Rolled 17

>>32260830
>[X] Attack (roll d20, surprise gives +1 to your roll)

I remember you from Cutie G. Sorry I haven't caught your first thread.

>>32260830
>Run
Guy's cold-blooded, most likely we'll just get slaughtered.

>>32261205
B-but with my roll, we'll surely win!

>>32261178
>>32261205
Welp, here I am at another conundrum. Standard practice: 5 minutes and then coin toss.

>inb4 I get ninja'd again

Rolled 13

>>32260830

>>32260830
The pot feels pathetic against the blade the murderer carries, but at that point, you don’t give much of a shit. He killed your friend. He is going to pay.

You coil yourself like a spring and pounce, bellowing a savage war cry as you raise the pot to strike. Surprise is total, and your leap took you closer than you’d have even dared to imagine. A vicious downward strike and the first cloaked victim collapses soundlessly to the ground. You may just have caved his head in, but the thought is immediately pushed from your mind as you eye up your next target: the killer himself.

He is fairly sizeable, but his face appears unremarkable aside from the inky black blazing skull tattooed on his cheek. He makes no expression as you smash the pot into his face. He staggers back, but does not fall.

He’s momentarily out of the picture though, and before the third can reach into his cloak to draw a weapon you’re on top of him, smashing the pot twice against his head until he falls as still as his comrade.

To your left, the killer with the skull tattoo is recovering, and with no time to spare, you rush at him with the pot.

>roll a d20

Rolled 8

>>32261423
Come on, dice gods, we need BLOOD! Blood and justice!

Rolled 9

>>32261423

>>32261484
>>32261583
Looks like we lost some steam and got tired.

Rolled 8

>>32261423

Rolled 2

>>32261423
dice plz

>>32261423
The man with the skull tattoo raises his arms and something flashes, and then your face explodes with burning pain and your rush turns into a clumsy stagger. You fall back, frantically waving the pot to ward off any incoming blows, but none come. Opening your eyes, you see the killer standing with a bloody nose and coal black eyes that look as dead as a cemetery. He has his serrated blade in one hand and it drips with blood; yours and Dagg’s.

‘That was rather bold of you,’ the killer says in a tone as cold as his expression. ‘Fatally stupid though, but I suppose you’ve made my job easier, for which I thank you.’

He gestures towards Dagg’s body with his head. ‘The letter. We know you’ve been running them. I want the most recent one. Now. Give it to me and I promise I’ll make it quick.’

>Who are you?
>I don’t have it
>Attack him (roll d20)
>Run (roll d20)
>Write-in?

Rolled 8

>>32261735
>Who are you?

The while he's answering or otherwise humoring us,

>Attack!

‘Who are you?’ you ask, gasping at the fresh pain that flares across your face as you open your mouth. Reaching your hand up, you feel that a bloody line has been opened on your left cheek which bleeds profusely. You need to get that fixed up.

The murderer twirls his weapon in one hand and takes a few casual steps to the side, circling you like a predator eyeing up its next meal. His depthless black eyes are locked onto you, and despite the blood that streams from his nose, he displays no outward sign of discomfort at all.

‘That’s not important. What’s important is you handing me that letter before I decide to indulge in my more… creative side.’ He flicks a casual glance to his fallen colleagues and gives him a little nudge with his boot.

‘Oi, get up–’ he starts, but you see your chance and are already moving. Somehow or other the pot is still clenched in your other hand and you lower it as you charge, intending to bring it up in a swift, cutting upward blow that, ideally, should shatter his jaw.

Only when you strike, he’s no longer there.

Something stabs through your shoulder and you can’t stop yourself crying out at the pain – it’s unreal. You tear yourself forward and you feel something slide free from your shoulder. Spinning around and clutching your throbbing wound you see the killer standing behind you, his blood-slick sword held casually in one hand.

‘This again?’ he tuts, sounding almost disappointed at your feeble effort.

‘I will ask once more,’ he says. ‘The letter.’

You can’t take him. Or maybe you could if you were in better shape, as it is now you need to find yourself a way out. The only window in the attic is pretty close by and the drop isn’t too far, but in your condition it might make your wounds worse. The staircase isn’t far either, but you’ll need to get past the killer to get there.

>Bluff and say you’ll hand him the letter
>Jump through the window
>Make for the staircase (d20)

>>32262153
Argh, should be d20 for window as well. Fucks sake, my bad.

>>32262153
>Bluff and say you’ll hand him the letter
Huh, where did everyone go? I just got here so...

>>32262153
Leaping through the window doesn’t exactly appeal to you with two injuries of varying severity, but neither does trying to slip past this freak to try and get to the staircase. You’ve only got one way out of this now, time to see if you’re a better liar than Dagg was.

‘Okay… okay I’ll give it to you,’ you say in between staggered breaths. The pot is on the floor and picking it up would be suicide. You’ll just have to pray to the Nine for an opening you can use to exploit.

‘Smart,’ the killer says, and he lowers his blade a fraction. ‘Get it, and don’t even think about running.’

You nod, sweat trickling down your forehead. Your head feels fuzzy. That’s not good at all. Shock is already starting to dull your mind and if you want to make it out of this you need your wits about you. You limp past the killer, who has the tip of his weapon pointed at your back the whole way. As you descend the staircase you notice the cloaked figures stir and begin to pick themselves up. Hellfire. That’s a complication. Whatever your plan to escape is you need to implement it quickly.

Briefly, you consider pretending the letter is in your quarter, but there’s nothing there except some rumpled articles of clothing, and the larder has a few items of food (primarily meat and potatoes) but nothing that could possibly help you escape, and you really don’t rate your chances trying your luck fighting this man again.

>Break for the front door, it’s still open (roll d20)
>Pretend the letter is in Dagg’s quarter and search for something you might be able to use

>>32263564
>Pretend the letter is in Dagg’s quarter and search for something you might be able to use
Stall stall stall!

>>32263564
You glance at the open front door, and feel the tip of the killer’s blade dig softly into your back.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ he warns, and you nod slowly before stepping off the staircase.

The only chamber yours and Dagg’s home possesses is just the same as it was this morning; the large, rectangular table dominates the centre while two old, worn stools are slid underneath. Underneath the staircase to your right is the door to the larder, while on the wall perpendicular to it is a patchwork curtain that conceals your quarter, consisting of a hammock and an empty barrel upon which your meagre assortment of clothes are dumped. Dagg’s quarter is much the same, or so you’d have thought initially, but you recall that he always seems unwilling to let you see what’s inside.

Why this is the case you don’t know, but you’re on your way now praying fervently that something in there might help you get out of this place in one piece.

‘It’s in there,’ you say, pointing to Dagg’s quarter.

‘Well? Go get it then,’ the murderer says, as you’d expected he would. You trudge on and open the curtain with your good left arm.

Inside is a hammock much like your own, and a small wooden box which serves the same purpose the barrel does in yours, and is of no practical use to you at all. Frantically you search and are blessed with a small burlap sack stuffed into a corner at an angle a hasty observer would likely miss. Heart hammering in your ribcage, you reach for it and peek inside.

(cont.)

>>32264173
(cont.)
You find three small items inside. One looks like a clockwork children’s toy in the form of a griffon, another seems to be a doll made to look like a young girl. It’s missing its arm and one of its button eyes has fallen off. It seems singed but it could just be the poor light. Finally is a cylindrical object. A small mechanism is bolted to the top, and appears to be activated by some sort of switch. A small note is attached to its bottom, which reads: “For desperate times, A.R.”

>What's the worst that could happen? Prime the strange device and hurl it at the killer
>Hang on to it and try to stall for more time

>>32264192
>Examine it further

>>32264192
>Examine it
Yeah, makes the most sense.

>>32264192
The more you look at it, the more confused you are. The note gives you some hope that it’ll help you escape with all your pieces intact, but you’re baffled by the thing… probably a better idea to give it another look over. After all, if it’s meant to do something dangerous like explode, then priming it in this confined space really would be a silly thing to do.

‘What’s taking so long?’ the killer asks. You notice that his tone of voice hasn’t changed once. A quick, nervous glance reveals that his face is still blooded from your surprise assault, but he has made no attempt to clean himself off.

‘It’s coming, it’s– it’s hidden pretty deep,’ you reply, your voice breaking as the tension starts to get to you. On the upside though, your fear seems to be keeping the worst effects of the shock at bay, though your face and shoulder still hurt.

You check over the device in your hand, and now realise that it’s more cylindrical than circular, almost like a wine glass with its stand removed. It is dark maroon in colour, and a thin layer of dust has accumulated on its surface, Dagg must have had this for a while. The mechanism on top appears distinctly blocky and ugly compared with the smooth body, rectangular and jutting out on one side like a cliff overhang. There is no indication as to what the switch does, but a closer inspection of the frame reveals the words: “Teikoff Industries,” which, unfortunately, raises more questions as, while you know of the corporation’s existence, you don’t know exactly what it is they produce.

Further along, however, you find more words imprinted on the body: “STN BMB” maybe that means something, but you’ve got no idea what. You lower the contraption, willing the gears in your head to shift so you can work out a tangible escape plan.

>Search Dagg’s quarter harder; there must be something else here you can use
>Throw all caution to the wind: activate the device and hope for the best

>>32264706
Stun bomb?
Fuck it, flip switch then throw at guy and hope for the best I guess.

>>32264706
>Throw all caution to the wind: activate the device and hope for the best

Shit he's probably going to come in if we stop to look again. Frag the fuck out then book it. Even if it doesn't work he should still recognize it and gives a quick wimdow of opportunity.

>>32264883
What this guy said and if need be close the door and lcok it with a chair agains the door knob

>>32264706
Footsteps approach you from behind. The killer’s lost his patience. You’ve got no time to search for anything else. It’s do or die, you just have to pray this thing helps.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you clamp a finger down on the switch and rise, spinning sharply on your heel to throw it right at the inexpressive face of Dagg’s killer. The man raises an eyebrow in confusion at the oncoming object, taking it in with a quizzical expression…

And then the world explodes in brilliant light and deafening noise.

For a moment you’re blind, your eyes overwhelmed by the sheer assault on your senses by the bomb – for that’s surely what it was – but before you wonder if this is what dying feels like, your sight returns and you find yourself utterly unharmed, save for your previously inflicted wounds. The killer clutches and scrapes pathetically at his eyes with his hands and his ears are bleeding. You’re deaf and still a little dazed from the explosion, but a surge of adrenaline lends you strength as you spot a golden opportunity.

You murmur a quick word of thanks to Dagg’s spirit, and then you dash out of the front door.

The streets outside are still bustling, but a small crowd of onlookers is beginning to gather following the explosion. Each of them stares at you with a mixture of confusion, which turns to concern as they observe your sorry state. You consider asking them to call for the City Watch but then the door behind you bursts open and you’re greeted by the sight of the killer’s two cloaked colleagues.

So you run.

(cont.)

>>32265406
(cont.)
You pump your legs faster than you’ve ever done in your life, pushing through the crowd in an effort to escape. A thunderclap reverberates through the street behind you and your blood runs cold as you realise that the noise was a gunshot. Another loud crack and something snaps past your head, taking a passer-by in the arm. She shrieks and collapses, blood spurting from the wound. You have no time to help; if you don’t get yourself patched up soon, you won’t be in any shape to help anyone.

You have to run. You have to find somewhere safe.

Your first thought is of the City Watch; surely they can help you out. Their duty is to prevent things like this happening after all, or catch the perpetrators if they can’t. But then another thought comes to you: Ryder. He made Dagg run those letters for him, right? Surely he’d know what’s going on, but then where would you possibly find him? Back at the Walnut Tree? Or maybe you could try the airport?

Regardless of whichever you choose though, you also need to work out a route and lose your pursuers. The rooftops seem awfully inviting, but in your state it might be a risk not worth taking to try and haul yourself up there. On the other hand with your injuries, simply running your way there sounds pretty unsafe as well.

Decisions, decisions:

>Rooftop run (d20 to climb)
>Street chase (d20 for evasion)

And then destination:
>City Watch
>Walnut Tree Pub
>Airport

Rolled 13

>>32265430
>Rooftop run (d20 to climb)
Fuck yeah
>Walnut Tree Pub
Let's try it.

Rolled 10

>>32265430
>Rooftop Run
>Walnut Pub
rolls for the dice god

>>32265430
You dismiss the idea of going to the City Watch, they could most certainly help solve the immediate problem of keeping you alive, but you doubt they could help you get to the bottom of this madness. Despite his fearsome reputation, Ryder’s your only hope to find out what exactly Dagg died for, and how you might go about avenging him, though gutting the bastard with the tattoo would be a nice start.

The airport seems like an idea, but it’s too massive. Your brief conversation with the bartender at the Walnut Tree pub implied that Ryder was a regular patron, so that’s probably the best place to start.

First though, you need to lose the minions hot on your heels. It’s tempting to try to lose them in the crowded evening bustle, but you stick out like a sore thumb with your darker skin and your bloody clothes and face. The rooftops have been your playground since you and Dagg first met, if you can’t shake them off there, even in your condition, then you’ll die ashamed.

You slide past a fleeing mother who clutches her wailing child and into a side alley behind a tenement building opposite your home. In there is a regular route you’ve used to hop onto the roofs many a time before. Without stopping, you leap and plant one foot on the wall before pushing up as quickly as you can manage and, in your haste, reach out your bad arm to clasp hold of a small ventilation grille. You scream as the wound in your shoulder feels as though it tears open wider but you keep your grip.

(cont)

>>32266058
(cont)
Gradually, and despite the pain, you haul yourself up, until a sudden crack disturbs your concentration, and a lead ball smacks into the plaster scant inches from your face. Glancing down, you see the goons have caught up and are aiming repeaters up at you. Desperation lends you strength as you power up the side of the building, eventually reaching a safe height to leap from the side of the tall tenement to the top of the house next door, and from there you can easily navigate a path.

Tensing your muscles, you push and launch yourself through the air towards the waiting roof. For a moment, you think you’ve nailed it. Then an intense, ripping pain explodes in your side and you do a half spin before crunching against the side of the building. You yelp and slide down the side of the house but manage to wrap an arm over the ledge, where you pull yourself up even as more pistol shots whistle through the evening air.

When you examine yourself, you see that a shot caught you in your abdomen; another addition to your repertoire of wounds. The impact from hitting the side of the building must have done something mean to your ribs as well because it hurts like a miniature sun has been born in your body. Something needs to be done about the bleeding, but stopping to patch yourself up would surely give your pursuers time to try and catch up.

>Keep going and risk blood loss
>Try to bind your wounds and risk being caught up to

>>32266084
>Keep going and risk blood loss
If they're close enough to shoot they're close enough to catch us if we stop moving. Kepp running.

>>32266084
I'm back, OP. Sorry for fucking off so long.

>Keep going and risk blood loss

>>32266084
How far to the pub? If long, stop and bind, if short, keep going.

>>32266202
I never really specified. Going to need to draw a map in paint or GIMP or something at some point.

>>32266084
You pick yourself up, wincing as every breath you take agitates your injuries. You’re aware that while you’re pretty much running on fumes, you can’t stop for a breather or to try and stop the bleeding. Those hooded fellows are close enough to take shots at you and while you just took the fastest way up, there are other ways an individual can find their way up to the scenic route too. You can’t risk them catching up, so you soldier on.

Navigating the rooftops in the darkening light gives you a strange sense of calm; you remember challenging Dagg to races up here when you were younger, and the fact that you’ll never be able to do so again gives you an empty, hopeless feeling as the city rushes past. You dash, vault, and leap where you can manage it, but mostly your pace is staccato, rushing one moment and almost painfully slow the next. You want nothing more than to curl up into a ball and let the fatigue overtake you, but to allow it would be to invite your demise.

After what seems an age, you reach the Walnut Tree. It’s still open, and, merciful Nine above, you seem to have lost your pursuers. Stumbling on, you push the doors open, and are greeted by a most peculiar sight.

A young lady, roughly your age, or thereabouts you wager, stands in the middle of a circle of rough types. A large, thickset man with a hunched, simian posture grips her slender wrist roughly and he has a dagger in one hand.

‘So lads, what say we teach this gutter-bitch that her and her filthy, degenerate kin aren’t welcome here?’ the big man asks the crowd, drinking their drunken cheers. His words confuse you for a moment, and then it strikes you.

The girl is an elf.
(cont)

>>32266692
She struggles, but it’s little use against the wall of muscle she’s up against, and even in your state you can see naked fear in her emerald eyes. Her braided, maroon hair is style in a little braid coupled with a short pony tail, the braid makes her seem like she wears a red-brown wreath upon the crown of her head. Her face is angular, like the one that was with Captain Ryder this morning, but the cheekbones are unmistakably much more feminine, and a charming straight-edged nose.

What stands out most about her appearance, however, are the overalls she wears that are streaked with oil and other muck, and she positively reeks of the stuff. Perhaps she works in a machinesmith? You shake your head. This is all too much. Someone murders your friend and tries to kill you, almost succeeding, and now this is happening. You just want this day to be over.

The door behind you swings shut with a clatter and every head in the building turns towards you. The elf girl glances up at you and for a moment hope shines in her bright green eyes, which is replaced by despair and then confusion as she notices your state. The rest of the pub has also quietened, everyone perplexed at the appearance of the raggedy sight of you.

>Ask for Ryder
>Ask what’s going on
>Write-in?

>>32266716
>Write-In
"What the fuck is going on!? Where the hell is Ryder!?"

>>32266692
>>32266716
Dropped your name, OP.

>>32266730
What this guy said.

>>32266716
>Write-in?
Stumble over to the guy holding her and collapse against him. No one knows what to do when someone starts bleeding on them. He'll probably let go of her just out of shock. Then we can ask for medical attention and Ryder's whereabouts.

>>32266790
Wow, this over-dramatic, extreme and slightly homoerotic.

Second

>>32266782
Well that was embarrassing.

And we've got two for each. It's that time again: 5 minutes and coin toss.

Rolled 13

>>32266084
Keep running

>>32266940
Guess it's a toss!

>>32266940
I wanna teletype all cuddly and bleed on the jerkhole holding the nice elf mechanic lady

>>32267159
to get

Rolled 6

>>32266716
Write in
Charge the son of a bitch. Best way to get the spotlight

>>32266716
You’re exhausted, still bleeding (the fact you haven’t collapsed yet is a miracle in of itself, plain and simple), in more pain than any one man has probably ever experienced in an entire lifetime, and the icing on this glorious cake of torment is that your best and only friend is dead. You’ve had enough. Why can’t people just get along and learn to live and let live?

In a voice that sounds much stronger than you really feel, you shout: ‘What the fuck is going on here?! And where in the blazing abyss is Ryder?!’

The entire pub stares at you, utterly stunned, until the big ape shakes off his stupor and looks you up and down.

‘Just a bit of adult fun boy, now run along and find yourself some help, you look worse than death.’

‘No,’ you say, and a small part of you wonders if all that’s happened today has perhaps tipped you over an edge of some kind. ‘I’m not going. I have suffered and suffered today and I just want it all to end. I want to stop this bleeding. I want to find Ryder and get some answers. Most of all, I just want to go to sleep and wake up to find that this is all just a horrible, horrible nightmare. But right now, I want you to put that girl down, tell her you’re sorry for whatever crap you’ve put her through before I crawl over there and rip your shins off with my teeth!’

The big man stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head. He seems utterly and completely surprised at both your tone of voice, and your winding, furious rant. Then your words sink in, and his face twists unpleasantly. Abruptly he lets go of the elf and shoves her roughly into the crowd.

‘Keep a hold of her,’ he snarls, taking a ponderous, threatening step towards you. ‘Looks like we got ourselves a race traitor here. Like them pointy ears kid? They do it for you?’ he hawks and spits a gobbet of phlegm at your feet.
(cont)

>>32267441
‘Looks like we got ourselves some additional entertainment tonight boys. An elf-fucker that doesn’t know proper manners, and the disgusting little wench herself.’ He reaches a huge, meaty paw for you. You don’t resist, or more accurately, you can’t. You’re dead on your feet, and a part of you curses your better nature for having most assuredly gotten you killed.

Ape-face hauls you off your feet, and you cry out as the force exerted irritates your wounds. You wonder in your hazy state how far Dagg might have made it in your state. The big guy grins at your discomfort and places you in the centre of the man-made circle before dancing on both feet, throwing punches at imaginary opponents.

‘You sure about this Randwyll?’ a spectator suddenly asks, ‘the boy looks like a dragon spat him out, what if he’s in some sort of trouble?’

‘Oh, he’s in trouble all right,’ Ape-face, or Randwyll, says snidely, before calling toward the crowd, ‘place your bets folks, how long will our little hero last? A round? Two?’

‘Ten seconds!’ a voice calls from the spectators. The cat call is followed by raucous laughter.

‘Well then let’s get this side-show started then,’ Randwyll bellows, before swinging a fist at you.

Roll a d20 to:
>Fight
>Evade

Rolled 13

>>32267481
>Evade
We wouldn't have had this problem if we had just bled on him.

File: 2014-04-30-01-16-30-320918420.jpg (10 KB, 208x243)

10 KB JPG

Rolled 14

>>32267481
>Fight

Is it safe to say were really fucking angry at this point?

Rolled 8

>>32267481
>We're losing, FIGHT HARDER

Come on, where is your HFY spirit?!

File: 1389564682248.jpg (179 KB, 756x1100)

179 KB JPG

>>32267591
>HFY Spirit

Rolled 7

>>32267481
Cripple the fucker

>>32267481
Exhaustion, thy name is Cown. The last time you felt this tired was… well, never. Today has pushed you so far above your limits it’s a wonder you haven’t collapsed and died yet.

So, you figure, you’re still in the shit, what’s the harm in asking for a little more from your battered, beaten body?

You pack all your pain, all your frustration and all of your rage at today’s torments into a scream so loud you think you might just burn your vocal chords out. You sway to the side and the colossal fist rushes past you. You’re half-dead, but not stupid enough to believe you actually have a shot at beating this guy in a straight fight.

So you decide simply to hurt him instead.

Dipping low, you drop to one knee and aim a punch as fast and as hard as you can manage – which, in your enraged state, is considerably hard – right at Ape-face’s ballsack…

Only, you miss…

Your body betrays you at the worst possible moment, and your fist merely impacts against his inner thigh. Uncomfortable to be sure, but not the crippler you’d hoped it would be. Ape-face takes a cautious step back before blinking dumbly at your prone form. The crowd has gone silent, and Randwyll shrugs his shoulders and snorts disdainfully before raising a thick, booted foot.

Then a shot rings out, and Randwyll’s head snaps back at an angle no human can possibly survive. Blood leaks from a small hole that has suddenly opened in his forehead. You crane your head, and your heart surges in your chest.

Captain Ryder.

And then you pass out.
(cont)

>>32268254
Pain, thy name is also Cown. Your world revolves around it as of late, though you can’t imagine why, after all, you’re just a simple mail runner. Speaking of which, you need to wake up. You’ve still got some left over from yesterday and if you don’t get that delivery slip into the Post Office, you won’t get paid…

And then it all comes back to you. Ryder, Dagg, the elf, and you wake…

In a bed.

Merciful Nine this is SO comfortable! Is this what you’ve been missing out on all this time? You could quite conceivably just lie here all week and bask in the glorious softness of the mattress and pillow.

At least, until someone throws open a curtain, and your face is bathed in the bright gold morning light.

‘Wakey-wakey hero. Big day ahead of you,’ a cheery voice says.

‘Hng? What? Where?’ you ask.

‘Easy champ, Cap’ll answer all your questions. He’s a mite busy though, so you’re going to have to shift your arse to see him.’

‘I hurt,’ you say by way of a reply. ‘All over.’

Your friend responds with a chuckle. ‘Oh I don’t doubt. Bleeding miracle is what it is but we managed to patch you up good and proper. You’ll need to take it easy though or the stitches will rupture, and the doc reaaaally doesn’t like repeating his work.’
(cont)

>>32268376
(cont)
Your vision clears, and you find yourself in a small chamber, inside a modestly sized bed with a plain white mattress and sheet. A small desk sits in the corner not a metre away, next to a small closet. At the end of the room is what you assume to be the entrance, and leaning against it is an elf, the same elf you saw just the other day with–

‘Where’s Ryder?’ you ask, sitting up suddenly, and immediately regretting it as pain courses through your body.

‘Easy there boyo,’ the elf says. You notice that without his goggles, his eyes are a bright green, the same as…

‘Thanks, by the way,’ he says suddenly.

‘For what?’ you ask.

‘My sister Nyra. She’s not supposed to come off the ship on her own, but she did anyway of course. Lousy sense of direction she has but “I needed that part” she said,’ he smiles softly at you. ‘She’s the only family I got, and I’m all she has, and those animals at the Walnut Tree would have seen her dead… or worse. I owe you mate. You need anything fixed – that isn’t a part of you or anything, that is, that’s the doc’s area of expertise – you give me a buzz, yeah?’

You pause for a moment before nodding slowly. His smile widens.

‘Fantastic! Now that’s over, let’s go see the Captain. He’s awful curious as to why you were looking for him looking like you’d just tangoed with a warlock brigade. I hope you don’t mind but we changed your clothes, couldn’t have you wandering around looking like you’d come out of a murder mystery novel, right?’ He says as he helps ease you out of your bed.

>Where am I?
>How long was I out?
>What happened?
>Write-in?

>>32268416
Where am I?
Take a look around the room and see what you see and how your body is doing.

>>32268416
>Just go see Ryder

>>32268416
>Write-in?

Come to the mind blowing conclusion that we're on a ship.

>>32268416
>What happened?

>>32268416
>Write-in?
"Oh, uh, thanks. I actually hadn't noticed. I'm still a bit dazed, to be honest. I'm on a ship, right?"

>>32268416
The room is fairly small, no larger than 4 metres by 5 if you’re any judge. The desk appears to be pinewood, if the scent is any indication, and is completely bare. The floor is covered by a soothing sky blue carpet that feels softer to the touch than a kitten’s fur and the walls are plastered white. It’s easily the most lavish place you’ve slept in your entire life. A window sits just behind the head of the bed, behind you, and outside you can see the wide blue sky stretch out before you.

Your body, however, is an unfortunately sorry sight. Bandages practically entomb your chest and your left cheek is covered by what seems to be an adhesive plaster, likely to keep your stitches from being exposed to the elements. There isn’t a single part of you that aches, and your limbs – especially your legs – feel stiff and sore from lactic build-up.


Despite this, the mere fact that you’re still breathing is a tremendous relief.

‘Uh, thanks,’ you say, accepting the elf’s help. ‘What happened?’

‘Hm? Oh Ryder gave those jackasses at the Walnut Tree spit and hellfire for roughing up one of his crew. Me and some of the guys had to break a few legs but I think they got the message in the end; even got some free drinks out of it too. Heheh. After that we heard from one of the guys there that you were looking for him, and, well, we took you up here and fixed you up. Doc says it was touch and go for a while but you pulled through. Glad you did by the way. Be pretty tough to pay back a corpse.’

‘Wait,’ you say suddenly, ‘you said… am I on a ship?’

The elf’s grin is so wide you wonder how it hasn’t broken his facial muscles.

‘Oh yes, how terribly remiss of me,’ he says with a fake flourish and bow. ‘My name is Kyd, and I, and the rest of us mangy rotten sky-boys, bid you welcome to the Lady Fortuna.’

>>32269111
Aaaand going to call it a night here. Going to be honest I thought this part was a lot more successful than I thought it'd end up being. Thanks so much you anons who participated, it means a lot to me, really.

Thoughts and impressions? Suggestions? As I said in the first thread: I'm all ears and I'll stick around for a mite longer for a brief Q&A if anyone has anything they want answered.

Thanks again guys.

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>>32269160
Even though I came late again.... I enjoyed this a lot

As for you're writing speed it may not be the fastest but the quality of the post justify the time for me

later Zippo stay Frosty

>>32269160
can't wait for the next installment, definitely needs some kind of space opera music. Also what your twitter so I know when Your posting the next one up.

>>32269261
Right in the OP friend

>>32269222
Yeah, I know I'm slow, but thanks kindly for the kind words anon

>>32269160
Looks interesting so far. Get a trip though.

I've missed both of these now, but I like it so far. Any idea when you are running next?