“What?” Rowe asks, perplexed.

“I don't get it.” Gabby echoes, scratching the back of her head in confusion.

“So Alan's the master!” Eve snaps her fingers as she comes to this conclusion.

Quissonce rolls her eyes. “No no no. The Master is a completely different entity. If Havelove's writings are to be believed, The Master is a controlling, allied or benign entity in relation to hellspawn. Alan seems to be a subject that devils or at least this devil in particular fears.”

“That's . . . a good thing though, right? I mean, fuck if I know how Al already has a rep down in Hell, but devils are fucking evil. We want them afraid of us.” Gabby offers.

Kyra coughs once before contributing. “Devil thought Chant should be afraid too. Not a good vs evil thing. Something different. Assimilation?”

“Assimilation.” Quissonce affirms. “At least, that's what I think from my rough approximation of a translation. Infernal is not an easy language to learn and speaking it seems to require more vocal chords than I am able to utilize. Slight tangent, but I think it's proper to remind everybody why we shouldn't break the wizard's toys. Now assimilate is most usually defined as the act of taking in information, absorbing ideas, integrating knowledge. Incorporating and understanding something outside the self. As a description of Alan's skillset it isn't a bad one."

"However, we're all aware of it at this point and it doesn't appear insidious or as something to fear. Again, from what I can tell you don't seem to be draining skills or abilities from others, merely adopting them for your own purposes.”

“Yeah. I mean, I'm the one spending the most time with him and I don't exactly feel like I'm being assimilated.” Rowe comments.

“I think that means he's doing it wrong, Rowe.” Gabby quips quickly, earning herself a playful sneer from her target.

“What appears most troubling to me.” Dolah begins, interrupting the tomfoolery. “is that the denizens of Hell are both aware of and out to kill Alan. Whatever their reason is, that Barbazu is free to spread his slanders and use leverage his station to encourage other devils to slay you. We must be ever vigilant from this moment forwards.”

>Do you have anything to say, postulate or theorize? (write-in)

AND

>Anything else you wish to prepare for your expedition tomorrow? (write-in)

>>45343434
>Do you have anything to say, postulate or theorize? (write-in)
Something do to when I 'borrow' your guy's personalities during combat?

>Anything else you wish to prepare for your expedition tomorrow? (write-in)
I got nothin.

Writing!

>>45343434
>Anything else you wish to prepare for your expedition tomorrow
Get weapons and armor blessed by Calloway, a couple jugs of holy water, and pick up a mace or warhammer that will work better against skeletons than a sword.

>>45343478
You are piss-poor at preparation, anon.
We're going into a temple of the undead and you're not getting any blunt force weapons or holy water.

>>45343434
>Do you have anything to say, postulate or theorize? (write-in)

He's afraid Alan will try to 'assimilate' him. He might hold a secret. Maybe some way to bind or banish demons? If Alan can assimilate skills and with his 'special touch' he can share his very own mind with Rowen.

This might sugest that Alan can steal, all the knowledge from a person or creature. I think he could even copy the Dopplegangers hability to shapeshift into people he could achieve that.

“Would the times I've borrowed your personalities have anything to do with this?” you ask.

Quissonce leans back in her chair and thinks quietly for a moment. “It does call to question exactly what you can assimilate. Or, well, can't assimilate. If you're drawing in the personalities and experiences of people when you learn their skills that does make the concept much more horrifying. But that seems more of a personal horror. Melting down and combining our individual selves in one body sounds terrifying. There is a chance that as you take in more and more abilities, perhaps the personality and sense of self you once had will be overwhelmed by the attitudes of others.” Quissonce shrugs.

Well, that's a wonderful note to end on. You feel a cold fear seep into your bones. The idea that your entire being could be slowly eroded by the accumulation of thoughts of other individuals is a dreadful one.

After you shake off the shivers you decide to focus on making sure you're ready to face the undead.

Your group entreats Calloway to bestow upon you his holy gifts once more. In a rather ingenious fashion, Quissonce asks if Calloway would bless the Decanter of Endless Water. He assures her he'll try. He does the necessary incantations and sure enough you can sense the positive energy that wafts from the container's liquid.

He tells you that other than leaving your armor in the chapel over night like Dolah did before you, there is no permanent blessings he can grant your equipment. If he were to accompany you he could give you blessings in the field.

After hearing about skeletons, you feel that cutting weapons might not be the best tool for this job. Where are you supposed to stab? A bludgeoning weapon might be more appropriate. You already possess a quarterstaff, but maybe you should buy a warhammer or a mace.

>Ask Calloway to accompany you
>Leave him behind

AND

>Stick with the quarterstaff
>Buy a mace
>Buy a warhammer

AND

Roll me 1d100, best of 3.

>>45344276

Dropped my trip.

Sorry for the delay, I was spooked about a celebrity death that didn't actually happen.

Rolled 96 (1d100)

>>45344276
>Ask Calloway to accompany you
Might as well. Clerics are always useful.

>Buy a mace

Rolled 87 (1d100)

>>45344276
>Leave him behind
He's no warrior and would slow us down.

>Buy a mace

>Blessed Decanter of Endless Water
Now we really can turn Seaside into a Hellish Black Site where demon and devil HVT's will be detained as they undergo enhanced interrogation.

Writing . . . partially. Would really like a third vote and a roll from that third player if you see this please contribute.

Rolled 18 (1d100)

>>45344276
>>45344527
Well then much obliged.
>Leave him behind
>Stick with the quarterstaff

Damn it's still tied so looks like . . . and he deleted his post. Alright. Calloway gets left behind.

File: mithral shirt.jpg (11 KB, 250x250)

11 KB JPG

You decline Calloway's offer. As much help as he may be you don't want to risk his life unnecessarily.

You decide to give leaving behind your saber and armor in Calloway's chapel for the night a shot. You drizzle holy water onto it and go about the rest of your business for the day.

You purchase yourself a mace. A big heavy one that looks like it can crack a skull or crush ribs. You aren't used to the heft and fighting style of a mace, but brute strength will thankfully make up for your lack of familiarity.

You spend the rest of the night trying not to contemplate what it means to be Alan Rodain. Sleep takes you eventually.

After the dawning light draws you back into the waking world you make your way to the chapel to recover your equipment and OH SHIT! It's been stolen. Fuck, does Calloway not lock the doors at night? That is thousands of gold pieces worth of equipment . . . a note. Right on the altar where your stuff should be.

You pick it up and read it.

'Gotcha! Your crap is in the spare room.' - Kyra.

You find your wits once again and discover that Kyra has been true to her word. You look over your shield, armor and saber.

At first you think that everything is the same, but a cursory Detect Magic reveals a new aura of abjuration magic surrounds your mythral shirt. You slip it on and there does seem to be a new feeling of protection enveloping you in addition to the standard defensive enchantments. Time to wait for the others by the central gate.

You spot Kyra at your group's gathering point, tying her gear atop her stallion. She has already collected most of your team's equipment and the horses. Your scowl prompts the slightest of grins from her.

>Banter
>Ignore it
>Tell her she really shouldn't pull pranks like that

>>45345031
>Banter

>>45345031
>Banter
"Smartass"

>>45345031
>banter
We're gonna give her Religion

Writing!

>>45345031
>Write in
"Touch her"

“Smartass.” you mutter loud enough for her to barely hear as you begin to brush Tornado's mane the way he likes it brushed.

Kyra whistles nonchalantly as she goes about her business. It soon overpowers your mount's praise for your skills.

“Y'know, with a touch I can give you religion.” you threaten.

“I can make you fondle your horse.” she replies. “. . . Not that I need to.”

Muffin is unable to provide you a salve for that.

How do you recover from this?

>Go invisible, try to give her the touch
>Say something really cool that is simultaneously insulting (write-in)
>Cast non-violent spells at her
>Accept defeat

>>45345445
>Go invisible, try to give her the touch

>>45345445
>Accept defeat

>>45345445
>Cast non-violent spells at her
Do we know Prestidigitation? It's a cantrip and pretty much perfect for pranks. Change her clothes colour to neon green and organe or something.

>>45345687
>organe
wut.
Orange

Rolled 22 (1d100)

Alright, writing.

You can roll a d100 if you want.

Rolled 56 (1d100)

>>45345737

>>45345737
Best of three or just one roll?

>>45345795
Eh sure, give me two more. By the way, I guess I should actually have a re-vote to decide exactly what you're doing. Two votes for some sort of response. So

>Change the color of her clothes
>Go invisible and give her the touch

Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>45345737

>>45345849
>Go invisible and give her the touch

Rolled 71 (1d100)

>>45345849
>Go invisible and give her the touch
Maybe she'll get something good out of it.

>>45345849
>Change the color of her clothes
I could have sworn we decided not to touch people without permission.

That burn was too good. There's nothing you can really say that beats the claim that you practice bestiality.

So your only recourse is to touch her. You go invisible. It takes her a few moments, but eventually she looks back and sees you're gone.

She almost immediately recognizes that you didn't just step away for a moment. She tense, eyes darting back and forth looking for you. “ Alan. Don't–”

Too late. Two fingers, charged with insight, straight to the back of her spine. She gives a girlish yelp and jumps as your invisibility shimmers away.

She turns on you, anger plain on her face. Her hands clench into fists, knuckles going white. “Gotcha!” you shout.

She hits you in the back of the head. “Idiot!” Worth it. She huffs and goes back to her horse.

She's giving you the cold shoulder now. Before long the rest of your compatriots arrive, in various states of readiness. Your group saddles up and Rowe leads you into the plains.

It will be three days of riding before you'll reach the temple. You give Kyra a cursory glance and discover she is still ignoring you. However . . . you're not quite sure, but you swear Kyra is giving her horse strange looks every once in a while.

Now that's just desserts. What do you do with your spare time?

>Practice with the mace. Get proficient
>Learn some more spells from Quissonce
>Find out your armor's new ability via Quissonce
>Talk to Gabby about armor use
>Something else? (write-in)

>>45346224
>Practice with the mace. Get proficient

>>45346224
>Practice with the mace. Get proficient

Writing!

File: Desolate landscape.jpg (32 KB, 640x360)

32 KB JPG

You spend your free hours perfecting your mace technique. Oddly, despite not having anybody for an instructor or around to give you pointers, it almost feels trivial how fact you master your macework. You're not sure whether it has anything to do with your own internal abilities, the Island or your learning powers. Regardless, proper utilization of a mace is one of the easier skills you've put yourself to task learning.

The nights seem to pass by quickly. On the third day you start to feel signs of this temple's presence. For one, Dolah seems to be on edge. When you ask her what's the matter she tells you sensing the presence of evil doesn't mean much when you're submerged in a sea of it. The sounds of animal life start to die down as well. No chirping birds. No wandering bison. The scant few scattered trees appear weaker and weaker the closer you get to your destination.

(Holy . . .) you hear from Rowe as she sits rigidly still upon her mount at the crest of one of the rolling hills that make up the plains.

You ride up to her position and are greeted with the sorrowful sight laid out before you.

Dead land. Fallow and withered. Grass either gone or a sickly brown. No trees, no animals. Bushes devoid of greenery they are merely bundles of sticks attached to roots too stubborn to die just yet. There are places like this on the Mainland. But something about this feels wrong. This place is meant to be verdant and colorful, filled with flowers and life. The stark contrast between the parts of the plains still alive versus now dead is so disjointed it is clear that some unnatural corruption has taken its toll. There is no other explanation for this.

You still haven't gained sight of the temple.

“It's horrible. And it's spreading.” Rowe utters aloud. You look over to her. She's crying, silently. You put your arm around her and do your best to comfort her.

>Ask her if she's okay
>Press on
>Something else? (write-in)

>>45346954
>ask her if she's ok
>take a sample of the dead earth.

>>45346954
>>Ask her if she's okay

>>45346954
>Ask her if she's okay

>>45346954
>>Press on

Writing!

“Are you ok?” you ask, quite concerned. This is definitely wrong and something you need to put a stop to. But you definitely wouldn't put it in the top 5 worst things either you or Rowe has experienced. And she usually manages to keep her composure. At least until you make it back to the safety of shelter.

She wipes the tears from her eyes before responding. (Yeah, I'm fine. I don't even know why I'm crying. It's not that bad. It's just . . . like the Earth's been betrayed. Geocide. I wish . . . I wish I could say I don't understand why someone would do this. But, well, I guess I do.)

“Oh great, do you two really have to cuddle in the middle of – fuck me!” Gabby's jaw drops as she crests the hill. “The fuck is this shit?” The rest of your team catches up and each is greeted with the grisly landscape. You all spend a moment watching it in silence before Rowe regains her composure and presses forward.

“Come on, we're almost there.” Rowe shouts to you all as she rides ahead.

File: Skeletons.jpg (55 KB, 640x435)

55 KB JPG

You ride for a few hours more before you spot the temple off in the distance. It looms ominously. You'll need to prep yourself soon for a –

Tornado senses danger. The earth beneath you rumbles with ill intent. He rears up and whinnies. Pascala begins to bark loudly. You hear rather than see the hand that bursts through the clods of dirt as it grasps for your mount's hooves. When you finally catch sight it you see it is merely a skeletal mockery, a tattered leather glove seemingly holding the complex bone structure together. Pascala lunges for it and rips the hand from the similarly bony arm that now flails uselessly from beneath the dirt.

You look up as you hear similar sounds erupt all around you. Rowe and, oddly enough, Kyra, have both managed to rear back from the grasping skeletal claws. The rest of your team was not as lucky.

Gabby merely leaps off her horse the second it seems to be an issue. Dolah begins swinging her lucerne hammer to knock away the multiple hands that have grabbed onto Mastema's four limbs.

Quissonce was thrown from her horse as it bucked wildly in fear and unfortunately Eve is now trapped beneath her fallen pony, nasty stab wounds covering its forelegs.

Surrounding you, skeletal bodies begin to drag themselves from under the earth. Many are armed and armored.

>Help Eve
>Help Dolah
>Start bursting with energy
>Something else? (write-in)

Regardless, roll me 1d100, best of 3

Rolled 6 (1d100)

>>45347750
>>Start bursting with energy

Rolled 30 (1d100)

>>45347750
>Start bursting with energy

Rolled 30 (1d100)

>>45347750
>>Start bursting with energy

>>45347750
>Help Eve

>>45347763
>>45347769
>>45347812
oh bother.

Rolled 1, 5 = 6 (2d6)

Writing!

I'm so sorry. Hopefully I roll low.

>>45348009
is it... horribly bad?

>>45348087
Depends. I didn't roll low enough.

>>45348117
Oh boy, this is going to be a fun one.

Alright, surrounded by skeletons moving of their own power. Definitely necromancy, you don't even have to cast Detect Magic for that.

Eve's trapped. Dolah's surrounded and stuck. Gabby has just pulled a skeleton up out of the ground and is now wailing on it.

Alright, time to channel the anti-healing, crowd control. You haven't managed to figure out a way to choose your targets, so you make sure to gain some distance from the rest of your team, wouldn't want to blast any of them with this. You charge right into the middle of a group of four of the skeletal warriors and let loose.

They seem unaffected by it. No, worse than that, they look like they've just been repaired a bit. Broken bits of bone begin to reform and set themselves. Oh god, channeling negative energy heals undead things, doesn't it? WHY DIDN'T THE FUCKING SCULPTOR TELL YOU THIS!? BECAUSE SHE'S A STUPID MUTE BITCH!

You think these angry thoughts through the multiple stab wounds that you end up enduring.

“ALAN!” you hear Rowe shout. You'd be about to die right now. On death's doorstep currently. Thankfully, you're a godblessed healer and you're currently clutching onto your marble with the last of your life's blood.

You channel again, this time with the intent to heal yourself. And you watch as the surrounding skeletons evaporate. The bone dust drifts away in the breeze.

Well, since this version doesn't cause friendly fire, you might as well go full hog. You rush back into the mix of things. Mastema's dead. As is Eve's pony.

Rowe is dropping skeletons left and right, the magical enchantments of her bow making up for the lack of damage the arrows themselves cause. Kyra has been forced into using a blackjack. Apparently your assumption that piercing and cutting weapons weren't going to cut it was accurate.

Gabby is using the still animated upper torso of one skeleton to beat to death other skeletons. Eve is just spewing fire from most of her visible orifices and Quissonce is hosing down a mob of skeletons with the decanter of endless holy water. You mop up the last of the skeletons with two more bursts of healing energy, keeping Gabby's horse from dying. You think altogether your team just killed around three score skeletal warriors there.

Dolah is already praying over her dead mount. Tornado is fine thankfully, having kicked a few skeletons to death himself. Pascala has a long human bone in her mouth. And . . . OH FUCK! Muffin.

>>45348851
kek.

File: 1450638844845.png (26 KB, 438x469)

26 KB PNG

>>45348851
>Mastema's dead
Silver linings.

>>45348891
No!!Not Muffin!!

You pop open your familiar satchel and are relieved to see that Muffin is still breathing. You thought maybe the negative energy might have killed him.

He reminds you that it almost fucking did! You owe him treats for that misstep most assuredly.

Rowe returns with Quissonce's runaway horse and you all gather your bearings.

You're down two horses, including the most handsome one. This complicates the return trip.

>Press on
>Send someone back to get more horses (who?)
>Something else

>>45348948
>>Send someone back to get more horses (who?)
who's quickest on their feet?

alternatively, which horse is fastest? we could ride it back and gather some more.

>>45348948
>Press on
I'm pretty sure we can easily handle a few days longer return trip.

>>45348948
>Press on
Eve could probably hitch a ride with anyone without extra encumbrance. Dolah though...well after Eve Kyra is the lightest right? And Tornado is trained warhorse. We could have Kyra let Dolah borrow her horse and Kyra hitches a ride with us.

>>45349011
ok then, switching to this.

>>45348948
>Something else

Try to "burst" your healing powerand ressurect the horses.

Once that fails.

Send Kyra and Gabby to get the horses. Because there is mother fucking hogoblins around that could ambush then, sending Kyra by herself wouldn't do any good.

Writing!

You quickly make your way to Mastema's prone body. While Dolah prays you grasp your marble tightly and burst healing energy.

Dolah looks up at you perplexed afterwards. The horse is still dead.

“Thought maybe I could bring him back.” you say.

Dolah sighs. “He was a noble, honest steed. But not only is bringing him back futile, it's wrong.” She stands up. “He's with The Great Will now. In a much happier place.” You nod.

Rowe comes up to the both of you. “Well, we can spread out the feed meant for the horses we lost among the rest of them. Eve can ride Sif, as much as it may annoy me to say so. And I'll switch horses with Dolah and ride with you, Alan. We'll have to move some supplies off of Tornado, but it shouldn't be much of a problem. We can store some in the devil's crux.”

You put your finger to your lips and think about it for a moment. “Wait, isn't Kyra lighter than you? It would probably be smarter for her to switch with Dolah and ride with me.”

Hm.

Oh.

Oh God, did you really just say that out loud.

Even Dolah is giving you a look. Shit, you better apologize as –

“You're right, that's much smarter.” she agrees. You analyze her face. You try your best to hear her thoughts. Nope. No anger, no malice. Woo! You've narrowly avoided death twice now.

You all saddle up, Kyra right behind you.

The sneaky backstabbing member of your group.

Right behind you.

Who may still be mad at you for touching her against her express consent.

You've been making some terrible decisions recently.

File: Temple.jpg (149 KB, 841x1080)

149 KB JPG

Thankfully Kyra does not capitalize on her prime chance for payback, probably because you're in some serious shit right now and it's time to focus.

You ride a couple hours more before reaching the entrance to the temple. Night has set and storm clouds begin to form in the background. The temple seems to have a gnarled, dead garden at its front, surrounded by a crumbling stone wall, overgrown with weeds. The gate is busted off its hinges. Two devilish gargoyles flank the entrance, with even more gargoyles perched atop the architecture of the Temple proper.

Well, no undead monstrosities are attacking you yet so you guess you should . . . wait.

“Those fucking things are going to come to life any second.” Gabby vocalizes flatly.

“. . . Yeah.” Rowe sighs out.

>Throw a rock
>They're statues. They won't come to life!
>Attack the front statues right now with all your firepower

>>45350009
>Throw a rock
"Be ready."

>>45350009
>Detect Magic

>>45350009
>>Throw a rock

>>45350009
>Other:
Blast the statues with the Blessed Decanter of Endless Water on Ultra Mode.

In fact, drench the entire goddamned garden while we're at it.

We have unlimited holy water, let's use it like chlorine gas shells during WW1.

>>45350063
>>45350009
Works

Writing!

>>45350063
this

File: A bigger rock.jpg (8 KB, 260x194)

8 KB JPG

You pick up a rock and chuck it at the gargoyle. It doesn't move. Alright then –

Gabby holds a hand up. She walks away and picks a stone up off the ground that's heavier-looking than Pascala. She carries it back to where you were standing and hefts it over her head.

“Need a bigger rock.” She says as she launches it at the gargoyle. It dives out of the way and takes to the air, screeching at you. “I FUCKING KNEW IT YOU AMBUSHING PIECE OF SHIT!” The gargoyle next to it also takes to the sky. Four more leap off from the temple's roof.

So that makes six. As you're about to focus on what's in the air, you suddenly hear the sound of earth being busted through. Dozens of fresher undead pull themselves up out of the ground.

You turn to Quissonce. “Drench 'em.” She pulls out the decanter and utters that magic word, letting the blessed holy waters cleanse the unhallowed ground of this den of evil.

“I got our flyboys!” Eve shouts before taking to the air.

“I'll cover you!” Rowe tells her as she aims for the closest gargoyle.

Gabby and Dolah rush into the garden to meet the faster ones head on. Kyra has already disappeared.

What are you going to do?

>Take potshots at the gargoyles
>Rush in and channel energy
>Something else? (write-in)

>>45350833
>Rush in and channel energy
The right one this time anon.

>>45350833
>Take potshots at the gargoyles
I wonder if negative energy works against golems/gargoyles.

>>45350833
>>Take potshots at the gargoyles

>>45350833
>Take potshots at the gargoyles

>>45350936
>>45350833
actually, on second thought, changing to
>Rush in and channel energy

>>45350833
>Rush in and channel energy

Writing!

Roll me 2d100, best of 3

Rolled 21, 40 = 61 (2d100)

>>45351123

Rolled 29, 10 = 39 (2d100)

>>45351123

Rolled 43, 71 = 114 (2d100)

>>45351123
oh boy

>>45351123
Dropped my trip

File: Undead Horde.jpg (121 KB, 800x500)

121 KB JPG

Those gargoyles look like they can take a lot of punishment and you don't have anything that powerful at range. Close up however and you can do a lot of damage to those packed together undead.

You push into the garden and watch as Gabby's uppercut knocks the head off of one of the faster ones, arcs of flame scorching the neck stump. About six of the slower ones flail uselessly against Dolah's shield as she methodically dispatches them one by one.

Two of the quicker runs spot you and rush towards you, hunger evident in the tightly stretched flesh of their pallid faces. You dive away from them as you channel. They make a hideous noise in pain, but remain standing. They lunge for you once more, but you manage to burst once more, dropping them before their poisoned claws can sink into your flesh.

Crap, you're pretty sure you're out of juice here. Well, time to re-enter the thick of it. You draw your saber and look around for an enemy to slay. Your eyes go wide as you recognize him.

It's Paul. Jittery, shambling. Elongated canines and obviously deceased. But it's him.

You raise your sword and prepare to put him out of his misery.

“Alan?”

“Fuck!” You recoil and lower your sword. He's talking. He's fucking talking! And he remembers you. You stare at him in shock.

>NO! Kill it.
>Paul, are you alright?
>Something else? (write-in)

>>45351513
>>Paul, are you alright?
still be on guard.

>>45351513
>Paul, are you alright?

>>45351513
>>Something else? (write-in)
"Paul do you have control of your body?"

>>45351513
>Something else? (write-in)
Anyone else seeing dead friends and relatives?
Paul didn't die here. This thing isn't Paul.

>>45351558
>Paul didn't die here. This thing isn't Paul.
Uh, yes he did.
We were told last thread that Paul and his party came here, and he didn't make it out when the fast ones got him.

>>45351571
Shit you're right. Mixed up my characters.
Ignore >>45351558

Writing!

File: Paul.jpg (77 KB, 711x800)

77 KB JPG

No. No, he should be dead! Gone.


As much as you wish you could, you can't ignore this.

“Paul, are you alright?” you ask as steadily as you can muster. You keep your sword ready just in case this is a trick.

He shakes his head no. “Alan, they've been holding me here and feeding me corpses. God, I didn't want to but I was so hungry, Alan! I've been starving here for weeks. I have no idea why they didn't kill me like the others.”

“Paul, do you have control of your body?”

He shakes his head yes. “Yeah. Yeah of course. I hurt like hell all over and my mouth is in constant pain. But yeah, I can walk. Fuck, saving me from a shit show again. I owe you so fucking much, man.”

Shit. Quissonce is bathing the other half of the garden in magical ice shards and holy water. Gabby and Dolah are mopping up what's left of the undead forces.

>Kill him
>Save him
>Say something else? (write-in)

>>45351835
>>Say something else? (write-in)
Face down on the ground. Don't move. Hands behind your head.

>>45351835
"Don't move."
Bring the others over. We got a weird situation.

>>45351835
huh... this is a conundrum.
>>45351860
seconded

>>45351835
>Say something else?
"Alright man, I'll try to get you out of this. But you gotta understand, we gotta be careful. Hands behind your head."

Writing!

“Alright. I'll try to get you out of this. But you have to understand I need to be careful. Put your hands behind your head and get down on the ground.”

Paul looks at you, confused. “Alan, what –”

“DO NOT MOVE FROM THAT SPOT! Down on the ground. Hands behind your head.” you shout at him. Your sword arm is shaking. His face softens and he complies. He puts his hands behind his head.

You realize you don't have rope mere seconds before Kyra makes her presence known to you. She deftly moves to Paul and ties his arms behind his back.

You look to the sky and see the fiery explosions have finally stopped. Eve returns to the Earth, preceeded by a rain of stone fragments. Rowe comes up to you and you give her a rapid update.

(Shit.) she thinks to you.

Gabby, Dolah and Quissonce finish killing undead and hosing down the garden. You explain the situation to them as they come over. Now you're all up to speed.

Dolah, still covered in zombie guts, gives Paul a quick glance. “He's evil. He's undead. Kill him.”

Quissonce interjects. “Woah there. He's intelligent. He can talk. We know him!”

Dolah sighs. “Oh boy, here we go. He's evil. He's gone. That's not him.”

“You say Gabby's evil.”

“Gabby's not dead.”

“Exactly. Necromancy itself is evil. If you're detecting evil it may be the process used to create him and not his own character. If he recognized Alan and if he didn't attack us, he's innocent of wrongdoing. You can't punish him for a fate he didn't choose.”

“It's not a punishment. It's mercy.”

“It isn't mercy if we can cure him.”

“You can't cure death.”

“A year ago I couldn't use magic. Three months ago I couldn't cast spells without spell components. One month ago I couldn't summon devils. Yesterday I couldn't create whirling storm of ice and hail to kill my enemies. Today, I can't cure death. Give me a few weeks, maybe I'll surprise you.”

>Kill him
>Save him

>>45352305
>>Save him

>>45352305
Ask what he wants?

>>45352305
Explain Paul's situation to him. See what he wants.

>>45352305
>Save him
"Look, this entire island has turned our ideas of what is and isn't impossible, let alone what is right and wrong, on their head.
"If we have a hope of saving a person's life as well as their soul, and don't take it simply because it's inconvenient or difficult, then that's not doing the Great Will's work."

>>45352305
well, alright, let's get Paul's input and see what he wants.

Writing!

I'm pretty sure Alan has enough information regarding positive and negative energy, deities and magic now to come to the conclusion that Great Will isn't necessarily the ultimate arbiter of good and evil but rather a being capable of projecting its own values to its followers. Dolah doesn't sense "good" and "evil" but rather "with" and "against"

You walk over to Paul, who has been patiently lying down in wait for you as you had your impromptu meeting.

“What's going on Alan?” he asks, trying desperately to hide the nervousness in his voice.

You decide to shoot straight on this one. “Paul, you're dead.”

Paul laughs a bit before he catches your deadly serious gaze. “What?” You sigh and gesture for Quissonce to bring over the decanter. You take it from her and show it to him. “This is holy water.” You say the magic word and drink from it. “Just regular water for me.” You pour some into your hands, drip most of it into the ground and touch Paul with the remnants of the liquid still clinging to your hand. He screams in pain as steam rises from his skin. He wriggles violently. “If you drank this it would re-kill you. You've been brought back to life via necromantic magics. Have you seen your reflection recently?”

The pregnant silence that follows confirms the answer is no. You pour some of the decanter's waters onto the ground, enough to create a small puddle. It is clear. Paul peers into it and sees his disfigured face, before recoiling in horror. He begins to cry. Quissonce gulps.

“So, that's it then?” Paul finally manages to ask.

You and Quissonce look at each other before she begins to speak. “There may be some way to cure you. It will require most likely weeks if not months of study, but I might be able to release you from this form without killing you. But we want to know what you want.”

He looks up at her, hopeful. “Well, if there's a chance then hell yeah I'll take it.”

“Alright then.” you conclude.

You look back to the rest of your party.

“We're bringing him back to the land of the living!”

>End of Thread
I will most likely run this the Friday after this one. https://twitter.com/TrickQM

>>45352716
Thanks for running.

>>45350063
Finally somebody said this. I'm too late to take part but I've been thinking about this the whole thread. Just flood all the withering lands knee-deep (or Sif-knee-deep) in holy water and wade around.

Thanks for the thread.