>August 8th, 1884; Tehama, CA. Yet another blisteringly hot summer day.

You found yourself staring down an unsettling electric sheep on the cusp of a small, grassy hill.

Just moments ago you hadn't questioned much about it. It baah'd like a sheep. It walked like a sheep. Mary sure seemed to think it was a sheep... at first, anyways.

Yet, now, she avoided it. The closer you brought the outsider to its herd of Fulvis Khrysomallon, the less certain both you and your own Khrysomallon companion, Mary, became that it belonged there.
Furthermore, the grass beneath the stranger's hooves never seemed to bend properly. Its wool hardly reacted to the light breeze that so adamantly messed with Mary's own wool. You hadn't thought to notice before, but now you were considering checking to see if it had made any footprints on the way here.

As the stranger stared into your eyes with its own, its coal-black pupils' lack of depth now sticking out like a sore thumb, you couldn't help but inch forwards and try to block its path. The herd didn't seem any more partial to the stranger, after all, with a sizeable amount of Khrysomallon beginning to move away from you and up the hill or begin quietly mumbling distress.

"Baaah." The maybe-sheep's shrill bleat returned, the tempo still unchanged from the previous worry it seemed to embody, the creature's expression once more not matching its voice. The outsider seemed... frustrated.

It dodged to your right-- you caught it before it managed anything. To your left-- another catch from you. The motion was similar enough to soccer that you managed to play a decent goalie. Some unrelated sound from behind you both caught your attention.

A brown figure soon appeared on the horizon behind the odd sheep, within a minute making itself clear-- you could see Andrew's donkey charging right for you, storming through the dirty paths of Tehama to reach you at its edges! You silently thanked your luck for the backup... only to realize how far away the donkey was and how long it'd take to get here. Best to keep your focus on the stranger, then.

By now, the strange sheep was becoming actively aggressive. You hadn't seen Khrysomallon this angry since Mary broke an attacking wolf-creature's jaw last week. The aforementioned defender of your safety was apprehensive, too, now trotting in front of you and trying her best to act as a shield with which to repel the stranger.

You gave Mary a good scratch behind the horns for her concern, trying to keep your focus on the newcomer. Before you held its stare, you noted your surroundings: endless fields to your left and right, their patterns briefly interrupted by small slopes and ditches here and there, the only real verticality of note being the buildings ahead of you and the sizeable hill behind you.
If you were to try and chase this stranger away, it'd have to be done to the left or right-- into the small hills and brown plains, maybe into one of the lonely trees scattering the town's edges, away from people and away from the herd.

Returning your sight to the town, briefly, you noticed another equine joining Andrew's donkey on its way towards you. You couldn't make out anything more, however, as you snapped back into focus and returned to the problem child in front of you.

The questionable sheep remained steadfast, staring you down and occasionally making moves to your left or right, seemingly trying to figure out some way past you while it made distracting movements...

What were you to do?

Walter's current inventory can be found here!
https://pastebin.com/FM2wawpk

>Take the initiative! Command Mary to start attacking the stranger. It was clearly up to no good and it would just be a waste of time to try and negotiate.

>Stall it for as long as you could. The longer it stayed away from the herd the better.

>Keep it occupied solely until backup came along. You didn't trust that you could attack it alone and win, given how unprepared you were for the scenario, and Andrew's donkey was such a bulky ally that it alone could probably win this skirmish.

>Call out for an ally, either a random townsfolk or one of your existing friends (specify in the post), and hope someone will come help you.

>Write-in.

>>6156984

My favourite quest is back!

>>6156985
>>6156987

>Take the initiative! Command Mary to start attacking the stranger. It was clearly up to no good and it would just be a waste of time to try and negotiate.

Hopefully it'll drop the act if we confront it.

>>6156988
+1
Welcome back QM!

>>6156987
>Stall it for as long as you could. The longer it stayed away from the herd the better.

Welcome back, QM!

>not apokélypse
one job

>>6156988
>>6156999
Seems we're fighting it, then! I'll get to writing soon.

Nice to see you return, QM!

File: post2.png (515 KB, 619x695)

515 KB PNG

This stranger had made its intentions clear. Even now, it continued to make attempts at getting past you. Weaving left, weaving right, then--

As soon as it charged ahead, you gave a small shout to Mary to do the same. A loud THUD rang out as she slammed her forehead into the mock-sheep's own, sending the both of them tumbling down the hill and into the small dirt valley below.

The occurrence spooked the herd behind you, causing an eruption of bleats and baahs, chasing the huge cloud of yellow-wooled sheep all the way up to the top of the hill-- a peak which they soon surmounted and continued past.

As the Khyrsomallon continued to disappear over the horizon, the expression of the stranger seemed to change for the first time you could remember. Its neutral smile soon shifted into a feral rage, the herbivorous animal now baring carnivorous teeth you didn't know it had, the creature making a vicious snarling noise that threw you off a noticeable amount and prompted a pained bleat from Mary.

In the small window of time between that noise and Mary's reaction, the creature pounced! It lunged for your dazed friend, aiming for the neck and snagging its teeth on her wool instead, its own fluffier bits standing on end as the creature found itself instantly paralyzed by the occurrence.

The exchange happened so fast that you only just noticed the reaction of your other two companions. The small leafy caterpillar wrapped around your neck, Taylor, awoke with a start to begin climbing down your neck and onto your back, as if trying to hide the scene from view. Florian, your smaller plant-based friend who'd taken up permanent residence in your shirt pocket, could be seen quietly squeaking or looking from side to side as if searching for an opponent of his own.

Your attention was soon stolen by the creature as Mary let out another bleat. A flash of lightning followed, your heart briefly skipping at the sight despite your growing acclimation, and the creature's ruse soon disappeared.

At the bottom of the small hill, twitching and growling, another illusionary fox continued its assault on your closest companion.

Mary continued fighting. The kit seemed continuously determined to down Mary specifically, no longer making any attempts at chasing past her and up the hill, aiming bite after bite at her wool, her knees, her face. It was hard not to wince as you saw the fox chomp down on her cheek, your sheepy friend letting out an incredibly loud bleat of alarm, slamming her tail into the fox and flinging it into the dirt that they trod upon.

That was enough-- you felt you had to intervene.

>Run down the hill and pull out something from your bag [Empty revolver, thick book, fox fur sample, pillow, picnic blanket, newspaper, or bed roll?]. Use it to get the fox as far away from Mary as possible. [Roll 1d100.]

>Command one of your other companions to help Mary in the fight. You know Florian has his strange powder, and you're pretty sure Taylor can bite... [Choose which companion to send in.]

>Force yourself to wait for Andrew's donkey to arrive before doing anything else.

>Call out for an ally, either a random townsfolk or one of your existing friends (specify in the post), and hope someone will come help you instead.

>Cheer Mary on. She's won most of her battles so far, she can win one more!

>Write-in.

>>6157709
>Cheer Mary on. She's won most of her battles so far, she can win one more!

>>6157721
+1
we do need Florian and Taylor to fight at some point

>>6157708
>>6157709
>Command one of your other companions to help Mary in the fight. You know Florian has his strange powder, and you're pretty sure Taylor can bite...

Taylor. Florian is too small for this.

>>6157709
Changing vote from >>6157722 to >>6157811

>>6157833
to BACKING >>6157811, my bad

>>6157811
>>6157834
Alright, we're sending Taylor into the fray!

(And a belated thank-you to everyone welcoming me back! Glad to be here.)

Two on one wasn't exactly a fair fight. However, you were somewhat past the point of caring about fairness.

Mary's scuffle with the stranger was turning dangerous. You realized rather quickly that if you yourself tried to intervene, you'd probably be even more overwhelmed than her. Hence...

Your hands drifted to your back, carefully prying off Taylor's nubby legs one by one until the enormous caterpillar hung in front of you, your hands gripping either side of the bug and giving it one look over. Florian was too young for this, but Taylor was half the fox's height...

The bug's big black eyes remained laser-focused on yours, its expression indescribable. You wasted no more time in trying to discern it. "Taylor, I dunno if you know what I'm sayin' like Mary does, but... you've got t' help her, alright?"

The token effort was soon followed by a quick deployment of the bug, making sure to be careful as you turned the bug towards the fox and gently pushed it forward, watching as Taylor quickly noticed Mary's condition and took off towards the stranger.

Taylor's first efforts were fascinating! Instead of the physical effort Mary often started with, your buggy buddy decided to begin his assault with a massive shot of silk to the stranger's face. The yelp of surprise it let out seemed to give Taylor the go-ahead to keep at it, crawling through the grass underneath the black fox while it was busy trying to rip the silk off. Taylor's collar seemed to unsettle the fox, forcing it to twitch, until the bug emerged behind his enemy and pounced upon its rear to bite it-- only for the fox to notice and stomp Taylor near the tail end of his back. Your bug chittered loudly, latching onto the fox's behind, biting down and--

You looked away.

When you forced your eyes back onto the battlefield, you were met with an unsettling sight.

Taylor was quite a ways away from the fox, a small dent noticeable in his chitin. He lay scrambling on his back, making odd squeaking noises, while his foxy opponent finally managed to tear off the silk covering its face.
Mary, meanwhile, lay defeated in the dirt. You noticed her cheek starting to swell... you wanted to get up and help her, but Mary was already five steps ahead of you. She began climbing to her feet and stumbling away from the ongoing fight between a struggling Taylor and... himself? No, that wasn't right. You gave his surroundings a glance-- the fox was gone. All that you could see was a pair of silk-weaving bugs. You knew one of them was Taylor, but... was the other one the fox? Had it taken on an illusion that made it look like Taylor?
...ugh, this fight was messing with your head.

You shifted your focus towards Mary, crouching down to welcome her into your arms, a bit of guilt lacing your thoughts as you stroked her cheek and dug into your haversack to get her a small treat. The first thing she heard out of your mouth was mumbling, mostly of your regrets at having left the medical supplies with Steele.

However, hope soon arrived on the horizon. A vaguely-familiar voice caught your attention and pulled you out of it!

"Walter! What'n the hell're you doin' over there?"

Andrew came riding in on his old steed, his aging brown horse getting up on its hind legs to bray loudly as Andrew yanked its bit, his narrowed eyes moving quickly from the horse's gear to yours.

By his side was his donkey, looking up at its master with a sort of confused anticipation, hardly glancing at you-- to your great relief. You hoped the strange anger in Andrew's eyes had nothing to do with your accidental abandonment of his friend.

His arrival heralded a shift in the ongoing battle. Taylor, now attempting to ignore his many injuries, was no longer circling the fox with confused anticipation. Instead, he'd taken on some of Mary's tactics and was now attempting to tackle the impostor to the ground with the effort of his entire body. The fox, still hiding behind Taylor's own skin, was clearly beginning to lose steam-- and Andrew's arrival brought with it the fox's final downfall. His horse's braying caught the impostor off guard, forcing its disguise to dissipate as Taylor threw himself into the fox's left side at full force!

The vulpine finally relented, stumbling slightly away, not giving up in its attempts to climb the hill but seemingly abandoning any attempt at a fight. You were shocked it was even standing at this point, with its fur a complete mess and its joints looking less than stellar. There was even an enormous bruise on its shoulder that it seemed to be thoroughly ignoring.

You gave the dazed kit one look, Andrew's donkey another, and Taylor your greatest attention. Mary remained in your knees, her head now slipping into your open palms... while Andrew watched the fox with a mix of interest and fury.

He deserved a reply, didn't he?

>Explain to him what happened and brush it off as a done deal. The fox isn't fighting anymore, the sheep have run away. There's no use in being here any more.

>Emphasize the danger of the fox and ask for Andrew's help in chasing it off. You don't trust it to stick around the town or the herd without issue, and if it was able to do this much damage to your team then you don't want to think of what it could do to less-prepared people.

>Try to segue into a sort of tutorial session. Andrew still has that nutberry, and this is definitely some kind of neofauna... trying to teach him how the nutberries work with something that's actively not attacking you could save some valuable time.

>Praise your companions for keeping you safe and ask him for medicine. Their safety is your highest priority. He can learn what happened later.

>Write-in.

>>6158380
s>>6158381
>>6158382

>Try to segue into a sort of tutorial session. Andrew still has that nutberry, and this is definitely some kind of neofauna... trying to teach him how the nutberries work with something that's actively not attacking you could save some valuable time.

He can't beat us, so he better join us. At least this herd will take him in voluntarily.

>>6158386
Do we want to just recruit every mon we see to every spare human we come across?

>>6158491
Then what do you want to do?

>Explain to him what happened and brush it off as a done deal.

>>6158382
>Explain to him what happened and brush it off as a done deal. The fox isn't fighting anymore, the sheep have run away. There's no use in being here any more.

>>6158382
>Emphasize the danger of the fox and ask for Andrew's help in chasing it off. You don't trust it to stick around the town or the herd without issue, and if it was able to do this much damage to your team then you don't want to think of what it could do to less-prepared people.
I have heard the call and I am here to help. Last time I was following this I'm pretty sure Mary fucking eviscerated a Mightyena

>>6158382
>Praise your companions for keeping you safe and ask him for medicine. Their safety is your highest priority. He can learn what happened later.

>>6158557
>>6158573
It was a close vote this time, but telling him and moving on has won!

That, and to stay away from this mess.

You sighed. "There was a fox'n sheep's clothing. Didn't know it 'til the thing started tryin' to attack the others," a gesture up the hill made sure he had an idea of where the herd went, "and it was pretty tough t' take down. Must've had experience."

Mary gave you one final nudge and tottered off to your haversack, nudging the flap with her head, looking to you when the thing refused to budge. You opened it for her and gave her another treat, then got to your feet and dusted off some of the dirt she'd spread on your pants. "You haven't got t' do anythin' now. Thanks for coming over, though, ah appreciate it."

Andrew's horse adjusted herself, turning away from you to let her rider be a little more visible. "You're welcome, but I ain't got any good news for ya." The man rubbed his nose and glanced away. "The stable won't take Dora or Buckwheat."

Your blank stare was answered soon after. "...the horse 'n donkey." Andrew extended a hand to the latter and prompted it to join Andrew's horse by her side. "We'll have to convince the hotel or sleep outside."

Taylor climbed up your arm as you crouched down to his level. He was bruised and battered, bits of chitin torn away to expose his soft white flesh, taking up residence upon your neck once again and barely moving. Florian watched his ascent with concern, the small budding child catching a flake of chitin in his mouth and not letting go.

"Wonderful luck for Steele, eh? Just went out for a haircut and now he'll come back to the news that he'll be sleepin' in the sticks again." You couldn't help but chuckle.

Andrew didn't seem to be taking it nearly as lightly, getting off Dora and crossing his arms. His eyes wandered back to the fox as he grumbled, "Maybe he'll just learn to sleep with a donkey in the room instead."

The fox growled, refusing to budge from its place until Andrew gave it a light kick in the behind. After that it was more than happy to slink away onto the horizon, Andrew watching it all the way. "Little rat. Don't know what prompts those things to be so greasy."

The description unsettled you slightly, but you were curious. "You've got experience with 'em too?"
"Yeah, plenty. Stupid things like stealing from you when you're busy with somethin'."
"Well, I don' think it's fair t' call them stupid..."

Andrew raised a brow, but his tone changed thereafter. "Sure, they're smart, but they're like rats. Don't like 'em. Or," he thought for a moment, then continued. "Like if you gave some bum off the street the power t' trick people into givin' him whatever he wanted. That's what they are."

Your heart fell further with the description. It was hard to deny their tendencies, but... "...I'm sure there's some good in them." You almost whispered, adjusting your bag and counting your companions (Mary was by your side, barely, and the other two were still with you...) before you gave the hill one last glance.

You could see a sheep or two poking their heads over the top of it. Were they checking to see if the fox was still there?

"BAAAH!" One of them cried out. Mary gave a weak bleat back, waving her tail and stumbling forth, exchanging brief conversation with the other sheep as you and Andrew watched.

You couldn't help but wonder what they were talking about.

"Thomas was getting his hair cut?"

Andrew had already turned to leave. He was looking back at you. "I'll go tell him about the stable."

You gave the man a thumbs-up and watched him and his donkey disappear into town, following soon after. The pair of you entered town with little fanfare, drifting into your respective trains of thought...

...how long did it take for Steele to get a haircut, anyways?

<><><><><>

"They wouldn't take either of them in just because of your donkey?"

The three of you loitered by the barber shop, the town's passerby paying you no mind. This was especially impressive given Steele's lack of top hat, but you supposed his proximity to the barber's made that excusable.

Steele seemed... less than surprised at the news. "I... well, I'm sure their business will feel the consequences of that soon..."

He rubbed his chin, letting the setting sun dance upon his shoulders while he ruminated. "It's a shame, isn't it? But I suppose we can manage. Buchanan--" --he paused, then continued as if he'd discarded a thought-- "--you can sleep with the donkey. I'm sure Andrew's horse will be perfectly fine outside his window."

You frowned. "Steele, I only have so much space for my own friends. You've got almost a whole room free."
The bulky businessman smoothed his slicked-back hair, the idea rolling off his mind like water off a duck's feathers. "Yes, but you're more than able to sleep with almost five animals in the room, are you not? Indiana already disturbs me plenty, what with his late-night scratches or peers out the window, and I struggle to fathom how much less sleep I'd get with an entire donkey in the room."

Andrew interjected. "I'll do fine with 'em both. I'm used to it." He crossed his arms. "Buckwheat's a pretty quiet one, you don't hear much'f him."
The aforementioned donkey gave a quiet huff and forced his head underneath Andrew's armpit. "Most he'll want is scratches behind the ears, like this." The man demonstrated.

You found it hard to believe Andrew could be so kind to one creature and so cruel to another. At least the bug had been... well, an enormous poisonous bug. The fox kits looked like strange dogs at worst, and you'd seen how they could help people. How many times had they harassed Andrew for him to be so immediately opposed to them?
Andrew went on. "Better he stay with me for a bit though. Just t' be sure."

Steele perked up again, his trimmed mutton chops seeming to highlight the movement. "Well, that settles things, doesn't it? I'm more than happy with that arrangement. I'll go set us up with a few rooms..." ...Buchanan took an aside to firmly shake Andrew's hand, much to the latter's surprise... "...and we'll meet up to check in when the sun sets."

He clapped his hands together and ran off before either of you could agree or disagree.

"Heh, it's been a while since I was told what t' do like that." Andrew kept scratching his donkey. "It takes the weight off a bit. You enjoy that?"

You shrugged. "Haven't got much of a choice. He's the only funds I've got."

"What, you haven't got the money from those studies yet?"

"Well, no. You see..."

<><><><><>

Andrew had bid you adieu.

You stood, now, at the village crossroads.

The conversation with Andrew had been plenty of fun, but you really needed to get your friends' injuries tended to. Now you sat in the grass by the edge of town, friend in your lap, cross-legged and bandaging up Taylor. The poor bug seemed to wince whenever you accidentally poked his raw bits, giving you a scared glance before mellowing out again. He seemed to be nodding off as you wrapped up, snipping the final bit of gauze you could spare around the bug's back, tying up his makeshift cast neatly and tugging on the knot to make sure it was tight. Upon confirmation of its resilience, you let the bug slip into the grass and leaned back.

The sky was a deep orange. The sickly grass was beginning to poke at your palms and tickle your wrists. Even the sparse trees around seemed like better seats at this point. You saw no reason to stay here much longer.
It was getting later, but not late enough to go to the hotel. There was no threat of rain nor much threat of further attack... you had time to spare, but where would you go?.

>Return to the park and throw yourself back into your studies. You'd left that huge purple bug's corpse there, after all, and had yet to identify a good half of the species that called it home. Maybe you could stuff some notes on Taylor's chitin into there while you were at it.

>Follow the sheep herd and see if Mary wants to spend some time with them. It'd be a good opportunity to let her communicate with her own kind... and a great way to deepen your research on the species as a whole!

>Make plenty sure that Andrew's equines weren't allowed at the town's stables. If it was some kind of townwide policy, that'd be fine. If it wasn't, though, it could cause problems in the future. Best make sure those don't exist before you run into them.

>Just take a walk around town. Maybe think about the future. Relax.

>Write-in.

>>6159090
>>Follow the sheep herd and see if Mary wants to spend some time with them. It'd be a good opportunity to let her communicate with her own kind... and a great way to deepen your research on the species as a whole!

>>6159088
>>6159089
>>6159090

>Return to the park and throw yourself back into your studies. You'd left that huge purple bug's corpse there, after all, and had yet to identify a good half of the species that called it home. Maybe you could stuff some notes on Taylor's chitin into there while you were at it.

More species-categorizing, please!

>>6159129
+1
I think Mareep are common throughout America right now, but there might be mons here that are uncommon or not found elsewhere

>>6159090
>Return to the park and throw yourself back into your studies. You'd left that huge purple bug's corpse there, after all, and had yet to identify a good half of the species that called it home. Maybe you could stuff some notes on Taylor's chitin into there while you were at it.

>>6159129
>>6159130
>>6159137
Alright, we're heading back to the park!

Back to the park, of course!

You hadn't finished studying that big purple bug, nor any other residents of the small reserve. Countless creatures remained unnamed in your notes. If only you could document just a few more, neofauna or not, you'd have ten thousand dollars to your name...

<><><><><>

By the time you looked up from your notebook, the sun had already set.

You sat in the same place you had hours ago, briefly forgetting that you had ever left, your eyes drifting from page to companion back to page. The grass here was much healthier than it had been near the edge of town for reasons you couldn't entirely explain. The air felt fresher, too... it was hard to place why. All you could do was remain where you were, soaking in the pleasantries of the park, enjoying its inexplicable serenity without further thought as you sunk into its soft grass.

As the sun inched towards the horizon, you began to notice the slowly-shifting demographics of the park. The sunlight seemed to have taken many of the species you'd seen with it. You could no longer see the rowdy starlings that were so omnipresent before, nor many of the small blue ducklings.
Instead, you were surrounded by more and more of the large red centipedes from before. They were joined by the odd blue balls of fur you'd seen on your way here, hovering above them and occasionally diving like seabirds to catch a centipede or two to eat...

Note after note after note after note. You had no time to organize anything. Eyeless blue creatures with supersonic screeches (maybe what Andrew had been referring to before? But they weren't land-bound...), sentient brambles with seeds for eyes, even...

...your scribbling came to a stop. Taylor, who'd been sitting in front of you, began to chitter incessantly. Ahead of him was... another silk worm! One of his kind... Taylor reacted immediately, giving you an expression of utmost joy, becoming delighted when you plucked the silk worm from its place (and confirmed that it wasn't another kit in disguise) and placed it beside him. Taylor was more than eager to start communicating, immediately feeling the other silk worm with his small mandibles and touching his forehead lumps to the other bug's (so that's what they were for... you noted it down), chittering and squeaking and prompting you to let Florian out of your pocket to join them as the two seemed to chatter on about...

<><><><><>

...you stumbled into the hotel at a time far past whenever your human companions had asked you to be there. You could hear Steele's snoring from the closest room. They were long asleep.

Your eyes drifted back down to your open notebook. It almost looked like a schizophrenic's diary at this point, incomprehensible to anyone but you and difficult to parse even now, classifications scattered about like candy with random observations taking up the bulk of the page and various sketches dotting the corners. You hadn't yet reached that hallowed hundred species, but you were certain you were almost there. Almost...

The receptionist seemed more than happy to help you. You had to wonder how much patience she had to take a patient this late. Her own hair was half-down, clearly in preparation for some kind of sleep, and her dress was loose. She didn't even have a corset on. The two of you wandered down the dinky halls to a rather standard room at the very end of the corridor, a few rooms down from Steele's and god-knew-where from Andrew's. The lady left you to your own devices soon after, allowing you some freedom to stumble in and collapse upon the room's bed's cheap mattress without any further thoughts on the matter.

<><><><><>

>August 9th, 1884.

You were awoken far too early by one of your friends.

It took you several minutes to discern which one.

The fact that he was human was a surprise. You only realized his species by the time he was handing you your trunk and insisting you ride some 'Buckwheat' this morning.

Your eyes only opened fully once the bright sun hit you. Ahead of you was a half-sunken sun, barely even above the horizon, barely even... ugh. You rubbed your eyes again and checked your company.

Everyone was accounted for. Florian sat upon Steele's shoulder, much to the short man's dismay, with Indiana flanking him and staring at Andrew and his two steeds.

Your newest acquaintance mounted Dora with little issue, trotting in front of his donkey (right, that was Buckwheat) and making a motion for you and Steele to follow after.

It wasn't long until you were on the road once more... barely awake, only kept conscious by Mary's occasional bleats beside you or Taylor's fidgeting upon your neck.

<><><><><>

Tree after bush after tree after tall grass.

There really wasn't much to see here, was there?

The sun was high in the sky now, barely hanging above the ground while traveling far away from the horizon. You were starting to regret not bringing a pocket watch with you, regretting even moreso that you hadn't been able to buy one since.

You gave your companions a glance. Andrew was focused on the road ahead. Steele was carrying Indiana in his lap and seemingly just as focused. Your eyes drifted to the Sacramento River, which you three had been dutifully following, watching it in silence as you tried to wake up.

It had been a few hours now. Maybe it was time for a rest.

>Bring up the idea to Andrew and Steele, see if they'd be open to it. There's a small clearing to your left that you could easily set up camp at.

>Perish the thought and try to start a conversation instead. You're just sick of the quiet, really, not the riding.

>Write-in.

>>6159672
>Perish the thought and try to start a conversation instead. You're just sick of the quiet, really, not the riding.

>>6159672
>Perish the thought and try to start a conversation instead. You're just sick of the quiet, really, not the riding.
Just gotta hang in there! Sacramento's sure to be better than all this

>>6159672
>Perish the thought and try to start a conversation instead. You're just sick of the quiet, really, not the riding.

>>6159672
>Perish the thought and try to start a conversation instead. You're just sick of the quiet, really, not the riding.

>>6159672
>Perish the thought and try to start a conversation instead. You're just sick of the quiet, really, not the riding.

Happy to see you again QM! Here's hoping we can one day have ourselves a little Poke-House on the Prairie, or failing that, formulate a centralized society to foster good relations between people and pokemon. Imagine the shock we're gonna get when Mary or Taylor evolves.

>>6159669
>>6159671
>>6159672

>Bring up the idea to Andrew and Steele, see if they'd be open to it. There's a small clearing to your left that you could easily set up camp at.

We are really tired. It's a miracle Waltur is even sitting up right.

>>6159695
>>6159743
>>6159918
>>6160050
>>6160266
Pretty unanimous, I didn't expect that! We'll be starting up some conversation with our allies.

>Happy to see you again QM!
Happy to see you too! Glad to be back. :)

>We are really tired. It's a miracle Waltur is even sitting up right.
Boy can I fuckin' relate.

No, rest could wait. You were trying to avoid sleep, not fall right back into its clutches.

Your eyes drifted back to Steele... and, before you could think it over, you'd already asked it.

"My... profession?" Steele seemed surprised.

You clarified. "Yeah, well... you've mentioned investments, sure, but... well," you felt the need to be blunt, "you can't have jus' gotten all that money from those, right?"

Steele gave you a blank stare. After a blink or two he seemed to realize something and replied rather normally. "Oh, well, no. Of course not, boy. One couldn't come about a fortune like mine through stocks unless they were an unparalleled genius!"

A suspicious pause and grin followed before the man continued. "But, no, I simply ran a store back home. A rather successful one, at that! Perhaps you've heard of one Steele & Pick Works?"
Steele didn't hide the disappointment that came with your ignorance. "Well, I suppose our New York expansion is rather recent. I shouldn't have thought you'd know. Anyways," he hurried on, "I've simply been investing my time in that and the house."

That comment managed to catch Andrew's uneasy attention. "...which house, your senpai'ly's?"

Steele's chuckling turned uncomfortable. "Well, it's slightly more important than just any old household..."

<><><><><>

>August 10th, 1884.

The day passed with little event. The three of you hadn't even stopped at a town last night. You'd had to pull over after your eyesight started getting fuzzy, and slept in a bedroll at a quickly-made camp. You'd awoken to find your breakfast stolen and the camp a mess, so the next hour was spent foraging for berries to replace your lost goods. Florian's eye for the ripest and juiciest fruits around seemed to help the three of you plenty, even if it was still prone to inaccuracy. Andrew could tell you as much-- he was still raging over an overripe elderberry that Florian had offered him.

Nevertheless, the group was not to be stopped.

You passed by town after town, dipping in and out of awkward conversations, growing increasingly more comfortable as time passed and the three of you had little to do besides pry into each others' personal lives or prank each other at camps. As you were now, Steele was still riding upon Buckwheat in a thoroughly-muddied pair of shoes that you knew he wouldn't change out of because "it wouldn't be proper". It didn't even matter to him that he looked like the donkey that'd helped you pull this off in the first place. He'd walked the damn things out of the mud pit you'd hid them in like he was walking up an immaculate staircase. You could practically hear him formulating his revenge in his head...

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...yet you found yourself preoccupied with Andrew's questions, which hadn't ceased since you tried to explain Florian's abilities to him. You'd found him surprisingly interested, probing you with random considerations you hadn't even begun to think about, practically exhausted of hearing them by the end of the day.

<><><><><>

>August 11th, 1884.

A blur. You couldn't even recall a difference between it and the tenth. You'd seen more neofauna, you supposed. No new species for the first time since they'd appeared. They were oddly sparse around these parts... perhaps for the better. Andrew continued to ask about them. You'd offered him your notebook... only for him to ask you to read it for him. You did so diligently, but... surely the notes weren't that illegible, were they? You could still make them out...

Aside from that, the only stand-out event was how you'd woken up: covered in dirt up to your neck, with Steele and his guilty mole nowhere to be seen. It'd taken an entire search around camp and their snickering to find them and, once caught, the perpetrators had their dirt returned to them in dramatic fashion. You were thankful that Steele was good-humored enough to clean his suit atop Buckwheat instead of holding everyone up to do it at camp.

<><><><><>

>August 12th, 1884.

A day of progress. One of travel and adventure! Of roaming endless plains, following the Sacramento River, counting trees until your eyes went blurry. Reading and reading to Andrew, bouts of silence while he thought and you caught your breath, sparse questions here and there when he remembered to ask.

You did so much. You met some strangers, you made a fire, you exchanged notes, you set up camp, you slept...

<><><><><>

>August 13th, 1884...

...Sacramento finally seemed within reach.

You hadn't slept at a proper bed in days now.

There was a crick in your neck that hadn't gone. Bags under your eyes so heavy that you could feel them weighing down your cheeks. It was hard to keep a straight posture.

The warm wind against your face was the only thing keeping you awake. That, and the occasional movements of your companions upon your neck or chest. Florian and Taylor had been sleeping fine. They seemed more than accustomed to you by now. It was hard not to envy them whenever they grabbed your attention...

"Gentlemen, I think it's best we take a break."

The words shot through your heart like Cupid's arrows. A break? And Andrew was suggesting it...

Steele had to agree for you to believe that it was real. You had to start changing course, leaving the river, trotting into a tiny town...

You chuckled. It reminded you of Shenanigan's Gulch, if that town hadn't had any mountains. Relatively close to a large forest, small in scope, nearby a crippled railroad...

Steele vocalized your thoughts and the two of you shared a laugh about it. Andrew asked for an explanation: one that Steele provided while you slipped off of Buckwheat and began wandering to the nearest hotel. You had enough money to stay a while, surely...

<><><><><>

>August 14th, 1884...

...well, no, you hadn't. But Steele had, just barely, and was more than happy to book the three of you into the nearest hotel.

Your rest there had felt heavenly. Your dreams were scattered with fluffy clouds, bright sunshine, and your loved ones. Looker ran alongside you above the clouds with his four puppies, barking as the four of you jumped from cloud to cloud more easily than anything you'd done in your life. The four of you soon plummeted to earth only to be caught by your family, Junior and your siblings catching the dogs while your dad caught you, conversation abounding as you tried to get ma and pa to join you up there. It was so new and exciting, you'd insisted, they'd love it. Looker had been safe, you begged, so they would be too.
Your family listened, entertaining your proposal. You explained to them just how fun all this newness was. Junior was curious, Mabel intrigued. Keith listened with rapt attention while Robbie was busy trying to keep one of the puppies still.
They all accepted it, your idea. They even seemed interested in your idea. To go up to the clouds, to jump around, to have fun...
But you weren't sure if they'd ever joined you up there.
You woke up too early to see whether they had.

By the time you'd awoken, the sun was well above the horizon. Your inhuman acquaintances were running around the room impatiently, peering out of windows or sniffing your hands to see if you were still alive, Taylor having spun an entire small hammock in the corner waiting for you to wake up. When you checked the time, it was already--

-----

"--noon! My word, I'd expected you to sleep through the entire day at this rate!" Steele straightened his bowtie and smiled again.

Andrew hadn't said a word, just chowing down on his beans and canned pork without a thought. Steele continued on. "It's good to see you, truly! Let's make this day the best it's been yet."

Odd, you hadn't seen him so happy in a while. And everyone else at the tiny saloon was staying quiet. Had he done something?

You stuck another piece of french toast in your mouth. It was soft and crunchy, smattered some kind of fruit jam, made just right. You had to remember to give the waittress a big tip...

"Where are we?" You finally felt awake enough to ask.
"Knight's Landing," Steele shot back in an instant. He almost seemed giddy. "It's such a noble name, isn't it? I wish the East had more monikers like it."

Andrew sneered through his food, forcing himself to swallow before quipping. "Wish I had the luxury t' be so excited 'bout tiny stuff like that."

You both ignored his bitterness and kept on eating, only for Steele to interrupt you fairly quickly. "Ah, Andrew, you had something to say, didn't you? Something quite fortunate!"

He seemed confused by the implication at first, only seeming to realize what Steele was referring to while he was chewing his food. He didn't wait to swallow before speaking up. "'ve found us a boat," he swallowed, "Walter. They're... sellin' tickets, to Yolo House guests like us. A steamer t' Sacramento."

He continued on. "They take horses 'n donkeys, I already asked. Now it's just up to you.
If you've got some studyin' to do around here that a ferry wouldn't let you, I can jus' take us to Sacramento on horseback. It'll be a bit longer, and ah doubt you'll find it as comf'rtable seein' as you were fallin' asleep back there," the implication prompted some blush on your part. It was hard to remember the past few days-- had you really been falling asleep out there?

Andrew continued. "But, it'll be cheaper, so ah may as well offer. Your friend over here'll be payin' for the boat or my services, so it's no skin off my back either way. So.."

"Are you a ferryin' man? Or would you rather stick to the horses 'n ride t' Sacramento like we've been doin' the past few days?"

>You're a ferrying man alright. This trip has been exhausting, assuming Andrew is telling the truth. You'll just take a few tickets there and be on your merry way. Steele can surely afford it.

>No, your ego's been bruised. You can tough out this last bit. Even if it means you'll end up there by tomorrow evening instead of tomorrow morning, you're willing to save Steele's money and keep yourself awake for this final stretch.

>Well... why not both? Offer to pay for Andrew to ferry with you. As much as you hate to admit it, his gun provides more defense than your neofauna can provide and you don't want to travel unarmed.

>>6160550
>>6160552
>>6160554
>>6160555

>Well... why not both? Offer to pay for Andrew to ferry with you. As much as you hate to admit it, his gun provides more defense than your neofauna can provide and you don't want to travel unarmed.

Waltur's goin to the NoCal riviera alright. Not our money, not our problem. It doesn't get much easier than mooching off of a store chain magnate.

>>6160555
>No, your ego's been bruised. You can tough out this last bit. Even if it means you'll end up there by tomorrow evening instead of tomorrow morning, you're willing to save Steele's money and keep yourself awake for this final stretch.
Money matters. We can always rest and recover wherever, but money is life

>>6160575
You seem to underestimate just how minted Steele is. You think he can't just withdraw an extra grand (in 1884 money) from a Sacramento bank?

>>6160555
>No, your ego's been bruised. You can tough out this last bit. Even if it means you'll end up there by tomorrow evening instead of tomorrow morning, you're willing to save Steele's money and keep yourself awake for this final stretch.
Hope Steele appreciates this.

>>6160555
>No, your ego's been bruised. You can tough out this last bit. Even if it means you'll end up there by tomorrow evening instead of tomorrow morning, you're willing to save Steele's money and keep yourself awake for this final stretch.

>>6160550
Also
>senpai'ly
God damnit, 4chan.

>>6160708
Aw, what? Why'd 4chan censor that? It just says "family" with an accent. I hope that goes through. Just in case it doesnt: Senpai!ly

>>6160711
Nope. Still didn't go through. Is the word "senpai" censored?

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>>6161051
Oh my god, it is.

>>6161051
>>6161053
that's very odd and I don't know why it's doing that. You can see the word it was supposed to be without the spoiler though.

anyways,
>>6160575
>>6160621
>>6160704
We're continuing on the horses!


Tomorrow!

I've been sick for the past few days and I think it's really peaking today, I've got a serious headache that ibuprofen isn't helping and im barely awake. I've been trying to write for an hour or two now and I've turned up basically nothing.

I'm going to hold off writing today to just get some rest. I'm not producing anything of quality and staring at screens is probably exacerbating the headache so i'm gonna go touch grass or something.

Sorry for the hold up. I'll post this next entry once i've recovered.

>>6161094
Get well soon, QM.

>>6161094
Sitewide word filter. Try typing
"S m h"
"T b h"
"F a m"
"C u c k"

>>6161094
Hahahaha it censors “f-a-m”.
I wonder if it censors all of the texting shorthands.

>>6161094
Rest up, PQM.

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Hello, hello! I'm well enough to be at my PC. I'll start writing now. Thank you all for the well-wishes! :)

5 days to Christmas, spooky. I hope this passes before then.

"Well, now that you mention studies..." ...better to pin it on that than your own embarrassment... "...ah do think it'd be a better idea t' just skip the steamer n' ride there."

Steele sighed some relief, seemingly having remembered the extra cost halfway through your deciding, while Andrew just nodded and went back to his food.

You poked at your own for a bit, finishing off the last few slices of French Toast you had before speaking up again. "There's no guarantee they'll take neofauna, right?"

The question seemed to pique your companions' curiosity. You elaborated. "The stable 'n Tehama refused us. This very saloon asked us to keep Buckwheat 'n the rest outside." Mary had been just as upset by that as she had been your insistence on her sleeping outside of Cora's house. "Ah doubt the steamer would've taken us anyways."

Steele objected. "Well-- perhaps, Buchanan, but it would take very little to sneak Buckwheat in as a regular donkey," he continued despite your weird looks, "simply a haircut and some washed ankles."

Andrew's brow was raising while he ate. It only lowered once he swallowed and replied. "Ah've tried washin' his ankles, Tom. Buckwheat seems t' really hate it. Wouldn't let you do it." His tone made it obvious that he would be the one preventing Steele from trying, not Buckwheat.

"Right," he continued, placing his utensils neatly upon his plate and getting to his feet, "ah'll meet you both outside. Finish up yer food 'n pay for me. It shouldn't be more than a day's ride."

<><><><><>

The ride out of Knight's Landing had been... somewhat disconcerting.

All three of you had noticed the increased presence of state militia the further along you got. You had neglected to comment on it, because pointing out the obvious was far less conversational than joking about a weird-looking tree, but by now it was impossible to ignore. Practically every other road or trail had two or more militia officers standing duty, stopping the three of you, asking for names and swears of innocence and if you had any weapons on you.

The closer you got to Sacramento, too, the harder it was to ignore their equipment. The dinky rifles of Redding were long gone by now, replaced with state-of-the-art shooting equipment that Andrew pointed out to you once you were out of earshot. "Those're some brand-new beauties. Wish ah had one of those," he once commented, "for the buffalo. It'd make the huntin' a lot easier."
The troops were even kitted out in armor-- a more harrowing sight than you'd anticipated-- many of their faces covered up by comprehensive steel helmets. Their limbs, too, were coated in the stuff-- patchy sheets of steel covered shoulders, chests, kneecaps, even necks. You wondered how on earth they managed their positions for so long in such harsh gear under such harsh sunlight.

Less and less neofauna dotted the trail, growing as sparse as the regular animals they now dominated, their presence only being noticed through scratches or burn marks or signs of conflict elsewhere. You and Andrew found yourselves reading your notes on the Stars of Death and massive eagle chicks around the same time, occasionally glancing up at the sky to see if there were any around.

And yet... the closer you got to Sacramento, the more your heart began to soar. It was hard not to be excited. You could finally check if your family had sent you anything. You could send something back! Hell, you could send them a telegram so you wouldn't have to wait weeks to hear from them again! And, if the situation was stable enough, maybe they could even do the same! It'd be as close to talking as you could get, so far away from them.

And as the roads became more and more defined, as you saw more and more people going back and forth upon them, as the sparse forest began to swell into a dirty field and even that began to dissipate...

...you found yourself smiling upon no place other than Sacramento itself.

<><><><><>

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It felt odd, wandering into the biggest city in the state on horseback.

You weren't alone, of course, but there were so many other people in so many other modes of transport. You saw people in carriages, on bicycles, on nothing more than their loafers or Mary Janes. The city truly lived up to its grandiose reputation-- it was hard to walk around it without feeling almost ant-like. You'd followed the river into the city's outskirts, unsure of your exact positioning, noticing a growing number of establishments big and small to your left as you carried on, unable to ignore how even the smallest buildings were nearly thrice your height.

Each and every one of the city's citizens seemed indistinguishable from the other, a mass of flat hats and blazers and short dresses and dusters, going about their days in a rush to get someplace you couldn't fathom. Those that weren't on the streets could be heard shouting from rooftops, arguing with family, laying out laundry on their windowsills or chowing down on early dinners. People were scattered across every level of the city, sneering and cheering and jeering and all. Drunkards littered the few bars around these parts, beggars blending in seamlessly among them (until you got too close, of course), children ran through the crowd trying to escape their doting mothers, miners complained of their rowdiness while hauling wheelbarrows of lumber and ores down the street.

Even the river itself was congested with steamers, trowlers, ships of all kind carrying cargo, people, animals, more. Smoke and steam and all kinds of vapors escaped their chimneys while they chugged along the bank spraying water behind them and at any man so unfortunate as to be on the river's shore.

While your group said nothing, the city spoke for you.

Not a block could be passed without at least one building torn, burnt, wrecked or scarred. The city streets were dirty, covered in rubbish and debris, some even stacked with piles of broken wood or stone that passerby would step over like they were nothing. Some of the larger piles almost stood as tall as the people that had to walk around them. Almost every street had a construction or clean-up crew, numbering nearly as many as the plethora of state militia standing guard and greeting people on their morning commutes. The sky itself almost seemed dirty, cluttered with billowing clouds of smoke and the very few neofauna and birds that not even the most accurate rifle seemed to be able to shoot.

The sight was somewhat unsettling... but you moved past that, eager to focus instead on what this city could finally offer you.

You trotted into town without harassment. Steele's permanent smile was met with many more as he tipped his hat towards anyone that cared to look at him and his mole. Your own neofauna gladly rode upon or beside you, their presence unmolested and their moods chipper, Taylor fast asleep on your shoulders while Mary and Florian gladly trotted along by your side.

Andrew eventually stopped, turning his horse into a smaller dirt street and prompting you to follow with Buckwheat. You lightly kicked the muddy mule to obey and soon found yourselves someplace quieter.

-----

There was nothing but rubbish here. You figured this place might have been used as a sort of temporary deposit for all the excess trash the larger streets had. There was only so much you could pile up on the sidewalk before those became unusable, after all, and you saw no reason that someone would dirty this place so badly otherwise. It was a shame that this seemed to be the only quiet part of the city.

All three of you squeezed into the smaller street, nestling yourselves between the walls of two brick buildings, adjusting your various hats to block the setting sun as you came to a slow halt and returned your shoes to the dirt.

Andrew dismounted Dora and got straight to the point. "Right. I've got buffalo t' hunt, you've got studies t' do. This's where we part ways."
He seemed almost dismayed by the statement, not keeping eye contact with either of you as he spoke it. "Buckwheat, hold'm still."

Both you and Steele soon dismounted the donkey with Andrew's help. Steele, of course, didn't dismount quietly. "Oh, really? I was-- I was hoping I could maybe persuade you to ride us around town! Sacramento's a big city, after all! Surely you know more about it than us, yes? You've been here before?"

Andrew gave a grunt and a nod, not stopping as he began loading Buckwheat with some of the extra cargo Dora had been carrying for him. Steele continued. "I can pay you after I've cashed in my investments. You know I'm low on funds right now, but I'll have plenty to spare once I find the firm..."

Andrew barely let Steele trail off before asking. "Which firm'n where?"

This prompted the businessman to grin and keep at it. "Oh, well, I haven't a clue! I'd be lost without a guide like you! That's why I'm insisting you continue your services while we're here."

He earned himself a skeptical stare from Andrew, yet was undeterred. "I am certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it would hardly inconvenience you as much as you seem to claim."

Andrew's reply remained uncertain. "I may have been here before, Tom, but I ain't a tour guide." He waited, then continued: "Besides, d'you really think ah'd believe that you want t' pay me more than ah'd make from sellin' buffalo pelts?"

Steele's tone wavered slightly. "Well-- yes! What buffalo would you be finding here in California, anyways? They're in the north, and we are quite firmly south!" He trailed off into a laugh that was met with stark silence.

Andrew replied quietly, almost sounding disinterested. "...none, Tom. None ah can hunt." He mumbled something about 'not having stock, either', and continued packing Buckwheat's back with bags.

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Steele made yet another start. "Well, then... there's nothing stopping you, is there? I'll be paying you more than you would make hunting buffalo, because hunting buffalo would make you nothing!"

A wayward breeze flew into the alleyway, brushing past the pair of men now staring at each other, punctuating their showdown until one admitted defeat.

"...you better be made of money, old man. Buffalo hide isn't cheap." Steele smiled from ear to ear, only to be cut off once more-- "...but, 's long 's ah can eat'n sleep on what you pay me, I might be willin' to negotiate on the pricing."

The two conversation descended into one-sided chattering from thereon out as Steele tried desperately to find a price that Andrew would accept... all the while, Andrew hoisted both you and Steele back onto Buckwheat before getting onto Dora and turning around to lead the way onto Sacramento's many streets.

-----

There was far too much to do here. At every single corner there was something new. A library! A tailor's! Barbers and grocers and post offices and penitentiaries and lodging houses and... you were losing track of the city's offerings very quickly. The dizzying task wasn't one you wanted to continue.

Andrew and Steele had left you for the time being, with the latter insisting that Steele ferry him to his specific investment firm in another part of town before all else, so you had who knew how many hours to wander the streets of Sacramento in search of a telegram office. You knew there had to be at least one private one here, surely, and if all else... maybe you could pester the state government? Surely your family being trapped in New York City could qualify as enough of an emergency for them to cooperate...

You perished the thought. You'd find a private service, for sure, on your own. Even if this city was starting to feel outright labyrinthian, you knew you could do something as simple as find a building within it. If you got desperate enough, you could even try to ask a local for directions. Or maybe the papers would have some kind of map built in? Surely that would be necessary someplace as big as this.

Regardless, simply thinking about finding it would get you nowhere. You had to take action and move your feet...

>Take the bridge across the Sacramento and see if there's a service someplace on the wharf.

>Start towards the Capitol building instead, hedging your bets on one or two offices being around there. You can see the building from here, so it shouldn't be too hard...

>Ignore the telegram offices entirely, for now, and focus on some kind of post office instead. How were you going to send a telegram without knowing whether your family had even seen your first letter?

>Do something else! [Write-in.]

>>6161836
>>6161838
>>6161839
>>6161840
>>6161841

>Take the bridge across the Sacramento and see if there's a service someplace on the wharf.

Telegrams might not work, but its worth a try. Not like we can't visit a post office later instead.

>>6161880
+1

>>6161841
>Take the bridge across the Sacramento and see if there's a service someplace on the wharf.

>>6161841
>>Take the bridge across the Sacramento and see if there's a service someplace on the wharf.

>>6161841
>>Start towards the Capitol building instead, hedging your bets on one or two offices being around there. You can see the building from here, so it shouldn't be too hard...

>>6161880
>>6161884
>>6161893
>>6162172
To my surprise, the wharf has won out! I'll write something a bit shorter for it soon.

>>6161840
>Andrew replied quietly, almost sounding disinterested. "...none, Tom. None ah can hunt." He mumbled something about 'not having stock, either', and continued packing Buckwheat's back with bags.
What exactly are you up to, Andrew...?

>>6161841
>Take the bridge across the Sacramento and see if there's a service someplace on the wharf.

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...to the wharf, of course.

It seemed sensible. If people wanted to contact family, the most profitable place to do that would probably be nearby a port. People just getting off their ferries would definitely be hungering for some kind of messaging service.

You made a motion to Mary, formerly resting by your side, and started towards the city's bridge over the river.

It was a beautiful and eerie thing. Impossible to miss, criss-crossed on both sides by lattice spun only from steel and brought out of the water with mighty pillars, the Sacramento Bridge was a crossing more imposing than any you could remember seeing.
The tracks upon it made you wonder if humans were even meant to cross it, with how little space they had on their sides, but the many broken connections assured you that, whether humans were originally meant to cross it or not... they had little choice but to do so now.

Yet even here, above the water and almost away from the city, Sacramento's chitter-chatter never ceased.
Beggars lined the sides of the bridge. Many held splintered planks of wood with demands written upon them-- many more simply shouted their desires to passers-by or other beggars. You forced your sight away from them, remembering New York City's breed of bum and not trusting Sacramento's to be any different, keeping your eyes on the task ahead no matter how much it ate at you.

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The wharf itself was... no different.
The streets were lined with people. At first you thought most of them were fishers or passengers, as would suit such a place, but it quickly came to your attention that almost half of them were spending their time harassing people who had something to give them anything. Some of them were obviously poor, with dirty or damaged clothes. Some of them had been doing this for a while.

But, from what you could see, most of them had not. You saw people just like this on the other side of the bridge. going about their days as if they had nothing to worry about. Wearing proper clothes, doing proper chores. Yet here, such routines by the very same people had instead been replaced by... desperation.

Wailing to streetfolk about how they'd lost their house. Begging for some spare change to afford a telegraph to someone they loved. Offering to hitchhike someplace "better" for voluntary servitude or trying to sneak onto departing steamers. When you passed them by, you almost had to jump out of the way of one woman who seemed determine to sell you one of her shoes just so she could send a letter.

It occurred to you that none of them had flinched at the sight of your neofauna. None of them had booed or shied away from Mary like those in the previous towns had. Not one person seemed to even notice Florian, while Taylor was almost taken for granted. Perhaps it was because there seemed to be almost none here? No, it couldn't be that. The river was still flushed with fish, natural and not, and you could see as much even from here...

...there it was.

You pulled yourself out of your head as your eyes forced themselves onto it: "Atlantacific Telegraph Co," a giant sign upon an equally-giant building read.

The two-story shingled building was partly charred, its roof uneven. It was completely covered, sure, but part of the roof was tarp and the only remaining shingles were coal-black. The soot dusting parts of the building made you figure that they weren't always that color. The company towered over most other buildings nearby, sticking out in a row of mostly one-story fishing shacks, only surpassed by the wharf's three-story centerpiece and a few other scattered businesses.

You didn't hesitate to fling open the door and walk in.

-----

How on earth could so many people fit in here??

That was the only thing on your mind as you stepped indoors, your nose assaulted by the sheer amount of smells and your skin assaulted by the sheer amount of crowding you had to endure. You swore this place was full to burst-- how on earth any business could get done was beyond you. The only indication that people were moving at all was that the staircase straight ahead of you, seemingly gated-off, would occasionally take in a person or two.

Just as you noticed it, someone began descending the steps. A darkly-bearded man, bald on the head and greying in the face, his mouth obscured by a thick mustache and his eyes absent from the crowd. He was more finely-dressed than anyone else in the establishment, sporting a black suit and tie, and was almost dogpiled by the unwashed masses as he left the gated stairway behind him.

A cacophony erupted around the man as he made his way to the door. There was no escape from the screaming, the begging, the confusion, the noise--

You made eye contact.
The man's stare was sharper than a dagger. Even as you saw no recognition in his eyes, no hint that he even had any idea who you were, you couldn't help but feel unsettled. There was something in his solemn glare that made you feel... put-in-place. Like you'd acted out and he was reprimanding you, somehow.

The moment lasted less than a second. You weren't even sure he'd been looking at you.
But it had gotten him to stop long enough for people to start taking glances at you.

The man left the building soon after. He took almost half of the crowd with him.

You raised a hand to pet Taylor behind the collar, wondering if he was somehow the cause...

"S-sir?"

Oh, someone was calling you. You turned to the front desk. "Yes, ma'am?"

"You're... y-you're here fer a telegraph, right?" The lady staffing it was small and nervous. You weren't even sure she was an adult, given the lack of breasts and the absolutely diminuitive stature.

You gave her a nod. "Yes, ma'am, whatever th' price may be."

"W-well... um..." She ducked under the desk and shuffled around a bit, emerging with a small piece of paper that she read off of. "We here at Atlantacific Telegraph are proud of offerin' only the best'n telegraphin' around these United States!" She cleared her throat and flipped it around. "Each telegraph is, um, ten words! Ten words per pers'n! We do not offer internationals, yet, but we do offer domestic fer, um," she checked the front again, "ten cents!"

The lady looked up from her paper and tried to smile. "O-one per word, sir, s-so you gotta choose 'em caref'lly!"

You stuck a hand in your jean pocket and pulled out a dime. One of three. "That should do it."

The lady nodded and nabbed the coin out of your hand. "Yep--" --then stopped, frowning slightly. "Oh, um, we don' allow those creatures'n here, sir. I-it's state policy. You gotta leave them outside..."

-----

With Mary's protests quelled and the three once more sitting outside, the lady escorted you up the gated stairs and into a small room.

Within it was little more than a desk, a window, and an honest-to-God telegraph.

"T-ten words! I'll write them for you, um, a-an' you can jus' say 'em t' me." She closed the door behind you two.

Ten words.

Ten words to somehow explain how much you missed your family. How much they meant to you. How you couldn't sleep without seeing their faces, and how badly you hoped that they were safe.

Ten words.

What would you say?

>Write-in.

>>6162510
>>6162511
>>6162512
>>6162513

>Write-in.

In Sacramento. Befriended demons. Everybody safe? Miss you.

Love, Walter.

>>6162524
Consider this:
>Sacramento. Befriended demons. Heading east. Miss everybody, safe? Love, Walter.

>>6162532
Let's replace demons with Neofauna (we sent a letter before this, right?) and add "more" because the last letter also explained that Neofauna are pretty cool, actually.

So, the new telegram I propose is:
Sacramento. Befriended more Neofauna. Eastbound. Miss everybody, safe? Love, Walter.

>>6162538
+1

>>6162513

>>6162487
We’ve put a lot of trust in Andrew just because he hasn’t threatened us in some way.

We’ve never stopped to consider that this guy is kinda shady and we know nothing about him.

>>6162618
I think Waltuh also was quick to bond with him because hes' a fellow "trainer" in a world where most people still think Neofauna/Pokemon are demons.

>>6162538
+1

>>6162618
>>6162627

We might however also consider that this guy cannot read (properly).

Idk if it makes him any less evil, it's just a funny thing to take note of. He would probably not be taken seriously by many people outside of our little group without threatening violence.

I'm going to leave this vote open for another day just in case anyone else has any other ideas. Entry tomorrow.

>>6162639
Oh, I figure that's the case. He keeps making us read stuff to him. But despite there being few (if any) bison here, and him being forced to admit it he clearly still thinks there is buffalo hide to acquire somehow...

>"What buffalo would you be finding here in California, anyways? They're in the north, and we are quite firmly south!"
>"...none, Tom. None ah can hunt."
> "Well, then... there's nothing stopping you, is there? I'll be paying you more than you would make hunting buffalo, because hunting buffalo would make you nothing!"
>"...you better be made of money, old man. Buffalo hide isn't cheap."

He had SOME plan to make money up here, possibly involving hides, but not involving hunting. Theft? Smuggling?

>>6163227

Buffalo mon?

>>6163229
>These Pokémon live in herds of about 20 individuals.
>They charge wildly and headbutt everything. Their headbutts have enough destructive force to derail a train.
Bouffalant will murder the fuck out of him

>>6163233

Yeah, but does he know that? I think it might be for the best if we kept him far away from any Bouffalant for his own safety. If he has ulterior motives, they'll show up eventually anyways.

Also; considering Andrew is the only guy here with any real armament, it might be time for us to buy some bullets for this revolver of ours.

>>6163300
Contemporary firearms are probably of limited utility against neofauna. But against evil trainers... Well, maybe a piece would come in handy, yeah.

Right, apologies for the delay:

>>6162538
I'll nab this since it's the most-supported option. Writing.

You pondered the question for quite some time. Too long, maybe. You'd stopped yourself once, twice, three times now trying to find the words.

Eventually, you found a succinct and neutral way to try and say something.

"Sacramento, stop. Befriended more Neofauna--"

"Can you spell that out fer me? Ah don' really..."

"N-E-O-F-A-U-N-A, as one word, missus."

The girl thanked you quietly. You continued. "Stop. Eastbound, one word, stop. Miss everybody, comma, safe question mark. Love," you inhaled, "Walt'r."

You wanted to say more. Mabel, how was she? You were pretty sure her and Junior were turning another year older soon. You needed to get them both something, you thought, if only to show you still cared.

Oh-- Looker and the puppies! You kept thinking of them. Surely the pups would be reaching puberty? You couldn't imagine them as any bigger than when you'd last seen them-- small, slim-faced, smiling and short-haired...

"Um, mist'r?" The lady's voice snapped you out of it. "Have ah got it right?"

She'd spelled everything right, you were certain, but the address...

You spent some time correcting her on minutia just to make sure the message absolutely reached its destination properly. It took almost twenty minutes, with you going back and forth and, at one point, ditching and re-dictating the telegraph after noticing that she'd missed the comma, but eventually you finally forced yourself to pay the ten cents and thank the lady for her service.

It was only after you were heading down the spiral staircase that you realized you hadn't clarified whether you were in Sacramento or going to Sacramento or...

-----

Taylor jumped at you the moment you opened the door.

The bug latched onto your stomach and crawled up to the back of your neck, chittering something fierce and rubbing his head against your cheek. Mary soon followed, nudging her head into your leg, with Florian tottering after her and bouncing up and down to try and get your attention. You swept him up and stuck him in your pocket, smiling as you did so, before holding a hand to your forehead and scanning your surroundings.

The wharf was a little hard to see, what with the crowds of homeless and bright sunlight, but you could make out a few attractions here.

A fishing shack nearby was renting out rods and letting people fish in the river. You couldn't make out the pricing for any given rod, but it was still something. You were surprised the public were allowed to fish at all given what was in the river.

The port near that was still flooded with people-- those trying to get in, those trying to get out, those just hanging about begging for some kind of aide. Maybe if you asked around there you could learn the source of all this.

You couldn't find any post offices, restaurants, hotels... a lot of the area was dedicating to fishing and import/export work, it seemed, outside of the port. If you wanted some more business you'd have to cross the bridge again.

However, you could see some relatively untouched land in an area opposite the office you now stood at. The city trailed off somewhat quickly after the river, with streets trailing off not too far south of the river, and you were on the cusp of finally finishing up that journal. Once you had a hundred entries of undiscovered fauna, new or old, you'd be able to finally get in contact with your boss and pick up that huge payload...

...but maybe Andrew or Steele were already back and looking for you...

...a worry for another time. For now, you had a few hours to yourself to spend on whatever you wanted.

>Go fishing. You're half-certain you can pay the price of admission-- if not, you could always find a suitable stick and string. It's a bit crowded, but the activity is relaxing enough to let you kick back and unwind, which you really need after the last few days.

>Hang around the port and see if you can figure out what's going on that's bringing so many people to the city. Or what's going on IN the city. Or anything, really! It'd be nice to talk to someone other than Andrew or Steele.

>Leave the city for a little bit to go hunting for fauna. Maybe train your monsters to fight a little bit. You aren't certain you want to rely on Andrew so heavily for protection.

>Cross the bridge to go do something else. [What do you want to do?]

>Write-in.

>>6163824
>>6163825

>Cross the bridge to go do something else.

Let's see if we can buy some ammo for our iron, after which we can find a park to relax in. We need some rest.

>>6163833
+1

>>6163825
>Leave the city for a little bit to go hunting for fauna. Maybe train your monsters to fight a little bit. You aren't certain you want to rely on Andrew so heavily for protection.

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Alright, brief interjection:

Tomorrow is Christmas! Merry Christmas, in advance of course.

There are three of you here right now and I know most people have plans tomorrow. I personally did not have plans but have now been dragged into some that will likely take a long time, but I'm not sure they'll take the entire day.

Therefore:

If you're reading this quest, right now, are you planning on checking up on it tomorrow as well?

If most of you are still going to be here tomorrow, I'll try to find the time to post regardless. If not, I'll likely take the day off to focus on those other plans and return to updating on Boxing Day when more people are available.

50/50 on there being an entry today, tomorrow's plans require some prep work and I don't know how long that will take. If I don't show up, "how long" will probably be several hours.

>>6164280

>If you're reading this quest, right now, are you planning on checking up on it tomorrow as well?

Yes.

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>>6164280
Okay, nevermind, I just lost the ability to post both today and tomorrow anyways.

Merry Christmas! May you all have great Christmases! I'll see you all again on Boxing Day!

>>6163932
+1
Time to go full train-sperg, this is Pokémon after all.

>>6163825
>Leave the city for a little bit to go hunting for fauna. Maybe train your monsters to fight a little bit. You aren't certain you want to rely on Andrew so heavily for protection

>>6164331
That’s good QM. Holidays are for relaxing. I hope you had a good Christmas!

>>6163324
Didn’t Andrew waste a Whirlipede with his rifle? The sheriff’s gun was ineffective because he was firing it at creatures who were essentially hunks of solid steel.

Rolled 20 (1d150)

hello :)

It is Boxing Day! Therefore, I have returned!

>>6163932
>>6164811
>>6164908
Somewhat surprised that the vote actually changed while it was gone. Thanks for keeping the thread alive. :)

We'll be training our team and looking for neofauna while we're at it. Writing!

And what you wanted was to keep working towards that final stretch of notebook.

You'd filled out quite a lot of it by now. You were certain you'd need a second one sooner rather than later. For now, though, it was open season to fill up as much of this one as you could, and that untouched stretch of land seemed like the perfect place to start!

<><><><><>

You and your party found yourself squatting nearby an odd curve in the Sacramento River. Taylor sat by your side in the grass quietly ejecting a long thread of silk into the river, never moving his buggy eyes from the water, while Mary chewed absentmindedly upon Florian's small bud. To your surprise, Florian seemed only mildly bothered-- did he not have feeling in there?

Anyways, the goings-on of your own neofauna were all well and good, but you were too busy with observations of others to really notice them. There was an absolute plethora of newer neofauna to look at here, after all! Just now, you were surprisingly close to the fluffiest bunny rabbit you'd ever seen. One of its ears seemed curled up, somehow, from what you figured to be an injury. It seemed a reasonable assumption, given the enormous ball of fluff on the end of the rabbit's regular ear also adorning the injured one. The fluff, however, was of minor importance in comparison to the bunny's bipedalism. Its shorter legs and longer arms completely baffled you and all your knowledge on rabbits-- why on earth would a sensitive, speedy, prey animal evolve in a way that made it harder for it to run? Further still, why was it whooping like a monkey? Was it part primate? It certainly seemed rather tolerant of you...

You shuddered at the thought. It was bad enough that you'd spotted another little plant-person, worse still that it had looked far more like a human girl than you'd expected possible-- now they and Florian were making you wonder if these creatures were somehow related to humans!
You decided to convince yourself otherwise, brushing it off as a mere coincidence as you did their great similarity to natural fauna, instead diverting your attention to a more pressing matter: self-defense.

Andrew could help you, of course, with that. You were paying him to, after all, and his marksmanship was more than competent. But... Andrew wasn't here right now. And you were sure such a scenario would repeat itself in the future... it wouldn't be a bad idea to prepare for the worst, now, would it?

To that end, you returned to your small posse of neofauna and plucked Florian out of Mary's clutches to return to your training.

-----

File: post10.jpg (1.03 MB, 4000x2250)

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The two of you stood in a more barren part of the area, opposite a thick tree. In the tree sat one of the small monochrome birds you'd seen plenty of on the way here. It was to be used as a target.

The grass was thinner here, so if Mary missed a bolt she wouldn't set anything alight. But her thunderbolts weren't of any concern to you at the moment. No, you were more interested in a strange technique Mary had seemed to employ against a large-eyed rat before. Upon being nearly bitten, she'd somehow released enormous chunks of her wool onto the rat that stuck to it like glue. That let her escape... and, somehow, keep enough wool on her to cover her body like nothing had happened.

You wanted to replicate this action and tie it to a command. Its name was a little hard to decide on, but after some thinking you believed you'd gotten a good-enough idea to tie it to. So you stood here, clumps of cotton from your bag now in your hand, trying to communicate to Mary that you wanted her to do what you do...

"Hu-ah!" You threw the balls at the bird with force!

Unfortunately for you, they were still made of cotton. They tumbled into the grass, never managing to make it very far, sticking to the ground and immediately clinging to every splintered twig that decorated it.

Mary, seeing this, gave you a smile. Then, she turned to the bird. She knew exactly what you wanted from her! Less than a minute later--

CRR-ACK

--the bird was on the ground, fried.

Nevermind.
You sighed and gave Mary a disapproving look. She just tilted her head at you, confused. How to explain this. "Uh..."

You tugged at her wool, then redid the throwing motion. "Do what ah did... with your wool."

Another head tilt followed.
Why were you speaking to her in full sentences, again? You shook your head and patted Mary's. "...it's fine, we'll get it 'nother time."

You'd have to put a pin in it for now, but that strange wool technique seemed very useful. And Mary was only getting more and more eager to battle her kin with each training session, so... maybe next time.

-----

Taylor, meanwhile... had barely fought at all.

You were apprehensive about even training him, but one look at Florian told you that Taylor would be of far more use in a fight. Heck, just now he'd been wrestling with a minnow that had latched onto his silk line and triumphed over the creature like it had barely posed a threat. That kind of strength made you wonder...

...enough to bring Taylor to the same field Mary sat in (now grazing on some yellow grass instead of training beside you) and have him practice against the bird Mary had vanquished.

You held the small being up, moving its limp wings and making mock noises, trying to irritate Taylor into attacking it. This worked... a little too well.

Taylor arched up, his strange head-bumps quivering, hissing at the corpse like a cat would at a dog. Just as you were about to drop the act and comfort him, the little bug launched himself at the bird with determination! He managed to smack the corpse, full-body, out of your hand and into your lap. This prompted some kind of pause from the bug before it launched right onto some kind of nibbling around the bird's--

Biting. That was a proper bite. You could see marks on the part of the forehead that Taylor was attacking. It was a rather uncomfortable reminder of the bug's powerful mandibles... but it was all the proof you needed to confirm that Taylor wouldn't make a terrible fighting partner.

You spent the rest of your time setting up various targets for the bug. You kept them all very tiny-- the biggest targets were never larger than that bird, for if you tried anything larger the bug would either cower or not register it as a threat. That would have to be trained out of him, of course, but it was more important that you knew what triggered him to attack in the first place.

-----

By the end of the session, you figured you had a decent idea. In your notes you wrote your observations: "...Taylor seems fearful, but strong. Can defeat smaller creatures, somewhat handle similar sized. Attacks are often caused by an immediate threat, harsh contact from a larger creature, or..." You brought your pencil to your chin for a moment, trying to remember... "...fish?"

It was harder to nail down the causes than you'd expected. But Taylor really did seem to dislike fish. You'd brought him some of the small fish from the river and he'd never hesitated to attack them. He never lost, either. Maybe that was why he liked fighting them so much...? Only God knew for sure.

You'd have to wait until later to confirm it for yourself, too, as the sun had started creeping towards the horizon. Some time in the afternoon, you figured, and definitely long-enough after you'd left the wharf behind to justify returning to Sacramento.

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Without further ado, you scooped Taylor up onto your shoulders and beckoned for Mary to follow you. Florian was picked up alongside the rest of your possessions, and the four of you started towards the wharf's bridge.

<><><><><>

It took long enough to find Steele and Andrew that the sky had turned cloudy.

You finally found your companions by the capitol, being led to them by Indiana after the mole had sniffed you out a block away. The eager mole had offered a claw for you to grab as he led you down the dirty Sacramento streets, through narrow sidewalks and cramped buildings covered in soot and swarmed by strangers, away from the crowd and noise into a small alleyway that opened up into the grand parliamentary square.

Now, the three of you stood on an enormous field of green, slightly desaturated by the darker sky above, on the most distant parts of the capitol lawn. Instead of turning your attention to the overwhelming mass of domed white providence in the background and the endless rigid paths pouring out in front of it, the three of you focused on each other.

Steele was even giddier than normal. "Buchanan! It's good to see you again! You won't believe my serendipity! Apparently, gold stocks are on the decline..."

Andrew was leaning on Dora, Buckwheat on his other side, his expression more exhausted than you'd seen him in some time. "Of course they are, old man. This recession's hittin' everyone."

You chimed in with a hand in your pocket. "So you've been short-changed?"

Steele shook his head so much his cheeks flung back and forth. "No, no! Quite the opposite, in fact! I got out just before I've heard things are going to crash! I would have, indubitably, earned more had we gotten here earlier. That is simply a given!" You frowned a bit before he continued. "But, regardless of our tardiness, I have checked out MORE than enough to make back my investment! And, Buchanan, I must thank you incredibly for helping me get here!"

The man leapt for your free left hand, shaking it hard with both of his own before you could even register that he'd done so. "This fortune could last us years out in the countryside if ever we were to be so misfortunate! My trip home will be effortless!"

He kept going on and on about the benefits for a while. It was hard not to catch his infectious excitement, but you'd only noticed when Andrew asked. "What're you smilin' about?"

"Oh, uh, 'm jus' happy for Steele ah think. Aren't you?"

Andrew chuckled. You couldn't tell whether it was a happy chuckle or a tired chuckle. "Ah think ah'd be a lot happier if ah hadn't had to hear all this for hours before he got that fortune've his. He's been goin' on like this since the moment you left."

A militia officer across the street was shouting something you couldn't hear. He was wearing a... strange uniform?
He wore the older uniforms you'd seen farther away from Sacramento-- those without any steel plating whatsoever, with army hats and boots. By his side, however, was the same modern gun that the plated militiamen here wore.

One of the little plant-girls stood by his side, mimicking his actions.

"Can't take yer eyes off 'em even in the city?" Andrew questioned.

"No, not really..." ...you sounded bashful, but your face betrayed no embarrassment. It was an odd sight. "You're curious too, aren't you? A-ah mean, I've seen a few people'n neofauna, 'n it shouldn't be a surprise to me now," you briefly glanced at Buckwheat, who gave you an approving huff, "but it's a soldier. Ah thought they... weren't like you."

Andrew paused for a moment. You thought he'd been thinking, but the hunter instead gave a salty 'pah' and shook his head. "All ah did was help a funny-lookin' donkey on the side'a the road when it was hurt. If you're a human with any compassion, ah can bet you'd do the same. It shouldn't be so surprisin' t' see more people like me."

Steele interrupted the both of you-- literally, inserting himself in between the two of you and snapping his fingers. "Neither of you have been listening to me for the last ten minutes!"
Funny, you only felt half of that time pass you by.

You didn't realize you were nodding along until he'd given you a surprisingly unsettling grimace. "I planned an entire evening for the three of us, and here you are chit-chattering about less important matters! For shame!"

He brought a handkerchief to his mouth and cleared his throat, then went on: "I'll truncate it for the pair of you: we are going to a nice restaurant today, unlike those run-down saloons, after which we shall be staying at a hotel! Not in sleeping bags! Tomorrow morning we can go on a steamer! Or go fishing! Or whatever I feel like, or whatever you inquire about!" The money was getting to his head, clearly. "I could even buy Mary a bow made out of diamonds if you so wish!" The sheep bleated at the mention of her name.

The man's glare had faded into a contented smile again. He adjusted his bow tie and bowler hat before concluding loudly. "The journey to Indiana is a long one! I would rather not undertake it without plenty of rest first! And it is my preference to take this great rest in luxury! SO, as my companions, you shall join me in this effort whether you like it or not!"

Andrew almost seemed to want to argue... before sighing and letting go. Something told you he'd finally broken, and he just shook his head. "I hope he's over this by t'morrow." You chuckled and nodded your agreement, keeping it ambiguous (to Steele) whether it was in agreement with the plan or agreement with Andrew's quiet comment.

-----

According to Steele, dinner was in two hours. He'd been okay with this primarily because he wanted to take a walk around the capitol lawn, 'for health reasons'. You didn't question the man's intentions, instead turning your attention towards...

>...Andrew. You'd been wondering about him. Would it hurt to ask him more about himself?

>...joining Steele, if only to conversate. He was, if nothing else, entertaining. Besides, you've got an idea of what you want to do tomorrow... [Write-in what you want to do.]
>[Alternatively, if you don't have any ideas for tomorrow but still want to listen to Steele, just exclude everything after "entertaining".]

>...the displaced militia soldier and his plant-girl. He hadn't moved from that spot in some time now and was still shouting. He was a very curious man.

>...a newspaper stand closer to the capitol. It'd be wise to read up on current happenings just to keep yourself in-the-know.

>...the post office a few buildings away from the soldier. Your family had surely responded to that second letter by now...

>...something else. [Write-in.]

>>6165348
>...a newspaper stand closer to the capitol. It'd be wise to read up on current happenings just to keep yourself in-the-know.
Huey Lewis and the News

>>6165348
>...a newspaper stand closer to the capitol. It'd be wise to read up on current happenings just to keep yourself in-the-know.

File: mfw.png (259 KB, 453x340)

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>>6165350
mfw

>>6165340
>>6165343
>>6165344
>>6165345
>>6165347
>>6165348

>...the displaced militia soldier and his plant-girl. He hadn't moved from that spot in some time now and was still shouting. He was a very curious man.

>>6165348
>>...the displaced militia soldier and his plant-girl. He hadn't moved from that spot in some time now and was still shouting. He was a very curious man.

>>6165348
>...the displaced militia soldier and his plant-girl. He hadn't moved from that spot in some time now and was still shouting. He was a very curious man.

File: shimmy.gif (1.81 MB, 498x336)

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Thank you for the tiebreaker, /qtg/ers!

>>6165387
>>6165541
>>6165591
We'll be approaching the militiaman tomorrow.

>>6165350
>>6165353
You like Huey Lewis and the News? Their early work was a little too new wave for my taste. But when Sports came out in '83, I think they really came into their own, commercially and artistically. The whole album has a clear, crisp sound, and a new sheen of consummate professionalism that really gives the songs a big boost. He's been compared to Elvis Costello, but I think Huey has a far more bitter, cynical sense of humor. In '87, Huey released this; Fore!, their most accomplished album. I think their undisputed masterpiece is "Hip To Be Square". A song so catchy, most people probably don't listen to the lyrics. But they should, because it's not just about the pleasures of conformity and the importance of trends. It's also a personal statement about the band itself.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LB5YkmjalDg&pp=ygUtaHVleSBsZXdpcyBhbmQgdGhlIG5ld3MgaXQncyBoaXAgdG8gYmUgc3F1YXJl

>>6165773
I raise you this
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8CvqmD0CZao

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>>6165773
We will be approaching the militiaman on 12/31/2024.

I got sick again, I'm writing this from bed. I cannot think clearly and have spent the last 3 hours trying to get something dwon on paper, nothing's coming. Really pissed off because i've felt completley fine the last three days and then yesterday morning I just got hit like a truck and it's just gotten wors since. Minor headache to an entire day straight of coughing and no sense of taste

Fuck the curse, i'll try and sleep this off and make sure I get at least one more post out by the end of the year. Do not want to leave you guys hanging.

See you then

>>6166457
Oof... Focus on getting well, QM. We'll be here when you're ready.

>>6166457

Hope you do get better soon. We will indeed be waiting.

>>6166457
Oh damn. Sounds like you got the kung flu.

Hope you get better soon QM. We’ll be here for ya when you feel better!

>>6166457
Please take care, QM. Sounds like the coof got you.

Right; hello.

>>6166458
>>6166464
>>6166734
>>6166816
Thank you for the well-wishes. I probably got something kind of like Covid but not actually Covid? I'm not sure. Similar symptoms but I actually ended up with a very mild fever and way more ENT issues than Covid gave me before.

Regardless, I'm still not at 100% (if I had to estimate, maybe like 60%?) but I am going to keep my promise and start writing soon. Expect an entry within the next 5 hours.

...who else but the soldier and his plant-like companion.

He'd been standing there shouting something for at least twenty minutes now. You were impressed his voice hadn't gone hoarse. And yet, as you approached, he seemed to finally stop shouting to--

"Hey! Another Stater!" Wha--?

The soldier gave you a big grin and threw his arms wide open. The gesture almost startled you-- it was hard for it not to, given that the man was barely a foot away when he did it-- but you composed yourself quickly and gave the man a tentative wave. "I'm just a humble trav'ler, stranger. Don't know what exactly you mean."

The soldier blinked for a moment before looking to the right of you and replying, confused. "Eh? You're joking with me, right? You've got a creature right by your side!" The man motioned towards Mary. "A-and on your neck, even." Then Taylor. "You've gotta be Stater stock."

You paused for a moment, the both of you mutually lost, before it finally clicked. "Oh! You're an actor, right?"

The soldier descended into further confusion, so you clarified. "You're practicin' some theater bit outside?"

You were met with a blank stare. "Sir, I haven't got any kind of acting chops. And if I did, I'd never bring my little Missy along with me." The small plant by his side mimicked his confusion.

His... Missy? It was a little hard not to laugh at the continued confusion. Under your breath, quietly, with some nerves, but... it was funny. You really thought you had it there. "W-well, uh, if you're not practicin' some bit... what's with the uniform? And the shouting? Ah thought you soldiers were supposed t' be in tougher armor 'n all... quieter..."

Further bafflement. The soldier twiddled his long brown mustache and scratched his bearded chin. "I've not got the new stuff yet. Actually, I was gonna go get some new stuff next evening. But, uh, if I may ask-- you've got..." ...he counted slowly... "...three creatures. How'd you happen by them? Especially without any tie to us folk?"
His plant creature put a petal to its chin and eyed you suspiciously.

From the speed of his counting, you reckoned that this soldier wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. He was already talking about a lot of stuff you didn't know. You wanted to know more, and yet... could you trust him?

It'd be rude not to reply. But you needed to do so carefully in case there was some ulterior motive to this.

[Choose three things to talk about with the soldier. The top 3 most-picked answers will be chosen. They won't comprise the entire conversation.]

>Be honest about your party's origins and bring up how the nutberries helped you befriend them.

>Attempt to dodge the question by asking about his flower-creature instead.

>"Us folk"? Does he mean Staters, whatever those are? Inquire further.

>Question who "Missy" is.

>Ask why he's shouting at random strangers and conversating with you in armor. Is he just wearing his armor off-duty? Or is this breaking protocol somehow?

>Ask if "new stuff" involved a new gun and where you could buy some bullets or firearms nearby.

>Ask about the new neofauna laws that seem to be creeping into every town around. Why would such laws be instated if the military itself was going to have neofauna by their side?

>>6167993
>Attempt to dodge the question by asking about his flower-creature instead.
>"Us folk"? Does he mean Staters, whatever those are? Inquire further.
>Ask about the new neofauna laws that seem to be creeping into every town around. Why would such laws be instated if the military itself was going to have neofauna by their side?
Happy New Year! Hope you feel better soon!

>>6168121
+1

>>6167992
>>6167993

>Be honest about your party's origins and bring up how the nutberries helped you befriend them.

>"Us folk"? Does he mean Staters, whatever those are? Inquire further.

>Ask about the new neofauna laws that seem to be creeping into every town around. Why would such laws be instated if the military itself was going to have neofauna by their side?

Honesty is a virtue. Besides, I dont think this dimwit would get much of it anyway.

>>6167993
>"Us folk"? Does he mean Staters, whatever those are? Inquire further.
>Attempt to dodge the question by asking about his flower-creature instead.
>Ask about the new neofauna laws that seem to be creeping into every town around. Why would such laws be instated if the military itself was going to have neofauna by their side?

(going to leave this open for another day to gather some more answers and rest up)

>>6168517
Fair. I hope you're on the mend?

>>6169250
unfortunately not really, seems more like I'm going through periods of slight reprieve before some new bullshit comes to knock the brains out of my head. For instance, I can breathe now... but now my ears are constantly plugged with a headache lol.

I can't see myself still un-writeably sick by the weekend but i'm seriously considering taking today and tomorrow off to just rest because i'm not getting anything doen like this

>>6169288
I think i'll go through with it, sturggling again. Sorry for the prolonged delay. I promise things will be abck on track by next week

>>6169325
It's a hobby, QM. Your health is more important. We'll be here when you return.

alright, so

I am healed enough to write, I think.
I can write a proper sentence again and most of my issues are minor enough not to distract from brainstorming.

From here on out I'll try to return to the daily schedule. At worst it'll be once every two days, as I promised in the OP. Sorry for the hold-up.

On that note, I'll pluck:
>"Us folk"? Does he mean Staters, whatever those are? Inquire further.
>Ask about the new neofauna laws that seem to be creeping into every town around. Why would such laws be instated if the military itself was going to have neofauna by their side?
and
>Attempt to dodge the question by asking about his flower-creature instead.
from the results since I didn't get any more votes and these three won out 3-1.

Writing now.

Also, happy New Year! I only just realized I hadn't said it yet lol. Hopefully 2025 turns out better than 2024 was.

>>6170456
Happy New Year, and welcome back!

File: post12.jpg (23 KB, 600x600)

23 KB JPG

You figured it'd be safest to keep the origins of your party a secret. To that end, you decided to turn the question on him.

"Well, how'd you meet yours?" You didn't notice the man opening his mouth, instead continuing on. "Ah doubt our stories are very different."

He nodded. "I can't think of any other way you'd find one of these... so you must be right." The man gave you a grin.

You stood in silence for a moment, not believing that he'd refuse to ask any further questions, but had to accept it when the man then went on to answer the question he'd seemingly forgotten to before. "Oh! I was shouting because nobody was talking to me. Bart told me to 'be decree' about it, and to do it when people walk nearby, so when I saw you I started doing what he said."

The man put a finger to his chin, much like his plant friend had done earlier, and seemed to ruminate on something as he continued. "Then again, he told me not t' do it with other Staters, so I must be messing up..."

There it was again. That 'Staters' moniker... you cleared your throat and took your chance. "Yes, um, Staters! I've got t' get a refresher... you seem t' know who those are, right? Or, uh, what?"

The man erupted into laughter loud enough to briefly wake Taylor. "Oh, you're a comedian! I should pay you for this! Of course I know what I am!"

He quieted down a little bit-- just enough that you saw passers-by no longer giving you strange looks-- and went on. "Bart and me don't like what's going on in government, you see. We think it's bad for California... and for creatures."
The pause between both statements left you a little confused. "Bad for creatures?"

The man nodded and gave you a sincere look of concern. "There's these emergency things that just passed, you know, that're making me keep Missy outside wherever I go. Can't bring her to a restaurant, the post office, a bar, nothin'. And I'm not supposed to complain, because I'm a soldier. But I want to complain! So I'm being a Stater."

That explanation somehow gave you plenty of information and none at all. Of course some people would dislike those laws, and of course that would lead to some kind of criticism. But what did disliking those laws have to do with this man being a soldier? Or him being unable to "complain"? Surely soldiers were allowed to speak their minds when off-duty?

Much to your surprise, the militiaman wasn't done yet. "You're one too, right? Because you've got a creature. So you probably don't like those emergency thingies either."

You shook your head, both because you had no idea what specifically being a Stater meant and because you disliked the laws. The militiaman seemed to only notice the latter implication. "See? That means you have to be a Stater. So you know about tomorrow evening, too." He winked. You blinked. The militiaman continued on. "At the Floating Dollar Saloon." Your head shook once more and the man began to frown. "Alright, quit messing with me. I'll see you there tomorrow and we'll get properly introduced then, alright? I have to go decree to some non-Staters or Missy won't get to go there with me."

With that, the militiaman knelt down to scoop his 'Missy' into his arms and walk off with a strange mix of obvious military marching and regular human walking. The conversation left you too confused to truly pursue the man, especially once he began trying to talk to someone random not long after. What could be going on in the government for someone like that to take notice?

"Didja finally chase that soldier off?"

You flinched. Andrew's question sounded genuine, but you hadn't expected him to sneak up on you like that. Where had he been? "I... ah suppose so?" You found yourself looking up as you turned around; Andrew sat upon Dora, reins in his hand and expression no less tired than before.

"Good. He was givin' me a headache." Andrew glanced back at the capitol park. "Steele's still here, right?" You nodded. The cowboy dismounted. "Right, then, ah guess we're back t'gether. Do you need any ferryin' around before dinner? Don't wanna stay in one place for too long.

>No, you were fine staying here. You had other plans. [Write-in any plans.]

>Yes, you had something in mind that you could do in less than two hours. It wouldn't hurt to ask for Andrew's help. [Write-in any plans.]

[Current inventory for reference in case it jogs anyone's memory or gives you ideas: https://pastebin.com/FM2wawpk]

>>6170506
>>Yes, you had something in mind that you could do in less than two hours. It wouldn't hurt to ask for Andrew's help.
IF it's viable in that time period, we could see if our family responded.
Pokemon Trainer States' Rights rebellion, eh? Hm.

>>6170517
+1

>>6170504
>>6170506
>Yes, you had something in mind that you could do in less than two hours. It wouldn't hurt to ask for Andrew's help.

Checking out our family's response AND buying some bullets for our iron.

>>6170517
>>6170835
>>6170991
Writing!

You did have one thing, actually.

"Andrew, d'you know where the post office is?"

The cowboy's expression softened a little at that. He nodded. "Sure ah do. It's a ways away though. Steele might have t' catch up."

He beckoned you over to Buckwheat, smacking the donkey to get him to pull up a little, making sure you were sat straight on Buckwheat's back before snapping Dora's reins and leading you through the streets of Sacramento...

<><><><><>

...to the biggest post office you'd seen in months.

The building's three-story facade loomed over you like a mountain, the rest of the street fading from view as you spotted the sign denoting its purpose. How much mail did this city have to warrant three whole floors..?

You found yourself slipping off of Buckwheat and, before you knew it, Andrew was speaking again. "I'll go talk t' Steele about all this in case it takes too long. See you later."

And so, with a kick and a cloud of dust covering his trail, Andrew started back down the road. You were left with no choice but to enter the post office... after being harassed to leave your neofaunic friends behind, of course.

-----

Sacramento's cacophony followed you indoors, the post office full of postmen rushing back and forth with sacks of mail and shouts of addresses, waving their hands or fixing their hats or tripping over their shoes and generally in a panic. You had to back up against a wall just to avoid one's sack hitting you full-force.

From what you could tell, a new shipment of mail had just come in and it was... well, you could see it literally spilling out behind the front desk. The postman at the front desk almost blended into the walls, his dark suit pairing perfectly with the near-black wood making up the rest of the place, his calm composure not helping matters. When you caught his attention and asked about the state of your post, his droopy expression seemed to lift a little.

"Ah, Mr. Buchanan, eh? You're one o' the newer ones, ah think. We jus' got something in fer you." The postmaster dipped behind the counter for a moment, talking as he went. "Lucky you've been makin' the rounds as of late, otherwise you'd probably had t' have waited 'til tomorrow morn'."

You didn't really know what that meant, so you just accepted the sizeable letter with a smile and made some bumbling comment about his blending-in to the walls. The man was amicable about it, playing along for a moment, somehow ignoring the ongoing chaos and giving you a hearty goodbye soon after.

A sinking feeling sank in as you stretched your legs and leaned against a wayward tree. Your eyes were fixated on the bulging letter, debating whether to open it now or later, something compelling you to somehow do both at once.

This feeling soon left you, however, as you saw Andrew and Steele trotting your way on both of the former's equine companions.

Dora halted before you first, snorting briefly before Andrew continued talking for her. "Your friend's insisted on getting there early... hop on."

You did as Andrew asked... but your eyes barely ever left that envelope. Was it worth reading now... or could you wait?

>You could wait. You don't know how long it'll take to get to that fancy restaurant of Steele's and it'd be rude to read it before then instead of giving him your full attention.

>There's probably a fair amount of time before you arriving at the restaurant and you leaving this place. It wouldn't hurt to give the letter a peek.

>>6171149
>>You could wait. You don't know how long it'll take to get to that fancy restaurant of Steele's and it'd be rude to read it before then instead of giving him your full attention.

>>6171149
>There's probably a fair amount of time before you arriving at the restaurant and you leaving this place. It wouldn't hurt to give the letter a peek.
NOW!!!

>>6171149
>You could wait. You don't know how long it'll take to get to that fancy restaurant of Steele's and it'd be rude to read it before then instead of giving him your full attention.

>>6171149
>There's probably a fair amount of time before you arriving at the restaurant and you leaving this place. It wouldn't hurt to give the letter a peek.

>>6171149
>You could wait. You don't know how long it'll take to get to that fancy restaurant of Steele's and it'd be rude to read it before then instead of giving him your full attention.

New joiner, just caught up. Really enjoying the quest QM.

>>6171147
>>6171149

>You could wait. You don't know how long it'll take to get to that fancy restaurant of Steele's and it'd be rude to read it before then instead of giving him your full attention.

We want to do this properly.

>>6171152
>>6171262
>>6171370
>>6171390
We're holding our horses and opening the letter later! Writing.

>New joiner, just caught up. Really enjoying the quest QM.
I'm flattered, thank you. Glad to hear you're liking it. :)

...

No matter how much it was bothering you... you could wait. It'd be bad manners to just ignore your companions at the start of a night out.

The letter slipped into your haversack and your hands found themselves gripping Buckwheat's reins firmly.

"Alright, let's get goin'." Andrew gave Dora another light kick... and the two of you started down the Sacramento streets.

-----

The more time you were given to look at the city, the more you began to see the toll this new world had taken on it.

The streets were unrecognizable. No matter how deep into the city you got, the debris and destitute never left the sidewalks. Passers-by seemed distant from each other. Most seemed to be in older clothes or rather humbly dressed, men's belts rarely without holsters or pocket sheaths of some kind (most of which were occupied), and the majority seemed to actively avoid the less-fortunate in their commutes. This wouldn't have surprised you, had this not persisted into what seemed to be the richest quarter in the city.

Even after Andrew had course-corrected and started towards the actual richest quarter in the city... the piles of burnt lumber and soot-laden sidewalks and dirty-footed beggars lining the streets persisted. Underneath the most elaborate facades and sturdiest roofs were burn marks and broken pillars, bits of wall left exposed or burnt away. Upon the cleanest, most wealthy streets in Sacramento sat strangers in tattered clothing shouting at or attempting to grab passers-by and grieve their losses. In front of the most dazzling displays of wealth...

Florian squeaked something quiet as the two of you ended up fixated on the same strange woman, sat in front of what looked like some kind of bank, counting pennies in her palm. You slowed down, Steele behind you asking why, without much explanation leaving your lips. Florian seemed to squeak at him before pointing (with his bud) to the woman.

Andrew had been quiet throughout the entire ride and didn't seem willing to break the streak. He instead motioned for Dora to turn away and whispered a remark. "Should've known t' head the same way as ah had t' Steele's bank."

Your group had only slowed for a few minutes... yet, that seemed to be enough to catch the woman's attention. Her expression was completely solemn, the sorrow in her eyes accentuated by the drooping eyelids above her wrinkled cheeks...

A loud whip interrupted your pondering. Andrew, the source, was already riding off in a different direction--
--far away from the lady, whose expression had now changed to one of absolute fury. She was almost about to shout something, getting to her feet and glaring in Dora's direction the entire time, but you figured it'd be a good idea to catch up before you could hear anything she had to say.

A pang of regret followed your ride away for reasons you couldn't explain.

-----

The ride after the incident was a short one. The three of you (and company) didn't need long to find Steele's restaurant of choice: a spectacularly gaudy sign made sure you knew where exactly you were, as did the much more orderly chatter emitting from the restaurant's elaborate wooden doors and the near-absence of any physical scarring on the building's facade.

"'Igel's'... what kind'a fancy name is Igel?"

Steele piped in, cheery as ever. "I've heard it's German! The owners of this place came all the way from New York City to work here on their own dime! Former Delmonico's chefs, I've heard..."

You had no idea what any of that meant, but you figured Steele knew what he was paying for and were looking forward to a hearty meal. Andrew seemed more skeptical. "Maybe they got fired fer somethin' and came here t' evade the law?"

Steele slipped off of Buckwheat, gave the donkey a pat and your sheep a scratch, and flashed Andrew a toothy grin. "Oh, such worries are absurd. A pair of criminals would hardly be allowed to open a business someplace like this, let alone operate such a fine establishment to great success for so many years."

It occurred to you that Steele was now reading off of a promotional flier framed on the restaurant's wall. "They've even installed a tea room recently! If you want, we could try to find a seat there..."

Andrew shook his head. "I'll pass. I just want a good meal an' some quiet time."

Steele chuckled. "Well, I'll see what I can do for the quiet, but you must know that we're in Sacramento, yes? Its hustle and bustle doesn't make exceptions for any old restaurant!"

The cowboy sighed and nodded, turning to the restaurant in question and taking a brief glance at that promotional flier while Steele talked business with the staff in front of the place.

Mary ran up the restaurant's tiny flight of steps and in front of the doors, bleating in your general direction while smiling widely. You wondered, briefly, if she was genuinely happy-- before that wonder was cut off by a waiter shooing Mary away from the entrance and beckoning the three of you forth. Taylor was delicately lifted from your shoulders by a man in white gloves, Florian was plucked from your pocket by a woman in similar attire, and both of them parted ways to highlight the carved doors opening before them... into an immaculate dining hall.

Steele took the first step forward, spinning on his heel and smiling. "What are you two waiting for? They'll seat us earlier if I say so!"

Buckwheat and Dora were taken aside next, with much less protest than Mary's currently-bleating self had put up, and the waiters soon ushered you inside before you could do much about it.

-----

To your surprise, Steele had been entirely right. The prospect seemed odd-- why would they keep a table completely empty throughout the day just for one appointment? Wouldn't that be bad for business? You figured as much, but here you sat. Right in front of a table, just as the sun set, far before Steele's plans were to be put into action.

Andrew's reaction to the seating was indescribable. It almost looked like some strange offspring of surprise and comfort, never leaving his face until he finally sat still in the restaurant's plush red chairs. You couldn't deny their comfort value, especially in comparison to Buckwheat's back... but you could resist broadcasting that comfort to the rest of the table rather easily.

Steele looked right at home amongst the venue's crowd. Top hats and fancy suits littered the wide-open space, brushing up against the mahogany walls and talking just loudly enough to show the place was busy but just quietly enough to let you hear each other over their own chitter-chatter, massive mutton chops and pompous handlebar mustaches adorning nearly every face on display amongst the sea of high-end clothing. Shining pocket watches glinted light off the crystal chandeliers dangling above almost every other table, occasionally reflecting off a monocle or two and bouncing back onto one of the golden picture frames littering the walls. Portraits of great men, dressed not unlike those sat at the establishment's tables, found themselves staring at the diners from within those frames, their serious stairs and clutched pearls mirroring the most esteemed men in attendance of Igel's evening affairs.

Part of you longed to be a part of this opulence some day. You'd read about it only in books, seen it vaguely in your employer's office and the neighborhood surrounding it, and couldn't help but be entranced by what it offered. Never-ending freedom to buy what you wanted, eat where you wanted, travel all over the globe and do it in the fanciest suit and tie you could find at the local tailor's...

...an essential component of fine dining that, you realized, you currently went without.
Steele had at least bothered to put on a proper, coattailed jacket and top hat. You and Andrew, on the other hand... well, you were already getting looks from the other patrons.

The hunter, still in his usual ten-gallon attire, scoffed at the situation. "What a snooty bunch. Even while we're stuffed away in a corner they're spendin' their time lookin' at us funny 'nstead'a eatin' their food."
Despite his stated dislike of the whole thing, though, Andrew soon turned away from the crowd and kept his face behind the menu.

You found it somewhat harder to ignore all the staring. People were beginning to whisper, too. Maybe if you hadn't worn the jeans...?
No, this wasn't going to get you anywhere. You instead turned to the window behind you, peeking out to try and catch some sight of your neofauna...
...and breathing a sigh of relief upon seeing them upon Buckwheat, tied up outside the restaurant, next to Indiana. Someone extra had come out to keep Andrew's horse in check... he seemed to be talking with the other two...

-----

It was a miracle that Andrew was keeping quiet right now.

You could see the seething hatred dripping off his face and onto his plate of borderline scraps.

Steele seemed more than content with this, but both you and Andrew were less than pleased with the portions. You'd been looking forward to a hearty meal. You'd ordered an entire turkey with mashed potatoes. And yet... all that sat before you was a single leg with a small dollop of potatoes on the side. It looked pretty, sure. The potatoes were fashioned into the shape of a flower and the gravy you had asked for wrote the restaurant's name near the plate's edge. But it was barely dinner. And Andrew's singular prime rib was a far cry from the full-chest feast he'd been promised. You were starting to wonder if this really was some criminal front to suck money out of its customers... when something caught your eye. Or, rather, your ears.

Your group had attracted attention all evening. It was hard not to with your proletariat clothing and lack of proper table manners. But this kind of attention was different.

People were looking through your windows. Gossiping about something or another. The topics they covered had shifted-- there wasn't any discussion of shoddy clothes or excess belching anymore, nor talk of business or politics. Instead, you heard whispers of wanted posters. Questions of sheep and the names of towns you'd recently visited. Rumblings of discussion about... an unnerving list of things you'd recently done.

Some guests seemed to be immune to all of this. They kept their heads down and ate their tiny meat cakes or odd sprigs of some unidentifiable green. Others still kept to themselves-- clearly discussing family matters or means of travel.

But a noticeable amount of people around your area were asking for pardons, either from their tables or from the restaurant entirely. Those who stayed had begun transitioning from whispering to worrying.

There were two constant subjects throughout all this. Two repeated topics that didn't even ring the faintest of bells.

>"What's a phantom bullet?"

>"What kind of job is a 'wielder'?"

>>6171578
>"What's a phantom bullet?"
Gonna guess a wielder is a neopet owner, But this phantom bullet matter perplexes me mightily.

>>6171578
>"What's a phantom bullet?"

>>6171578
>"What's a phantom bullet?"
Going by touch/weight, the envelope we got at the post office only contains papers, right QM? No more apricorns?

>>6171578
>"What's a phantom bullet?"

>"What's a phantom bullet?"

Sounds like the weirder one of the two.

>>6171580
>>6171600
>>6171608
>>6171633
>>6171849
Yeah, on second thought i should've given that choice a look-over or two before going with it lol. Better than making 8 posts in a row though.

Anyways, writing!

Huh, that phantom bullet thing seemed fancy. And you needed some new ammo. Maybe Steele knew something about this?

"Hey," you tried to catch the businessman's attention, "have you heard've that?"

"Heard of what?" Steele somehow said, with a rib hanging halfway out of his mouth.

"They're talking about some 'phant'm bullets'. Ah dunno what exactly those are, but you're like them, right? D'you?"

Steele shook his head, spurring conversation between the two of you about places you could find them or what they coud possibly do, never seeming to notice much about what was around you. It was only when Steele piped up, after being struck by a memory, that things changed.

"Oh! I think I remember hearing a legend, back when I was in Indiana, of a 'phantom bullet' of sorts. A kindly frontiersman told me of it!"

You inquired further, wondering what on earth Steele was talking about. He was more than happy to elaborate. "Well, you see, every bullet was a 'phantom' back then. Guns shot so fast you could hardly see who had shot them. And yet..."

Andrew lay his cutlery atop his plate with a loud clang. You only managed to make out something about a child and fear. Just as you were going to ask for a repeat, Andrew took one of the restaurant's fancy handkerchiefs and spat into it, cleaning his cheeks and tossing the cloth onto the plate before getting out of his chair. "Complete rip-off," he grumbled, turning to you. "No point'n staying here. Let's get a move on."

Steele didn't hesitate to object. "I've barely finished half of my meal," shockingly-- a true statement, "Andrew! Don't rush me!" He said some other things, mostly relating to paying the man and how Andrew shouldn't make a scene, but you didn't really make much of it out. You were too busy looking at the large crowd of people staring.

Your eyes quickly darted to their belts, heart rate fluctuating as you realized most of them were unarmed (and disgustingly rich), dipping into concern before rising into relief and plateauing at a collected caution. The worst most of them could do involved butterknives or forks.

"I'd rather we leave, old man. We're clearly not welcome here."

"Well, maybe you aren't, but I most certainly am!" He flashed a few hundred-dollar bills to punctuate.

The two began bickering like angry dogs, voices forced into low growls and offended yelps, completely in their own world until you gave your table a slight knock and whispered. "Look."

"What--" Andrew's voice remained laced with ice until the moment he saw the crowd's stares. Once beset by the many eyes now opposite him, his voice trailed off into silence.

Steele hadn't said a word since you'd interrupted. He certainly wasn't going to say one now. The man looked pale and confused; almost sad, despite his lopsided grin.

The hunstman, on the other hand, remained hardened. You saw a flash of something in his eyes-- recognition? Understanding?-- before it vanished like a specter.

Few people remained at the tables neighboring you. In fact, the entire corner of the restaurant had fallen into eerie silence. The only break from the oppressive quiet would be the occasional mumble, the occasional whisperings of 'are you sure' and 'can't be's.

For minutes at a time, nothing but silence.

Steele only spoke up after the ornate cuckoo clock in the back of the hall sang its song and broke the silence for him. "I'm... sorry, has something gone amiss?"

Andrew, now sounding quiet and far more calm, kept his voice low. "You dragged a bull into a china shop and the customers've finally noticed."
He slipped away from the table, slinking into the parting crowd and returning with a bill, placing it upon Steele's greasy plate next to his ribs. "Enjoy cleanin' up the mess."

Andrew turned to leave. Steele watched him go. You just sat there, halfway between flabbergasted determination and tired apathy.

>Let him leave. The restaurant doesn't seem to want him here and Steele is being pushy. Take credit for causing a scene, leave with Andrew, and let Steele pay to see you both out.

>Ask Andrew to stay and question him about his reaction. He's being quite rude and seems to be the reason everyone is looking at you in the first place. Make an attempt to mediate-- maybe Steele has some fancier clothes that Andrew could wear that would get people to leave you alone?

>Turn on the crowd and rant. The kind of justification they'd need to give for singling your table out like this would have to be astronomical to prevent you from rightfully tearing them down. The three of you just wanted a nice rest at a pretty restaurant after a long trip, for God's sake!

>Write-in.

>>6172142
>Ask the folks in the crowd what the big deal is -- this whole town, this whole COUNTY has been through hell, so surely a couple poorly-dressed passersby aren't that remarkable?

Like option 3, but more amiable and even-keel.

>>6172142
>>Turn on the crowd and rant. The kind of justification they'd need to give for singling your table out like this would have to be astronomical to prevent you from rightfully tearing them down. The three of you just wanted a nice rest at a pretty restaurant after a long trip, for God's sake!
No need to amiable.

>>6172142
>>6172146
+1

>>6172142
>>Ask the folks in the crowd what the big deal is -- this whole town, this whole COUNTY has been through hell, so surely a couple poorly-dressed passersby aren't that remarkable?
Seems in line with our character so far.

>>6172142
>Ask the folks in the crowd what the big deal is -- this whole town, this whole COUNTY has been through hell, so surely a couple poorly-dressed passersby aren't that remarkable?
????

>>6172142
>Ask the folks in the crowd what the big deal is -- this whole town, this whole COUNTY has been through hell, so surely a couple poorly-dressed passersby aren't that remarkable?

Fuck, I knew it. Andrew’s a wanted criminal. We’re screwed.

>>6172141
>>6172142

>Wait for Steele to finish his meal and leave with him.

We must avoid is addressing a gossipy crowd, as it is improper to do so. This isn't a Disney movie. We aren't the scrappy loveable underdogs that can just call out the establishment. The only thing Waltur will achieve with speaking up is further embarrassment. We are POOR and IRISH (unlikely, Buchanan is a Gaelic name but w/ever), and we need to keep our heads down if we do not want to be kicked out halfway through Steele's meal. We'll go console Andrew's hurt feelings later.

Not sure I'll be able to get an entry out today, I've been hit with two time-sensitive things I need done by Friday and most of tomorrow is taken up already. Will see what I can do.

Feel free to keep inputting choices until then, lurkers/new readers! Or changing your old ones, existing players. I'll only lock stuff in when I start writing.

>>6172740
God speed and god luck with your tasks, QM.

>>6172886
thank you!

I cut it close, but got things done. Writing now. :)

None of this had any clear motive... maybe you could change that?

For just a moment, both apathy and determination was set aside for a smidge of optimism. You rose from your chair and steeled yourself, taking an extra-large breath before asking a simple question.

"What've us roughly-dressed passerby done t' provoke you?" You cleared your throat and rephrased. "A-ah mean, this place's been... this city looks like it's been through hell. The entire county, even. 'N you've all seen it. Dirty 'n burnt 'n filthy. So why are my friends'n I such big events?"

Your expression was one of pure curiosity, yet found itself met by nothing but contempt. A small mountain of answers erupted upon you, none of them being much more than strange insults, gasps, or vague exclamations, all quieting down after a few minutes when a tall man with a bowler hat and a very long mustache spoke up. "This city may have been through hell, but we have been smart enough to escape it. To have such hell trod upon our wonderful refuge is tantamount to sacrilege."

It was... just your way of dress?

No, surely not. You gave Steele a glance, your head darting to your left, and saw the man with a... somber? Serious? Solemn? ...an expression that seemed to fit poorly on his face. One that let his aging cheeks sag and his bushy brows shade his small eyes. "Now then, gentlemen, I invited these men here myself. They are perfectly welcome to eat at such an establishment if I allow them to."

The mustache'd millionaire turned his sallow, pointy nose up at the thought. "You certainly seem like the type. It doesn't surprise me that you would so carelessly let such dangerous men into a crowded space, either. A criminal Wielder and his filthy accomplice. What pleasant company you surround yourself with."

This seemed to poke at the businessman somewhat, but he brushed it off and replied without injury. "I would know if I were traveling with criminals, sir. I can guarantee you that neither of these men mean anyone harm, least of all people like us!"

A huff from Steele's opponent. "People like us! You proclaim yourself better than such demons! Sir, you are a man just as dishonest and disheveled as them!"
This thin and greasy fellow seemed to be one for theatrics. You wish you hadn't found that out through finding his crooked nail pointed directly at your face.

You were taking all these insults well enough-- trying to think of where Andrew could have gone to was more important, anyways-- but Steele puffed up like a hedgehog at that jab. His rebuttal almost cut the man off, raising in volume to the point where it was hard to ignore. "Wh-- you haven't even met me! You don't know a thing about me! Do you know my name, sir? My business?"

Steele's snooty rival raised his voice. "How could I not know the man who left his booming business behind for some political folly in D.C?"

It was at this point that the staff decided they needed to get involved. The waitstaff attending nearby tables (as well as a few of the men by the door) began trying to break up the crowd, especially attempting to separate Steele and the mustachio'd man (who'd begun an insult war), and chaos soon engulfed the entire silent corner. Shrieks of lawsuits and trodden hair and incomplete meals drowned the staff's orders in noise, catching the attention of other tables and perpetuating the tantrums through questions and gossip and a neverending chain of talking, swelling to overpower the occasional sight of a woman fainting or a particularly nebbish man being trampled on...

...that you narrowly escaped through the same route you figured Andrew had taken-- a small stretch of empty carpet that led to the front door.

-----

Steele joined you soon after, escorted out by the two burliest waiters the restaurant had, on the steps in front of the restaurant. You'd felt it right to wait for him there, watching the newly-risen stars and appreciating the cooling climate, giving occasional glances back at the door until Steele finally came through.

Dora and Buckwheat were nowhere to be seen, but your neofauna were just as happy to see you as they had been at the telegram and post offices. You had to lean on a nearby pillar to prevent Mary from toppling you. "Alright, alright, girl, I'll try t' eat with you next time..."

Indiana showed similar affection for Steele, running up to the man and raising his claws in celebration... but the businessman didn't seem to reciprocate much, only kneeling down and patting the mole firmly upon his head. When Steele next spoke, it was with a voice tired enough to sound unlike him.

"Come, Buchanan. We must make it to our hotel before the streets get too dark."

>Actually, this view was kind of nice. The stars were easy to see and there weren't that many homeless beggars. Ask Steele to stay with you on the steps for a bit... so that you can ask him more about what happened back there.

>Insist you look for Andrew around town first. You don't know where he could have gone and you cannot just let your only means of defense and transportation walk out on you like that.

>You're both exhausted and the restaurant probably doesn't want you around. Agree with Steele and head for the hotel asap. You can look for Andrew in the morning after you've gotten rest and he's had time to cool down.

>Write-in.

>>6173427
>Actually, this view was kind of nice. The stars were easy to see and there weren't that many homeless beggars. Ask Steele to stay with you on the steps for a bit... so that you can ask him more about what happened back there.
>and ask to finish the story about the phantom bullet

>>6173535
+1

>>6173426
>>6173427

>You're both exhausted and the restaurant probably doesn't want you around. Agree with Steele and head for the hotel asap. You can look for Andrew in the morning after you've gotten rest and he's had time to cool down.

The night might be pretty, but not safe.

>>6173427
>Actually, this view was kind of nice. The stars were easy to see and there weren't that many homeless beggars. Ask Steele to stay with you on the steps for a bit... so that you can ask him more about what happened back there.

>>6173535
>>6173603
>>6173989
We're staying outside the restaurant! I'll add on that write-in about asking Steele to finish the story, too. Writing now.

Worth mentioning ahead of time that I likely won't be able to get anything out tomorrow, I've got a family event keeping me occupied. Sunday should be free, though!

Rolled 149 (1d150)

>>6174035
some day I'll remember to roll when I need to

Steele's expression was almost as downtrodden as his voice. He wasn't even looking at you as he spoke those lines.

You didn't move. He didn't either. The suggestion almost seemed halfhearted in hindsight.

The two of you said nothing for a while. There was still noise coming from behind you, arguments and shouts and general restaurant ambience leaking out of the large wooden doorways you sat in front of.

The entire area lay silent until Indiana let out a squeak, waddling up to Steele and laying a large claw upon the man's knee.
Steele didn't seem to understand, trying to move the claw off his knee only to be met with another upon his hand.

You couldn't help but chuckle at the demonstration, especially when Indiana began sniffing Steele's fingers and giving the man innocent glances. Steele tried to pull his hand away-- Indiana caught it. Steele put his hand on his knee-- Indiana put a claw upon it. The two played at this game for Mary to bleat out, seemingly confusing it for a fight, shoving herself between the two and trying to get Steele to pet her instead of playing with Indiana.

That got both of you to laugh hard enough that you finally began to relax a little bit. Almost instantly as you did so, a loose thread came to mind.

"Hey, Steele?"

"Yes, Buchanan?" The man was still a little under the weather, you could tell, but the constant fussing with Mary and Indiana seemed to be distracting him well enough.

"Couldja... well, Andrew cut you off 'n the restaurant, an' ah was curious. You were talking about a 'Phant'm Bullet', right?"

Steele's expression drooped a bit. He collected himself, drawing in a deep breath, and shook his head. "Yes, yes, right. Well... as I was saying..."

"The Phantom Bullet was... well, nobody's really sure who it was. Most people think it was a grown man who had a vendetta of some sort. I have mostly heard talk of it being a younger man-- a youth, maybe, of young adulthood at the oldest. Some rumors have proclaimed the Phantom Bullet to be a grief-stricken woman who lost her lover and went on a rampage, others claim him an underground criminal who followed up on late payments with murder.

It hardly matters who he or she was. What matters is who he or she killed." Steele cleared his throat and made himself more comfortable on the deserted stone steps. "Powerful people. Businessmen who ran entire industries through intimidation and ruthless acquisition. Politicians who corrupted their local governments and ruled over towns or counties with iron fists.

And somehow," his tone turned grave, "every crime left no trace of the culprit."

Steele turned away from you and kept petting Mary (much to Indiana's chagrin). "That's how the nickname, arose. Nobody could even see the Phantom's bullets before they reached their destination. And their destination, even, couldn't be determined for so many of the Bullet's victims."

The story had you somewhat entranced. Even in New York City, you'd never heard of criminals like this before. Criminals were loud and violent-- that was part of the definition, wasn't it?
Steele had stopped after that comment. You had to egg him on. "Well... why not? What was stoppin' them from just lookin' in the bodies' wallets or on their clothes? They had t' find them out eventually, right?"

The inquiry wasn't met with an answer for some time. When Steele opened his mouth, he was once again quiet about it. "Every bit of identification had been stripped from the bodies. Those that weren't entirely naked had identifiers cut off, burnt off, or stolen. The only exception was one Johnathan Stubbs, mayor of Monterey. He'd been stripped as usual, of course, but the Bullet had done a sloppy job. The entire State heard of his murder..."

Steele got to his feet and fixed his blazer. "...but this was years ago, Buchanan. Almost a decade now. The Phantom Bullet disappeared just as quickly as it had first appeared, and nobody has heard about anything relating to the Bullet since." He rubbed a finger across his mustache. "Perhaps the restaurantgoers have simply become nervous with all the homeless criminals about. Thinking the Bullet might show up again."

He turned to face you. "But I hardly doubt you could be the Bullet, of course. You don't even live here."

With that, Steele scooped Indiana up into his arms and put on a smile once again. "Right, well! We shouldn't loiter any longer! We must hurry to our hotel at once!"

"Wait! What--" you stumbled forward, tripping as you tried to catch the older man on his shoulder as he turned to leave. "What... happened back there? With-- with the richer folks'n the restaurant, the shouting, the..."

Steele cut you off. "It's best we not dwell on it. I've told you what you need to know, and... the rest is unimportant."

You wanted to keep prodding, but you could see the exhaustion starting to seep into Steele's expression now. A brief glance at the sky told you that the moon was far too high for it to be earlier than your usual bedtime.

But Andrew remained missing. Even if Steele was insistent on leaving...

>...you wanted to go look for him. There was no guarantee you'd even see him again if you didn't.

>...you couldn't spare the energy to argue against him. It would be a better idea to follow along and sleep comfortably, then search for Andrew in the morning.

>>6174088
>...you wanted to go look for him. There was no guarantee you'd even see him again if you didn't.

>>6174088
>...you wanted to go look for him. There was no guarantee you'd even see him again if you didn't.

I hope you all know that this guy is probably a criminal. If he’s not just straight up The Bullet, he’s at least a poacher or smuggler.

That being said, let’s keep him around for a bit. He’s good company.

>>6174088
>...you wanted to go look for him. There was no guarantee you'd even see him again if you didn't.

>>6174088
>...you wanted to go look for him. There was no guarantee you'd even see him again if you didn't.

I am curious about reading the mail from new york, but I'd like to get to the end of this thing with Andrew first. I agree with >>6174101 on him likely being a criminal, but I don't want him to leave without some better closure than leaving a dinner halfway.

>>6174101
>>6174190
+1

>>6174190
>>6174101
Agreed, re: Andrew being suspicious as fuck. But he always was.

>>6174087
>>6174088

>...you couldn't spare the energy to argue against him. It would be a better idea to follow along and sleep comfortably, then search for Andrew in the morning.

It is still not safe out here.

Rolled 105 (1d125)

>>6174093
>>6174101
>>6174132
>>6174190
>>6174242
hey hey, sorry for the delay! We'll be looking for Andrew today.

...you wanted to go look for him.

You let Steele disappear into the horizon, taking note of his path so that you could follow it once you found Andrew... before turning the other way and starting down the busy streets of Sacramento. Or, well...

...your brain told you that they were supposed to be busy, but your eyes were showing you something else.
Since you'd eaten at Igel's, the streets had almost halved in population. It was significant enough that you were starting to notice minor things-- soldiers outnumbering pedestrians, a near-complete dearth of flora, and... the fact that you had no idea where you were going.

You stopped at an intersection, not entirely sure of where to go next. Mary ran out in front of you, confused at your pause, looking up at you with curiosity in her eyes and a pep in her step.

You could see a consistent set of hoof-prints in the dirt here... but they disappeared down all three roads, either trampled underneath some other tracks or never visible in the first place.

Of the four tracks on either side of you...

>...the one ahead of you seemed the most logical option. If Andrew was angry, he probably wouldn't have been thinking straight enough to zig-zag around the city with two equines to take care of.

>...the one to your right seemed more reasonable. That was the shortest route out of the city, so if Andrew wanted to leave Sacramento behind he'd have probably gone that way.

>...the one to your left was the obvious choice. You could see a plethora of hoof-prints along it. There was no guarantee that they were from Andrew's equines, but what better lead did you have?

>...it was a better idea to turn back and keep looking closer to the hotel. There was no reason to think Andrew even went this far out.

>>6175630
>...it was a better idea to turn back and keep looking closer to the hotel. There was no reason to think Andrew even went this far out.

File: have you seen this man.png (54 KB, 350x250)

54 KB PNG

>>6175630
There aren't a lot of Mudbrays around,a re there? Can't we just
>ask passersby if they saw a man with a strangely muddy, peculiar-looking donkey come through here
?

>>6175712
If not that, Mary's been a good bloodhound-in-sheep's-clothing in past, right?

>>6175630

>...it was a better idea to turn back and keep looking closer to the hotel. There was no reason to think Andrew even went this far out.

I am split between this and asking Mary to sniff him out. Can it just be added to my vote? Go to the hotel and sniff him out if we dont immediately stumble upon him?

>>6175958
I can count both your and >>6175715's vote as a collective vote for "go back to near the hotel and try to sniff Andrew out" if he's okay with it.

>>6175630
I'm worried Mary following smells in the middle of the night might lead us to some risky encounter.
+1 for >>6175673

>>6175958
+1

Hm, okay.

Going just by the votes I laid out, going back and searching around the hotel is definitely the winner.

But there's a tie between just going back to the hotel and specifically going back and prompting Mary to sniff him out.

I guess I'll go with >>6175969 then, since it saves me the trouble of asking for a tiebreaker.

The actual entry will be tomorrow. I was going to write it today, but I didn't realize how late it got until I sat down to do so and I need to be up rather early tomorrow. Expect something ~tomorrow eveningish.

>>6176269
I'm fine with Mary sniffing him out.

>>6175969
I am, if nobody around here can just, like, point us towards the man with the muddy magic donkey.

Rolled 75 (1d110)

>>6176335
Alright, I'll count it as that then.

>>6176620
ignore the roll, it was part of an unfinished post I overwrote

...you felt it safer to return from whence you came.

Not before asking around for Andrew, though. It'd be rather defeatist to leave the intersection completely uninvestigated.

You glanced about the intersecting streets, looking for someone without obvious armaments, before carefully approaching an older gentleman with nothing but a smaller haversack. "'Scuse me, sir!"

The man kept walking, so you put a hand on his shoulder--
He turned instantly towards you, his eyes aflame, before calming down. "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were..." ...the passerby trailed off and sniffled a little. His voice was simpering and unpleasant to the ears. "Go ahead, young man."

"Well, ah... jus' wanted t' ask if you'd seen a man 'round here. About yay high," you raised your hand about an inch or two above your forehead, "got a big hat with a wide brim, tailed by two horses?"
You quickly corrected yourself. "Horse 'n donkey. A horse'n a very muddy donkey."
The man rubbed his nose and shook his head slowly. "Seen nuthin' like it, young man."
Maybe you weren't clear enough. "He's got a low voice 'n a stubble, almost as dirty as his donkey..."
The passerby blinked and raised an eyebrow. "I don't know why you pay so much attention to the donkey's hygiene, young man, but I cannot say I do the same myself. I haven't seen any horses around since before sunset, and nobody like who you're describin' since even earlier."

You lightly cursed under your breath and thanked the man for his time, shuffling back to your neofauna to give Mary a scratch before looking around for more unarmed strangers.
The amount of people without weapons was becoming worryingly thin, especially given that you were still in the richest-- so you assumed, safest-- quarter of town. You wanted to stay and interrogate as many people as possible...

...but you could only manage three more equally-clueless strangers before the wind chill picked up and the environment turned frigid.
Part of you wondered how on earth things you hadn't noticed the cold until now. How the awareness seemed to hit you without warning. And yet... the other part of you could remember reading about this. You were tired, so you would naturally be colder. And deserts got ridiculously cold at night, didn't they? Meanwhile, the further south in California you got...

You didn't want to imagine how late it was. How tired you were. You didn't need to imagine-- your mind was already beginning to slow. Best you hurry up before your body followed suit.

-----

After asking around for Andrew brought you no results, you wasted no time in gathering your neofauna together and turning back to go and find Steele's hotel. On the way there, Mary began sniffing around for... something or other. You figured, at first, that she'd been looking for grass, but when you'd passed a full patch of it she never so much as glanced in its direction.

The closer you got, the more intense her search began. That's when you realized: she was still a sheep, wasn't she? Enough of one for her nose to be a powerful tracker...
You stopped your friend and squatted down to her level, digging around in your haversack for anything relating to Andrew... before realizing that you'd turned up empty-handed.

Mary tilted her head, awaiting orders, seemingly unaffected by the increasingly chilly wind...
...so you asked her to go look for Andrew by name, unsure if she had any clue who he was or how she would respond.
You decided to accompany her, searching the general area along with Mary in the hopes that Andrew would have turned up here somehow. You let both Florian and Taylor down from your shoulders to help the two of you search...

...and that's when you saw it.

A blurry light, possibly from around a corner, to the far far left of the hotel. It was so far away that you weren't even sure it was within Sacramento, and yet... did you have any other leads?

You felt your mind lurch your body forward, bordering on puppeting itself as you felt your extremities becoming frosty. It wasn't frostbite, it wasn't even too chilly; you'd faced much worse back home, surely. But... you'd gotten used to the warmth of California's sunny summer days.

In this state, you weren't sure how much longer you could go gallivanting around without falling asleep.

>Follow the light despite this. Keep your neofauna on high alert in case it turns out to be dangerous and keep yourself awake through pinches, constant motion, or other means. You couldn't stop for sleep-- sleep would have to stop for you.

>Send one of your neofauna out towards the light while you stay by the hotel. If it's really Andrew, surely he'll recognize any of them... [Specify which neofauna you'd like to send in your post.]

>Shout and make noise to try and get the light's attention. You're unsure if it'll be able to hear you, but it's worth a shot...

>Remember your last experience with strange lights in the night and give up on the prospect. You'll have to search for Andrew in the morning if you want to avoid trouble...

>Write-in.

>>6176629
If Andrew was trying to hide, he wouldn't stay nearby and close to a light source. And if the light is too far away, it's unlikely we can reach there before the cold (or is it some pokemon's paralysis?) gets to us.

>Shout and make noise to try and get the light's attention. You're unsure if it'll be able to hear you, but it's worth a shot...
>Ask Mary to try and signal by lighting up as well

>>6176629
>>6176638
Followup if needed - if we can't attract the light's attention, just go in the hotel and look tomorrow

>>6176629
>>Shout and make noise to try and get the light's attention. You're unsure if it'll be able to hear you, but it's worth a shot...
>>Ask Mary to try and signal by lighting up as well

>>6176638
+1

>>6176628
>>6176629
>Remember your last experience with strange lights in the night and give up on the prospect. You'll have to search for Andrew in the morning if you want to avoid trouble...

GET OUT GET OUT NOT SAFE NOT SAFE

This is some Lovecraftian shit, and we are NOT messing with forces above nature this night

>>6176638
>>6176639
>>6176997
Alright, we're making some noise!

It's not paralysis lol, don't worry. Walter's learned where's best to pet Mary to avoid that.

It would be a bad idea to go after that light. You knew that for sure. Especially since the hotel was right here, right in front of you.

The chiseled pillars holding up its clean and ornate-looking architecture certainly exuded the kind of gaudy elegance Steele seemed so fond of. Their beauty was only hampered by the various soldiers stationed around the place, their half-asleep positions making the otherwise-pristine hotel look far worse off by proxy. You'd have been surprised if Steele went to sleep anywhere else. And you were tempted to join him... before getting an idea.

"Mary?" You weren't sure how you'd ask her to do this. You wandered out to the middle of the street, beckoning Mary to follow before crouching down to her level... "Can you..." ...you made an expanding motion with your hands, trying to symbolize a lantern glowing... "...that?"

She didn't really get what you meant, but you were in luck-- her immediate next move was to notice that little glow far away from you. That seemed to alert her enough to make her tail bulb glow!

In tandem with the glow, you squinted to try and make out anything whatsoever about the light. After failing, you raised an arm and started waving. When even that didn't work, you began shouting greetings and jumping up and down a little. It was a miracle that even this didn't seem to snap the soldiers out of their disparate slumbers.

This whole tactic felt a bit weird, but you were having fun! The jumping and shouting was keeping you awake, keeping Mary lit up... prompting the light to keep getting closer... it was both enjoyable and efficient! If only more things in the world were like that, you thought, not noticing the grin forming on your mouth as the light approached.

The closer the light got, however, the more that happiness began to sour. It was... orange. Either orange or red. You became especially concerned when the light became close enough to be visible... visible enough to make out...

"Fire!! Fire-- Mary, Mary, we have t'--"
You forgot to think inside your head, grabbing Mary and clutching Taylor, trying to force them closer to the hotel doors--

Mary was resisting, you glanced back, you pushed harder--

You forced your friends close enough to the hotel to be safe, dashing to the door and trying to make out the doorknob in the darkness--

--only to finally succeed when the light got close enough, for just a moment, to let you throw open the doors--

--wind FLEW by you, the scent of smoke gliding along behind it--

--you turned around, seeing a beige blur race by, your heart briefly captivated...

You let your vision trail off with your panicked nonsense, your eyes resting on the horizon as you watched a flaming horse, its mane entirely caught on fire, fly by.

There was no destruction in its wake. Not a single ember upon any house.

As the fire disappeared into the horizon, you couldn't even smell any smoke.

It had seemed... tall, almost. There was... you thought there might've been something upon it. A bag, a body, something.

You stood with the door half-open, your right hand still on the elaborate golden knob, watching the street where the fire had been, struggling to keep yourself awake.

You only snapped out of it when you saw the soldiers in the area beginning to gather themselves. Most of them had awoken now. Some were looking toward the same horizon you had; some were glancing at each other, either bewildered or trying to start conversation... at least one soldier seemed to be staring at you.

Best you get some sleep.

<><><><><>

Steele had gone more than a little overboard.

As you were now, you sat upon a king-sized bed with three separate sets of pillows upon it. The mattress was so plush that you'd been having trouble getting to sleep-- at this point, even the cushioned chair at the room's double-deckered desk seemed more appealing.

That's what you told yourself, anyways. It was the pillows. Not the flaming horse, not the glowering policemen, not the fact that you were sleeping completely alone for the first time since you'd arrived.

Taylor, Mary, Florian, Indiana... they were all with the hotel's staff. They were fine. They might have been sleeping better than you, even.

And yet you sat here, twirling your pencil around your index finger, staring at your notebook and unable to focus long enough to recall that ghastly sight.

Your eyes drifted to your possessions.

[Choose 2 things to procrastinate with.]

>You'd kept that nutberry sapling pretty healthy. It wouldn't hurt to check up on it.

>That letter was still sitting there, unopened. It was painful to ignore. But, knowing what you knew of New York now, maybe opening would hurt even more..?

>Maybe studying the fur samples could help kickstart your brain and make writing about these creatures a little easier. It wouldn't hurt to put off writing about that flaming horse for now.

>How had you gone this long without writing extensively about nutberries?? Take your remaining nutberries, the cluster of seeds you have in the bullet pouch, and the sapling. Compare them. Write about them. Study them!

>Go back to bed and try to sleep despite it all. You're really really tired...

>>6177143
>>6177142
>a beige blur race by
Is that fucking Calyrex-Shadow here in America and not the UK? Wait he's not beige. Is it just a regular Rapidash in the middle of the cold like this?

>>6177144

>>6177144
Whoops forgot my vote
>the letter

>>6177144
>You'd kept that nutberry sapling pretty healthy. It wouldn't hurt to check up on it.

>That letter was still sitting there, unopened. It was painful to ignore. But, knowing what you knew of New York now, maybe opening would hurt even more..?

>>6177159
Choose 2, anon.

>>6177294
Ok

>>6177144
>>6177159
THE LETTER
THE SAPLING

>>6177461
Please properly greentext your votes so that I can count them properly.

>>6177144
>>6177534
OK
>You'd kept that nutberry sapling pretty healthy. It wouldn't hurt to check up on it.
>That letter was still sitting there, unopened. It was painful to ignore. But, knowing what you knew of New York now, maybe opening would hurt even more..?

File: Z.png (703 KB, 951x719)

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>>6177142
>>6177143
>>6177144

>Maybe studying the fur samples could help kickstart your brain and make writing about these creatures a little easier. It wouldn't hurt to put off writing about that flaming horse for now.

>Go back to bed and try to sleep despite it all. You're really really tired...

We need all the sleep we can get, especially with a comfy bed like this.

>>6177144
>That letter was still sitting there, unopened. It was painful to ignore. But, knowing what you knew of New York now, maybe opening would hurt even more..?
>How had you gone this long without writing extensively about nutberries?? Take your remaining nutberries, the cluster of seeds you have in the bullet pouch, and the sapling. Compare them. Write about them. Study them!

>>6177294
>>6177543
>>6177584
3 for the letter,

2 for checking the nutberry sapling's growth!

We'll be doing both tonight.

Your sapling, right! The nutberry sapling...

You blinked yourself awake and slipped off of your excessively plush bed, slumping onto your knees and prying open your battered trunk. It was a miracle that the front of it hadn't been damaged further after those Stars of Death scratched off half the casing...

Focus, focus.
You let the lid hit the floor with a quiet thud, carefully scooping the small potted plant in the middle of your old newspapers out of the case. Once it was firmly cupped within your hands, you brought it to the table to investigate.

The pot slid onto the table with a quiet clatter, briefly tipping before righting itself and displaying... wow.

Within the pot was a sapling, already three inches tall, topped by a pair of bouncy round leaves. The stem they sat upon was green and vigorous, not easily swayed by a poke or a breeze, already rooted to the soil sample you'd planted the nutberry in and nigh-impossible to pry out. They were almost like--

You thought back to the first letter from your family. Pa had mentioned a new plant growing at the farm. That plant had to have sprouted up within the month between you leaving the farm and arriving in California. Assuming it was planted the very day you left home, and sprouted its first ripe nutberry the day that letter was written, that kind of growth...

...

You got up from your desk and stumbled into the fancy bathroom (bathroom!) attached to your decadent suite with the sapling pot.
While you watered the small plant upon the ornate washstand, your mind never left that place. The farm. Your home...

-----

You'd meant to spend a lot longer on the plant.

Here you were, sitting in that horribly soft chair, fidgeting with the plant leaves and having written only about a page's worth of observations...

You couldn't get the letter off your mind. It lingered in your mind like bad air around a corpse.
What were you even doing, putting it off like this? Delaying the inevitable? You'd wanted so badly to make sure that everyone you knew and loved was okay. And yet, now that you had the opportunity...

...you weren't going to hesitate any further. You barely remembered to read the front of the letter, taking in the ornate writing on the front as you tore the envelope open.

Even with how bleary your eyes were becoming, your mother's writing was as clear as ever.