Just three minutes ago, you were being lead into the Halls of the Dead by the Avatar of Muradin, as your reward for a life well-lived by the standards of the God of All Dwarves. Your name is Thorgrim Magnusson. You are--or, it looks like, were--a Dwarf from the Dwarven Fortress of Kogulnusun, far to the north in the grim mountain kingdom of Usser. Trained from a young age in the arts of a warrior, you were sent out on your Walkabout at the age of 40, to learn of other lands, discover new things, and, when you felt ready, to return to Kogulnusun with a grand gift for your elders and ancestors.

For the protection of yourself--and others--you joined up with a motley crew of malcontents, adventurers, and stranger types. You have, for the past eight months, fought alongside them, and grown into a strong group of adventurers, ready for anything that could come your way--except for the Dragon. It's claws rended your strong dwarven plate and your axe barely bit into it's flesh. Johann, the human rogue, could barely scrape away with his knives, and his leather armor was useless. Glisela, the halfling wizard, found her spells simply bouncing off or reflected by the beast's toughened hide. And Lalinn, the elf druid, found the same, and her companion--an eagle--was not a fighter, but a scout.

>>19085392

There was little to do but die, but you died knowing that you were distracting the dragon from your friends, to allow them to flee. Your soul went to Moradin's Hold, and, after an interview, was being lead into the Great Hall of the King of All Dwarves himself... when you felt a tug back.

Your companions had found your body.

They had brought you back to life.

You sit up from the wooden altar you have found yourself placed on. Standing around you are your companions, all looking pleased, yet stunned--especially Lalinn. Your body feels different, harder, shaped strange. You feel no whisper of beard across your chin, nor the comfort of iron weighing down flesh. You look down, and see your skin is the hue of wood. "Ehlonna's leaves," the elf murmurs. "Welcome back, Thorgrim. I managed to reincarnate you, but... it seems there was, umm, a mishap."

What do you do?

Berserk.

Yell "What happened to my beard!"

Tantrum. Break furniture. Punch random children. Interrupt work.

>>19085413
While doing
>>19085417

You feel the ancient dwarven rage--a curse laid upon your ancestors by Correlon Latheron, God of the Elves, and rightfully so for the loss that Muradin dealt him, by slaying his wife and forcing her reincarnation into the beast known as Lolth--welling within you. "WHAT IN MURADIN'S NAME HAPPENED TO ME?! WHERE THE BALLS IS MY BLOODY BEARD!" You scream. You notice your voice, while maintaining the dwarven brogue, is much higher-pitched, almost elvish in tone. You reach for your axe and find it not there. You stand quickly, and are taken by a spell of dizziness--you are much taller than you were before, more slender.

Lalinn, the druid, the elf, your boon companion for these six months, takes a step towards you and places her hand on your shoulder. "We went back for your body, Thorgrim. We found it, burnt nearly to a crisp. You saved us from that Dragon, stonechild. It... I have been granted the knowledge of Reincarnation from my goddess, from Ehlonna. We all agreed--you saved us from death. It was the least we could do to save you. You're back from the dead, but, Reincarnation can... well, it can mishap."

Johann, the human rogue, speaks up. "You're all woody and leafy. And, uh, feminine, you know, up here, down here," he says, waving idly at his chest and legs. The halfling, the wizard, Glisela, snorts. "A Dryad, I'd say, from the looks of it. Fey. Generally tied to a nearby tree. I can see about finding which one," she offers.

This is a good bit of knowledge to take in. What do you do?

>>19085487
I touch my own ass.

Still pissed off, try to make the best of the situation. Perhaps you can adapt? Inquire into more specifics into the abilities and limitations of a dryad.

Finger yourself.

>>19085487
"Ale. Someone get me some Abyss-damned ale."
We get piss-drunk, and deal with this in the morning.
Being female, we could work with. Not being a dwarf, we might have survived.
But a dryad? Tied to a Moradin-damned TREE?

This calls for a keg or three.

>>19085487

sit down and sigh, we are too old for this shit.

also tell the damn wizard about finding a way to fix this hes a smart chap after all

Go into an almost feral frenzy in the search of the nearest axe or alcohol that isn't fancy elvish wine. Take, then continue the berserk rage.

>>19085530
Preferably wine distilled from subterranean purple mushrooms.

>>19085487
Get some alcohol into us. We aren't dealing with this shit sober.

Ok, lets find out how to bring the tree with us. We're dwarves, we find solutions to problems, if we're stuck as a dryad we're going to be the manliest choppiest dryad around.

You sit back down, grumbling. "Do that, lass," you say to the halfling, who nods and wanders off, whistling. "And someone get me some darkness-damned ale! I know ye had a keg in yer bag of holdin', Johann, break that out and pass me a mug! I am gettin' PISS DRUNK and ye!" you yell, pointing at Lalinn, "Are goin' ta explain to me just what the balls I am and can bloody do!"

Johann just snorts, pulling out a small keg and a few mugs, pouring one for you and one for himself. As you sip--not dwarven ale, but human, good if a bit watery--Lalinn sits next to you on the wooden altar and explains. "Dryads are a type of fey creature, tied to nature more strongly than elves are--much as Golemrocks are fey creatures more strongly tied to earth and stone than Dwarves are," she says. "Most, but not all, Dryads are tied to a specific tree, or forest... Glisela's looking for where your connection leads... and manifest powers based on that." She reaches out to run a hand along your arm. "Judging from the grain of your flesh, I'd say you're an Oak. You'll be strong, and hardy, and tough to kill or harm, though you'll have few direct powers save for the usual Dryad bits of natural druidic abilities, merging with trees, that sort of thing. I know a ritual we can perform," she continues, "That can let you travel far from your tree, with a blessing from Ehlonna, an item made of your wood, and some druidic magic. If you don't mind a direct blessing from the Lady of the Leaves, of course, but... it'd let you keep going, at least. We've come this far, after all, we can't stop now!" She says, vehemently.

What do you do?

>>19085598

Find your tree. Rip it the fuck out of the ground. Continue being as dwarfy as possible in a curvaceous, hairless, and cellulose based way.

>>19085598
Fine, but make sure that this Lady of the Leaves knows that I am still a fucking dwarf. I prefer stone, and pickaxes, I'm not going to be doing any silly nature dances or showing my reference for the bloody forest. At least I'm an Oak, it could be worse.

>>19085598
Sigh, drink, and sigh.
Is this a test of Moradin? We already filed the damn paperwork for getting into His Halls!

Anyway, let's find this tree. Maybe we can cart it around or something.
And as for this ritual, let's get some ground rules straight: We're a dwarf, not some namby-pamby dryad, regardless of the body.
As long as Ehlonna accepts that, we're good.

>>19085598
I touch. My. ass. Fucking do it!

You grumble, deeply and in dwarven, into your mug, drain it, fill it, drain it again, and refill it. "Long as yer lady Ehlonna knows that, body o' a dryad or nay, I'm a bloody Dwarf at heart," you rumble out. Lalinn nods. "I'm sure she'll understand perfectly, Thorgrim. She has nothing but respect for Dwarvenkind," she says, as the halfling wizard comes back. "Found his tree! Big old oak, looks to be three, maybe four centuries. Hundred and twenty-seven feet that way," Glisela says, pointing back the way she came.

"Good, let's hurry and get this ritual done," Johann says. "The Dark Duke's still building his undead legions, and we need to get back to the Coalition Army about the defenses of his hold... and the fact he has damnable dragons working for him, too." He taps his foot impatiently.

You... don't actually remember anything about this Dark Duke. Thinking about it, your memories of the past month or so are very blurry--probably because you did die, that can't do good things to the mind. You drink some more, finally feeling the slight buzz of the weak human ale effecting your body. Lalinn moves off, and with the swiftness of a druid in the woods, comes back with a branch off a tree. Your arm goes numb in one spot, then regains feeling. "We can do it now, if you feel up to it, Thorgrim. But if you need to rest, and get more drunk first, we do have a few hours before the Duke's forces find us again. We... risked alot getting your body out of that cave," she says. "But the Gods are with us, after all."

What do you do?

Let's get this done so we can continue our mission, we can rest when we're dead.... again.

>>19085721
Let's do it now.
This weak body is already getting buzzed off of HUMAN ale. It'll be useless if we keep drinking.

>>19085721
I'm up for it. My mother always told me not to put off what I had to do, lets get this done. Also we're going to have to get new gear, my old stuff is gone and it just feels strange not to have a layer of steel around me and an axe in my hand. Ha, a dryad walking around with full plate and an axe, that'll be a sight to see.

>>19085721

Proceed with the ritual. Be curvaceous.

OOC: This is a pretty good idea for an rp. 8/10

>>19085786
Why bother, we're going to be wearing plate mail of the time and gender is pretty much impossible to distinguish in a proper suit of armor. We are going to avoid giving any fucks about our new gender and race and continue to dwarf it up as much as possible.

>>19085813

No better time than the present.

"Let's just get it done, lass," you grumble, finishing your current mug--your fifth, at your count--and putting it down. Lalinn nods, and pulls out a wickedly sharp knife--her ritual Athame, a weapon she has sworn to never draw blood from the unwilling with--and starts craving sigils and runes into the branch off your Oak. She intones a prayer in druidic, and slices her palm, dripping her blood into her carvings. Reversing her grip on the blade, she offers it to you, handle-first. You take it, and getting a feeling for what she wants, slice your palm. Your blood is strange--green, sticky, sap-like--but it drips down onto the carved limb, and you feel a strange shiver go through your body. Lalinn says another prayer, holding the limb over your head, as green, natural energy flows into it and into you.

"Here," the elf says, handing out the limb. "So long as it is on your person, you will always be near your tree." You take it with a grunt... and notice you are rather naked. "SOMEONE HAND ME SOME BLASTED CLOTHES," you start to yell, but Johann is already handing you a simple shirt and pair of breeches with an axe-belt. "We'll get your armor resized when we get to a village. Meanwhile, at least you can still use your axe," he says.

Glisela speaks up. "So... shall we get moving before one of us ends up dead again?" You answer with a grunt, standing up and clothing yourself. "Point th' way, lass. I'm still a wee bit dizzy, someone else lead fer now."

(Field To Long, there is more)

>>19085849

Lalinn nods, and strikes off, the rest of your party following, you taking up the rear. It's a good six hour march before you see civilization, a quickly, but sturdily built fortress of wood and masonry, filled with the tents of an army on the move. The party slows, and the guards at the gate eye you warily as you approach. You think you recognize one--Dwarf, name of Brom, a crossbow-maker's son, only a few months your younger, from the same fortress. He speaks. "Glad ta see yer back from scoutin', but where be Thorgrim? And who's the handsome wooden lass ye've got there?" he asks, teeth flashing. You also remember he thought himself somewhat of a lady's man.

What do you do?

>>19085858
Laugh boisterously, and inform the poor kid that we ARE Thorgrim.
Fuckin' magic, and gods, and mishaps.

>>19085858
Brom, I'm Thorgrim, and if you hit on me again I will shove a seam of coal so far up your ass you'll start spitting out diamonds. Tell him to let us in so we can resize our armor.

We need to ask the elf why the fuck we have female form. Couldn't we look like a dwarf... or at least male?
What the hell, man?

>>19085928
Reincarnation, it's a bit of a gamble even at the best of times. Or to put it more succinctly, it's magic.

>>19085938
Oh.
So there's a chance to come back as ANY race of either gender?

Lalinn makes you speak, but you cut in with a glare at Brom. "Brom, I be Thorgrim, an' if ye hit on me again, I'll shove a seam o' coal up her arse so far tha' ye'll be spittin' diamonds in a decade," you rumble. Brom blinks a few times, and lets out a great many curses in Dwarven as you--and your group--elbow past him and the other confused guard. You're walking towards the biggest tent in the encampment, and attracting more than a few stares... and more than a few jeers and catcalls, too. You grumble at Lalinn, "Why'd I have ta be a woman, lass? Shouldnae I have come back as a male?"

The druid shrugs. "You can't always tell what Reincarnation will do to someone, Thorgrim. And, besides, well... all Dryads are female. Anyway... I think Johann and I will report to the Commander about the Duke's movements and dragons. Why don't you take Glisela over to the forge, start working on resizing your armor? She's got all your gear in your bag of holding." Glisela nods. "Everything that survived the flames, anyway," the halfling says. "Most of it did, but, well. Fire, you know."

What do you do?

>>19085972
Grumble and generally be angry dwarf.

>>19085972
Smile at the chance to work at the forge some, a properly dwarfy activity. Check what of our belongings survived in the bag, get to the forge and start working. If anyone questions what the flying fuck a living tree is doing working at a forge just shoot them a glare.

>>19085972
Get to the forge, see what survived.
It was dragonsfire, after all. Not sure what the condition of what survived will be.

You grumble, but there's a smile that, if you still had one, would have been hidden by your beard. "I'll do just that, lass. Meet us there when yer done, aye? Shouldnae take to long to fix me armor up again."

You and the halfling strike off towards the forge, and arrive there shortly. You take inventory of what survived--most of your gear did, Good Dwarven Work as it is, but the wooden holy symbol to Muradin you wore as a good luck charm was ashed, as was your crossbow and your collection of hand-carved wooden figurines you always worked on during your watches. Your shield is gone as well, a twisted lump of slag--it took the majority of the impact from the dragonfire that killed you. Losses, but ultimately, replacable. No one else is using the forge, currently, so you get some extra material and stoke the flames, pulling out your plate armor and starting to heat it, resize it, and reshape it to fit your new body shape. The work is hard, hot, and comfortingly familiar to you, the TING of hammer on metal, the sizzling of heated metal cooling, the flames stoking high and hot as you work. Soon, it's done, and you start slipping on your plate armor

It's center is a bit different than you remember, but it is still your armor. The weight is comfortable--you have trained for this all your life. You take a spare shield from a pile near the forge, and flipping the faceplate of your helmet down, draw your axe and take a few swings. It all feels natural, good. You let out a braying, high laugh. You might be a dryad now, but at heart you are still a dwarf! Glisela laughs as well, clapping her hands. "Good to see you in high spirits, Thorgrim. I'll get to work enchanting your new shield once we have some downtime!" She says.

You see Johann and Lalinn approaching from the Commander's tent, looking grim. What do you do?

>>19086126
Walk on over to them, get a sitrep on what's been happening. Tell them that we're armored up and ready to do our job.

Also ask the druid if it'd be a bad idea to carve our new oak stick with designs and so on.

Ask what enchantments she can put on the shield, and if possible our armor as well, then go and see what has the others so grim.

"What are ye thinkin' of addin' tae me shield? Maybe me armor, too?" you ask Glisela. "Oh, just some basic defensive enchantments, for now. Making them tougher and stouter, like we were planning before the last mission went all woobly-shaped," she says as you and she walk towards your druid and rogue. You nod at them in greetings. "I'm armored up 'n ready ta fight again," you say, "But what has yer two lookin' like ye found a vein of fool's gold?"

Johann spits. "Commander's having us run a courier duty, even though I think we ought to get some damnable rest after our last misadventure. One of us bloody died! But no, he has IMPORTANT DAMNABLE INFORMATION for the High Thane of Versern, that nation to the east, along the Glacier Coast!" He waves around an envelope, sealed with wax and stamped with something important and official looking. "It's a month-long journey ASSUMING THE WEATHER'S GOOD AND NOTHING FUCKS US OVER!" He yells louder. Lalinn cuts him a withering glare. "We're going to be taking an important diplomatic missive to High Thane Grugnir Grugnirson. And we're going to do a good job of it."

You nod, letting the thoughts about this mission run through your head. "Before I speak on that, lass, gotta question 'bout me stick. Can I carve it 'r use it fer anythin' other'n sticky things?" Lalinn nods. "Yes, so long as it's not destroyed or to heavily altered. You could, I suppose, turn it into some sort of... weapon handle, maybe. Or a crossbow's stock," she says.

What do you do?

>>19086276
I'm not technically dead, just woody. And my axe could use a new axe handle, old one's getting a bit iffy. Any chance it'll naturally be magical or stronger then it ought to be?

Well as my father said someone has to deal with the shit or the whole fortress smells and the fungi don't grow.

We've got work to do, we get to spend tonight drinking and carousing then we head out. I miss my alcohol tolerance already.

>>19086276
Well then, let's get some supplies and such, prepare for the journey, and head out first thing in the morning.

"Calm yer arse, lad," you say to Johann. "Gotta take care o' th' shit, or th' fortress stinks o' it after awhile. We'll use tonight ta rest, relax, carouse, and re-supply, leavin' at first's light in the mornin'." Johann grumbles. "You're right, Thorgrim, but I still don't like it. Guess I'm not getting paid to like my job, though," he muses. You turn to Lalinn. "If I made it an axe handle 'r summat, would it be naturally better or magical?" The druid smiles and nods. "It'd be like wielding an extension of yourself. Reinforced with the druidic magic you can bring to bear, it'd make you quite the terror... though, about that, I can help you with that, if you wanted, but even though it's an intrinsic part of your nature now... if you want to use those druidic talents, you'd have to give up metal armor. Ironwood would work, as would dragonhide, but those are rare." She shrugs. "Even without those, though, yes, if you made it into a weapon, it would be better than a normal weapon of it's type.

You let that information mull in your head for a bit. "Roight then. First off--we're all alive, we've got a job, 'n we need to resupply. Glisela, ye go make sure we've got the supplies. Go wi' Johann fer it. Lalinn, yer on healin' item and such duty, make sure yer well stocked fer tha'. Leave yer equipment here, I'll handle repairs 'n such. Meet up here in an hour, then we're hittin' th' tavern like th' fist o' an angry god."

(More: Field To Long again.)

>>19086476

Your partymembers nod, leave their equipment--Glisela's sling and staff, Johann's pair of daggers, cosh, shortbow, and leather armor, and Lalinn's scimitar, longbow, and hide armor--with you to take care of, and split off to get ready. You turn back to the forge and get to work fixing any minor problems--and there's a good bit of heat warping and claw shredding going on, from the fight with that blasted dragon. But you're a dwarf, and it's nothing you can't handle swiftly and efficiently. Will probably take you all of thirty minutes at the most.

Do you do anything else in that hour?

>>19086496
Can't think of anything else, except maybe getting some better clothes.

Spend a little extra time to not just repair but improve the armor and weapons if possible, then when finished carouse and get drunk.

>>19086496
Giving up metal armor, that's a high price to pay, but if we happen across a pile of iron wood or dragonhide it's a good idea. Fix all the stuff, make sure everything is properly sharp and ready, in the absolute best condition possible.

If there is anyone else at the forge give them pointers and advice.

Get better acquainted with the branch we're turning into a proper axe handle, get an idea for the grain of the wood, we're not an expert with wood, but we know our way around it, and combined with our new dryadness we ought to be pretty good at this. We'll do the actual carving on the road.

We should get some new clothes that actually fit our new frame, though not a dress, that just seems wrong.

You take your time on your repairs, making sure each weapon and piece of armor is in tip-top shape. You spend a little time examining your Traveling Branch, as you've come to think of it, getting a feel for the grain of the wood. It's not stone, but even dwarves use wood for some things, and with your Dryad senses, you get a good feel for the grain and set of it--it would, in fact, make a fine axe handle or crossbow stock, the former easier than the latter, with just a bit of alteration. You get some working blueprints in your head, then set the equipment aside as you consider the issue of clothes. What you have will work for now, and your armor's just fine, but you can't wear armor all the time, and honestly, Johann's clothing is a bit tight for your preferances around the chest area. There's a tailoring tent near the forge, though just out of earshot, and you go over there. The camp's tailor is a bright young human boy, about nineteen summers of age, who is currently lounging just outside his tent. He looks up at you and frowns.

"Ah, can I help you, miss...?" he asks, obviously unaware of your identity. You remember his name is Gerom, and he's always been a bit nervous around people.

What do you do?

>>19086613

Some easy to move in clothes, pants and shirt fuck the dress. Don't be TOO grumpy about it, the lad doesn't need to be scared

>>19086613
Hey Gerom, it's Thorgrim, long story, Magic was involved, don't freak out. I need some new practical comfortable travelling clothes given that I am taller, thinner and female now. Also something more formal, altered dwarven design.

Don't make me a dress.

We need traveling clothes and something formal to wear for when we see the high thane.

>>19086613
Greet the boy by name, and tell him it's us, old Thorgrim the dwarf.
And if he asks about the whole dryad thing, tell him it's feckin' MAGIC.

"It's Thorgrim, lad. Th' Dwarf," you say, a bit of a good old dwarven grumble entering your tone. The boy blinks up at you. "Thorgrim? But, uh, you're all..." You cut in before he can finish. "Blasted magic, boy, but it probably beats bein' dead. Me, Lalinn, Glisela, and Johann 'r leavin' fer a diplomatic mission to the Glacier Coast in the mornin', 'n I need a new set o' clothes 'r two. Some fer travellin', some fancy ones--make 'em dwarvish lookin', and nae dresses!--fer meetin' important people," you say.

Gerom composes himself, and stands up, nodding. "Let me get your new measurements and I'll have three or four sets ready by morning," he says, pulling out a measuring tape and going about his business with professionalism. Have to appreciate that in a human. He's done swiftly, and goes to work as you wander back to the forge. Soon, your companions are there as well, and as one you head to the tavern-cum-open air market. Soldiers and guards are already there and drinking, and an old, grizzled, one-eyed halfling who only answers to Barkeep is keeping the ales, wines, meads, and other alcohols flowing. Lalinn gets mead, Johann ale, and Glisela orders wine.

What do you order, and how much do you drink?

>>19086707
Some good Dwarven stout.
And we drink to see how this new body compares to the old when it comes to holding its liquor.

>>19086707
Start with some mead, move on to some ale. Perhaps once we have some we can try acquiring a taste or wine and so on.

Be more cautious than we usually would be but still enjoy the revelry, take out time and find the tolerances of this new body.

You order a mead, and it is quickly served. You quaff it down, and take a moment to see how it sits. It seems to sit fairly well, and you quaff another--and start to feel a buzz. "Well damn," you mutter. "Ain't got near the liver o' me old self." "Just means you'll have to work back up it, Thorgrim," Johann says with a smirk over his ale. "Consider it a challenge--now our drinking contests might be a bit fair. Up for one tonight? Reckon we've drank about the same so far."

What do you do?

>>19086851
Bah, drinking contests are all mental you pansy, you couldn't take me if I was a halfling. Bring it on.

Drink his ass under the table.

>>19086881
Second.

>>19086851
>be dwarfy dryad
>originally a dwarf
>dwarfy challenge initiated
go go go

"Bah! Drinkin' contests be a test o' will anyway, lad! Ye couldnae hope to beat me if I were a halflin'!" you say with a grin. Glisela glares over at you. "I heard that," she says, sipping at her wine. You grin at her as a number of soldiers and guards gather around your table at the cry of "DRINKIN' CONTEST!"

Barkeep breaks out a bottle of clear, strong liquor, and starts pouring shots for you and the rogue. You slam them back, one after the other, and after some cheering others join in, not for the contest, but simply for the drinking. The next couple of hours are vaguely clear to you, downing shot after shot. You distinctly remember cheering as Johann collapsed, grabbing the bottle, and finishing it.

You are not sure how you got into this tent, but your head is pounding, you aren't wearing any clothes, and there's someone warm and distinctly female pressed up against your back.

What do you do?

>>19086950
Go the fuck to sleep. It's probably the bloody elf 'looking after' us.

>>19086950
>there's someone warm and distinctly female pressed up against your back.
Silently thank Moradin for small favors that it's not male.
Go and find some water to help with this headache.

>>19086950
Smile contentedly, we've still got it. No matter our form we still have our dwarven charm.

Identify who it is, roll over and in our most dwarven voice possible say, "Morning, I told you that I could dig deep and excavate the best deposits."

You stretch, and wince slightly, turning around to look at who you slept with. The person groans as she wakes up, and you get a good look at Lalinn. There's a thin smear of what might be blood around her face, and you realize there's some sort of strange wooden cuff thing attaching your wrist to hers.

You always knew, deep in your dwarven heart, that druids were freaks. She starts speaking. "Queen of Leaves, my head hurts... where am I? The last thing I remember was taking some shots of that liquor after Thorgrim won the contest... gods, my head..."

You see a flask of water nearby, reach out, grab it, and take a swig.

What do you do?

>>19087025
>there's some sort of strange wooden cuff thing attaching your wrist to hers
Time to use our new dryad superpowers to slip right out of that.

>>19087025
>There's a thin smear of what might be blood around her face, and you realize there's some sort of strange wooden cuff thing attaching your wrist to hers.
Yep. Druids are into the weird stuff.

Give Lalinn the rest of the water, sounds like she'll need it. And examine the cuff, see if we can take it off.

>>19087025

Hand her the water.

>>19087025
What the hell is this, elf? it is this why you turned me into this freak wooden form?

Quick question, is this going to be archived? Because here in spain is 8am and i havent got to bed yet.

It is true that we are here forever.

You hand Lalinn the flask of water after you take a few gulps more. "Mornin', lass. Drink up, it'll help th' hangover," you say, turning your attention to the wooden cuff. You frown at it, and in a blink, it simply falls off your arm. It seems you do, indeed, have the ability to control wood. At the very least wood that you can touch. You stand, stretch, and start getting dressed.

Lalinn moans and takes some gulps of water, splashing some on her face to clear off the dried blood. She blinks up at you. "Thorgrim? Gods, what did we end up doing last night?" she groans, going to slip into some clothing. "I haven't gotten drunk since my Initiation Ceremony... gods, hangovers are terrible... why did I taste blood? And, uh..." She isn't quite blushing, precisely, but is very nearly so. "Do you remember last night? At all?"

What do you do?

>>19087058

I plan to archive this either when my body finally crashes away into unconsciousness, or we hit autosage, whichever comes first. It will have, at the last, the Collective Game and Dryad Quest tags.

>>19087073
Tell her that we don't remember what happened after we won the drinking contest, and that she'd better check herself for any new cuts.

>>19087073
Not a clue dearie, I have no clue why there's blood on your mouth or why we were handcuffed together. I presume that I excavated your mines and delved for precious ores. So is this why you brought me back as a dyrad, you thought I was far too charming to resist but wanted something a bit more woodsy. Say this last bit jokingly.

>>19087073
Cool, even though i have just decided to not sleep at all.

------

Nay, lass. And dont think that if i were in my own body and mind anything would have happened here. Meaby we could ask the halfling or the rogue, though i dont think im in the mood to deal with giggles.

>>19087093
Oh, yeah, also the blood thing. Im pretty sure it is not mine, so she should check it.

"Nay idea on th' blood, lass. Far as what happened, I remember th' contest, then I figure I must've gone delvin' in yer mine fer percious ore," you say jokingly, sliding into your armor like it was a second skin. "That why ye brought me back all leafy? Wanted a piece o' Thorgrim but wanted it more woodsy fer ye?"

Lalinn groans again, using a bit of her magic. "Wonderful," she mutters, sliding into her robes and hide armor. "No, I didn't get to pick what you came back as. Besides, I'm not really attracted to..." she waves her hands generally in a motion you THINK means male reproductive organs. "But that's neither here nor there. Anyway. Let's just... meet up with Johann and Glisela and set out. The soon we leave, after all, the sooner the message gets there, and the sooner we can get back."

You finish buckling your armor on, and heft your axe-belt and bags. The tent-flap opens easily, and you step out into the dawn light of the camp. Johann and Glisela are nearby, each one coming out of their own tent. Johann looks hung over, Glisela has the pleased look of someone who managed to gain a good amount of money off of some bets.

What do you do?

>>19087166

FFFFFFF, forgot to name/trip up. That was me. Respond as per normal.

>>19087166
Be really cheery and loud towards Johann, we're no longer a dwarf and he still lost. Tell Glisela that she owes us cut of the winnings from the bets she took on the contest. Get all of our supplies together, get our new clothes and head out, we've got a lot of land to cover.

Tell her you wont say nothing about that night. And ask her about growing some kind of roots or leafs or anything so we can get some kind of a beard.

Hell, i want my fucking beard back.

>>19087166

Ask about the wooden cuffs, is there some sort of ritual that requires blood and wooden bindings?

You stride over and hit Johann on the back. "Good show last night, lad, but I still kicked yer arse!" You say with a grin. He grunts. "Yeah, yeah, maybe next time," he grumbles, checking his knives. Glisela has already approached you with a small sack of coinage, which you slip into your packs--you can count it later, probably during you night's watch.

You head back to Lalinn's tent as she leaves. "Couple of questions fer ya, lass. Think I could maybe grow, ye know, a bit o' foliage 'round me cheeks and chin? An' ye know if maybe ye did some ritual last night?" The druid eyes. "Well... you might be able to, though it'd be... odd. And no, I wasn't nearly sober enough to perform any kind of ritual."

You nod, satisified with her answers, and pick up your clothes from the tailor. With that done, you lead your group of motley adventurers out of the walls, and start heading to the east.

Just yesterday, you were a dead dwarf. And today, you're a living Dryad, Thorgrim Magnusson. Life takes interesting terms, and, as your father always said, only way to treat with life is on it's terms, not yours. The sun rises on the rest of your life.

Good night, ladies and gentlemen! My eyes are refusing to stay open. The quest will continue tomorrow night, probably around 10 or 11 PM eastern standard time, earlier if I can. Feel free to keep this thread bumped with discussion about what you want to see as the quest progresses! I'm archiving it, then going to bed.

archive?

>>19087352

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/19085383/

Here it is, for your viewing pleasure.

This was an awesome quest idea. Keep it up.

>>19087357
Cool, gave it a vote.

>>19087341
Well we're going to have to start exploring our new dual nature, and working a lot more with wood. We're probably more used to steel, but we're pretty good with wood, and given our new situation we can become very good at it. Maybe try to find ironwood or some day kill that motherfucking dragon and make armor from its hide. Also talk to the druid more, get some lessons from her about our nature powers and try to bridge the gap between our stony dwarven nature and our new more planty form.

I just hope our family doesn't find out, our mother will cry for days and our father will frown at us in a disappointed manner, one so disappointed we can see it through his magnificent beard.

And find out what the wooden handcuff and blood was for. Also investigate how far we actually got last night.

>>19087469
Alright, so, turn that stick of ours into a new ax handle?

Treeoflife, are you Dryadfag?

Quick morning bump for new readers before I head out to accomplish the day's tasks, answer a question, and ask some of my own.

>>19088836

Nope! name's familiar, though, who's dryadfag again?

Also, what do other people want to see? What sort of plans do you see Thorgrim attempting in the future? What kinds of people do you want to interact with?

Thread's archived and updating still, so if it's gone by the time I start round two, I'll be able to catch up on what people have said.

>>19089808

Dryadfag was the guy who wrote the long, ongoing story about a guy who got reincarnated as a dryad. It was a few months ago.

>>19089808
I'd like to see things like Thorgrim exploring his newfound Dryad abilities, some good ol' high fantasy sword and sorcery adventure.
Also people's reactions to a slim and fragile looking dryad acting like a hard-hitting, hard-drinking male dwarf.
Including elves, other dwarves, and druids. ESPECIALLY the druids.

>>19089808

Thorgrim going for ale and whores with the party.

Cue hilarity