>>3657722
>My head was spinning. Too much was happening, too fast. "We're far from home," I managed.
>>
>>3657730
>>3657734
>>3657736
>>3657740
>My head was spinning. Too much was happening, too fast. "You're far from home," I managed. I was far from home.

"So was our beloved Emperor," he replied. "No one seem to mind him." A joke. He was a Rebel, and I a captive of a Rebel. If there was anything they minded, it was the Emperor. "Now that you are awake and lucid, I'm afraid I have to take on the role of the interrogator. And trust me when I say that I do not relish the idea. But I also want you whole, and I am not sure Raven would not take liberties with some of your... non-critical extremities."

I was drained. Confused. I wanted to sleep. My stomach reminded me that was not going to happen anytime soon. "Ask," I said. My mouth felt dry.

"What - or who - is in that bundle of cloak and cloth?" So he hadn't risked finding out what was beneath the cloak. He must have sensed magic.

>"One of you. Runesinger." [Truth]
>"Why don't you go and find out?"
>"Runesinger. I was hoping to trade her for survivors of the Company." [Whole truth]
>>
>>3657751
>>"Runesinger. I was hoping to trade her for survivors of the Company." [Whole truth]

no point in hiding I think
>>
>>3657751
>"Runesinger. I was hoping to trade her for survivors of the Company." [Whole truth]
>>
>>3657751

>"One of you. Runesinger." [Truth]
>>
>>3657751
> whole truth
>>
>>3657751
>"Runesinger. I was hoping to trade her for survivors of the Company." [Whole truth]
>>
>>3657751
>>"One of you. Runesinger." [Truth]
>>
>>3657751
>"Runesinger. I was hoping to trade her for survivors of the Company." [Whole truth]
>>
>>3657755
>>3657763
>>3657828
>>3657832
>>3657839
>"Runesinger. I was hoping to trade her for survivors of the Company." [Whole truth]

He raised an eyebrow. "Yet you shot at us. Not something negotiators are known for." His voice was soft, mellifluous. Like the gold in his eyes.

"There were three of you." My voice sounded croaky compared to his, even with his throat wound. The bastard was everything I wasn't. Handsome, calm (even with his throat pierced), in control. The gods are cruel to gift so lavishly in one what they do not in the other. "I had only one of me. I had to make sure she was secured. She was the only thing we had to barter with."

"Your words ring true." They rang desperate. "I mourn the loss of Wick. He was a most understanding brother-in-law, and in truth, much more brotherly than my real brothers."

I was startled. "Are we naturally predisposed toward Eskhatans, do you think?"

"You don't mean to tell me..." a funny look came on Blond's face. "Your wife, is she...?"

"Eskhatan." Some of the guarded look that I realised was prejudice lifted from his face.

"So you are not married to one of your...?"

Gods above, no. "No. I am a polygamist, though."

"Ah, well. We must take what we can get. You are the first relative I know to not be, a, well."

"A sister-fucker," I helpfully provided.

"That." His face contorted to something like polite disgust.

Yet even as we meandered into casual conversation, an alarm sounded in my head. He was polite, charming even. When Raven finished feeding him, he gently reminded her that I needed to be fed as well. He was the perfect image of a gentleman, save for one defect. The man's callousness toward the death of his brother-in-law disturbed me.

It was a classic sign of the Alexandrian madness. The detached view for lives some of those in the Capital gained as they saw more and more deaths of non-Capitalists in their long lives. Brother, he had called the dead man. But he showed little outward signs of grief in his death, unlike his lover. Something was broken in him.

Or was something broken in me, to feel so strongly about the death of my comrades? People whose names and faces I barely remembered?
>>
>>3657845

>Maybe I was the abnormal one. I wasted time and strength by thinking about consequences, the well-being of those around me. There were many cases where I could have achieved more by being less circumspect. Even if it paled beneath the accomplishments of the Emperor, there had been those among my relatives who had attained feats martial and political that was far beyond any mortal men. Detachment had given them the long view necessary to accomplish such things.

>No. Whatever the benefits of being a cold-blooded reptile like those under the influence of the familial curse, I wanted no part of it. I had run away from the Capital to live, and live fully. I wanted nothing more than to embrace both the pains and the joys of life - to be able to cry when those I cared about died and rejoice in the birth of a child. Let others take their turns becoming unfeeling automatons of death and destruction in their majestic thrones.
>>
>>3657853

>No. Whatever the benefits of being a cold-blooded reptile like those under the influence of the familial curse, I wanted no part of it. I had run away from the Capital to live, and live fully. I wanted nothing more than to embrace both the pains and the joys of life - to be able to cry when those I cared about died and rejoice in the birth of a child. Let others take their turns becoming unfeeling automatons of death and destruction in their majestic thrones.
>>
>>3657853

>No. Whatever the benefits of being a cold-blooded reptile like those under the influence of the familial curse, I wanted no part of it. I had run away from the Capital to live, and live fully. I wanted nothing more than to embrace both the pains and the joys of life - to be able to cry when those I cared about died and rejoice in the birth of a child. Let others take their turns becoming unfeeling automatons of death and destruction in their majestic thrones.

We like to love, if pain is consequence, so be it.
>>
>>3657853
>>No. Whatever the benefits of being a cold-blooded reptile like those under the influence of the familial curse, I wanted no part of it. I had run away from the Capital to live, and live fully. I wanted nothing more than to embrace both the pains and the joys of life - to be able to cry when those I cared about died and rejoice in the birth of a child. Let others take their turns becoming unfeeling automatons of death and destruction in their majestic thrones.
Detachment is useful definitely but not to this guy's extent.
>>
>>3657853
>Maybe I was the abnormal one. I wasted time and strength by thinking about consequences, the well-being of those around me. There were many cases where I could have achieved more by being less circumspect. Even if it paled beneath the accomplishments of the Emperor, there had been those among my relatives who had attained feats martial and political that was far beyond any mortal men. Detachment had given them the long view necessary to accomplish such things
>>
>>3657853
>>No. Whatever the benefits of being a cold-blooded reptile like those under the influence of the familial curse, I wanted no part of it. I had run away from the Capital to live, and live fully. I wanted nothing more than to embrace both the pains and the joys of life - to be able to cry when those I cared about died and rejoice in the birth of a child. Let others take their turns becoming unfeeling automatons of death and destruction in their majestic thrones.
>>
>>3657853

>No. Whatever the benefits of being a cold-blooded reptile like those under the influence of the familial curse, I wanted no part of it. I had run away from the Capital to live, and live fully. I wanted nothing more than to embrace both the pains and the joys of life - to be able to cry when those I cared about died and rejoice in the birth of a child. Let others take their turns becoming unfeeling automatons of death and destruction in their majestic thrones.
>>
>>3657853
>Maybe I was the abnormal one. I wasted time and strength by thinking about consequences, the well-being of those around me. There were many cases where I could have achieved more by being less circumspect. Even if it paled beneath the accomplishments of the Emperor, there had been those among my relatives who had attained feats martial and political that was far beyond any mortal men. Detachment had given them the long view necessary to accomplish such things.
>>
>>3657853
>No. Whatever the benefits of being a cold-blooded reptile like those under the influence of the familial curse, I wanted no part of it. I had run away from the Capital to live, and live fully. I wanted nothing more than to embrace both the pains and the joys of life - to be able to cry when those I cared about died and rejoice in the birth of a child. Let others take their turns becoming unfeeling automatons of death and destruction in their majestic thrones.
>>
>>3657853
>No. Whatever the benefits of being a cold-blooded reptile like those under the influence of the familial curse, I wanted no part of it. I had run away from the Capital to live, and live fully. I wanted nothing more than to embrace both the pains and the joys of life - to be able to cry when those I cared about died and rejoice in the birth of a child. Let others take their turns becoming unfeeling automatons of death and destruction in their majestic thrones.
>>
>>3657845
>No. Whatever the benefits of being a cold-blooded reptile like those under the influence of the familial curse, I wanted no part of it. I had run away from the Capital to live, and live fully. I wanted nothing more than to embrace both the pains and the joys of life - to be able to cry when those I cared about died and rejoice in the birth of a child. Let others take their turns becoming unfeeling automatons of death and destruction in their majestic thrones.
>>
>>3657863
>>3657864
>>3657867
>>3657883
>>3657922
>>3658120
>>3658150
>>3658164
No

>>3657879
>>3657968
Maybe

writing
>>
>>3658777
>No. Whatever the benefits of being a cold-blooded reptile like those under the influence of the familial curse, I wanted no part of it. I had run away from the Capital to live, and live fully. I wanted nothing more than to embrace both the pains and the joys of life - to be able to cry when those I cared about died and rejoice in the birth of a child. Let others take their turns becoming unfeeling automatons of death and destruction on their majestic thrones.

I rejected him and all he stood for. Ambition without restraint, desire for the sake of desire. That sort of attitude would plunge all of Empire to war, all to sate his unending thirst. And at what cost? Nations destroyed, entire people annihilated. Khulan and its Varangian Diaspora. The sinking of Alexandria Eskhata. The Goebie Desert, where the last of the true Sinaean dynasties fled before the march of the Emperor's legions. They had all been the result of a single man's will. Each life prematurely ended, a story left unfinished. I could not in good conscience support such a thing as a Scrivener, who existed to chronicle the accounts of the living.

Hypocritice, you may scoff. A mercenary with a heart of gold. What a played-out story! It is understandable. I was a man of the Black Company, after all. Death was our trade, lives our currency.

Hark then, the difference that lies between the armchair general and the grimy footsoldier.

We fought our own wars in our own terms. We looked at the men we killed in the eyes, knowing that we risked our own in the minute clash of lives. Ours was a measured murder, a moderated murder, killing knowing we would be killed in turn. We had understood the fact that each and every conflict costed us dear comrades, lovers, sometimes even children.

Were we the good guys? Hardly. It had nothing to do with honour or chivalry, like some khitar-playing fools sang. Death is a nasty business, and we are fools to have made our bed in it. In a saner world, I would have liked to be a farmer. It had everything to do with the fact that we lived and died the same as our once-enemies and circumstantial rivals did, unlike those marble-throned psychopaths who saw armies as gilded chess pieces, cities as blank squares on the board. And there lay all the difference.

Black Company - Murdering Responsibly. I should put that on a poster somewhere.
>>
>>3658885

"I haven't introduced myself," Blond said. Raven was untying Runesinger, who was looking at me with undisguised glee in her eyes. If she could talk, she probably would have given me a lecture about the inevitability of the triumph of righteousness over evil. As it was, she merely made some unintelligible vocalisations, its underlying meaning comprehensible even for the shortened tongue.

I wondered if she was in any position to talk, what with her precious Rebel working with an Alexandrian more twisted than I. "You don't have to share your name with me," I said. "I killed your brother in law."

"Oh no, I insist. I make it a point to introduce myself to every acquaintance." That may prove useful. He flashed a likable smile, and in that smile I saw the Aurelius that might have been, had I not had Honey to anchor me and my conscience. It really was unnatural to be so cheerful after losing one's brother-in-law and close friend, after all. "My name is Throne. It is a pleasure to meet you, cousin."

Of course the bugger was one of the Sixteen. He had to be an Ensorcelled on top of being one of the most potent Alexandrian I'd ever seen, didn't he?

"Aurelius. Likewise."

---

The wound I'd inflicted on Throne was grievous enough that he had to rest for a few days. For all his vaunted magic, healing was evidently not his forte. "Fleshcrafter is, as his name suggests, the most prolific of our number in regards to healing," he said, almost apologetically. As if I would ever subject myself to Fleshcrafter's tender ministrations. The name gave me the shakes.

The good thing was that I was healing along nicely, faster than his throat was doing. And we were staying put until he could move without his head falling off, which meant that I had more time to wait for Sergeant and Sister. But what would I do when they arrived? Throne knew that I didn't come here alone, ignoring Runesinger. The number of saddles and horses had given up that much.

>I decided to try and prevent a conflict between Sergeant and Sister when - if - they appeared. There were too many unknown variables. Mind you, I didn't believe Raven when she said that they had nothing to do with the ambush. Alright, maybe I did. Like I said, too many variables.

>I resolved to overpower Throne when I could. My body was practically whole, while Throne was still rejuvinating from the partial paralysis from my bolt scratching his spine. I hoped that would be enough to get to him before Raven or his magic could nail me.
>>
>>3658895
>I decided to try and prevent a conflict between Sergeant and Sister when - if - they appeared. There were too many unknown variables. Mind you, I didn't believe Raven when she said that they had nothing to do with the ambush. Alright, maybe I did. Like I said, too many variables.
>>
>>3658895
>I decided to try and prevent a conflict between Sergeant and Sister when - if - they appeared. There were too many unknown variables. Mind you, I didn't believe Raven when she said that they had nothing to do with the ambush. Alright, maybe I did. Like I said, too many variables.
>>
>>3658895

>I decided to try and prevent a conflict between Sergeant and Sister when - if - they appeared. There were too many unknown variables. Mind you, I didn't believe Raven when she said that they had nothing to do with the ambush. Alright, maybe I did. Like I said, too many variables.

We may be looking at this wrong, better prevent further bloodshed
>>
>>3658895

>I decided to try and prevent a conflict between Sergeant and Sister when - if - they appeared. There were too many unknown variables. Mind you, I didn't believe Raven when she said that they had nothing to do with the ambush. Alright, maybe I did. Like I said, too many variables.
>>
>>3658895

>>I decided to try and prevent a conflict between Sergeant and Sister when - if - they appeared. There were too many unknown variables. Mind you, I didn't believe Raven when she said that they had nothing to do with the ambush. Alright, maybe I did. Like I said, too many variables.
>>
>>3658936
>>3658934
>>3658931
>>3658919
>>3658914
>I decided to try and prevent a conflict between Sergeant and Sister when - if - they appeared. There were too many unknown variables. Mind you, I didn't believe Raven when she said that they had nothing to do with the ambush. Alright, maybe I did. Like I said, too many variables.

The next day found Runesinger dead. She had expired in the night, apparently of natural causes. Her face was a masterful mimicry of peaceful composure. Raven blamed me for her death. Said that I had let her wounds fester and sore.

"What a pity," Throne said sadly. A perfect teardrop rolled off his perfect cheek. "She was an excellent ally. I owed my life to her many times over. If only I could have given her my own life..."

Raven stroke his arm, the comforted becoming the comforter. I did not mention the distinct tingle of magical aftereffect. It was so heavy that I could almost taste the actinic tang while I buried her corpse.

"We believe that the Forest killed your friends," Throne said as we ate dinner. He'd decided that I wouldn't run, not when I clearly had people to meet here, and only tied me up at night. He was very confident of his magic during the day when he was awake. "Foresters, to be precise. They were here when we first arrived, too, five years ago. That's why we mostly keep ourselves in the western quadrant."

"The Forest." Have I mentioned that wizards are often insane?

Throne nodded seriously, not detecting the sarcasm in my voice. "Scouts have gone missing. Hunting parties. Entire families when they lagged behind. Only a few days ago we found that Aexes and his team was not going to return. He was one of the best of us."

"And these Foresters are what, minions?"

"Something like that, yes. They seem perfectly content to share the woods, as long as we keep away from proscribed regions. It took some trial and error to find out which they were. Foresters don't exactly build walls."

"I'll need to see the battlefield." I wasn't going to believe him just because he said so.

"Of course. Would you like to do that before or after we meet with your brothers? I don't mean fellow Alexandrians," he added. "We took some of your men and women under our care."

Relief flooded me. I'm not too proud to say that I cried.

>"The Annals. Do you have the Annals?"

>"How many survived? Is Captain okay?"
>>
>>3658985

>"How many survived? Is Captain okay?"
>>
>>3658985
>>"How many survived? Is Captain okay?"
>>
>>3658985

>"How many survived? Is Captain okay?"

Man, what a shame, he killed Runesinger, we will have to kill this dude before long.
>>
>>3659015
Yes, such a shame Runesinger expired in her sleep peacefully with no sign of poisoning or foul play.
>>
>>3658985

>"How many survived? Is Captain okay?"
>>
>>3659021
Nah it was the dude, I wonder why he killed her, maybe for the same Mindbreaker wanted to
>>
>>3659005
>>3659007
>>3659015
>>3659030

Senior Scrivener Xavier would have tanned my hide if he knew I was neglecting my foremost duty, the preservation of those almost holy documents. I didn't care. What mattered to me was the people that made up the Company. Old books could come later. "How many survived? Is Captain okay?"

"I don't think a hellhound could keep that woman down," he replied. Be still, my heart. It was unreasonable for me to be so happy when so many had died. "As for survivors, around three hundred. It's really put a strain on our food supply this late in winter."

Three hundred. And a week ago we'd thought the entire Black Company destroyed. More than three fourth of the Company was lost, but that was three hundred more than I expected to find. I take what good news I could get. They were rare enough in these troubled times.

"We're not going to meet our hunting quota," Raven said. She glared at me, as if it was my fault they hadn't been out hunting. That is because it was.

"I'll be fine," Throne said. Raven looked sceptical.

"He's Black Company. And he skewered your neck."

"And I'm still alive, see? He got the drop on me that time. Not likely to happen again."

Raven left, reluctantly. I think she would have liked to cut my hands off, as Trevain had done to Runesinger.

Throne stretched his legs. "So, tell me about yourself, cousin. I have not been in the Capital for many years. Being a Rebel makes it difficult to do so without attracting the attention of the censors."

>"I haven't been there in eleven- no, twelve years, now. It probably hasn't changed much."

>"What's there to say? I had a generic childhood mostly spent in the Bibliotheca, went through the cursus honorum, was married off to a woman I did not know and vice versa."

>"It's always the same in Capital. Now, the life of a swashbuckling Rebel Alexandrian! That is bound to be more interesting."
>>
>>3659047
>>"I haven't been there in eleven- no, twelve years, now. It probably hasn't changed much."
>>
>>3659047

>"I haven't been there in eleven- no, twelve years, now. It probably hasn't changed much."
>>
>>3659047
>>"It's always the same in Capital. Now, the life of a swashbuckling Rebel Alexandrian! That is bound to be more interesting."

deflect!
>>
Ok guys, remember that tale about the First Friend, the golden eyed dude that first was nice and then came back to fuck them up?
This guy is the second coming of that dude, he is going to betrayvthe shit out of these poor rebels, that now that I know more about, they just want to be left alone and away from the empire bulshit, which is very reasonable in my opinion, he is probably here to make them all die. I would like to stop him if that is the case.
>>
>>3659047
>"It's always the same in Capital. Now, the life of a swashbuckling Rebel Alexandrian! That is bound to be more interesting."
Story time!
>>
>>3659116

We'll see.
>>
>>3659116
IC we really cant claim to suspect that level of treachery just yet.

He is suspicious.

>"I haven't been there in eleven- no, twelve years, now. It probably hasn't changed much."
>>
>>3659224
Oh yeah, its like that Varus situation.
But he is already giving us sone tips, we felt magic related to Runesinger's death and he is the only mage around
>>
>>3659047
>>"I haven't been there in eleven- no, twelve years, now. It probably hasn't changed much."
>>
>>3659047
>>"I haven't been there in eleven- no, twelve years, now. It probably hasn't changed much."
>>
>>3659238

Maybe some forest spirit killed her?
>>
>>3659270
Well, I don't believe A-really is THAT naive.
>>
>>3659047
>>"I haven't been there in eleven- no, twelve years, now. It probably hasn't changed much."
>>
Glamoured into a woman to capture a sorceress and carried her all the way here only to get her killed by the people she's to be bargained for lmao.
>>
>>3660526
Also as far as we know they were not hostile
>>
No internet at home today, hopefully the DNS error shenanigans will cease by tomorrow

And before you ask, no, i cant update via mobile, that would kill me with how annoying it is to go back and edit

See you soon hopefully
>>
>>3660917
no problem, thanks for the heads up
>>
>>3660917
Appreciate the dedication to quality good luck with the DNS stuff
>>
After what felt like a century, my internet is back and I can write again

>>3659061
>>3659066
>>3659224
>>3659247
>>3659262
>>3660427
A

>>3659082
>>3659121
B

Writing
>>
>>3663990
>"I haven't been there in eleven- no, twelve years, now. It probably hasn't changed much."

Capital. Even before the Empire was founded, native Sinaean dynasties had made it the centre of their lesser empires. It had a proper name back when it was founded nearly ten thousand years ago by the Emperor, but everyone just called it the Capital. Too much history had pressed down that place, giving it a thousand and one names.

Why had I fled? It had seemed important then. It must have been. It was hard to remember. Throne's eyes were distracting. He had an unnerving habit of looking at you fully in the eyes when speaking. It made you feel important. Like you were someone worth paying attention to.

"I never had a family there, unlike most of our kinsmen," he said. "My heart was always in Alexandria Eskhata. It was a beautiful island." Before it sank. How long ago was that? Two centuries, at least. "Cousin, did you know that Eskhatans are the most resistant to our gift? All my children with my successive wives - all of them Eskhatan - bore no children with the characteristic golden eyes. Raven is my twelfth. Not all at one time like you, of course."

I wasn't annoyed at the way he subtly insulted me. It was even charming. Why did you engaged in polygamy? His eyes seemed to ask, reproachful, but also understanding.

"But there was another reason I did not stay in the Capital," he continued after a pause. "The censors coddle our kin overmuch in that city. Kept in a stable of marble and studded for sires. And even the greatest of our relatives cannot defy them, for they execute the will of the dead Emperor. Dead!" He barked out a bitter laugh. "And he still holds sway over us from beyond the grave."

"An empty grave," I said. No one saw the body.

"All the more reason that power and authority should be returned to us," he said fervently. "It is we who are the children of the Emperor. The divine right of rule lies in our blood!"

For a Rebel, he was awfully authoritarian. "I thought you Rebel were against all things Imperial."

He smiled. "The Rebel is not a monolith. The Council of Sixteen is a battleground of ideas, ranging from anarchs to the religious fanatics. There is no one way to conduct a Rebellion, after all. While the paramount foe stands, needs compel us to remain united. But once the Empire fragments, I foresee rifts forming within us all."

Rebel ain't a monolith. You start seeing them as one group, that's where you fuck up.
>>
>>3664098

"It must be fate, cousin."

"Fate." I tried to remember the last time he blinked.

"To have you bring me one of the Sixteen, only for her to expire in the cold. Raven faults you for it, but she is wrong. I have seen the care with which you treated the wound. She would have been easily brought back to full power."

"A tragedy," I slurred. My voice was the screeching of metal against stressed metal, compared to his wondrous voice. I hated myself for talking. I forced myself anyway. I had to defend my honour as a Scrivener. "I didn't intend for her to die."

"Yes, all your work, wasted. But with her death, a seat lies empty in the Council. Who better to fill that seat than the Captain of the vaunted Black Company?"

His eyes were warm, caring. I felt comforted from it, like a sun-starved plant exulting in the newly-dawning sun. For the first time since hearing of the Company's defeat, my heart was emboldened with thoughts of new prospects. Yes, if there was any non-wizard who would deserve a seat in such a close-knit brotherhood of righteous people, it was Captain. The Rebel did not lack in the number of zealous recruits. With the Company and the Rebel helping each other, Captain could raise the Company to the glory of its past, when we numbered ten thousand, not mere hundreds that it was now.

"The present Captain is unwell," Throne continued. "A week, perhaps. Maybe more. Enough to greet you once we go back, but who knows what future holds? Even Runesinger in the height of her health died in her sleep. I hear that you are in high favour from her, Aurelius. Your feat with the Magal has not gone unnoticed. And with the Lieutenant missing..."

I hated the implication sufficiently enough to find my tongue.

>"Wait, how do you know about the Magal?" Captain was not what you would call the open type. She wouldn't have told some Rebel anything, even if he was a member of the Sixteen.

>"You mean, I might be Captain?" For the first time since our candid discussion began, something felt wrong. "But I don't want to be Captain."
>>
>>3664102
>>"You mean, I might be Captain?" For the first time since our candid discussion began, something felt wrong. "But I don't want to be Captain."
>>
>>3664102
>"Wait, how do you know about the Magal?" Captain was not what you would call the open type. She wouldn't have told some Rebel anything, even if he was a member of the Sixteen.
>>
>>3664102
>"Wait, how do you know about the Magal?" Captain was not what you would call the open type. She wouldn't have told some Rebel anything, even if he was a member of the Sixteen.
GUYS, WE ARE GETTING MAGICALLY CHARMED! WE NEED TO RESIST.
>>
>>3664102

>"Wait, how do you know about the Magal?" Captain was not what you would call the open type. She wouldn't have told some Rebel anything, even if he was a member of the Sixteen.

He is messing with our head, if we openly say we don't want to be captain he will remove us too, he is taking out anyone from the Rebel who might oppose his plans, like Runesinger would have done, this guy is dangerous and is bad news, we have to kill him as quickly as we can, for the company survivor's and the Rebel's sake.
>>
>>3664123
Exactly, we need to fucking play like we're getting interrogated. And that means not giving them what they want from us.
>>
>>3664119
>>3664122
>>3664123

>"Wait, how do you know about the Magal?" Captain was not what you would call the open type. She wouldn't have told some Rebel anything, even if he was a member of the Sixteen.

And no one knew about the Magal incident aside from Sergeant's platoon, Lieutenant, and Captain. What she had done was commit treason against the Company, use the brotherhood for her own purposes.

"I read through your Annals," he lied. My books were back in the city of Bath.

Sorcery, real or false, relies on misdirection. Charms like the one Throne was casting over me is very effective as long as the veil of lies was maintained, but once it triggers a blatant falsehood, even practiced Ensorcelled find it difficult to maintain the charm. I felt like a cold bucket of water had been upeneded over my head. For a moment, I missed that almost addicting feeling of warmth. Then my head righted itself.

I was not tied up, but I was weaponless. And this here was a bona fide Ensorcelled, one of the Sixteen himself. I'd managed to get the jump on Runesinger because she thought I was one of them (plus pure luck), but Throne was not the trusting type. Traitors rarely are.

>So I played along. "Ah, that explains it. No one ever reads them, you know. Captaincy, eh?" I said dreamily. "I've always wanted to be the Captain." If true, it would be a first. Every single Captain had been inaugurated over their commanding position, kicking and screaming.

>I still had my hands, and I was in perfect health. I sprang forward desperately, hoping to choke his throat before he could get off a vocalised spell.
>>
>>3664163
>>I still had my hands, and I was in perfect health. I sprang forward desperately, hoping to choke his throat before he could get off a vocalised spell.
>>
>>3664163
>So I played along. "Ah, that explains it. No one ever reads them, you know. Captaincy, eh?" I said dreamily. "I've always wanted to be the Captain." If true, it would be a first. Every single Captain had been inaugurated over their commanding position, kicking and screaming.
Wait till we get a weapon, or when their backs are turned. We are still recovering after all.
>>
>>3664163
>>So I played along. "Ah, that explains it. No one ever reads them, you know. Captaincy, eh?" I said dreamily. "I've always wanted to be the Captain." If true, it would be a first. Every single Captain had been inaugurated over their commanding position, kicking and screaming.
>>
>>3664192
oh, and to make the play even more believable we can say

"Oh, so the annals are safe? what a relief!"
>>
question to the QM: about charm magic, if the charmer is killed does it dispell those he already charmed? he may have already done things to our brothers
>>
>>3664201
Think of magicians as men with swords. If they gut a man and spill his blood, the blood does not return to the corpse just because the killer dies. In this analogy, the blood is the magic/its effects.

If I may stretch the analogy just a little further, most people cannot smell the blood spilled. This is why Raven didn't react.
>>
>>3664205
I assume that there are methods to dispelling the magic via magicians like Dumpling or Shamaness?
>>
>>3664208
Yeeeees but generally speaking, causing is easier to do than de-causing, and fiddling with the head is usually messy. There are non-arcane ways to dispel the charm, as demonstrated by Aurelius just now, but they require

a) stronger than average will on the person who was charmed
b) compelling rationale for the charm being "off" (this varies between persons and is reliant on triggering that gut feeling that makes them wary)
>>
>>3664208
Probably the same way we did, showing a lie.
>>
>>3664214
>>3664205
So it's somewhat permanent if nothing is done about it, does he at least get tired having to maintain all the spells? if he doesn't this charm thing is op as hell
>>
>>3664229
I'm guessing that's kinda the point, that magic being op as fuck is "balanced" by the fact that only a fairly small amount can wield it. Which is probably why our dude was shitting his metaphorical pants at the first hint of magic being detected by him early on.
>>
>>3664229
There's a limit of how many he can maintain at any one point in time, though the memories of said feelings will remain. It would "remain" like the actions and feelings of someone blackout drunk doing something they wouldn't normally do (drunk driving, agreeing to gamble, sleeping with your ex) - the "psychic footprint" of the magic remains, even if they are not being controlled at a later moment.

This is why Mindbreaker is considered a weak Ensorcelled - he was capable of rifling through someone's mind, but it was extremely obvious, and similarly undoable. It is easier to swat away someone's arm than it is to do the same to a tendril of smoke. Throne is able to spoiler, dude. I should get back to writing, my writingbrain is rusty after taking an unwanted break.
>>
>>3664236
>>3664232
right right

get on with it, kek
>>
>>3664232
Yes, magic is very bad news. That is the point of magic - it's unbalanced as fuck, and god help you if you get in the bad books of a good one. A tiny portion of humanity is Ensorcelled. An even smaller portion of those Ensorcelled are capable of anything close to the Sixteen. So an example of the power discrepancy was Dumpling getting exhausted holding on to a glamour for Hood while your platoon was doing a turnip run back in Rainless. Shamaness is more naturally talented, but Dumpling has been a wizard for longer, and experience does count when it comes to sorcery.

Simply put, sorcery is the art of Lying. You're Lying so well that you convince Reality that your Lie is Real. And as Aurelius can attest, lying becomes easier the more you do it until you are yourself unsure which is the lie. You do also need that innate spark of the soul, so just being a good liar doesn't make you an Ensorcelled, of course.

Emperor is just Emperor. Don't put him on the measuring scale or he'll just put everything out of whack.
>>
>>3664255
>Emperor is just Emperor. Don't put him on the measuring scale or he'll just put everything out of whack.
It is simple, the Emperor never lied. He simply told a truth so strong that reality agreed with him.
>>
>>3664181
>>3664192
>So I played along. "Ah, that explains it. No one ever reads them, you know. Captaincy, eh?" I said dreamily. "I've always wanted to be the Captain." If true, it would be a first. Every single Captain had been inaugurated over their commanding position, kicking and screaming.

The Black Company was a family of outcasts and the shunned. To be Captain was to knowingly lead brothers to their deaths. Every campaign and commission cost us something. Prefect Varus' had cost us more than three-fourth of the Company.

I didn't want all that blood in my hands. May Mars strike me the day I decide to become Captain. Strutting about with ranks and responsibilities like a real soldier wasn't my thing. I didn't loath my father enough to be a soldier.

"I am glad the Annals are safe," I said. Throne smiled smugly. He wasn't as handsome as I thought he was, and the expression made me more angry than complacent. He closed his eyes, satisfied that I had been tamed. His face looked strangely vulnerable in that moment. I wondered if he kept up glamours around everyone. Even for a Sixteen, that could not be easy.

Raven emerged from the underbrush as the sun was lowering. She had been hunting all day, and it showed. On her belt were various birds, surprisingly plump despite the lateness of winter, and on her back she carried a fawn.

She quickly looked over the resting Throne, satisfied that he wasn't harmed. As if I would try. Wizards are extremely difficult to kill. Their souls cling on to their bodies far longer than they have any right in doing. Even the ravages of disease and such physical ills take longer in taking their lives. I've heard that you need specialised equipment for the job, if you want it done quick. That, or another Ensorcelled.

"As I thought, these woods are good hunting," Raven said, bringing Throne from his meditative rest. "If not for the Foresters, our food supply problem should be fixed. Especially with so many new mouths to feed." Another glare. She really was like Hood. They could be glare sisters.

"We also have new huntsmen," Throne said mildly. He had returned to his placid self, showning none of the intensity that he'd had earlier. "Not all of the Black Company survivors are wounded."

"They'd just run."

"No, I don't think so." Throne glanced my way. "You've seen how they come back for theirs. They'll come, as long as there remain the wounded. And the Annals will be difficult to run away with."

"I won't run," I assured her. "And neither will Captain. Our contract with the prefect expired the moment he died."

"Your commission is over?" she said suspiciously. I nodded. She looked torn. On one hand, I'd killed her brother. On the other hand, killing me would result in unnecessary conflict between the two groups.
>>
>>3664280

>"I'm sorry," I told her. No buts, no excuses. I had fucked up, and that is what she needed to hear. An admission of guilt.

>"I was acting under reasonable assumptions," I reminded her. How was I to know that it was not the Rebel that had decimated my brothers?
>>
>>3664284
>>"I'm sorry," I told her. No buts, no excuses. I had fucked up, and that is what she needed to hear. An admission of guilt.
>>
>>3664284
>"I'm sorry," I told her. No buts, no excuses. I had fucked up, and that is what she needed to hear. An admission of guilt.
Not only that it'll potentially lower her suspicion rating on us.
>>
>>3664284
>>"I'm sorry," I told her. No buts, no excuses. I had fucked up, and that is what she needed to hear. An admission of guilt.
>>
>>3664284

>>"I'm sorry," I told her. No buts, no excuses. I had fucked up, and that is what she needed to hear. An admission of guilt.

I miss Hood, badly, but at the same time I'm glad she's safe.
>>
>>3664301
I share the feeling anon
>>
>>3664288
>>3664293
>>3664296
>>3664301
>"I'm sorry," I told her. No buts, no excuses. I had fucked up, and that is what she needed to hear. An admission of guilt.

I didn't have any vocal theatrics that Throne had under his employ. I couldn't charm her grudge away with a spell. But there is more to apology than to smooth out a rough relationship. It is an admittance of fault, the cathartic end of blames. Once someone decides to take up the scape to become the proverbial goat, the healing can begin.

Raven nodded stiffly. Eskhatans are a remarkable people, one of the peoples that was scattered around the Empire after the destruction of their ancestral homeland, much like the Varangians. She'd had her crying. "I'm going to kill you someday," she said.

I missed Hood.

Throne sat up straight. "We didn't send for anyone else to come this far east."

"No. But they're probably wondering when we'll return, since-" she didn't finish the sentence. A bolt shot from an all-too familiar crossbow pierced her left shoulder. She fell without a sound, too surprised to cry out. From the other end of the camp's clearing, a travel-worn man appeared, his raised crossbow pointed at Throne.

"Don't even think about going for a weapon, Blondhair." Sergeant had survived. "We've got you surrounded." I hoped he wasn't bluffing or using the royal we there.

"Aurelius, we had an understanding," Throne said calmly. "Tell your friends that the rest of his brothers who survived are safe." He wasn't even looking at Raven, who was lying prone on the ground. He was focused on the man who had the crossbow, and I could see that he was preparing something from the complicated finger wiggling.

Her legs trembled for a moment, and then went slack. That was not good.

I often ask myself why Fate brings these type of events that require split-second decision making to me. Why couldn't it be Trevain handling all these stuff? He was an officer, not me. I didn't get paid enough for this.

>"Friendlies!" I shouted, even as I ran to Raven, reciting in my mind the procedure for removing a crossbow bolt from the heart. That shot could have killed her. But I had to try.

>I pounced on Throne and tried to snap his neck. That wouldn't be enough to kill him. But it would stop him from verbal casting.
>>
>>3664367
>>I pounced on Throne and tried to snap his neck. That wouldn't be enough to kill him. But it would stop him from verbal casting.
>>
>>3664367
>>"Friendlies!" I shouted, even as I ran to Raven, reciting in my mind the procedure for removing a crossbow bolt from the heart. That shot could have killed her. But I had to try.

we need one alive, they can kill the mage
>>
>>3664367
>>I pounced on Throne and tried to snap his neck. That wouldn't be enough to kill him. But it would stop him from verbal casting.
>>
>>3664375
3rd option:

>"He's a wizard!" I shouted, even as I ran to Raven. She was as much a victim as Hood had been. Throne was just a prick, and a dangerous one at that. [Warn Sergeant of wizardry, try to revive Raven]
>>
>>3664391
I go with that

>"He's a wizard!" I shouted, even as I ran to Raven. She was as much a victim as Hood had been. Throne was just a prick, and a dangerous one at that. [Warn Sergeant of wizardry, try to revive Raven]
>>
>>3664397
>>3664394
I do have the paranoid guess that this is all a illusion concocted by Throne.
>>
>>3664367

>>"Friendlies!" I shouted, even as I ran to Raven, reciting in my mind the procedure for removing a crossbow bolt from the heart. That shot could have killed her. But I had to try.

Guys, he thinks we are charmed and the girl is knocked out, we can just betray him as soon as we make sure she is fine, she won't even know what killed him.

Sargent and the others probably have a code word for kicking ass.>>3664367
>>
>>3664404
Fair enough

>>3664367
>"Friendlies!" I shouted, even as I ran to Raven, reciting in my mind the procedure for removing a crossbow bolt from the heart. That shot could have killed her. But I had to try.
>>
>>3664367
>>"Friendlies!" I shouted, even as I ran to Raven, reciting in my mind the procedure for removing a crossbow bolt from the heart. That shot could have killed her. But I had to try.
>>
>>3664433
>>3664406
>>3664404
>>3664375
>"Friendlies!" I shouted, even as I ran to Raven, reciting in my mind the procedure for removing a crossbow bolt from the heart. That shot could have killed her. But I had to try.

The gods have a twisted sense of humour. This was almost like my own first contact with the Rebel all those days ago, when I was huddled up a tree. My hand wasn't steady. I'd never done what Xavier called "battlefield surgery" before. I had counted myself lucky then. I didn't feel so lucky now, not having the experience for this.

First time for everything. Grabbing my bag of medical tools, I got to work. A calming tonic, to dull the pain. Disinfectants and bandages, laid beside me on a relatively clean towel. And now for the disgusting part - grab, and pull.

They say what matters is what is inside. They are wrong. I have never met a man who would be content with an ugly hag with a golden heart. Medicine is the only discipline that accepts the factoid as true. I needed to know if the internal bleeding could be staunched. If it couldn't, then all my work would be for nothing. Patch a man's wound on the outside and ignore the inside, and you will have a bloated corpse in three days. I couldn't see if her insides were damaged, and her gambeson was too tight to pull out.

I turned to Throne. "My sword, please." He had put up a ward to deflect the bolts. It hadn't been tested. Sergeant was glaring at me, perhaps wondering if I'd gone rogue, but he had not fired. Good old Company discipline.

I saw three more brothers with him now, only one of them armed, the rest in various stages of fatigue and injury. Nothing life-threatening. "My sword," I insisted. "I need something to cut her armour open. Hurry!"

He reluctantly gave me my sword. It was a good one, a heirloom that had supposedly passed down for centuries. Hogwash. Swords don't last that long. The only weapons that last through the ages are ceremonial baubles, and at that point it is impossible to call them weapons. My sword sliced as well as any of them. It ripped through the fabric of her cloth armour easily.

Her eyelids fluttered open. "Throne..." she gasped. I was insulted. I didn't have blonde hair. "Save your strength," I told her. Someone kneeled on the other side and gave her a lump of cloth to bite on. I didn't need to look up to see the owner of the grimy hand was Sister.

"Did we fuck up?" he whispered.

"Get your filthy hands off my patient," I answered. "Thanks for the gag," I added. She was going to bite off her own tongue if she didn't have something to occupy her teeth if she screamed. When she screamed. I couldn't give her something to make her sleep. Nowhere enough time.

I breathed in to steel myself. Steel dug against flesh.

>DC35
>3d100
>>
Rolled 30 (1d100)

>>3664486
And then she dies afterwards of shock.
>>
>>3664491
That's what the tonics are for!
>>
Rolled 92 (1d100)

>>3664486
>>
>>3664494
Oh riiiiight. That kind of *cough* shock *cough*
>>
>>3664501
no doubles and no crit, phew
>>
>>3664506
Yet
>>
Rolled 55 (1d100)

>>3664486
>>
>>3664521
well, at least we got that 30
>>
>>3664521
>>3664491
>1 Success
>Doubles Fail critical

I had the others prepare a fire. I needed hot water, not scalding hot but enough to sterilise the cleaning cloth for her wounds. Throne watched. He really was helpless when it came to healing. "Not even a teensy regenerative spell?" I asked while removing glumps of hardening blood from her innards.

He shrugged. "Not the least amount."

Wizards. What use is magic when they can't create miracles? The world didn't need more ways to kill a person. Easy enough to slash and pierce and burn with mundane methods.

Throne probably believed that I was trying to save her because I was under his influence. After all, why would I help someone who professed her desire to kill me? He didn't get that sometimes, people helped other people because it was the right thing to do. That and I was guilt-tripped as hell with my murder of her brother. I didn't say I was one such idealist. But they did exist, and many of them were Rebel fodder. Like Raven herself.

My needle finished its closing stitches three hours later, a trifle longer than I would have liked. She had lost too much blood. I raised my head, feeling my neck protest the sudden movement. It was early afternoon. Throne gave me a questioning look.

>"I don't know if she will live."

>"Do you even care?" I asked tiredly. "You didn't seem touched when your brother-in-law died. Exhaustion had reduced my caution.
>>
>>3664592
>>"I don't know if she will live."
>>
>>3664592
>"I don't know if she will live."
Gotta keep up appearances.
>>
>>3664592
>>"I don't know if she will live."

we need to talk with the Sarge
>>
>>3664596
>>3664599
>>3664605
>"I don't know if she will live."

It's good to be honest about the prognosis. That way the families of the bereaved think you are too naive to run away in the middle of the night before one of them gets the idea that the doctor was at fault after all. "It took far longer than I hoped. The heart was spared, but it snipped an important vessel. I tied it, but I can only do so much without magic." Senior Scrivener Xavier usually enlisted the aid of one of the Company wizards for surgeries. I'd done without.

Throne nodded dispassionately. "You've done your best." That was it. No tearful threats or angry recriminations. Just a nod, and a "good job". Alexandrians. I'll never get used to them. There was nothing I could do now. I left Throne with his girlfriend/wife.

"What the hell is going on?" Sergeant demanded. We were sufficiently far away that he couldn't hear us.

"You want the short version, or the long version?"

He thought about it. "Short will do."

"He's a Sixteen. Rebel did not ambush Company. New faction named Foresters allegedly active." That made Sergeant's head smoke. He wasn't big on groups and factions. He preferred honest field combat.

Sister raised a hand. "So the one we shot was innocent?" Maybe. "Yes," I replied. I'd forgotten one detail. "Company lives. Captain lives." Their faces brightened. "Three hundred, maybe less." The happiness fell by a bit. It was a mixed expression. I knew understood that. "Also, you just shot the woman whose brother I killed. Same misunderstanding."

"Frak," Sister said politely.

"Good to know some brothers are alive," one of the Company brothers that Sergeant brought said. His name was Klian. I'd set his leg bones once. His arm was on a sling, and his other arm was tattered. The others, I realised, were similarly roughed up. Four faces, new and old. I was too tired to celebrate Sergeant's good fortune.

Not too tired to be inquisitive, though. "What the hell were you guys fighting?" I asked. Those weren't weapon wounds on their bodies.

"Wild things." I noticed he didn't say wild animals. Sergeant looked like he hadn't slept in a week. "We lost Riev and Jenkins on the way. I thought you were also one of the hallucinations when I first saw you."

>"Are you also getting dreams of little men dancing?"

>"The brain does that sometimes. Usually when you are sleep deprived, stressed, and going through trauma from recent events."
>>
>>3664619
>"Are you also getting dreams of little men dancing?"
>>
>>3664619
>>"Are you also getting dreams of little men dancing?"

tell him of the charm and of throne's offer, best he knows we can't trust the mage
>>
>>3664619
>"Are you also getting dreams of little men dancing?"
>>
>>3664627
Thiiiiiissss
>>
>>3664627
>>3664619
This, we gotta let Sergeant know about Throne's offer and the fact that he can cast mind manipulating magic on people.
>>
>>3664619
>>"Are you also getting dreams of little men dancing?"
>>
>>3664625
>>3664627
>>3664631
>"Are you also getting dreams of little men dancing?"

"Not everyone dreams of you at night, Aurelius."

"Fuck you." I smiled slightly. The tension of worrying about Sergeant had dissipated at last. "No, seriously though."

"No dreams of little boys in greens," he replied. "Why?"

I told him about my strange dreams, and the possibility that it might relate to Throne, what with his golden eyes and all, and then gave a more detailed report of what had happened. I didn't mention the sleepy hallucinations with the fireplace, or the riverside calls. "I have a feeling he's here for a reason," I ended.

"You have golden eyes," Klian pointed out.

"I don't have dancing green men around me, am I?"

"But you said the Rebel were here for shelter from Imperials, Captain," Jokk joked.

"People can have multiple reasons for their actions, Jokk," Sergeant said. He was wising up to how leaders thought after all this time. "And don't call other people Captain. You know she is alive."

Jokk mumbled a sheepish apology. Sergreant nodded at me. "Continue."

>"I think he's here for the Wild Things." This was, after all, where the Wild Things were.

>"Something happened here, a long time ago. I saw an Imperial funeral stele in my dream. He might be trying to find it." The last time any Imperial warranting such a magnificent tombstone was during the Pacification Campaign of the Emperor Himself.

>"He may have known that the Thirteenth Legion and the Company was going to march through the place. All he had to do was make his home in the Forest and wait until we broke against whatever the ambushers were, and snatch up the pieces to strengthen his force."
>>
>>3664739
>"Something happened here, a long time ago. I saw an Imperial funeral stele in my dream. He might be trying to find it." The last time any Imperial warranting such a magnificent tombstone was during the Pacification Campaign of the Emperor Himself.
>>
>>3664739
>>"Something happened here, a long time ago. I saw an Imperial funeral stele in my dream. He might be trying to find it." The last time any Imperial warranting such a magnificent tombstone was during the Pacification Campaign of the Emperor Himself.
>>
>>3664739
>>"Something happened here, a long time ago. I saw an Imperial funeral stele in my dream. He might be trying to find it." The last time any Imperial warranting such a magnificent tombstone was during the Pacification Campaign of the Emperor Himself.
>>
>>3664739

>"I think he's here for the Wild Things." This was, after all, where the Wild Things were.
>>
>>3664739

>"He may have known that the Thirteenth Legion and the Company was going to march through the place. All he had to do was make his home in the Forest and wait until we broke against whatever the ambushers were, and snatch up the pieces to strengthen his force."
>>
>>3664739
>>"He may have known that the Thirteenth Legion and the Company was going to march through the place. All he had to do was make his home in the Forest and wait until we broke against whatever the ambushers were, and snatch up the pieces to strengthen his force."
>>
>>3664739

>>"Something happened here, a long time ago. I saw an Imperial funeral stele in my dream. He might be trying to find it." The last time any Imperial warranting such a magnificent tombstone was during the Pacification Campaign of the Emperor Himself.
>>
>>3664739
>>"He may have known that the Thirteenth Legion and the Company was going to march through the place. All he had to do was make his home in the Forest and wait until we broke against whatever the ambushers were, and snatch up the pieces to strengthen his force."
>>
>>3664739
>>"Something happened here, a long time ago. I saw an Imperial funeral stele in my dream. He might be trying to find it." The last time any Imperial warranting such a magnificent tombstone was during the Pacification Campaign of the Emperor Himself.
>>
>>3664739
>"He may have known that the Thirteenth Legion and the Company was going to march through the place. All he had to do was make his home in the Forest and wait until we broke against whatever the ambushers were, and snatch up the pieces to strengthen his force."
>>
>>3664751
>>3664761
>>3664803
>>3664858
>>3665248
>>"Something happened here, a long time ago. I saw an Imperial funeral stele in my dream. He might be trying to find it." The last time any Imperial warranting such a magnificent tombstone was during the Pacification Campaign of the Emperor Himself.

The Imperial Bibliotheca located at the north end of the Plaza of the August One holds a preeminent position even within the eminent urbanity of the Capital. Its divergence in architectural style has long set it apart in the extravagant skyline that the center of the Empire boasts; thirteen stark columns of royal porphyry, each unadorned and unormanented, supporting a single black disc of polished basalt as its ceiling. Within this strikingly simple yet imposing edifice of reddish violet and black lies the locus of the compilatio that Imperial historicians has worked on enlarging as long as their order of tomb-robbers and auction-hawks have existed. Some call it the sum total knowledge of the civilised world. How grand and self-important. What it is, is the culmination of all things deemed worthy of preserving by the Emperor and his lackeys.

Fifty four thousand permant shelves of hardwood are stored within. Each of them contain highly variable numbers of documents, from clay bricks to stone tablets to ostraka, written in an array of languages - Coin and Parthian (old and new) and High Imperial and ancient Sinaean of the fifteen dynasties. Five hundred numerists permanently stationed in their heart of operations spend their entire lives categorising, cataloguing, and translating the extant content. Twenty thousand more individuals - historicians of the fieldwork persuasion - spend their time here in between archaeological expeditions and bouts of cultural theft, looking up additional data for their expeditions or assisting their less cosmopolitan colleagues in keeping their knowledge up to date.

It was in this immense depository of knowledge that I spent much of my dolorous youth, waving through the sea of books and scrolls and tablets. Marriage and its happiness stayed my feet from visiting the halls of information for half a century, and the divorce brought me within again. In both occasions, the chiefest of interest to me was the lore imperial, the life and doings of the Emperor. What had he been like? What was his motive? His goal? And why the aloofness and near inactivity the last one thousand years?

They were questions never answered. That is not to say that information on the man was restricted. Indeed, there was too much data, collected from various attestations and personal correspondences of those of high office. The Emperor had reigned for a very long time. His words had accumulated like dust. And they were just as useful in divining the nature of the man-god that ruled this side of the Known World. I learned much, and realised little.
>>
>>3665550

Perhaps it was in that stone-cooled halls that I gained an appreciation for the histories, culminating in my role as Scrivener. It was also the reason I wrote too much. A bad habit learned from those of ages past, who liked to pad their works with long sententious worms. I always did prefer the old to the new.

I knew what the Pacification Campaign was. It was one of the first massive wars of extinction that the Emperor prosecuted after seizing the Sinaean heartlands around the Yellow River, converting his newly gained population centres as military powerhouses. And it is also known that the first of the children of the Emperor came with him, having matured "in years and wisdom" (Historician Pylo's words, not mine) to aid their divine father in their persecution of the Living Forests. It is said that Iases, most favoured of the Emperor's sons, fell during a pitched battle against the old trees that reacted with revulsion against the steel of men. Other proscribed works suggest that it was Iases who had acted against the Emperor, horrified at the destruction his father wrought.

Whatever the case, there was the tomb of a dead Alexandrian of the first generation stock somewhere in the Forest. And Throne was searching for it. Maybe. Too many unknowns, too little resources. If I was in the Capital... but I was not. The knowledge of the Bibliotheca was barred from me, perhaps forever. No use pining for what is lost. The question remained as to why the golden eyed Sixteen sought it. Five years, he said he had been in the Forest. That was a long time to be in the middle of the woods. It was a long time to be anywhere.

I glanced back to Throne. He was murmuring something to his sleeping lover. I turned back to Sergeant, who looked like he was irritated he had to think about things instead of following orders. "How do you feel about grave robbing?"

"Cursed business," he said reflexively. Superstitions are hard to shake. "It's not that I'm superstitious, mind." He was defensive. "I don't like to touch dead bodies if I can help it."

Mars knows we already touch them on the daily. "Our friend in gold is planning something related to a tomb. Back when I had access to the Bibliotheca-"

"I don't want to hear it," Sergeant groaned. The others nodded. They were tired. Wounded. And in sore need of companionship. They wanted to return to being part of the Company, not some vagrant quartet.

"Fine. Be that way. When the greatest discovery of this millennium is made, none of you are getting medals."

"How will I ever face my ancestors for the failure of not joining Sir Aurelius' famous expeditions?" Jokk laughed. "Loosen up, Scrivener. Not everyone is interested in walls of text."

>"They're important walls of text." Just because most of them couldn't read didn't mean they couldn't listen!

>"I suppose you're right," I said, looking at my notes ruefully. "Short and to the point, then."
>>
>>3665553
>>"They're important walls of text." Just because most of them couldn't read didn't mean they couldn't listen!
>>
>>3665550

>"They're important walls of text." Just because most of them couldn't read didn't mean they couldn't listen!
>>
>>3665553
>"They're important walls of text." Just because most of them couldn't read didn't mean they couldn't listen!

We are the Scrivener after all.
>>
>>3665569
>>3665584
>>3665650
But my brothers were not convinced, the Philistines that they were. To them, old lores had their place inside stuffy bookcages and nowhere else. I agreed on one matter with them, at least. I wished to see the rest of the Black Company. It was too long since I had conversation with one of the learned, which is to say, members of our Scriving order, we who scribble and shrive the best and the worst of our dysfunctional family of murderes and vagabonds.

Granted, most of our conversations were filled with smug literary references that the other might not get and inside jokes on scribe duties. And puns. So many puns. I dare not put to pen an example of such dialogue now, lest I pen such wit behind the cages of ink.

But they were our puns. And our smug references. I even missed stuffy Xavier.

Put off by the jeering accusations of geekery, I kept my thinking to myself. Gears upon gears upon gears. It is a wonder my brain does not require lubricants. I took stock of the situation at hand.

Raven's wound was grievous. She did not have the accursed Alexandrian constitution of her lover. She was in no condition to walk. She would be lucky to be alive in a month. And alive is what she definitely would not be, if we forced her to ride a horse to travel. What we needed was a means of conveyance that would carry a prone human with minimal disturbances for a long distance through mountainous terrain.

Sergeant scratched his nose thoughtfully when I presented to him the solution to our current immobility. "We need a means of transportation that does not involve wheels."

Klian scratched his broken arm. I told him not to do that. "What, like some kind of a sedentary chair?"

"Almost. But it needs to be more... bed-like."

"So a wagon... without wheels."

"Palanquin, you dunces." I sighed. I'd never constructed something like this before, but we had plenty of materials to work with.

---

"Never thought I'd be carving up boards in the middle of the Forest," Sister said. He had experience with repairing broken down carts from his years in his father's farm. He did not have experience in making a complete palanquin. But we tried anyway.

We had the manpower. My brothers in black were healthy, for the most part. I had already treated their wounds, most of which were superficial. Only Klian was too wounded to take part in the construction. The loads of night watch duties were lighter. It was good to have numbers. Emperor willing, we would finish the whole thing in a week.

"Wait, did you use inches instead of centimeters for the spokes?"

"Yeah. I only use inches. Never really took on to using those newfangled things."

"But we agreed to centimeters to unify our measuring units!"

"I didn't."

A week may be too optimistic.

>Bo3 1d10 (number of days taken)
>>
Rolled 1 (1d10)

>>3665690
>>
>>3665706
Lol why even roll
>>
>>3665706
Wow.
>>
>>3665706
Kek
>>
File: 1560980113915.png (12 KB, 156x104)
12 KB
12 KB PNG
>>3665706
Wew laddie.
>>
Rolled 6 (1d10)

>>3665690
>>
Rolled 1 (1d10)

>>3665690
rolling just because we dont have a third one
>>
>>3665706
>>3666031
AHHHHHHHH
>>
just to be clear guys, we need to kill that mage before we arrive, he plans to kill the Captain an put us in her place
>>
>>3666085
I'm hoping that we'll gank him beforehand.
>>
Yep, we need to pass this on to a couple we can trust... We might need to kill him instantly.
>>
>>3666890
We know so far that a bolt to the brain will kill him and a throat shot will disable his spellcasting. So maybe as we travel someone comes up from behind and gives him a red cape or apron
>>
>1

It was finished in a day. Sergeant did not need to hurry them. They had been badly rattled by whatever it was they found in the oldest parts of the Forest, the tiny core that had survived the Pacification. We took turns in carrying the litter, with the exception of Throne. He insisted on carrying it all the while, so we only ever had to swap three people out.

That suited us just fine. He was probably using his sorcery to boost his stamina and strength. The things Ensorcelled could do is only limited by their imagination, and some hidden power capacity that I didn't know much about. Throne's imagination tended to consist of domination and self-strengthening. If only he'd put his powers to better use. Then again, as a Rebel he probably thought his cause was the greatest good.

We made good progress. The Black Company make good marchers of the worst of us. Ninety per cent of our campaigns consists of trotting around the map, going here to take control of a vulnerable fortress, walking there to get a vantage point against the massing enemy, and so on. It would be a healthy lifestyle, if we weren't marching directly into combat all the time.

Klian and the other three who Sergeant and Sister had found constantly looked behind them all the while. They were frightened of whatever it was they had encountered. The place they had been in was the one small circle of the Forest that had survived the Pacification of the Emperor. What had they seen in the seedling of the Old Forest? No little green men prancing about, or so they claimed. It was easier to pry out what they didn't see, than what they did.

All this time, Throne did not bother to talk to me. Confident in his charming ability. Confident that I was his man. He was whispering things to his lover. More than once, my earlobe throbbed.

---
>>
>>3667008

"We should kill him," I said. Sergeant didn't look surprised. I had been saying so for the past three days. The brothers of the Company were huddled around one fire, while Throne and Raven occupied the next. He'd claimed that he wanted Raven to be left undisturbed by our noise. That was fine with me. The more he talked with me, the higher the chance that he might realise I had slipped out of the leash.

"Who'll carry the litter for the entire day? You?"

"Better to lose a litter bearer than it is to have a Sixteen around us." Jokk and Klian nodded nervously. They weren't fans of the man any more than I was, especially after I told them about his charming attempt. "I almost succeeded once. He has some kind of defensive wards activated these days, but we might be able to brute force it." Ensorcelled love their anti-missile wards. I don't blame them. It would be a useful thing to have during battle, when arrows careen out of control and pierce random people's throats.

"How do you know he has spells on?" Sister said innocently. He wouldn't smell magic if it bit him.

>"I tried shooting at him," I lied. I didn't want them to know that I could sense sorcery.

>"Common sense after getting shot at all these times." And in two different occasions, no less.
>>
>>3667009

>"Common sense after getting shot at all these times." And in two different occasions, no less.
>>
>>3667009
>>"Common sense after getting shot at all these times." And in two different occasions, no less.
>>
>>3667009
>"Common sense after getting shot at all these times." And in two different occasions, no less
>>
>>3667009

>"Common sense after getting shot at all these times." And in two different occasions, no less.
>>
>>3667009
>"Common sense after getting shot at all these times." And in two different occasions, no less.
>>
>>3667019
>>3667022
>>3667045
>>3667057
>>3667119
>>"Common sense after getting shot at all these times." And in two different occasions, no less.

Sergeant didn't look happy.

"He will kill Captain if we don't succeed." That made him even more grumpy. But he acquisced. Ever the loyal soldier-man. He was a guardsman in some settlement or other before he joined the Company. Why had he left his post? I sensed a dark and tragic past involving a woman. That's how all the stories went. Most of us mercenaries had mundane reasons for leaving our homes, but we wanted to seem mysterious, cool. Many often dropped hints of a femme fatale or secret princehood. Sergeant was one of the more tight-lipped. That made his unspoken tragic backstory seem even more genuine.

"Tonight," I said, more to convince myself to the plan than anything else. "And if you need any last wills and testaments drafted..." Few of the others could write.

Sister looked sour. "Your sense of humour has gone to shit ever since we left Beidi."

"Oh, I wasn't joking." The mere thought of having to deal with a high-class Ensorcelled that could subtly influence my mind made my stomach do flips. But it had to be done.

It had to be done. Careful, Aurelius. You may become a hero ere long. That kind of enthusiastic absolutes were the domain of equites with shining plates and white horses. Me, I just wanted to live to see the next day. I wanted to ruffle Honey's hair. I wanted to argue with my wives about the name of our newborns.

And keeping Captain alive hinged on that. The Black Company was in perilous trouble now with all the deaths that had swamped them. Losing Captain would effectively decapitate the whole thing.

Inhale, exhale. Stop the worries, I told myself.The Black Company had dealt with wizards before. Of course, it always involved throwing our wizards at theirs. None of us were magical in any way.

This was going to be something worth recording in the Annals.

---

"Tonight" inched closer, hour by hour. A poor supper of berries and hard bread was served. We washed by the river, then huddled under our blankets when the sun went down. I carefully avoided squishing the fresh sapling that I'd found sprouting beside my bedsheet. It was the only sign of the spring that was to come. Spring might be a good name for one of my children.
>>
>>3667166

I'd made sure to put Raven under a stronger dose of sleeping tinctures than usual before dinner. It wasn't because I wanted to prevent her getting traumatised by seeing her lover chopped into bits, his body parts thoroughly burnt, and the forthcoming ashes planted by individual handfuls in separate locations. I just didn't want to take any chances of her somehow waking up and protecting Throne by screaming out loud.

The three of us, Sister, Jokk, and I, rose up as if trading places for the night watch. It was hard to move silently in the Forest. There was always something to be crunched underfoot. But Sister managed. Only Jokk and I would be audible. That was enough. The unexpected third was what was going to make all the difference.

And if all else failed, there were Sergeant and Barns and Noble. They were pretending to be asleep, crossbows notched. I knew the bolts would be useless against him. But it would be a distraction.

Surprise and numbers, the two cards we held against Throne. Mars help us, it had better be enough.

>Surprise 3d100
>>
Rolled 59 (1d100)

>>3667169
>>
Rolled 84 (1d100)

>>3667169
>>
>>3667169
We're not lookin' too hot, lads
>>
Rolled 44 (1d100)

>>3667169
>>3667176
>>
>>3667179
I hope this is a double success
>>
>>3667173
>>3667174
>>3667179
Snow ground underfoot as I tried to sneak my way toward Throne. He was lying down on his side, his face turned away from us. I imagined his unseen face grinning, golden eyes open and alert. Don't think. Just do. I had the jitters of a first-timer. That is because it was. I've never killed in stealth like this before.

"Shit," Jokk said. I turned to see him look paler than the treacherous moon that was shining over us. "He's awake."

As far as last words went, it could have been worse. Jokk tumbled to his feet, a spear-like vine protruding from his gut. "Aurelius?" Throne was half-seated, his golden eyes staring at me in disbelief. His hair was perfect even now, disturbed as he was from slumber. Reflexive casting? Or a magical trap?

There was no time to think. Only to do.

>And what I did was run away. I knew a cocked up operation when I saw one. My fight or flight response had aggressively ticked toward the latter, and I was sprinting away into the River before I knew it.

>Aurelius, you fool. I cursed myself even as I took the suicidal jump toward Throne. It would only be a split second more before he realised I was not under his spell. To think, I was trusting on a sister-fucker like Sister to bail me out of this.
>>
>>3667181

>Aurelius, you fool. I cursed myself even as I took the suicidal jump toward Throne. It would only be a split second more before he realised I was not under his spell. To think, I was trusting on a sister-fucker like Sister to bail me out of this.
>>
>>3667181
>>Aurelius, you fool. I cursed myself even as I took the suicidal jump toward Throne. It would only be a split second more before he realised I was not under his spell. To think, I was trusting on a sister-fucker like Sister to bail me out of this.
>>
>>3667181
>>Aurelius, you fool. I cursed myself even as I took the suicidal jump toward Throne. It would only be a split second more before he realised I was not under his spell. To think, I was trusting on a sister-fucker like Sister to bail me out of this.
>>
>>3667185
>>3667186
>>3667187
>Aurelius, you fool. I cursed myself even as I took the suicidal jump toward Throne. It would only be a split second more before he realised I was not under his spell. To think, I was trusting on a sister-fucker like Sister to bail me out of this.

I was never particularly brave. It was one of the things my first wife was relently teased about by her acquaintances. Everyone belonged to some social clique or other in the Capital. It was unthinkable for her not to be. And because it was unthinkable to retaliate, she had endured. The faux-friendly taunts, the snide suggestions that her husband might actually be an eunuch. I never did get what testicles had to do with bravery.

The epitome of my cowardice was when I was pressured to divorce my wife. Nothing explicit, merely whispers, unsubtle letters. Remonstrations from my closest relatives. Unlike my brave, brave wife, I did not endure. The divorce was finalised. I never saw her again.

Yet here I was, running into the embrace of an astonished Sixteen like he was my long-lost lover. Where had this madness been when I was in the Capital?

Sister appeared out of nowhere and swung his sword low. Throne grunted in pain. His right hand dangled at an unnatural angle. But it was still attached. There was no time for me to unsheath my own.

>My fingers sought purchase in his fine, alabaster neck.

>Hands balled to fists, I went for a gut punch to push the air out of his lungs.
>>
>>3667189
swung his sword slow*
>>
>>3667189
>hands balled to fists, I went for a gut punch to push the air out of his lungs
>>
>>3667189
>>Hands balled to fists, I went for a gut punch to push the air out of his lungs.
>>
>>3667189

>Hands balled to fists, I went for a gut punch to push the air out of his lungs.
He expects the neck, and as we saw happen with poor Jokk, he was prepared
>>
>>3667189
>>Hands balled to fists, I went for a gut punch to push the air out of his lungs.
>>
>>3667192
>>3667193
>>3667196
>>3667204
>Hands balled to fists, I went for a gut punch to push the air out of his lungs.

My fists hit air. They were stopped by an invisible force an inch away from contacting Throne's flesh. Warded. They blocked objects moving at a certain speed, while letting slower - and thus non-lethal - things move through. As if to make a point, crossbow bolts thwupped through the suddenly noisy night air, only to bounce harmlessly against the invisible boundary.

This is why I hated wizards, save for the two very special Ensorcelled in my life. They were, to borrow Hood's words, "Bullshit."

"You could have had it all, cousin." Throne said, supremely confident in his invulnerability. He didn't seem to mind that his right hand was unusable. "Pretending to be charmed while being free was a surprise, to be sure. You must have had more willpower than I thought. But it is over now."

Sister was struggling against the same vine that was trying to repeat its performance on poor Jokk. Sergeant and the rest were running towards me, the brave fools they were - but it was going to be too late for me. I was going to die.

Then I remembered how Sister's sword, slowed to preverse his silence, had sliced away his hand. Throne was barely armoured. He hadn't seen the need for it. He also could not pull out his weapon, right-handed man that he was. Maybe I still had a chance, after all.

Aurelius: Healthy
>Combat = +140DC [Healthy +5DC, Skilled II +10DC, Unnatural Strength +5DC, Unnatural Endurance +5DC, Unnatural Will +5DC, Divine Bloodline: Imperial Scion +20DC, Elite II +20DC, Dirty Fighting +15DC, Legionarius II +20DC, Chainmail +15DC, Roundhelm +5DC, Gladius hispaniensis +15DC]
>Armour Value = 25AV [Chainmail +15AV, Roundhelm +10AV]
>Active Effect = Artificially Slowed (-1 Wound from attacks made)
VS
Throne, Fourth Councilor of the Sixteen: Injured
>Combat = +115DC [Injured -5DC, Skilled I +5DC, Unnatural Strength II +10DC, Unnatural Endurance III +15DC, Unnatural Will V +25DC, Ensorcelled +25DC, Divine Bloodline: Imperial Scion +20DC, Legionarius I +10DC, Rebel gambeson +10DC]
>Armour Value = 10AV [Rebel gambeson +10AV]
>Active Effect = Holtzman's Field of Suspension - invalidates all attacks from non-magical sources above a set velocity threshhold
>Preparing Spell = Wither

>Personal Combat DC75
>3d100
>>
Rolled 57 (1d100)

>>3667221
>>
Rolled 47 (1d100)

>>3667221
>>
Rolled 88 (1d100)

>>3667221
>>
Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>
Rolled 100 (1d100)

AV
>>
>>3667235
...what does ForgottenQM do when enemy AV critfails?
>>
>>3667237
the ward fall!
>>
>>3667237
Hmmm. Im not sure it ever happened
>>
>>3667237
Maybe he loses concentration and the spell is lost, I don't want to wither
>>
>>3667224
>>3667230
>>3667232
>Doubles Crit Fail - Disarmed
>2 Success
>1 Wound caused (-1 due to Artificially Slowed)

I moved before doubt could catch me. No second-guessing, no rethinking, I set myself to slow my attack so as to go through his ward, scoring a hit. The slowness with which I had to attack with had lessened the blow, and a last-minute turn on his part prevented it from scoring an organ hit. But it was enough to see him bleed. The first flush of optimism hit me. And then he unleashed his spell.

Unnatural light flickered blue and black around his left hand. I rolled to the ground, barely evading something that passed me by with a despondent sigh. Hair stood at the back of my neck. This is why I hated fucking with Ensorcelled.

When I stood up, Throne was standing with a grimace, his left hand awkwardly trying to staunch his blood. "Envious git," he choked out. I hadn't hit anything that might cause blood to be in his lungs. It was outrage, pure and simple. "You hate what you do not understand. But how can you? You are nothing. Putrid, flesh-things, uncomprehending of the sheer capability of your betters." He was monologuing. And that meant he was rattled.

His first sign of discomposure. I tasted lightning in my mouth, the aftermath of any powerful spell. Nothing constant. The hum of the ward was gone. So too was my sword. It had remained lodged against his side when I rolled away to evade the sorcerous bolt. And it was glowing. I didn't know if the ward and the sword were related. It hardly mattered in the moment. What mattered was that the ward was gone, I was temporarily unarmed, and my dear cousin was far away enough that I would need to sprint for half a second to reach him.

He didn't waste any time in chanting something up. Verbal spells are, as a rule, more dangerous than purely gestured ones.

>I slipped my back-up dagger from my belt and threw.

>I ran back up to him to choke that spell where it came from.
>>
>>3667271
>slipped up backup dagger and threw
>>
>>3667271

>I ran back up to him to choke that spell where it came from.
>>
>>3667271
>>I slipped my back-up dagger from my belt and threw.
>>
>>3667271

>slipped up backup dagger and threw
>>
>>3667271
>>I slipped my back-up dagger from my belt and threw.
>>
>>3667274
>>3667286
>>3667292
>>3667301

>Backup Dagger DC35
>1d100
>Backup of the Backup Dagger DC20
>1d100
>Third Time's the Charm Dagger DC15
>1d100
>>
Rolled 44 (1d100)

>>3667308
Hahaha
>>
Rolled 10 (1d100)

>>3667308
>>
>>3667317
Thsy never expect the backup dagger
>>
Rolled 54 (1d100)

>>3667308
>>
File: images (23).jpg (15 KB, 449x299)
15 KB
15 KB JPG
>>3667318
>>
>>3667309
>>3667317
>>3667321
Of course I had a backup of the backup weapon. I was a traveler on the road before joining the Black Company. Knives have many uses - you can use them to whittle down a nice stick to shish your kabob, or bleed out an animal unlucky enough to be caught by traps. My daggers weren't custom made for combat and did not have the fancy weightings for throwing or extra glossy handles, but they got the job done. Ask Throne.

The first missed completely and disappeared into the ground. It was going to be impossible to find it tonight. The second hit. I never found where the third went.

Throne's perfect face became a handsome death mask. Even the cursed ancestry that I shared with him wasn't enough to regenerate him that quickly. He wasn't dead. It would take more than a knife to the jugular and a gladius to the hip to kill an Ensorcelled, nevermind one who is Alexandrian. But it immobilised him. That was sufficient.

"Is it over?" Sister asked. The vine-like appendage that had been strangling him fell weakly, reverting to what it originally was. The root of a tree.

>"Yes," I whispered, feeling weary all of a sudden. The tension of fighting against Throne flooded away. I tried to still my hand from shaking in the excitement. There remained a life to save. "I'll take care of Jokk. See if he might still live."

>"No." I pulled out my sword from the not-corpse. "It begins now." I didn't trust him not to come back to life somehow. We had to dispose of it immediately. Jokk would understand. He wouldn't want his death to be in vain.
>>
>>3667367

>"Yes," I whispered, feeling weary all of a sudden. The tension of fighting against Throne flooded away. I tried to still my hand from shaking in the excitement. There remained a life to save. "I'll take care of Jokk. See if he might still live."

"But tie and gag his corpse while I see Jokk just to be safe"
>>
>>3667378
this
>>
>>3667367
>"No." I pulled out my sword from the not-corpse. "It begins now." I didn't trust him not to come back to life somehow. We had to dispose of it immediately. Jokk would understand. He wouldn't want his death to be in vain.

Sorry Jokk.

So how do we deal with Raven
>>
>>3667378
This

>>3667387
We keep her healthy and bring her to her allies

These guys have 13 other mages, at least one of them will probably be able to tell if we are lying or telling the truth, and as the Rebel is composed of many different factions some will be happy he is gone some will be angry, but I think all of them will believe that he was capable of ryong to charm us and kill our captain to use the remaining of the Black Company to take over the movement
>>
>>3667398
Hmm should we use Raven as an excuse to enter the camp?
>>
>>3667367
>>"Yes," I whispered, feeling weary all of a sudden. The tension of fighting against Throne flooded away. I tried to still my hand from shaking in the excitement. There remained a life to save. "I'll take care of Jokk. See if he might still live."
>>
>>3667367
>>"No." I pulled out my sword from the not-corpse. "It begins now." I didn't trust him not to come back to life somehow. We had to dispose of it immediately. Jokk would understand. He wouldn't want his death to be in vain.
Never trust a sorcerer to die himself
>>
>>3667401
That and to prove to them that we do not kill indiscriminately, if our intentions were bad we could just bury her in snow
>>
>>3667367
>>"No." I pulled out my sword from the not-corpse. "It begins now." I didn't trust him not to come back to life somehow. We had to dispose of it immediately. Jokk would understand. He wouldn't want his death to be in vain.
>>
>>3667403
>>3667387
>>3667423
Safe than Sorry

>>3667378
>>3667379
>>3667398
>>3667402
Save a life, maybe
>>
>>3667602
>"Yes," I whispered, feeling weary all of a sudden. The tension of fighting against Throne flooded away. I tried to still my hand from shaking in the excitement. There remained a life to save. "I'll take care of Jokk. See if he might still live."

Toxic adrenaline coarsed through my fingertips. They had served me well during the life-or-death moments of combat. Now, they were only hindrances. I sent a silent prayer of thanksgiving to Mars, though I knew that gods did not exist. Give an old man a source of comfort. The Emperor has never helped me either, but that doesn't stop the Imperial Cult's pontifices from shouting us to praise him.

"It's over," Sister said, bloodied and battered but alive. All smiles, that boy. Nothing could wipe his optimism for long.

"It's over," I echoed, feeling empty. I needed to tend to Jokk. It was good to have something to do, though I dearly wished for some rest. I couldn't look at Raven's sleeping face. Not now. Maybe never.

I hoped she wouldn't cry.

I left Sergeant to take care of the aftermath. I had a patient to look after.

>Medicine DC30
1 Success = Eased into a painless death
2 Success = A brief moment of communication, and the writing down of last words
3 Success = Medical miracle
>>
>>3667621
0 Success = What horror... what horror!
>>
Rolled 100 (1d100)

>>3667621
>>
>>3667635
AAAAAHHHH
>>
>>3667635
What horror!
>>
Rolled 89 (1d100)

>>3667621
Poor Jokk
>>
Rolled 83 (1d100)

>>3667621
NAT 1
>>
Rolled 58 (1d100)

>>3667621
>>
>>3667621
Oh god I just barely didn't make it home in time to tie up the vote with the sane option. Son of a bitch!
>>
I cant believe Jokk is fucking dead.
His Annals entry: "Oh fuck"
>>
>>3667635
Critfail with 0 success. Sweet Jesus what have you done to Jokk? I'm actually horrified beyond belief at what awaits us.
>>
>>3667635
>>3667647
>>3667648
>0 Success
>Critical Failure
>What... horror!

Kneeling beside Jokk's unresponsive body, I carefully laid out my medical pack. Scalpels and scissors and sutures and threads. As much the tools of my trade as vellum and quill. This was a little ceremony of mine before major surgeries. It usually helped calm the nerves.

Not that day. Jokk's eyelids fluttered open. "Scrivener," he croaked. He sounded like death.

"Jokk?" I almost spilled my instruments on unsanitary ground. "Gracious ghosts, you're awake!"

"Yes," he wept tearlessly. "There is no sleep here, not in the Forest. No rest, not for the legionaries, nor for the brothers dead. We are awake, Scrivener! Awake!"

"Oh, shit." What words of comfort could I give to a man damned to eternal consciousness? What use the limited immortality in the Annals, when he himself would experience immortal life - in the worst way imaginable?

To be Husked is a fate worse than death. It means to have your soul entombed in your physical form, forever. I do not speak of vile necromancy; such things are merely reanimated corpses play-dolled by souls of lesser creatures. No, Husks are more unfortunate than them all.

Imagine your body, rotting and scavenged. Rats carry your eyes, while birds peck at your hair roots. The restful dead depart - or so it is said - to a land after their lives end. The Husked do not enjoy such comforts. They will experience the full range of pain and loss forever, imprisoned in what used to be their bodies. And even when natural erosion takes its toll, the smallest building blocks of their bodies, now of use by other organisms or lying silent as the dirt, will continue to give birth to new pains.

This was the fate that awaited those of the Ensorcelled who taxed their abilities beyond limit. It was also what Mindbreaker had almost done to me. Somehow, the Forest was taking the souls of those dead within its bounds into its own, special hell. And one thousand seven hundred of my brothers were there.

That was why the Emperor was so zealous in destroying the Old Forests, that once stretched from Zagobia to the entirety of the Goebies.

Jokk expired then, his heart ceasing to beat anymore. There was nothing I could do. Nothing. Some men come back from medical death with judicious use of lightning magic and chest beatings to jumpstart the heart once more. There was little left of his heart. The vine had done its job quite thoroughly. Jokk was dead, yet Jokk also felt.

Behind me, Klian screamed.

>I had to finish administering the last rites as the Scrivener. That was the least I could do for poor Jokk.

>He was dead. No, worse than dead, he was Husked. I determinedly grabbed my sword instead of my quill. They weren't going to take Klian as well.
>>
>>3667679
>>He was dead. No, worse than dead, he was Husked. I determinedly grabbed my sword instead of my quill. They weren't going to take Klian as well.
>>
>>3667679

>He was dead. No, worse than dead, he was Husked. I determinedly grabbed my sword instead of my quill. They weren't going to take Klian as well
>>
>>3667679
>>He was dead. No, worse than dead, he was Husked. I determinedly grabbed my sword instead of my quill. They weren't going to take Klian as well.
>>
>>3667679

>He was dead. No, worse than dead, he was Husked. I determinedly grabbed my sword instead of my quill. They weren't going to take Klian as well.
>>
>>3667685
>>3667687
>>3667694
>>3667703
>He was dead. No, worse than dead, he was Husked. I determinedly grabbed my sword instead of my quill. They weren't going to take Klian as well.

I had left behind an execution ground of the Ensorcelled. What I returned to was a madhouse. Barns and Noble were nowhere to be seen. Sister was laid on the earth, still, as if he'd fallen asleep. Klian was whimpering on the ground, saying senseless nothings with his head between his legs. Sergeant was badly burnt by a source that looked so garish and unlikely that I paused and gawped.

Throne. He had been decapitated. He was moving. Witchfires blue and black floated around him, an entourage of lights. Nightmare upon nightmares.

He stared at me with liquid golden eyes, tinged a mad shade of orange from blood vessels within his head that burst open in the moment of death. He mouthed something. I'm sure it was nothing polite. No lungs to supply air through his voicebox, he was mute. That prevented him from casting spells with verbal components.

Yet for a member of the Sixteen who seemingly can rise up even from decapitation, there are many tools at his disposal for silent motion casting. His finger danced, this time with none of the sluggishness of the newly-awakened. Shadows cast from the tree branches coalesced into terrors that was somehow more than two dimensional, the leering moonlight giving them strength and definition. Sluglike roots of trees half as old as the Capital raised their heads to look at me.

My gladius fell from unnerved fingertips. I was truly unarmed. What use my swords and daggers and tricks against a foe so great? I'd underestimated Throne. I had failed.

I hadn't disposed of him with the caution he deserved.

The campfire crackled loudly, as if mocking me for my shock. The sound of rushing waters from the river roared confusingly in my ear.

Bold. Foolish. Entertaining.

A-relly!

Call me when need comes, Uncaringtaker.

Fear! Fire! Foe!

Two voices, masculine and feminine. I mumbled, "I've gone mad." I was also quite desperate. A choice, then. Time to see what this midnight madness entails.

>Fire from branches fallen

>Ladies of the waters
>>
>>3667720
>>Ladies of the waters
should've went and finished him properly
>>
>>3667720
>Ladies of the waters
>>
>>3667720

>Fire from branches fallen

Was it the fire that offered help when we had that fision right?

>>3667723
I think it wouldn't have mattered, it would just be us taking the blunt of his awakening
>>
>>3667720

>Ladies of the waters
>>
>>3667720
>>Fire from branches fallen
>>
>>3667746
>wouldn't have mattered
;_; I do differentiate what I'd write for each choices, most of the time, especially if they're major stuff
>>
>>3667765
I was referring that he would probably turn into a giga mobster anyway, since I think Sarge did exacly what we would have done right? Or don't I don't know.
>>
>>3667720
>Fire from branches fallen
Fire is best
>>
>>3667720
>>Ladies of the waters
>>
>>3667746
Fire offered help at the start
>>
Guys, we have to find a way to unHusk our brothers, that description made me sick.
>>
>>3667777
But water spirits or what ever it is, is talking to mc the same way Honey speaks.
>>
>>3667720
>Ladies of the waters
>>
>>3667780
Burn them in the holy fire!
>>
>>3667720

>Fire from branches fallen
>>
>>3667720
>>Ladies of the waters
>>
>>3667794
When lady of the lakes start talk to you it dosnt end too good
>>
>>3667723
>>3667738
>>3667749
>>3667773
>>3667800
>>3667986

Her voice became fuller, more complete.

Take care, Aurelian! Blood feeds the trees. Old men with grudges.

I was wrong. She had not been calling me A-relly. It was merely that her words had been warbled, distended. Now that I'd fully given in to the madness, I heard here with a clarity that did not exist before. Who was Aurelian?

Voice in my head. I was certifiably insane. Sorcery has a tendency to warp reality, bend the laws of the world to its own mercurial whim. And for all its ancient defeat, the Forest, or what remained of it, had secrets yet.

I took a step back. The shadows sidled two steps forward. Water lapped at my heel. Somehow we had gone all the way to the riverside. Throne was content letting his conjurations do the work. He cradled his decapitated head with his arms with the care of a mother holding her child. His pallid face leered at me.

Feline shadows stalked their way toward me, taking their time, savouring my terror. The Old Men - for that is what they were - writhed with joy in their newfound freedom, stretching this way and that in a manner that horrified me. Perversion. That is what it was. Trees were not meant to walk.

And rivers don't giggle. Yet here we were.

"Fuck it," I said. "Do your thing, river spirit."

And the ladies of the waters did.

>First Time DC45
1 Success = Horrified Passenger
2 Success = Semblance of Control
3 Success = Unqualified Success
0 Success = Meat-Puppet of the Water Fairies
>>
I should clarify, this calls for three 1d100s as usual, rolls outside of the first three won't count
>>
Rolled 68 (1d100)

>>3669120
>>
Rolled 71 (1d100)

>>3669120
>>
Should I expect another 100?
>>
Rolled 19 (1d100)

>>3669120
>>
>>3669122
>>3669127
>>3669134
>1 Success
>Not quite a prisoner of your own form

One of the three shadows lept in a cunning imitation of a large cat. The trees merely continued their grotesque dance, too busy exulting in their newfound mobility. I lifted my arms instinctively, enacting that age-old mantra: a good offense is the best defence.

Something hugged my back, sending a tingling coolness that becalmed me. I was no longer terrified of the shadow beasts that Throne conjured.

My fingers clasped around the throat of the first shadow-thing that shrieked in surprise. It and me, both. Somehow my hands were holding on to these insubstantial things. The other two shadows barked out their dismay. They had been expecting easy prey.

Chill ran up from my chest to my fingertips, infecting the struggling shadow with inertia. It slowed, then stopped altogether, dissipating into a disgusting gloop of moonlit black. Throne's eyes widened.

I had a mouth, yet I couldn't scream. Very little of this was me. An alien mind was sharing - no, domineering, over mine.

>I tried to regain control. I didn't mean for spirits to take over almost completely. I needed to have the overriding voice in the moving of my body. Was this what it felt like to be Husked?

>I let the spirit - ghost - whatever - do its thing. I didn't want to fight the things. What hope had I in defeating creatures of such infernal origins?
>>
>>3667367
Fucking hell anons, the most dangerous enemy we’ve faced and you don’t ensure that he’s dead.

>>3669161
>I tried to regain control. I didn't mean for spirits to take over almost completely. I needed to have the overriding voice in the moving of my body. Was this what it felt like to be Husked?
>>
>>3669161
>>I tried to regain control. I didn't mean for spirits to take over almost completely. I needed to have the overriding voice in the moving of my body. Was this what it felt like to be Husked?
>>
>>3669161
>>I tried to regain control. I didn't mean for spirits to take over almost completely. I needed to have the overriding voice in the moving of my body. Was this what it felt like to be Husked?
>>
>>3669162
>>3669163
>>3669167
You are a bold one!

>Resistance of the Mind DC40
>1d100
>Deny that which Bewitches DC35
>1d100
>Last Gasp of the Drowned DC15
>1d100

---

>Imperial Scion DC50
>3d100
>>
>>3669185
(Only roll for Imperial Scion dice if the first three fails)
>>
Rolled 94 (1d100)

>>3669185
>>
Rolled 27 (1d100)

>>3669185
>>
Rolled 88 (1d100)

>>3669185
>>
>>3669197
>>3669206
Our rolls have been really atrocious this entire thread huh
>>
Rolled 84 (1d100)

>>3669185
Now we roll fpr the spoiler?
>>
>>3669210
No, you done good. One of them passed. Did get a double crit though, which means I need to consult the augurs.
>>
>>3669209
Standard Black Company luck I'd say, we've had it good for a while it was about time the other boot kicked
>>
>>3669197
>>3669203
>>3669206
>1 Success, but
>Doubles Critical Fail

I was a drowning man. Trickle turned to river turned to an oceanic torrent of emotion and will and selves that I was crowded out, an unwilling passenger in my own body. Feminine chitterings and tattling swamped my nonexistent ears, coming together to form the roars of a waterfall. And in the midst of the crowd, I was alone.

I couldn't do this. The gods did not place Aurelius into the world to make flowery commentaries on the loss of his ego. I was not even that good of a poet. But what else was there to do? I retreated from the external senses even as a titanic battle erupted between the Not-Me and Throne. The last I saw was a moonlit column of water wash against his remaining shadow creatures before my eyes - their eyes - ceased to report to me. I was alone.

And in that loneliness, I found comfort. It was surprisingly nice, actually. He'd always thought that being Husked was to be tormented forever. But the body was not breaking down yet. Something else had taken control, and the ladies were not keen on letting their body degrade. Perhaps forever.

The formless thing that once called itself "I" drifted within its memories.

>It thought of a girl it had found among the ruins of a burning city, and felt the first stirrings of paternal care.

>It remembered the weeping woman to whom it had been wed so long ago, and felt a familiar ache of love when it made her smile.

>It thought of its progenitor, the seed-giver, who fell from its mount. A cruel man. A useless man. And it felt nothing but regret.

>It reached to the deepest memories of all, that of its caretaker, that which bore him and introduced him to the world. A faded smile and warm green eyes - a detail of nothings. Yet it filled it a sense of gratitude.

And from the emotions of those strongly cherished memories, It found strength that might make it, I again.

And this is why I hated messing with wizards. Arrow wounds I could heal, and sword in the gut disinfect. Well, fifty-fifty. But making me discard the building blocks of self just to get control of my body back? Fucking sorcery and their soul-based shenanigans.
>>
>>3669230
>>It thought of its progenitor, the seed-giver, who fell from its mount. A cruel man. A useless man. And it felt nothing but regret.

we are chosing what to forget is that it?
>>
>>3669234
That would be telling.
(This is qm in mobile in somewhere else)
>>
>>3669230

>It thought of a girl it had found among the ruins of a burning city, and felt the first stirrings of paternal care.

I wish we could focus on Hood, I still miss her lol, it's funny how our other 2 wives came to us but we persued her relentlesly and had to convince her that our feelings were real.
>>
>>3669230
>>It thought of a girl it had found among the ruins of a burning city, and felt the first stirrings of paternal care.
>>
>>3669230
>It thought of its progenitor, the seed-giver, who fell from its mount. A cruel man. A useless man. And it felt nothing but regret.
>>
>>3669230

>It thought of a girl it had found among the ruins of a burning city, and felt the first stirrings of paternal care.
>>
>>3669230
>It thought of a girl it had found among the ruins of a burning city, and felt the first stirrings of paternal care.
>>
>>3669230
>It thought of its progenitor, the seed-giver, who fell from its mount. A cruel man. A useless man. And it felt nothing but regret.
>>
>>3669230
>>It thought of a girl it had found among the ruins of a burning city, and felt the first stirrings of paternal care.
>>
>>3669230
It thought of a girl it had found among the ruins of a burning city, and felt the first stirrings of paternal care

See fucking told you all to pick fire buut nooo
>>
>>3669599

Why do you think that fire would do better?
>>
>>3669599
>>3669532
>>3669278
>>3669273
>>3669241
>>3669239
>It thought of a girl it had found among the ruins of a burning city, and felt the first stirrings of paternal care.

---
Ten months ago, early summer. In the ruins of old Luoyang.

The sky was a deep blue. Not a single fluff of cloud floated to give shade to the soldiers below, their armour dulled with nonreflecting black. There were plenty of the black variety, rising from the ground to meet the sky. Burning houses, smoking killzones. The soldiers marched wearily through the corpse of a city. It had been great, once. Emperors had reigned here when the old dynasties ruled. Only ruins remained now. The contractor of the soldiers in black had ordered as much.

The battle was over. The Black Company was moving on. Three friends were having a conversation to kill the time.

"You're too passive. Letting everyone else push you around. You could have been Corporal instead of Trevain, but you just let him walk all over you during the swordfight demonstration." She was barely out of the cusp of womanhood. Being with the Company had given her an interesting upbringing that saw her graduate from childhood very quickly. But she still new to being an adult and feeling adult things. "Aren't I right, Aurelius?" She scolded. She liked the man. She had a strange way of showing it.

Aurelius shrugged. "If you say so." Passive. Rolling with the punches. The woman punched his arm. "Ow!"

"I do not think you are too passive, Brother Aurelius." The ugly man to the right of Him spoke. His voice was discordant with his face. A terribly scarred visage that would look more at home in prefectural wanted posters, his voice was a deep baritone. He cared. "You simply have not found something to care about yet. It is because you do not have faith." He also cared more than was normal for religions.

"At least I don't dabble with every faith I come across," the golden-eyed man replied. A cocky smile, a not unpleasant face. Mixed stock, primarily Alexandrian, with a Peninsular or Wae addition in recent ancestry, giving him jet-black hair. Unconventionally handsome, if one could ignore the creepy glow in his eyes. He spoke Sinaean with a native's fluency. "I prefer not to give out my entire wage to every single wandering pilgrim I come across, Theophilos."

Then he cast his eyes down. Sometimes he kept his eyes shut for periods of time. That was his tic.

"Don't do that," the woman snapped. Goldeneyes looked up self-consciously. "You should be more sure of yourself." Her voice softened. "More confident. You've got what it takes to be a leader, Aurie. Just because you have golden eyes don't invalidate that."

"Ever the optimist, Dumpling dearest. I wouldn't trust myself with a kitten, nevermind a human being." He replied with cheek. Self-deprecation hidden behind flippant words.

"I'd trust you," Dumpling said.
>>
>>3669736

Aurelius reddened. "Your loss." He preferred to deflect. Emotional investments cost too much. He had become attached before. It is the age-old story. Man finds woman, they become happy. Circumstances external and internal split them apart. The man finds solace in a spiral of self-destruction.

No, the man thought to himself. It is better to be alone. That way, the only person to hurt me is myself.

And then he saw the girl.

A city is never just destroyed. It gasps, it wheezes. Like a wounded animal in many respects, or a dying god. Spurting out the last of its life-essence once in a while, sometimes violently so. And within, cells cannibalise each other to ensure its own existence at the cost of the greater whole. The social and moral bindings that had kept fifty thousand civilians from acting out against order has broken down. And that sometimes manifests itself in ugly ways.

She couldn't have been more than ten. War-starved, certainly orphaned. Hair that might have been golden blonde was stained with grime and ash of burning houses. Brown eyes made her stand out among the majority Sinaeans that scrounged around their destroyed homes, who eyed balefully their conquerors. None dared attack the Black Company. So they turned that pent up frustration among themselves.

Someone threw a rock at the girl. She stumbled. She was a foreigner. Maybe a bastard child of the scattered Varangian, or a lost child from their equally foreign invaders. Who knew? Who cared? She was a convenient target. Friendless, helpless.

And the Black Company continued to march. None broke its ranks. They weren't heartless, they were just tired. And it was none of their business.

>Aurelius turned a blind eye. It was not the first time he had seen a street urchin get stoned to death. None of his business.

>He hesitated. He didn't wish to break ranks. Captain had already chewed him out once before, and that was not an experience he wished to repeat again.
>>
>>3669741
>>He hesitated. He didn't wish to break ranks. Captain had already chewed him out once before, and that was not an experience he wished to repeat again.
>>
>>3669741
>Aurelius turned a blind eye. It was not the first time he had seen a street urchin get stoned to death. None of his business.
>>
>>3669741

>He hesitated. He didn't wish to break ranks. Captain had already chewed him out once before, and that was not an experience he wished to repeat again.
>>
>>3669741
>He hesitated. He didn't wish to break ranks. Captain had already chewed him out once before, and that was not an experience he wished to repeat again.
>>
>>3669741
>He hesitated. He didn't wish to break ranks. Captain had already chewed him out once before, and that was not an experience he wished to repeat again.
>>
>>3669741
>He hesitated. He didn't wish to break ranks. Captain had already chewed him out once before, and that was not an experience he wished to repeat again.
>>
>>3669741

>He hesitated. He didn't wish to break ranks. Captain had already chewed him out once before, and that was not an experience he wished to repeat again.
>>
>>3669748
>>3669803
>>3669806
>>3669811
>>3669840
>>3669858
>He hesitated. He didn't wish to break ranks. Captain had already chewed him out once before, and that was not an experience he wished to repeat again.

But she was just a girl. A child of no consequence whatsoever. Even her parents had abandoned her. He didn't know that for sure, of course. But the gods had decided she needed them no longer. Who was he to deny the gods their strange and unlikely vengeance against a mortal child?

People died in wars. It was useless to try to save everyone. Even if he stepped in now, she would be raped and killed then dumped out on the many body pits that the locals used to segregate the dead and the living. Not necessarily in that order.

To help her now would only prolong her suffering. Being stoned now by a mob made angry by their helplessness would be an improvement compared to what awaited her.

>But she was just a child. [Sentimental]

>"Look at that poor child," he said. He hoped someone else might save her. [Deflective]
>>
>>3669861

>But she was just a child. [Sentimental]

Our weakness
>>
>>3669861
>But she was just a child. [Sentimental]
>>
>>3669861
>But she was just a child. [Sentimental]
>>
>>3669861
>>But she was just a child. [Sentimental]
>>
>>3669635
Fire is life.
Also most storys that have voices coming from water normaly mean your going to die from maermainds or some shit. Also fire offered to help if we needed it
>>
>>3669861
But she was just a child. [Sentimental]
Cant wait for her to die just like kid
>>
>>3669868
>>3669873
>>3669976
>>3669984
A cautioning hand held his shoulder. "Do not do it, brother. You will land the rest of the platoon in trouble again." Theophilos looked pointedly at a whiskered man who looked like he was going through serious migraine. He was the Sergeant.

"...just a child," Aurelius said weakly.

"The Company is family." The scarred man was kind. He was also rigid in his thinking. "Family comes first."

Other Sinaeans were gathering around the fallen child. Emboldened by the lack of response from the soldiers who kept their eyes straight ahead. They were moving on anyway. No point in interfering with the locals' stress relief. The civilians started gathering rocks, always looking at the Black Company. She was their scapegoat, their imagined Companyman. They had found a dramatic streak in their ineffectual anger.

Dumpling exchanged glances with Morion and Sybil. The three sisters rarely acted out by themselves, often seeking consensus before making decisions. Kind-hearted Sybil nodded. Morion, who was made of sterner stuff than either of her sisters, shook her head. Dumpling was caught in the crossroads.

Theophilos looked at the glaring mob, who was almost daring any of the watching Companymen to do something about the imminent execution. "It would be a very bad idea."

>I shook off Theophilos' hand. And then I broke ranks. [Low/Medium DC]

>I looked to Dumpling. And hoped she would make the choice did not have the willpower to make. [No need for DC]
>>
>>3670033
>I shook off Theophilos' hand. And then I broke ranks. [Low/Medium DC]
>>
>>3670033
>>I shook off Theophilos' hand. And then I broke ranks. [Low/Medium DC]

fuck this
>>
>>3670033
>>I shook off Theophilos' hand. And then I broke ranks. [Low/Medium DC]
>>
>>3670048
wait, what was the name of the city Sybil died? wasn't Sybil already dead when we found Honey, what the fuck is going on? GET OUT OF MY MEMORIES WATER FUCKS!
>>
>>3670033
I shook off Theophilos' hand. And then I broke ranks. [Low/Medium DC]
Unless the golden eye beams
>>
>>3670043
>>3670048
>>3670055
>I shook off Theophilos' hand. And then I broke ranks. [Medium DC]

Undivided consensus
>BO3 1d100
>>
Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>3670098
>>
Rolled 65 (1d100)

>>3670098
>>
Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>3670098
>>
Rolled 34 (1d100)

>>3670098
>>
>>3670106
>>3670109
>>3670117
>The answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything

The man who had relied on mediocrity to camoflage him among his adopted brothers stepped out of line. Eyes boggled. He did not expect others to follow. He had not the intimidating presence of Captain, or the expectant eyebrow waggle of Sergeant. He was simply Aurelius; Trooper, Scrivener. A passive lifestyle suited him just fine.

This was most definitely not passive. He felt a hand pulling at his sleeve, and looked back. Dumpling's face was scrunched up in thinking. Then she nodded. Morion was outvoted. The triplets joined his upstart group heading for the heart of the rebellious mob.

Sighing, Theophilos followed. He was a rigid man. He was also kind in his thinking. The Platoon was the most immediate family unit in the Company. Family came first.

"A freak," Sinaeans whispered.

"Golden eyes. From the Capital."

"Do not look straight in his eyes, little one. They consume the soul of younglings."

The crowd parted way for him, not out of reverence but malice. He reached the girl. They closed up. The man and his friends were alone in a sea of hostile faces.

>"The next man to harm her will answer to the Black Company." He lied so very boldly. He had no such authority.

>"She comes with me." A decision made in the spur of the moment. He regretted those words even as they flew out of his mouth. What madness made him think capable of taking care of a child?
>>
>>3670140
>"She comes with me." A decision made in the spur of the moment. He regretted those words even as they flew out of his mouth. What madness made him think capable of taking care of a child?
>>
>>3670140

>"She comes with me." A decision made in the spur of the moment. He regretted those words even as they flew out of his mouth. What madness made him think capable of taking care of a child?

They'll probably think she is going to have a worse fate in our hands since we are the golden boogeyman
>>
>>3670140
>"She comes with me." A decision made in the spur of the moment. He regretted those words even as they flew out of his mouth. What madness made him think capable of taking care of a child?

Mybe play up eat you bitch ass souls thing,
Ask the child if she wanted to live or die
>>
>>3670153
Start talking in the high imperial
>>
At this time dumpling already liked aurelius and hood still hated him, I wonder how both reacted to him rescuing a child.
>>
>>3670143
>>3670153
>>3670161
>"She comes with me." A decision made in the spur of the moment. He regretted those words even as they flew out of his mouth. What madness made him think he was capable of taking care of a child?

"Says who?" a Charismatic sneered. Always one, there is, in such mobs as these. Men with tongues too good for their brains. The name of Black Company was a menace, but there was only five of them here, five against a sea of faces. "We in the Vale District surrendered last, Imperial. Don't think we might not rise up again."

"I am saying it." The girl was bleeding from her left ear. "Drop the stones. Don't do this."

"Freaks like you do not have any right to lecture us," another mouthed.

"Sister-fucker!"

The Charismatic pointed triumphantly. "Child of incest!" Five against many. Good odds. These were lives he was willing to spend.

"Aurelius!" Sergeant roared from back in the main body of the Black Company. He had noticed the apparent desertion. "You motherfuck-"

The rest of his profanities was rendered inaudible as rocks fell.

>The man with the golden eyes focused in protecting the child. His buckler to prevent another head wound from the pelting rocks. His sword to deter the braver - and more suicidal - of the mob from coming too close.

>Anger seized him. Rationality loosened its grasp. He dove straight in to the sea of bodies, hacking and slashing toward the Charismatic who had riled up the crowd so.
>>
>>3670204
>>The man with the golden eyes focused in protecting the child. His buckler to prevent another head wound from the pelting rocks. His sword to deter the braver - and more suicidal - of the mob from coming too close.
>>
>>3670204
>The man with the golden eyes focused in protecting the child. His buckler to prevent another head wound from the pelting rocks. His sword to deter the braver - and more suicidal - of the mob from coming too close
>>
>>3670204
Anger seized him. Rationality loosened its grasp. He dove straight in to the sea of bodies, hacking and slashing toward the Charismatic who had riled up the crowd so.
>>
>>3670204
Call him out that at lest our sister gave her concent unlike his goat, talking shit when you about to murder a girl couse your too much of a pussy to fight a real man, dule me goat fucker
>>
>>3670204
>>The man with the golden eyes focused in protecting the child. His buckler to prevent another head wound from the pelting rocks. His sword to deter the braver - and more suicidal - of the mob from coming too close.
>>
>>3670204

>The man with the golden eyes focused in protecting the child. His buckler to prevent another head wound from the pelting rocks. His sword to deter the braver - and more suicidal - of the mob from coming too close.
>>
>>3670204
>>The man with the golden eyes focused in protecting the child. His buckler to prevent another head wound from the pelting rocks. His sword to deter the braver - and more suicidal - of the mob from coming too close.
>>
>>3670204
>>The man with the golden eyes focused in protecting the child. His buckler to prevent another head wound from the pelting rocks. His sword to deter the braver - and more suicidal - of the mob from coming too close.

Watch the shit talker run when things get dangerous
>>
>>3670204
>Anger seized him. Rationality loosened its grasp. He dove straight in to the sea of bodies, hacking and slashing toward the Charismatic who had riled up the crowd so.
>>
>>3670217
>>3670224
>>3670477
>>3670897
>>3671734
>>3671909
>The man with the golden eyes focused in protecting the child. His buckler to prevent another head wound from the pelting rocks. His sword to deter the braver - and more suicidal - of the mob from coming too close.

He kneeled to cover the girl. That hampered his reach, but it stopped the rocks from reaching her. The makeshift missiles and farming implements found a new, larger target. Armour is not a guarantee of protection. Quantity eventually overwhelms quality.

The man's blood pooled around his knee, golden ichor as unnatural as his eyes. This only infuriated the masses. Fear and anger make good neighbours, and Alexandrians were feared indeed outside the Capital. Theirs was a hatred beyond that of the common hardworking class against the wealthy landowning elites. This was good old human revulsion toward the Other.

Theophilos fared better. He was a largish fellow, a pikeman by trade. Although such long-reaching weapons are unwieldy in close quarters, he made use of his prodigious strength to make do, sweeping this way and that to clear out paths. The peasants avoided him. The ugly man was not their focus.

The three sisters found more enemies. Enraged by the audacity of the women who dared defy the better sex, the Sinaeans - male, one and all - attempted to drag them down to their feet. The instinct to degrade and humiliate overrode their anger. Sybil stumbled and fell, red spreading from three garish punctures from a well-thrown pitchfork. Dumpling was too taxed in her sorceries to notice. Morion ferociously guarded her fallen sister from groping hands.

A life, for a life. Gods rarely suffer insults against their machinations in good humour.

"Honey," the girl whispered, with the singleminded focus of a girl blocking out everything but her immediate surroundings. The juvenile mind's way of defending from trauma. She cupped her hands and felt the viscuous ichor with her fingers. "Are you a bee?" she asked her protector.

"My name is Aurelius." His breath was laboured. The clatter of rocks against him faltered. In the distance, Captain was shouting for the Company to quell the riot. The storm was passing on.

"A-relly," she tried. "What a funny name." Pause. "I have no name. No one gave me one."

"Then you can be Honey," he replied. His consciousness was fading. Senior Scrivener Xavier was going to be very cross. The Company did not get a lot of literate people.

He did not know of Sybils' death yet. Later, he would recriminate himself for her death. Later. He had Honey now. He rubbed off some of the grime off her hair with his hands. "Yes. Honey. Your hair is as gold as my blood. That will be your new name."

"Honey," she breathed. Her tiny hands tried to stem the blood from her protector's temple, only succeeding in making him wince. "And will you be my..."

Exsanguination overtook him, and he lost consciousness.

---
>>
>>3672514

It that was not yet I deemed this life-memory the appropriate sacrifice.

>Engrammic Immolation DC50
>3 1d100
>>
Rolled 70 (1d100)

>>3672516
Nope, do not sacrifice that one
>>
Rolled 18 (1d100)

>>3672516
Can our dude into medical science?
>>
>>3672519
The decision was made way back in >>3669230
>>
>>3672526
I bet dudes did not realize they were forgetting that and were instead chosing what to save, that is really sad, damn.
>>
Rolled 51 (1d100)

>>3672516
>>
>>3672528
Such is life in the ways of magic. One second you're misreading something and the next you're already Husk'ed.
>>
>>3672528
Everything has a cost! To discard a part of the Self in order to continue its existence...
>>
>>3672532
Well, I can only hope to get it back somehow, I would trade the other 3 in an instant, misreading is really a bitch
>>
>>3672519
>>3672522
>>3672529
>Success, after a fashion

I opened my eyes. The sky was a deep blue. Not a single fluff of cloud floated to give me relief from overbright pale sun. I groaned.

"Holy shit, he's alive!" An unfamiliar hand, bloody and grimy, grabbed my head. I felt dizzy. "Aurelius, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I grumbled. I didn't feel fine. It felt like a troupe of mummers had stampeded over my head. Then I sat up, alert. "Throne! Is he-?"

"Dead as a doornail," Sister assured me. He pointed at a water-bloated corpse and a water-bloated head. That did not look pretty.

"Mithra Above. What happened?"

"I don't know," Sister said. He steadied my back.

"Who does?"

"We were all out of it. I fainted. I think. Klian is still in shock. He may have seen what happened, but he's not in any shape to talk right now."

"Fucking hell." A traumatised brother was the last thing I needed right now. Teach me to mess with an Ensorcelled. "Sergeant round up Barns and Noble yet?"

"They were killed first," Sister said. His face was uncharacteristically grim. "Used as fuel for Throne's conjuration."

"Well, Sergeant is going to throw a fit." He had spent something like a week together with Sister back in the Old Forest just to find those two. And Klian and Jokk. The latter was dead. I saw Klian in a fetal position shaking his legs forward and backward, like a grandfather clock that forgot its rhythm. He was crooning to himself.

"Uh, Aurelius."

"What?"

"Sergeant is dead too. There were three of the shadow-things."

"Feth." I remembered now. The shadowy cats. Sergeant was dead. That man was what, fifty? He was close to retirement age. Just because the Black Company enforced a feet-first policy didn't mean we kept around geezers who couldn't fight.

Sister tried to smile. He always did try to put on a brave face. Good lad, aside from the sister-fucking. "Honey will miss him," he said. "He was the one who kept sneaking in sweets for her. I know, you were trying to cut off the supply of candied nuts for her health, but Sergeant ordered me not to tell. But I guess that now he's dead, I don't have to keep that promise. Right?"

My headache worsened. I thought I saw a brief glimpse of auburn eyes in my mind's eye. Then it disappeared, as quickly as it had come. "Hey, Sister."

"Water?"

I shook my head. I didn't feel thirsty. If anything, I felt like I'd had enough water to last me a week.

"Who the hell is Honey?"

~ FIN ~
>>
>>3672536
>>3672532
The more I think about it. The more ironic it has become.
Think about it. We're essentially a man who's had such a shitty father that we've become determined to be the best father we can hope to be and now we've already sacrificed our memories of our adopted child. Probably to the point where we'll have no real feelings anymore towards the child.
In a way, we've become our father.

>>3672548
Ah, there it is. The ironic statement.
>"Who the hell is Honey?"
>>
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>>3672548
Obligatory gauging of interest
>>
>>3672553
Of course yes.
But only if we play as the Captain for the next book. I want to see what has really become of her.
>inb4 she's legit ded bruh
>>
>>3672550
Mmhmm. I would say that Aurelius was struggling with being a father from the very start. In a way his determination to be a good father figure to Honey was fuelled by his hatred for his own father, and a desire to distance himself from him.

Sorcery is a frightening thing. The higher level you go, the more you gain and lose. Even "normal" Ensorcelled like Shamaness and Dumpling are treated a different breed entirely. I wanted to make sure players realised that Ensorcelled of Throne's caliber were no joke, especially with the ease with which two of the lower-tiered Sixteen were captured.

As hinted in his title during combat, Throne is the fourth most powerful of the Sixteen. Mindbreaker was the lowest. Runesinger is actually 6th, but she's a specialised ritual caster, so she can't do the kind of things that Throne did with a flick of her finger.
>>
>>3672553
Continue of course

We have so much shit to fix
>>
I've archived this thread, you can find the other two threads (2nd one is about to drop off the board) here:

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Aurelius
>>
>>3672557
You could say that, however regardless of Aurelius's determination to be a good father, it was still knowning or unknowningly tossed into the metaphorical fire to be used as fuel for the spirit's journey. Any other memory could have been used, and yet that memory was chosen.
>>
>>3672553
Continue

Shit, sarge is dead and we lost memories of Honey, this turned out to be terrible
>>
>>3672553
Lets keep going, Aurelius still has a company ti save and wives to return to

If sister tells us everything that happened with Honey we can at least not break her heart we see her.
>>
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>>3672570
>And then Honey somehow summons a spirit through sheer willpower and shoves her memories of us into our head.
Oh lawdy that's going to be horrifying as fuk.
>>
>>3672566
I do wonder if anons didn't heed the spoilered section. I was in half mind whether to add that in or not, but wanted to give at least a bit of warning regarding destruction of the memory.
>>
>>3672553
please continue, this is far too bitter an end, we will have to learn to love Honey all over again, at least Hood, Dumps and Shamaness see her as a daughter so it will be easier, but not the same

>>3672575
I can bet you they didn't

look at this >>3669239 he thought he was focusing on a memory to survive or something, not to sacrifice
>>
>>3672575
QM, unless you straight up say what the warning is, most Anons won't take it into account since few are going to actually take the time to read and think about what it is written.
It's also a nice and effective way of fucking players over since IRL players don't think about what's going on as well.
>>
>>3672576
I tried to pick the four foundational memory blocks that formed Aurelius as a character, namely:

- His adoration of his mother, of whom he barely knew
- His mixed feelings toward his father, who has not really been given exposition yet
- The first woman he loved, and was love in turn by
- Honey, who received exposition thanks to anons' choice

Hood wifing was too recent for it to have made long-reaching influence in the forming of Aurelius. That's why I didn't include Hood or Shamaness or Dumpling.

As for the people who misread - pls don't speedread dudes
>>
>>3672580
>pls don't speedread dudes

no shit, we fucked the sweetest part of the quest because anons can't stop and think before voting on reflex
>>
so when will we put the show back on the road?
>>
Still, I can't help but be satisfied with the vote results. I'd been regretting the timeskip that happened in the first thread because I didn't get to talk more about Dumpling and Theophilos, his two closest friends in the platoon. More importantly, Honey (who was an afterthought character created purely for a single vote back in the first thread) and her joining of the Company needed to be described. This was a convenient way to do that, as well as give maximum impact in the memory's destruction.

I expected anons to choose to sacrifice the dad memory and was coming up with ideas for it. Maybe next time. Which is to say, next time Aurelius gets almost Husked.

>>3672576
>bitter end
From my limited readings of Glen Cook's Black Company, suffering is a large part of it. I am also not unwilling to kill off named characters, not for subversion of expectation but because these are flesh and blood creatures that falter and bleed and die. This becomes most apparent when facing against an Ensorcelled, precisely because they are in many ways the kind of characters you might find in high fantasy. They're magical. They have protecting spells. Backup life systems. Very Hard To Kill. Capable of shenanigans of the bullshittest tier (depending on sorcerous abilities). Aurelius is guilty of that in part, being an Imperial Scion, but he's hardly Throne himself.

>>3672586
When I can write. When I think of something to write.

I'm considering swapping out the author (Aurelius) and trying out another POV character, but that would mean a whole new different way of writing and I'm not sure I am capable of that. Finding a voice is hard. I frequently lose Aurelius'. But in the slim chance that I do, which character would you like to see a POV from? Describe the character and tell me why you want to see it.
>>
>>3672592
I this moment I don't think I would like anyone else, to be honest, I feel we have some things to do here, but if you are interested in writing another character maybe someone else from the company
>>
>>3672594
Oh I thought you were the anon that wanted a Captain POV, my bad haha
>>
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>>3672592
>But in the slim chance that I do, which character would you like to see a POV from?
Captain
> Describe the character and tell me why you want to see it.
The Captain because We'd get to see things from not only a different rank (i.e. the top of the metaphorical food chain) but also in memories. After all Aurelius's ancestors did some nasty things to her people which is going to leave different scars than Aurelius's life so far. Also personality as well, since I did want to see what was clicking for gears in her head.
>inb4 she's still very fucking dead bro, pick another soda pop
I want to believe she's still alive damn it.

>>3672598
I'M THE ONE! I'M STILL HERE!
>>
>>3672553
Let's keep going yeah.Though our rolls really were crappy for most of this session. And we still have a Company to save/rebuild
>>
>>3672592
Now that I calmed the sadness in my heart I can actually see a silver lining here.

The memory of our father is what drives us to BE a good father, if we had forgotten that we would probably be more cold or even be just like our father was to Honey and our future children, even if we forgot about honey, our wives haven't, and we still remember how our father was shit and how we want to distance ourselves from him, so maybe we will end up being a good dad for our kids because we did not sacrifice the thing that made us decide not to be a crappy dad.
>>
>>3672609
You make a good point nigga, it might also give us a heart to heart moment with Honey where we confess that we lost her in our memories and she makes a promise to make sure that there will always be physical memories for us to draw upon even though she has no real idea how deep the loss went.
Of course there's going to be lots of tears and hugging. It wouldn't be wholesome without it.
>>
>>3672598

Aurelius or Captain. Other characters don't seems interesting enough to me, to be pov characters.
>>
>>3672630
Maybe not for an entire thread bur for some posts, I would like to see how Hood's and Ugly's mind work
I would love to see Sarge too but......
>>
>>3672633

Many pov characters sounds like good idea. I like it.
Also R.I.P. Sarge
>>
>>3672548
Yep, just like the books. Success, mixed with loss.

Also fucking Sorcerers
>>
>>3672592
>But in the slim chance that I do, which character would you like to see a POV from?
Captain and the Sarge. The captain will always be interesting as she is the heart of the company and is responsible for everyone's lives. I like Sarge and I want to see more exposition on him eh too bad. Maybe sister too for a story of how he became a sister fucker.
>>
>>3672598
Oh man il want a honey pov
Come on guys
>>
More than anything I want more Aurelious, maybe sprinkle the others in but I'd like to keep with him
>>
>>3673092
>Inb4 Sister just simply fucked the setting's equivalent of a nun and everyone just jumped on the sibling fucker wagon
>>
>>3673187

What? When?
>>
>>3672592
>POV
Yusegei? Our scrivner assistant(if he’s not dead)?

Btw if we had made sure Throne was dead when we had a chance would he have still be able to almost husk us?
>>
>>3675813
I doubt it, we were the only one among the squad able to sense magic fuckery going on

We might have been able to gank him further
>>
>>3675813
I think it wasn't him that almost husked us in the end, it was the own spirits that helped us that did that.
>>
>>3675971
Bingo! I had the thing written out because I assumed anons would be choosing the safer option, before I fell asleep. When I woke, the votes were going for Jokk. I am touched that anons cared so much for a side character.

>>3676024
This is also true, it wasn't Throne that almost got you driven out of your body, it was the ladies

>>3672599
Oops, colour tags that look similar confuse me!

>>3672609
>>3672611
I am thinking of a few interactions b/w new-Aurelius and Honey. Whether they will be wholesome with hugging remains to be seen.
>>
>>3676060

The worst possible option in my opinion is that Aurelius became just another uncle to Honey.
>>
>>3677053



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