Bumping because i have 7hrs to do this thing and need a distractio.

>>42886596
Head North into the forest

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Bumping with spooks

>>42886596
Rattle

>>42886596
Go left. Also put 'quest' in the title next time if you're doing a quest, it's good manners.

Put "Quest" as subject.

>>42886685
>Gathering up the portrait and placing it in your pack, you head North into the forests. With your bony feet trumping through the path, you make good head way due to your lack of need for sleep or rest. The path does not look as well traveled as you remember, and you meet no other passers by as you trudge along the path. A few hours later the sun begins to dip down below the mountains and the sky fills with the colors of dusk. With this lack of light you notice a small glow of fire further down the path, partially obscured by trees. There sounds to be 4 or 5 figures in that area.
>Continue down path
>Go off of path and avoid the camp
>Sneak up to the camp
>Something else

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>>42886703
>>42886715
>>42886711
Noted, my apologies, first time doing this, but by all means lets continue

>>42886743
Jump into bush and rattle menacingly

>>42886771
Roll for that, it may actually prove to be helpful

Rolled 6, 2 = 8 (2d6)

>>42886793
What are the roll criteria

>>42886809
>>42886809
I was thinking a D20 but 2D6 will be f2D6

>>42886771
You watch the camp for a moment but are not able to discern whom, or what, they are. Scratching your bald skull with your finger, you come up with an idea to get them to come out of the camp. Setting your pack in the middle of the road, you open the flap and pull out a small colorful piece of cloth and have it poking out of the main flap. With that in place, you slink over to a bush and hide within. Using every bone you have, you let forth a mighty rattle, the sound echoing through the mostly silent forest. With dread you see 4 horned shadows stand up and look around, weapons held aloft. After a few shouts and brays, the smaller of the 4 beastmen is shoved out into the path with a torch, a mace held tightly in its other hand. It makes its way down the path and stops at the bag, poking at it with its mace and snuffling the air curiously. On its belt you spy a ruddy dwarvish face. On further inspection you realize its a heavily stylized belt buckle thats been slathered with manure to hide the shiney golden glint. It looks extremely expensive, like that of what a thane would wear.
>Sit and wait in the bush
>Rattle more
>Attempt to sneak behind the beastman
>Something else

>>42886910
2d6 will be fine*. Give me a break phone

Rolled 5, 2 = 7 (2d6)

>>42886910
Sneak over and pickpocket beastman

>>42886939
>>42886939
While not the sneakiest of spooks in the world, you manage to dislodge yourself from the bush quietly. Not that it really matters, as the young beastman is making an absolute racket as he shakes your rucksack and grunt loudly. You make your way to his blind spot just in time for him to stuff his entire head into your sack, in which his short horns become stuck. Acting quickly you reach forward and yank the buckle hard, causing the beastman to raise his head in alarm, but blinded by the bag. The buckle and belt come free, but the beastman is now jerking at the rucksack while furiously braying and tossing your shit everywhere.
>Item Aquired: Golden Thane Belt Buckle
>Item Lost: Bone Brush, Rucksack, Small Knife, small provisions not needed by a skeleton, and weapon/armor maintenance kit
>Current equipment: Rusty breastplate, maintained short sword, buckle on back, belt, rusty shoulder guards, Thane buckle in left hand.

Your family portrait rolls out onto the ground next to the beastman, who bays again and begins furiously tearing at the pack with his hands.

>Attempt to grab portrait and flee
>Just fucking leg it
>Draw weapon
>Something else

(Should have mentiomed loadout earlier)

Rolled 4, 4 = 8 (2d6)

>>42887043
shank beastman

>>42887077
Seeing the only remnant of your genetic line close to being ground into the path, your rattle with rage and draw your weapon with a flourish. While you hearing stirring from the camp, you stride forward and sink the blade right into the young beastman, the blade slicint clean through its hard and piercing out the front of its chest. With a strained gurgle, the beastman falls forward with a crash. Ripping your blade from the beast, it rolls off the path while hot blood splashes about the ground, a stream of the vile liquid running towards your families portrait. With a delicate pluck, you pick it off the ground and secure it on your belt, next to the Thane buckle. All the noises however has rousted the camp of beastmen, and you see them scramble about to prepare for battle.
>Take the forest and travel paralell to the path
>Whip off your buckler and ready yourself, these beastmen aint shit
>Sheath sword and sprint down path using the darkness as your cover
>Something else

Rolled 1, 6 = 7 (2d6)

>>42887208

>Sheath sword and sprint down path using the darkness as your cover but also collect your belongings

Seeing the only remnant of your genetic line close to being ground into the path, you rattle with rage and draw your weapon with a flourish. While you hear stirring from the camp, you stride forward and sink the blade right into the young beastman, the blade slicing clean through its heart and...

Turning off auto correct

>>42887228
>Sheath sword and sprint down path using the darkness as your cover but also collect your belongings

Time is not on your side, the other beastmen charging out onto the path and looking around furiously, their torches burning bright in the night. With a frustrated rattle you scrabble about trying to pick up your belongings, but a look at the bag soaked in blood with a horn portruding from it is an ill sign indeed. Only having a moment to grab your [Bone Brush] and the [Small Knife], you begin sprinting down the path towards the beastmen, your armor and sword clanking loudly. The Beastmen spin around with their weapons at the ready, but you see their eyes widen in shock. Seeing them stagger, you raise your hands above your head and rattle as loud as you can while hissing, doing your best to be spooky. With a startled bray of fear, one of the beastmen shoves his comrades out of the way and runs towards the camp, the one that was shoved tumbles off of the path and the others cling to each other with their weapons held out as to fence you off from touching them. With the element of surprise on your side, you continue to run down the path, a silent chortle in your non-existant throat.
>Continued
After getting your distance, you slow back down to a walk and journey on down the path well after the sun has peaked back over the morning horizon. Sighing in your head, you begin to see the forest thin, and just like in your memories the road came to a 3 way fork, as it should. To the right, the path was a 3 week journey past a human fortification town and then onward to a Dwarven Forward Post. The left led towards more human populated villages and then a huge human Civil Community beside a river. The middle was just more forest path that widened out into a road, going north towards the colder human settlements and a trading town known for its beers.

>What do you do?

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>>42887397
Go left

>>42887432
Thanks for playing along bud.

>Lets go left

With an excited rattle, you turn on your bony heel and take the left fork. Headway is easier on this road, which turns smoother and wider enough for a trading cart to pass on each side. Its quite empty at the current moment, due to beastmen raids you presume, but the evidence of wagon wheels and hood imprints shoes the road is still traveled by many. As you continue your way through the night, your thoughts turn to your surviving genetic line. You probably made the right choice going this way, as they would have fled through the forest and made way to the best bet of survival and a well patroled road. Of course who knows how long ago that happened, but the picture was still in good shape and the bones didnt seem too old now that you think about it. But as you do, you remember noticing some of the skulls having scrape marks on them, as if from teeth chewing down while scraping at the meat. You virbrate lightly and rattle in anger at the thought, wishing you had skewered those damned beastmen and not ran, but before you can dwell on it you trip over something bulky in the road and skull plant into the ground. With a rattle of annoyance you stand up and turn around to see a man-at-arms in full plate laying dead in the road, an arrow piercing his neck below the helmet, his sword and purse missing, but his armor still intact. Looking down at your own armor, you begin to wonder of he really still needs his, but should you really loot a murdered soldier? And why was he alone? Or was he alone?
>What do you so?

Rolled 2, 4 = 6 (2d6)

>>42887638
Check for ambush

>>42887638
Loot

>>42887638
Check for ambush. We dont want to piss of the people around here by looting their dead.

>>42888054
>>42888040
>>42887995
>>42887995
One moment, gotta do guard stuff, kid fucking about in my area

>>42888122
Oh shit it's a skeleton

>>42887995
>>42888054
>Check for ambush

Its awfully queer so see someone just laying dead in the middle of the road, and fully armored to boot. You stand up and peer around the woods and treeline, looking for eyes or a rustle of leaves. Siding with the air of caution, you grasp the body by the hand and drag it off of the road towards the tree line, his armor making a drunken symphony of noise as it bounces along the ground. Hauling the dead Men-at-Arms behind a bush you realize you are standing in the previous ambush emplacement: Arrow shafts, food bones, and even a pair of socks lay scattered about a mess of blankets and camping gear, which you happily spy a smaller shoulder sack hung up on a tree limb. Rubbing your skeletal hands together at your fortunatr luck, you begin stripping the soldier of his armor and under clothing, doing your best to hide your skeletal form and seem as human as possible. Everything is lose, but you look like a skinny man shoved into too large armor, which is better than the ooky spooky skeleton ready to kill the virgins or whatever nonsense people believed now adays. Stuffing your [Family Portrait],[Thane Buckle], and [Small Knife] in the bag as well as a [Smelly Wool Blanket], you shoulder the pack and step out of the wood and back onto the road. With your pace and lack of need to rest you make excellent time and get within 4 miles of the settlement and even see a human in a cart coming towards you, his horse clopping lightly and his Son hanging off the back with a sounding horn in his hand. They wave at you with no fear in their eyes, so the armor is clearly covering your boney self.

>Current equipment
-Arming jacket and padded leggings
-Steel breastplate
-Knee high leatherbootss
>Leather padded gloves
>Steel Shoulder Guards
>Full face Helm with hinged face plate
>Maintained short sword
>Wooden Buckler on back
>Pack full of gear listed above

Humans near talking distance in a matter of moments.

Rolled 2, 6 = 8 (2d6)

>>42888309
Continue down road as if everything's normal.

>>42888309
Lay down and play dead

>>42888346
Youre going to fail a roll one of these days...

>Act cool, you're just a friendly soldier on a walk...

As they near you, wave jaunitly and give the old man a cheeky salute as he bids you good morning. The son waves happily to you as they cart passes, and you give him the ole shooty fingers and thumb waggle. Smooth.
>Cart passes by and no one is the wiser
You rattle with laughter as soon as they are out of range and then continue on by foot. The farther you travel, the more it seems you have to wave due to the greatly increasing number of villagers. You wave at those who wave, and playfully shrug when housewives jeer at you and ask why you arent at the keep. Kids dance about you asking for sweets or coppers and you cant help but pick one up and swing her around, a little red head with pig tails. It would have been nice, seeing your children have grand babies... but that time is long passed. You stop and slowly put her down, giving her a pat on the head, and moving onward as she looks back at you with a smile.
>A little while later
The keep is within site, and you make your way up to the main gate. The Guards shout their greeting:
>"Good morning! Where is everyone else from the patrol?... Did something happen?"
The guard looks worridly down at you, hand on the wall of the gate

>Take out picture and hold it so it looks like a message
>Gesture towards your slightly bloody neck and act injured
>Stand there and shake your head solmenly
>Something else

Rolled 6, 1 = 7 (2d6)

>>42888532
Bust out sweet dance moves, in mourning

Rolled 5, 6 = 11 (2d6)

>>42888616
>>42888532
Try to one-up self

>>42888616
>Bust out mourning dance moves

In a panic of what to do, you start dancing about as rythmicly as a skeleton in plate armor can. The guards stare down at you in utter confusion, their mouths hanging open in astonishment. If you could sweat, you'd be dripping with it from the absurdity in all this, but you're in too deep and everyone is watching. At the end of your dancing you finish with a flourish and throw your hands in the air, and you could hear a pin drop into a basket of silk. A small clapping noise can be heard for a moment before the person clapping it shushed, and again all eyes are on you.

Rolled 3, 4 = 7 (2d6)

>>42888812
Pretend to cry for your fallen homies

>>42888842
>You pretend to cry

>Hes fucking mad!"
Shouts one of the guards, and the captain of the guard barks out an order to have you brought inside to be seen by a healer. The great doors swing outward and as a pair of guards come towards you, you get up and sprint towards the gates as fast as your bones can carry you. With a woosh you fly past the gate and into the inner city, rounding a corner beside a line of market stalls and dive behind a cart full of cabbages. The guards come running down the street and pass you as they run by. You pop your helmeted head over the cart and raise the visor just enough to see you are in a market square with people going about their shopping. Reaching into your bag you fish out the portrait of your genetic survivors and...

>>42889025
Look closely at portrait, then think about what it look like and mean, as if to info dump

>>42889057
You lay the portrait flat against the cabbages. The lady selling them gives you a look, but you do your signature clicky pistol fingers and she just shakes her head and ignores you. Remembering back to the destroyed home, the skeletons there were mostly adults, and you found no evidence of child sized remains. The portrait showed two younger girls with fiery red hair and piercing green eyes, the signature trait that you and your own brothers and sisters shared. The two of them would be older now, but how much older would be unknown and for all you knew they were already mothers in their own right. You lightly scratch your boney jaw. Where to begin? Where to start?

>>42889177
Head to an orphanage to see if they have any records of taking in kids from our village

>>42889177
Ask around for people with fiery red hair, must not actually be on fire

>>42889237
>>42889230
>>42889230
You continue to scritch at your chin until a fantastic idea springs your empty skull. You try to get the attention of the cabbage woman clapping your hands together, but the leather gloves muffle the sound. Annoyed, you grab a cabbage and pelt the lady in the head with it.
>"Oi! What tha fa-"
She says, spinning around but stopping mid sentence when she sees you whip up the picture and tap rapidly on the two little girls. The woman shrugs and points down the street
>"Ay dunno mayt try tha brat kip"
You think to yourself that despite this womans figure and face, she speaks like a drunk man. But, with a wave you head down to where she points, but before you can make it fifty paces you are once again surrounded by kids, pawing and grabbing at you while begging for coppers and sweets.

>Goal: Get their attention

Rolled 5, 4 = 9 (2d6)

>>42889321
Pull up one kid and use them as a weapon to fend off the others, kids are dangerous

>>42889340
>9
Im glad that wasnt a fail

A young boy with ruddy brown hair grasps your hand and you pick him up. The boy and other kids giggle madly and screech as you use the boy like a short spear, bopping kids on the head with his feet. He is light, and seems to be enjoyiny himself. After a moment you set him down and make a gathering motion with your hands. All the children gather and you pull out your potrait, tapping on the two little girls pictures
>"Aye she kinda looks like Margret!"
Says another boy, a head taller than his fellow runts. You tilt your head at him and he points beyond the walls
>"Shes the bakers daughter Mister, lives by the river."
Exasperated you bury your head in your hands and the kids giggle again. You just danced like a moron to get inside and your quarry is on the outside. How in the hell are you going to get past the guards now?

>>42889459
Obviously wait until night for an opportunity. Of course this means if you succeed you'll have to sneak into the Baker's house and look like a rapist.

>>42889512
You make your mind up that youll have to wait till night in order to sneak out the gate. You shoo the kids away and stand up straight, rolling the potrait back up. Its at least 6 hours or so till nightfall.

>>42889459
Pretend to be another guard.
Stick a kid in your ribcage and have him talk for you
Find a parrot

>>42889563
Find something to keep you occupied, like contemplating about the meaning of life, or in your case, unlife

>>42889606
You decide to walk about the town while contemplating everything that has happened since your death and undeath. It was kind of funny to you, how it seemed like all you did was do one long blink. You remember the soud of the Army routing and being run down, something falling on top of you... then just a blink and suddenly you were but bones and there was a guy in armor shouting about how the stone had messed everything up. Water under the bridge, after all. But the itch to find out what happened to your family was just too much to resist, and when it was said that they were entitled to leave, he jumped at the chance to go and see. The last that you remember was that your sister, Marie, was chastising you about leaving 4 babies and a wide behind to go fight orcs and beastmen. She was a good woman, your past wife, but you cant remember her name, you could see a face, but the name...
>Shouting and running of armored feet
You snap out of your un-dead thoughts and look around. It was dusk, and you had been walking around without evennl realising it. Not that it was uncommon, just looked like you were on patrol. There was a great clamor from the front gate and soldiers of all types were running in that direction, archers and pikemen running past.

Rolled 4, 1 = 5 (2d6)

>>42889754
Try to head to the commotion without drawing attention t yourself

>>42889820
>4

Instead of moving to the side and moving forward to scout the area, hesitate and get caught up in a formation of foot soldiers moving towards the gate. You are herded up onto the walls when you finally wiggle away from the group. The sight in the distance, however, is none good news to bear. Rank upon rank of Gor and Ungors are nearing the edge of the village, the occupants of which are fleeing towards the main gate to get within the walls. You feel a tightness within your bones as you see the vanguard forces tearing into those who stayed behind or were left behind. Your undead mind remembers those teeth and gnaw marks on the bones of your kin and a heat builds up within your very marrow. You spy something below, leaning over to get a better look. And then there you see it, a small little clutch of figures squeezed in the crowd: Hair like that of flames, and little bright green specs for eyes. Your family line lives on, and even made it into the keep. The soldiers around you eye you warily, and you realize you were ratttling loudly. Composing yourself, you stand up and hold your gloved bony hand infront of your helmet. Again you look to the enemy, and with a sinking feeling you realize they are far more in number than thought. Looking over your shoulder, you see the little dots of red running toward the towns center, and you look back to face the beastmen streaming through the town.

Rolled 6, 4 = 10 (2d6)

>>42890093
Defend town

>>42890130
>10
>Defend Town

The battle was a first for you, just by the furiousity of it. When the ranks of skeletons moved on an enemy, the usually froze with fear and dread, in which they were cut down as if it were a harvest of the living. But this...
>You pull your sword out of the face of an Ungor and kick the ladder back off the wall
Hails of arrows didnt even seem to affect the numbers, they just streamed in one massive furry wave and crashed against the walls time and again. Even though your armor was covered in their foul blood and dented, you fought on without waste or exhaustion. As a matter of fact a jaunty tune came to mind as you cut down a Gor, his head tumbling down and the ladder on which he rode chasing after. Your revelry was broken by a loud bray and a crash, in which the gates jumped on their hinges and a cry of alarm went up from those manning the gates. With a flip of your visor you look down and see a gat damn minotaur smashing at the gate with his shoulder, a few more joining in and one even hammered the gate with a tree. You flip your visor back up and stand straight, looking at the men around you.
>What is your course of action? The gate will not hold out for long, and the picket line forming behind the gate wont last long against those Minotaurs. You are a skeleton unlike others and raised from a Blood Dragon, what will you do?

Rolled 1, 3 = 4 (2d6)

>>42890347
Plunging attack on Minotaur

>4

Rolled 3, 2 = 5 (2d6)

>>42890347
Find something to throw at them, like a small child

>>42890384
RIP

>>42890377
>>42890403
The gates buckle savagely and you spin around looking for something to throw. Unfortunately there are no small children, nor even a javelin. With calcium fueled resolve, you ready your sword, blade tip down.
>If you cant throw something, then theres always yourself.
Shouts of alarm ring out behind you as you begin to run towards the gat and the wall, and with a mighty leap you hurl yourself over the wall, blade at the ready. Your comrades spoil the aim due to one trying to grab your boot and you partially spin, your blade off target. One of the minotauts holding the tree trunk looks up in time to catch the blade on the thickest part of his skull: His forhead.
>Your blade breaks in half on contact, roll.

Rolled 4, 5 = 9 (2d6)

>>42890514

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>>42890526
>9
>Your blade snaps with a shattering pang, only 4 inches of blade left above the guard
With a toss of the head you are tossed backwards and bounce off of the damaged gates, your empty head swimming. The painful sounds of cattle cause you to lift your head in time to see one of the hulking creatures topple over, the broken part of your blade sticking out of the eye socket of its now lifeless body. The one holding the tree trunk is braying furiously, holding on its destroyed eye while viscera pours from the socket. You look at your broken blade and see part of its eyeball stuck to the jagged edges, it must have sliced when it was broken.
You stand up, dusting yourself off as the Minotaur swings its tree trunk and clubs gors and ungors out of frustration
>"Nice shot there."
Comws from above, and you look up to see many a face looking down at you, some laughing. The laughs dont last, as the hurt minotaur, having killed atleast three dozen around it squares off with you, its ruined eye bleeding like a fountain
>Fearing you had used magic, the other minotaurs have run, however now the remaining Minotaur is frenzied, and the gates only have a other hit till they are broken. The people above you ready thenselves, and you have only a shattered sword and a heavily dented helmet that is obscurring your vision.
>What is your action.

>>42890714
Lead the minotaur away from the gate

Rolled 4, 5 = 9 (2d6)

>>42890714
Shank minotaur in the dick

Rolled 2, 4 = 6 (2d6)

>>42890818
>>42890714
I'll second this

Just caught up, this is pretty interesting. Following what another Anon said above with a little extra, lead it towards the other beastmen. It's frenzied and might get a few of its mates.

>>42891097
Yes, by shanking it in the dick

>>42890714
Do some spooky skeleton shit

>>42890714
Shank the dick!

Bump

OP, pls

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Jumping on to let ya'll know that OP is on the road and should be back shortly

>>42892695
>>42892394
>>42891199
>>42891132
>>42891001
>>42890818
Alright guys, lets shank a guy in the fucking dick. Actions inbound

>>42893316
>>42892695
>>42892394
>>42891199
>>42891132
>>42891001
>>42890818
>9
>Shank minotaur in the dick

With a silent battle cry only you can hear, you lunge forward with your broken sword, held in reverse as if it were a dagger. The Minotaur bellows out a mighty roar and steps to the double at you, bringing the tree trunk around in a heavy swing. With the sound of wind and weight, the trunk comes flying towards you, but with a deft pause, you dodge it. However a protruding branch catches the face plate of the helmet and tears it away, exposing the upper portion of your skeletal skull. Undaunted you continue your assault, the Minotaur off balance from his miss. With a Battle Rattle of 3spooky5me proportions, you bury the blade just above the shaft of the Minotaurs dick, the broken blade sawing into the flesh with the sounds of ruined meat and oblivion.
>"Gods above!" You hear cried out from the wall
The Minotaur, in its throes of anguish, throws the tree trunk into the crowed of surrounding Gors, mashing a score of them to a greasy pulp. Blood pours from the wound as if someone were pouring wine from a jug, the dark liquid staining the ground. With a roar of weakened finality, the Minotaur lunges forward, screaming... and headbutts the damaged gate, a single door falling from its ever battered hinges. The mighty door crashes backwards and kicks out a dust cloud, covered the furry bodies of the dead Minotaurs in dirt. You dont notice, staring down the crowed of Gors out numbing you 1:1400, on average.
>The Gors are staggered due to you killing a Minotaur is close combat
>The gate is partially open and you can hear the men inside forming a spear wall to block the hole
>You have no weapon but for a small knife
>Your face plate is damaged, exposing your skeletal visage

Not to derail y'alls quest thread, but can anyone give me some brands/shops that have a good selection of skeleton mini's? Setting doesn't matter, but fantasy is preferred.

>>42894853
I'd be more than happy: Games workshop has the most finely detailed, but will cost you more for larger amounts. Mantic has good quality for price, but they are a different style compared to Gw. Then there is Wargames factory who is also fantastic quality for price.

>>42894853
I googled and this came up
https://www.reapermini.com/Miniatures/Skeleton/latest

>>42894902
so GW mini's would stand out proportionwise to everything else?

I know the 40k are 'heroic scale' or whatever which means they are kinda squat with enlarged heads and arms. Same for their skeletons?

>>42894998
The newer GW minis ae better than the old ones.

Rolled 5, 1 = 6 (2d6)

>>42894742
Tear off my helmet, face the Gors, and rattle so hard it looks as if I am going to explode. I say to the Gors "BEGONE FROM HERE" while motioning my knife towards my dick area.

>>42895974
You rip off your helmet with a crackling rattle and throw it at the gors to no physical effect, but with a major physcological effect. The Gors mewl cowardly and shrink back from the site of you, some slipping in the great puddle of blood that has pooled around the missing front end of the Minotaur. While they cannot hear you speak, you pointing at them and gesturing with your knife makes it very clear that you intend on lopping off their dicks, even if it meana doing it with your little belt knife. The troops behind you have gone quiet with the realization that you were, and have been, a skeleton, but ready themselves and use the time you have bought them to sally forth and form a great halberd and spear wall around the brokeb gate, and archers stand amassed at the walls. With a clanging clunk, you look down at your side and see someone has thrown you a long Bastard Sword on a sheath.
>What is your action?

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>>42896439
Unsheathe my bastard sword and charge the Gors, rattling vigorously, and hissing.

Rolled 4, 6 = 10 (2d6)

>>42896505
forgot to roll

>>42896522
This will be wonderful.

>10
>Unsheathe my bastard sword and charge the Gors, rattling vigorously, and hissing.

A home burning behind the Gors gives your bleached bone Skull a hellish red aura, your eye sockets faintly glowing the magical rage of battle planted there by your Blood Knight commander. You whip the blade from the ground, the sheath flying off from momentum, and you let forth a horrible battle screech, something born not from a lone skeleton, but the rage of a Wight. Your mind burns bright with battle lust. Your name comes back to you, the face of your wife, the face of your children, and whatever is left of your soul makes your very bones glean with red fiery rage.
>"I AM ERIC, AND MY NAME WILL BURN IN THE NIGHT AND IN YOUR SOULS FOR AS LONG AS YOUR FILTHY SPECIES LIVES. FEAR NOW FOR YOUR SOULS, DEATH COMES UPON YOU ON GILDED WINGS OF BLOOD AND GORE!"
The message while not spoken is heard by all, and the Gores Bray at you with false bravado and charge to meet you half way. Your steel armor rings and the Bastard Sword sings through the air, and your screech of defiance drowns out the command to loose arrows from the wall. With a mighty crash the first ranks of the Gors fall in a heap as shafts rain down from the heavens, their death cries but a chorus to your "ears". You bound over the mound of ded Gors and let sing your blade its song of war. You can almost hear the hammers that forged it clang out as it cleaves through multiple bodies at a time, fur and muscle spraying into the air with the impact of such inhuman strength. Corpses pile high around you, and the unholy laughing rattle from you seems to visibly drain the enemies arouns you of courage. Your armor stained black with blood in the night and your Bastard Sword slick with gore and steaming.

>The Warband leader pushes forward with a roaring moo and stand before you with a two handed hammer.
>What is your action, Wight?

Rolled 2, 6 = 8 (2d6)

>>42896794
Meet his moo with my mightiest hiss. If possible, try to summon more of the magical rage of battle and hopefully ignite both my sword and my body in the flames of fury.

>>42896907
>8
The Warband Leader backs away as soon as you meet him with your own screeching hiss, and it immediately knows it is out classed by a newly awoken Wight of the Balls and Bones Brigade. The Warband Leader quickly begins forming up for a mass charge, hoping that if he can surround you you an be overwhelmed. However you have other plans...
>Sounds of a battle lost long ago flood the ears of those on the walls and those before you
>Grief
>Pain
>Rage
>Regret
>Your wife.... your daughters...

Your Bastard Sword begins to shimmer with heat as you funnel those long distant feelings into your blade.
>Bite marks on the skulls and bones of the murdered
>Your lineage cornered like deer to the hunt...
With a furious whoosh of brittle angy flame washes down the blade, your eye sockets glowing with absolute fury.
>The Warband Leader urges his troops forward with a war cry and joins them a few ranks back
>Arrows are loosed from the walls
But you dont care. You want blood and death, guts and the acrid spell of innards spilt. You scream with the rage of your loss and undeath, charging into the line even as the arrows fall around you. Your sword beheads a strucken Gor with a wet SCHLACK and its head rolls throufh the air with a fantastic artierial spray, coating his breatheren in color. You dont even bother dueling the Warband leader as he comes towars you. With a deviant groar he swings at you wildly, but to you it is but a slow drunken punch. With a rattle you duck under the swing and RAM your sword halfway through the Warband Leaders pelvis. Then with a sickening rip, you cleave up with your sword, and split the curr in two.

>The Gors, being riddled by arrows rout in mass, and whomever come near are cut down with wild abandon by you.
>Soon there is nothing more than the cries of the wounded, and your own quieting anger.

>>42897301
Holy shit this quest turned epic real quick.

>>42897301
Show that we don't mean any harm, wash ourselves off and locate those that which had a similar resemblance to ours when we lived.

Rolled 1, 2 = 3 (2d6)

>>42897301
Attempt to quiet my newfound abilities, so as to not stab the dicks of the entire town I just saved. Assuming I am able to do so, I search for a suitable helmet to cover my spooky face.

>>42897452
>3
With a whirl of motion you turn about, not used to your new found strengths. Mistakenly the wall gets a full frontal view of your burning sword, fiery eye sockets, and your armor slick with the blood of the fallen.
>They saw everything
>They know of your strength
>Your lineage is still behind the walls and there is a spear wall plugging the broken gate
>what do you do?

dice+2d6
Try to look for the sheath (sheath the sword if I don't fail miserably) and nonchalantly walk to the gate

Rolled 5, 3 = 8 (2d6)

oops, wrong field

>>42897625
it goes in the options field, try again

>>42897645
>8
>Try to look for the sheath (sheath the sword if I don't fail miserably) and nonchalantly walk to the gate

With an awkward jerk you lurch forward, spying the sheath for the sword stick out from under a Gor that is riddled from ankles to tits with arrows. With a flick of your wrist the corpse flys away and smashes into the window of the Inn located to the left of you, and you inwardly wince. You try to extinguish the flame by shaking the blade back and forth, which emitted quite the neat little sound as you did, but with a flourish you just stuff it back into the sheath, which seems to do the trick. All eyes are on you as you walk back towards the gates, you booted feet splashing through the rivers of blood running along the ground. The fires die down in your eyes just as you reach the spear wall formed along the gates breach, and you pull out the portrait from your belt.
>the formation consists of a Captain of the Guard from earlier, regular pike troops and spear troops, and even a few women are stuck in here and there.
>What do you do?

Rolled 2, 1 = 3 (2d6)

>>42897828
Don't just stand there bust a move

>>42897892
Oh, also hand them the picture and point at the girls

Rolled 1, 4 = 5 (2d6)

>>42897828
Hold out my sacred portrait and explain to the guard that I have come to these lands in search of my legacy. I am not a danger to your lands, nor your people. Please, do not judge me solely by my outward appearance. I have just done you a great service today; please return the favor.

Afterwards, do this >>42897892 to prove my humanity.

Rolled 2, 3 = 5 (2d6)

>>42897828
Dance the best dance we can dance

>>42897892
>>42897908
>>42897918
>>42897926

You clap your knees together and do a wicked cool spin on your booted heels while unfurling the portrait. As you come around in your 360 you finish with the portrait open and your finger tapping on the two little girls. An audible gasp is heard, and wouldn't you know it, a woman steps forward from the formation, pulling her helmet from her head. A cascade of curly, fiery red locks spill out around her face, and she steps forward towards you, her spear butt resting on the ground
>"How... where did you get that picture? Did you come from the little village from up the road some miles away? Through a forest passage?... Was there anything else left?"

She seems visibly shaken, and she holds her hand to her soft lips as if fighting back tears.

>Roll and react

Rolled 6, 1 = 7 (2d6)

>>42898009
Briefly explain who you were in life, and explain what you found. Mention the rugrats with fiery red hair and piercing green eyes you saw earlier.

>>42898045
>7
With a frustrated hiss you shake your skull side to side, and begin making a motion of writing with your hand. You descendant whirls around and barks at one of the other troopers to get her something to write with and he bustles away, his halberd clacking off of the spears around him. You stand there, sadly seeing every bit of your wife in the woman standing before you. You dont know if she is your daughter, or grand daughter, or even your great grand daughter. All you can see is someone you knew, and loved, a long time ago standing before you, and some could even say your body softened as you stared at her. Her own eyes looked at you, searching you for some kind of answer. The memories came flooding back during the battle, and you stowed away only the important parts. Your name was Eric Ulirson. Your wife, was Eva Ulirson. You had 3 daughters and 2 sons. The sons were strong, and had a hand for crafts, but were swallowed up by the war and died in battle. Your daughters were the light of your eyes, and it showed even now that they were the true jewels of your lineage.
>You move to start forward but the halberder runs back into view and thrusts a ledger pad and a merchant pencil into your hand. You glare at him for the interuption, but snatch the pad and pencil away.
>I am Eric Ulirson. I died long ago on the field of battle. My wife Was Eva Uli-

Is all you manage to write when the woman cries out.
>"Eva! Great Grand Mother Eva?! You... you are, were, her husband? The gods above, what are you doing here, what happened?"

>>42898197
I died.

>>42898197
Too hard to explain without a mouth, but I died. I came to see what became of my line. I found the remnants of some at [house], but the corpses were too few for how many lived there. I am here in search of answers.

>>42898301
This.

File: IamBoneHardRightNow.jpg (7 KB, 120x152)

7 KB JPG

>>42898197
>Too hard to explain without a mouth, but I died. I came to see what became of my line. I found the remnants of some at [house], but the corpses were too few for how many lived there. I am here in search of answers.

You quickly scrabble this down on the pad and hold it up for her to read. She scans over it, and chokes out a happy little smile, but you can tell she is also horrified.
>"You cant see them like this, we have to fi- FIND HIM A DAMN HELMET, ONE OF YOU."
She bellows once again and thwacks one of the other soldiers with the butt of her spear. In a matter of moments you are given a fresh helm with a functional face plate, and you bow your head slightly as she hands it to you. With a clunk, you plop it onto your skull. Suddenly you are jerked forward by your descendant and hauled down the street. It does not take long for you to reach the shelter, and she opens the door with a wave of hands and calls out a chorus of names.
>Annalda, Whinney, Markus, Lauren, and little Eva come running into view, their fiery red mops glinting in the torch light

If you had had a heart, you are sure it would be aching at the sight of them. You wrestle off your bloody breast plate and open your arms as the last living remnants of your blood line crash into your arms in a great, red haired hug....

>How many days do you spend in town?
>1-3 You leave that Night
>4-6 You leave in the morning
>7-9 You leave the next night
>10-11 You stay as long as they like
>12 You stay for the remainder of your leave (10 days)

Rolled 1, 4 = 5 (2d6)

>>42898447
I cry tears of calcium in the embrace.

Rolled 6, 2 = 8 (2d6)

RNG, please

File: Calcium.gif (529 KB, 500x280)

529 KB GIF

>>42898489

>>42898489
>You motion for the pad and write down that you are the happiest you could ever be, but you will have to leave in the morning.

Your descendant nods, with little silent tears rolling down her cheeks. She explains to the little ones that your neck was hurt in the battle and cant speak, and that your teeth are kind of lose and rattle when you move. They dont seem to mind, and while the down moves about to repair damages and collect the wounded dead, they drag you to a corner and begin to regale you with stories, and you hold them close to you, their little faces reflected in the face of your helm...

>The next morning

You walk towards the damaged gate, the damaged door carted away for repair. You feel a little tug on your sword belt and look down to see little Eva looking up at you, her little lower lip pouting and tears welling up in her eyes
>"You come back see Eva, right Great Grandpa?"

You rattle lightly in laughter and nod your head, giving her curls a rustle. You say your goodbyes and with a heft of your sword belt, you saunter out the gate, little goodbyes ringing out after you and waves from little hands to show you their heart felt goodbyes.

>With a tune in your head, you trudge past the smoldering and burning piles of Beastmen, the morning sun burning the night away.

Thats all for today friends, i need to go to bed. I plan to continue this tomorrow as Eric the Wight and we make our way back towards the main body of the Brigade. Would you guys like that?

>>42898680
Yes

>>42898680
Yeah. It was fun.

>>42898680
You already know we do. Thread already archived?

>>42898777
I was going to but i didn't want to feel like an ass when i messed it up

>>42898811
>>42898777
>>42898776
>>42898750
I'll get a jump on the story tomorrow