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“Yuck!” Paul spits the mouthful of the rations Quissonce gave him into the dirt. “Tastes like ash and vomit.”

Quissonce sighs. “You were able to subsist on corpses of the slain. I can assure you these are quite a step up from dead bodies.”

Paul groans. “I need something fresh.”

Rowe leans over and holds out the pot of Mastema stew. The steam wafts up into Paul's nostrils. “Freshly killed. Freshly cooked.” she offers in a sing song tone.

Paul leans away in disgust. “I need . . .” as he trails off he looks over at the exasperated Wizard and sniffs once. Then he leans towards her and sniffs again, much to her discomfort. “You smell good.” he utters simply.

Quissonce's eyes go wide as they dart back and forth. “Uh . . . thank you?”

Paul shakes his head. “No, I mean good enough to eat.”

Gabby laughs uproariously from where she lazes by the campfire. “Holy shit. Straight to the cunnilingus. Now that's the type of romantic I can appreciate.”

“He's talking about cannibalism, Gabby.” Dolah informs, flatly. Gabby looks like someone just told her unicorns didn't exist. “I believe Paul has become a ghoul. Pitiful monsters from The Ancient Times that stalked graveyards, digging up bodies and feasting upon the rotten flesh of the buried.”

Eve 'hmmmms' to herself before coming upon an idea. “Well, maybe the horse corpses will work as a substitute. We have two of them.” Dolah gives her a displeased look. “Or Paul can eat just my pony, if it's an issue.”

Dolah waves her hands. “No. It's fine. If we are walking down this path let us do so fully. He may eat Mastema.” Dolah turns and scowls at Rowe. “It's not like the ghoul won't have company.”

Rowe looks up from her bowl of horse stew and gives Dolah a 'what did I do?' look.

Eve and Paul prepare to leave from where you've set up camp for the night to find the horse corpses. The rest of your crew seems content to relax and recuperate from your fight in the garden.

The land is still tainted, Dolah senses the presence of evil everywhere and that temple is probably filled to the brim with undead shit that wants you just as undead, but for now you all feel relatively safe enough to sleep in shifts and recover your magical and divine talents. You have some free time.

>Accompany Eve and Paul on Operation Horse Corpse Consumption
>Spend some lovey dovey time with Rowe
>Debate sensing evil with Dolah
>Something else? (write-in)

>>45402978
>Spend some lovey dovey time with Rowe

Writing!

Eve and Paul tell you they'll be back soon and make their way towards where you left the horses, Gabby accompanying them to stave off boredom. Kyra takes up her watch position and Quissonce settles into her meditation. Dolah enters her tent to begin her nightly prayers.

Well, look at that. Privacy, and you didn't even have to ask for it. Rowe raises her eyebrows at you, coming to the same conclusion.

You move yourself over to where Rowe sits by the campfire and wrap your arms around her from behind. She settles into you, lying back into your chest, snuggling up for warmth. You breathe in the scent of her auburn locks. The crackling fire and the clear night sky, filled with twinkling stars creates a very pleasant ambience despite the harshness of the land surrounding your scattered tents.

Rowe lifts a spoonful of the stew behind her up to your lips and you oblige the taste test.

Thick and meaty, spiced and filling. Horse is delicious, at least the way Rowe makes it. “Damn, that's good!” you praise her. She smiles.

(Thank you. If there's one thing I know how to cook, it's horse.) Her family raised horses, so you guess there were plenty of opportunities to experiment.

“So horse is your specialty then?” you ask her.

(I guess so.) You sit in pleasant silence for a bit before she looks back up at you, her head practically upside down as she stares into your eyes. (Do you have a special dish Alan?)

>Crab
>Swordfish
>Salmon
>I can't cook for shit
>Something else (write-in)

>>45404143
>Salmon

>>45404143
>Salmon

Writing!

“Salmon. I can make it in about twenty different ways. All delicious. Grilled, cooked, steamed. Even know a way to serve it raw.”

(Ooh, fancy.) Rowe clucks her tongue. (Y'know, I forget sometimes you come from a port town. You don't eat much seafood.)

“Because it's expensive and the Circle doesn't serve it. The Great Will be merciful, what I would do for a properly prepared King salmon.” Rowe laughs.

(You ate seafood often in . . .?)

“Basye. That's the town I'm from. And yeah, I did. Didn't realize that until I started getting cravings for crab in the mountains. Goat makes a very poor substitute.”

“Basye.” she says out loud, getting her mouth used to the syllables. “Baaaaaaasssye.” She giggles again. (You miss your hometown, right?)

“Yeah, I do.”

(Alright. So the plan is to bring magic back to the world, bugger the Emperor with a sharp pointy stick and then return to Baaaaasye to eat fish until your feet are as large and red as a lobster? That about right?)

>That's the plan
>It's going to be more complicated than that
>Think I may wander the world actually
>Something else? (write-in)

>>45405468
>That's the plan
though
>It's going to be more complicated than that

>>45405468
>That's the plan

>>45405468
>"No I'm going to use a dull spoon, but otherwise, maybe?"

Writing!

“No.” you say simply. She looks up at you, her face puzzled. Maybe something more than that, hidden in her expression. “I'm planning on using a dull spoon.” It takes her a moment to understand you, but she graces you with another one of her sweet laughs, letting her head thunk heavily back into your chest. Although, you can swear there's a hint of . . . disappointment, maybe, in her voice. It's hard to tell. Subtle.

(Red Rider isn't completely gone I take it.)

“You take it correctly, Orc Hunter.” you remind her.

(I've run out of asses to shove dull spoons up, though. Never really held a grudge against old Kardas, himself. What's your issue? It's not like he orchestrated all the battle plans himself.)

“He's the one ultimately responsible. His drafting policies, his greed, his decision, his war. Most of the deaths on both sides hang on his head.” You let that last sentence drift into silence, with the crackling firewood and the chirping grasshoppers as the only sources of noise, before deciding to answer the question explicitly. “But yeah. Ignoring the huge complications with steps 1 and 2, like how am I getting close to the Emperor and how are we spreading magic back to the world, step 3 is most likely going to be retiring to Basye.”

(Oh. Well, that's good.)

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Before you can think of a new topic for conversation, your ears prick at the sound and gut feeling of a situation that has occurred multiple times in the past few weeks. Rowe sighs, feeling it too, before whistling sharply.

Sif approaches, head down and guilty already from whatever out of the way area he was shagging Pascala.

“Bad Sif! Bad.” Rowe berates him as he whines. She bops him on the nose with her spoon.

You laugh. Rowe gives you a chiding look as well. “What? It's funny.” you say to soothe the situation.

(You're encouraging them.)

“They can't help it. They're animals. They're bonded to us. And it's not like we're really in a position to lecture –”

“Do you want Pascala to get pregnant?” she asks quite severely, cutting you off. “With wolfdogs?”

“Uh –”

“Because she's purebred Shepherd. Any knowledgeable dog keeper worth their salt would call you an idiot to ruin her offspring by breeding her with a wolf. Wolfdogs make for poor dogs and poor wolves. Hard to domesticate and not suited for the wild. Do you really want to ruin that?”

She seems pretty upset about this. You really haven't put much thought into it, but you guess she has a point.

>Sure, bring on the wolfdogs.
>You're right, I should breed her with another Shepherd.
>I don't want Pascala getting pregnant
>Something else? (write-in)

>>45407018
>I don't want Pascala getting pregnant

>>45406984
>Taking you with me of coarse.

>>45407018
>You're right, I should breed her with another Shepherd.
But not anytime soon.

Writing for

>I don't want my dog getting pregnant anytime soon
1. I'll breed her with a purebred Shepherd later (Y/N)

2. >>45407105 "I'm taking you with me." (Y/N)

3. Anything else? (write-in)

So, maybe I should have prefaced it better.

>>45407442

I'm still taking votes on other elements of this next post.

1. I'll breed her with a purebred Shepherd later (Y/N)

2. >>45407105 "I'm taking you with me." (Y/N)

3. Anything else? (write-in)

>>45407743
1. Y
2. Y

>>45407442
1 Maybe
2 Y

>>45407743
y
y
Let the necking commence.

“You're right. I'm sorry. I really don't want my dog getting pregnant any time soon, I should take the situation a bit more seriously.” You don't know how being serious will stop them from romping whenever they get the chance, but if it makes her feel better you'll acquiesce.

“You should.” She answers curtly. She's still affixing you with a penetrating gaze, like she expects more.

“I'll breed her with another Shepherd when the time comes.” you offer in appeasement. She sighs and turns around, ladling more horse stew into her bowl. She's stopped giving you the hot glare, but now you're experiencing the cold shoulder.

What is she so mad about? This isn't that important. They're just . . . oh. Oh fuck. Huh. . .

“Rowe, . . .” she turns her head round to the side and makes a 'hmm' noise “you know I'm taking you with me, right?”

Her back straightens and her eyes go wide. She quickly whips herself around to look at you. She practically interrogates your face to look for some sign of insincerity. “You're sure?” she asks you.

“Yeah. I'm sure. Unless you don't want to –”

She raises her hands as if to physically knock away the end of that sentence. “No! That isn't the issue. I'd love to visit Basye with you. But, would your parents approve?”

Huh. There weren't too many elves in Basye and absolutely no half-elves. Your father hated the Roscoli, but you don't remember him voicing any racial prejudices in your youth. Although, considering how homogeneous Basye is, he never really had a situation to give you perspective. Maybe he won't approve of Rowe.

“I honestly don't know. But I do know that disregarding my father's plans for my future is something I'm prone to do, so I don't really care if he approves of you or not.”

“Future.” she says simply, thinking about it herself. “Do you see 'us' as . . . permanent?


>Yes, definitely
>I'm not entirely sure, it's been less than a month
>Something else? (write-in)

>>45408814
>I'm not entirely sure, it's been less than a month
But I've never felt this way about anyone before.

Writing!

>>45408814
>Yes, definitely
"the whole telepathy thing seems like a good indicator we should stick together"

>>45408814
>Something else? (write-in)
If by permanent you mean until we die of old age in each others arms than yes.

“I'm not entirely sure. The whole telepathy thing seems like a good indicator we could last for some time in each other's company without complications, but we've been together for such a short while. Permanent seems like a large mental leap right now. Although, I've never felt this way about anybody before.”

Rowe laughs to herself and then looks down. “Right. I forgot. I was your first . . . everything, wasn't I?”

You nod your head. “Yep.”

“Wow. You have come a long way in one month.”

You shrug. “Learning things quickly is kinda my specialty.”

Rowe laughs again. “It sure seems that way.”

“So.” you begin by slapping your thighs once for the noise. “Step one, we bring magic back to the world.”

Rowe nods. “Uh-huh, simple, easy, feasible first step.”

“Second, we bugger the Emperor.”

“With a dull spoon.” she clarifies.

“With a dull spoon.” you second, affirming your choice of implement. “And third. We go to –”

“Baaaaaaaaaassssssye!” Rowe shouts, elongating her new favorite word.

“Together.” you emphasize. “And anyone who doesn't like that can go fuck themselves.”

She leans in towards you. “You're forgetting step zero.”

“What's step zero?” you ask.

She stands up in silence and makes her way towards the tent you two share. She bends over, in quite an unnecessary but delightfully entertaining fashion, and gives you a look over her shoulder as she enters it.

Ah, yes. Step zero. You quickly follow after her.

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The sounds coming from the tent are quite loud. Alan really needs to learn how to keep it quiet. You're afraid someone of the not-living variety may hear and decide to attack the horny bastard while he's at his most vulnerable. Really, the man needs some self control.

“Great, when I do it it's such a problem. When he does it everything's great.” the girl whines.

“Hey, count your blessings.” your bigger friend snorts while you rest atop him. “He didn't just take a bite from a member of your species and enjoy it. I'm appalled he would let that harlot feed him.”

“Excuse me?” the girl's boyfriend growls. “The fuck did you just say about her?!” You roll your eyes.

“Honey, please, he didn't mean it.” she tries to soothe him by nuzzling into his neck.

“Alright everybody, calm down.” You offer in an attempt to prevent any violence. “These moments are always a jarring experience. It will pass soon enough.” This is, at least, much better than the time Alan forgot to remove you from his belt before initiating his romantic tryst. That was an awkward, uncomfortable forty minutes.

You hear a dismissive sigh coming from above where you all relax. You look up to see the asshole preening himself and ruffling his feathers in the gnarled tree above you.

“You're all idiots.” he tells you with perfect diction and disdain.

“Fuck you Chester.” you all squeak, whinny, and bark in unison.

>End of Thread
I will most likely run this next time this Friday. https://twitter.com/TrickQM

Yeah, I know this was super short. Turns out one of my friends is having his 21st birthday today and this has been a pretty inactive, slow thread anyway. I apologize to any of you who thought there would be more material for this session. I feel this is the best place to end the thread, considering the theme and the content.

Have a great Valentine's Day you guys.

>>45410255
>“Fuck you Chester.” you all squeak, whinny, and bark in unison
Okay, that was funny.

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>>45410255
>That was an awkward, uncomfortable forty minutes.
Thanks for running!