The main issue however, is the ten foot wall circling the great church, all the gates locked tight, barring a side entrance beside the larger main gates for the crowds. It doesn’t help that the gate is manned by a burly looking church guard, a heavy cudgel at his hip.

“If the old man’s anywhere, he’d be in here.” Alison nods, clutching her arms and shivering. “Place gives me the willies just looking at it. Still, if we gotta get in.” She shrugs her coat off, undoing the top button of her shirt. “I think I can distract that guard for ye. Lead him to a nice quiet corner maybe. Not like they’ll let most people in this time a day.”

>”Sounds like a plan.”
>”Boost us on your shoulders, see if we can get over the wall.”
>Buy some food, pretend you’re making an offering
>Write in

>>45565733
>Buy some food, pretend you’re making an offering
Slow thread

>>45565733
>Buy some food, pretend you’re making an offering

>>45565733
>Buy some food, pretend you’re making an offering

>>45565733
>Buy some food, pretend you’re making an offering

If that fails, we can use Kara's effect on men to lead the guard around the corner and kill him.

>>45566294
Woah, let's not resort to murder quite yet.

Alrighty time to bluff

And you know what stat that needs? Charisma

Gimme a d20

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>45566540
I hope spilling spaghetti on the steps of the Grand Cathedral isn't heresy.

Rolled 6 (1d20)

>>45566540

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>45566540

>>45566331
These religious zealots massacred an entire town for hiring a Spook to deal with a local supernatural problem.

Every single member of this Church needs to be executed.

>>45566700
The guy who guards the door probably wasn't involved in that, you know. Pretty sure not every member of a massive institution like this can be moustache-twirlingly evil.

Besides, do you really think we can a) kill him quietly, b) dispose of the body in the middle of a busy city without anyone finding it, and c) escape without anyone noticing the missing guard or finding his body and going on high alert.

I grab her wrist before she walks off, “Hang on, there’s no need for that.” I hiss, casting an eye around, “Let’s just… I don’t know, pretend we’re here to make an offering or something.”

She sucks her teeth a moment, “Well, alright, but going in there like that’ll be dangerous.”

“So would sneaking in.” Kara points out, moving as you head into a grocers. I fumble some coins out, feeling my fingers going a bit numb in the cold, and stop to by some gloves while we’re here.

With some bread and meat tucked into a basket, I approach the guard with the others behind me, the guard raising a hand to halt us. “State your business.” He sighs, looking over the four of you with boredom.

I gulp, holding the basket out, “Just here to make an offering to Oenda.”

The guard snatches it from my hands, breaking the loaf of bread in half and sniffing the meat suspiciously. “Forever may she shine.” He grunts, stepping aside. “The dog stays with me, don’t want the beast leaving a mess in the halls.”

“Forever may she shine.” You nod, telling the sheepdog to sit and wait with the man.

He just lazily points you towards the cathedral’s side entrance, the massive front doors closed tight in the cold.

Stepping past the wall, you find yourself in a large yard, quickly turning a dull grey-white as the dirty snow continues falling. Other than the cathedral, which lies dead ahead, you spot a tidy graveyard along the side of the building, a collection humble stones marking each person out, dominated by a mausoleum. Beyond those a collection of small huts, presumably where some of the lower ranked members of the church live.

“Now what?” You ask Alison, trudging the building snow.

She shrugs, “Hells if I know! Assume they’ve got him locked up somewhere in there! Hell knows where.”

Well, shit.

>Enter the cathedral, Kara makes a good eavesdropper
>Sneak to those huts at the back
>Check out that mausoleum
>Write in

>>45566959
>Enter the cathedral, Kara makes a good eavesdropper

>>45566959
>Enter the cathedral, Kara makes a good eavesdropper

>>45566959
>>Check out that mausoleum

>>45566959
>Check out that mausoleum

>>45566959
>Enter the cathedral, Kara makes a good eavesdropper

>>45566959
>>Enter the cathedral, Kara makes a good eavesdropper

File: CoO symbol.jpg (15 KB, 350x347)

15 KB JPG

“Let’s poke around in the cathedral. Kara, you need to keep your ears open for anything, okay?”

She nods, what little of her face I can see going pale in the cold, as we hurry towards the side entrance. I groan in relief as we go through the doors, feeling the heat of a dozen burning fires inside, bright candles illuminating the entrance as we head in.

“Come to make an offering?” A chubby priestess asks, bustling up. I just respond by holding the basket out, “The collection plate is just ahead, to the side of the altar.” She tells you, before bustling off.

We take our time to walk through the pews, shuffling our feet, Kara keeping her head cocked the entire way, listening for anything, as I lay down the basket. Looking to buy time, Alison nudges us to sit in the front pew, heads bowed and pretending to pray.

I look up at the altar, yet again, no statues of the goddess herself, just some holy warrior, with the eight pointed sun on his shield, a mace raised, the head of the weapon of his heart, staring imperiously over the hall, the stained glass windows behind him failing to light properly in the near dark of the snowy city.

A stray image drifts through your mind for a moment, a tempting one at that, picturing yourself hefting a rock and smashing one of the windows out, just for the hell of it.

“Cheery place, innit?” Alison whispers, snapping you out of it. “Cleansing fires this and shining lights that.”

Kara shushes her, “I can hear…. screaming. Coming from below.” She whispers. “They’re muffled… but,” She casts her eyes around subtly, pointing at a brass mouthpiece set in the wall, “That thing must be used to communicate with people below. I can just make out the echoes bouncing up from them.”

Alright, so we need to go down. Question is, how we go about that. Casting my eyes around the room… there’s no one by the front, the priestess from earlier has left through some side door.

>You two stay here, I’ll look for a staircase.
>Tell them to get out of the cathedral entirely while you look around
>Stick with me, we’re going snooping
>Might be a way down outside, a cellar perhaps.
>Write in

>>45567671
>Tell them to get out of the cathedral entirely while you look around

>>45567671
>Tell them to get out of the cathedral entirely while you look around

>>45567671
>Tell them to get out of the cathedral entirely while you look around
Can't let the waifu's get hurt

>>45567671
>Tell them to get out of the cathedral entirely while you look around

>>45567671
>Stick with me, we’re going snooping
We're going to need the extra muscle from Alison and Kara's hearing to hear approaching patrols.

>>45567671
>>Tell them to get out of the cathedral entirely while you look around

File: Snow bunny.png (316 KB, 294x748)

316 KB PNG

I lean forward, “You guys get out of here, I’ll try to meet outside that grocers when I get out of here, okay? There’s less chance of getting getting caught if it’s just me.”

Alison frowns, but nods, dusting herself off as she stands. “Good luck boyo. And remember, the trick to any fight, is kicking between the legs.”


She slinks off towards the back of the church, Kara grabbing my hand gently. “Leon, promise me you’ll be careful, alright? Promise me you’re going to come back?”

I squeeze back, giving her a nod, “I’ll do my best, that’s for sure.”

She leans forward and presses a cold kiss on my cheek, before she stands, pulling her hood low and following after Alison.

I take one final glance around, before standing and hurrying towards that mouthpiece. I can’t hear a thing coming up it, but if Kara said so, then I’ve got no choice but to trust her. Pressing my ear to the door next to it, I hear nothing but silence, slipping through when I find it unlocked.

Some sort of storage room by the looks of it, shelves stacked with the offerings of the day, a few coins, food, wine, cheese… I’m sure Oenda will enjoy all of this personally, as I glance around the room. Moving a few sacks aside, I spot an iron ring on the floor, clearing away a wooden trapdoor.

Kneeling down, I hear yet more silence, before tugging it open.

Below the light penetrates a few metres, before going pitch black, a wooden ladder leading down.

Patting my pockets, I draw out a candle, flint and steel… On the other hand, could it be this simple?

>Check more around this floor first
>Climb down in the dark
>Light a candle, then head down
>Other

>>45568253
>>Climb down in the dark
What could possible go wrong

>>45568253
>Climb down in the dark

>>45568253
>Climb down in the dark

>>45568253
>>Climb down in the dark

>>45568253
>Light a candle, then head down
If there were anyone down there, they'd have lit something.
Torturers need light to do their work, after all.

>>45568253
>>Climb down in the dark

I stow my belongings. It’ll be safer in the dark.

I lower myself onto the ladder, feeling it sway a little under my feet, before I drag the trap door closed behind me.

I take a few minute to remember the spook’s lesson to improve my night vision, squeezing my eyes shut or thirty breaths, hanging there in the dark nothing but the creak of the ladder to accompany me.

By the time I snap them open again, I can at least make out shapes in the room below, large crates and sacks lying around, as I start my descent.

I’m about halfway to the floor, lowering my foot for another rung, when it hits empty air and just keeps going.

I flail a little, grabbing tight to the ladder and keeping my mouth shut to prevent a yelp. Squinting hard… I can just make out that there’s a missing rung, stretching on down to the next one.

I reach the floor, looking around at all the amassed food. Do they deserve all this? They’re murderers, obsessed lunatics who kidnapped Mr Johnson, snapped him up out of the blue. A simple fire lit on the way out would hurt them, leave them to starve.

I shake my head, snapping back to the mission at hand, taking a deep breath, I take a step towards the door, only to freeze, hearing metallic footsteps approaching the other side, only one set, but light peeks under the doorframe now, meaning they’ve got a torch.

>Light a candle, introduce yourself as a new acolyte
>Hide!
>Write in

>>45568692
>Hide!

>>45568692
>Hide!

>>45568692
>Hide!

>>45568692
>>Hide!

>>45568692
>Hide!

well, this is close, give me a d20, stick to best of 3 for now

Rolled 1 (1d20)

>>45568975

Rolled 6 (1d20)

>>45568975

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>45568975

Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>45568975

>>45569025
Hehehehe

Rolled 6 (1d20)

>>45568975

>>45569025
Fuck.
We're not going to be able to silence this guard quickly enough to prevent being captured.

>>45569025
>tfw we are literally the worst at everything

it's not a critfail, merely a pass with consequences

File: Oenda enforcer.jpg (138 KB, 735x1088)

138 KB JPG

You scramble backwards, tripping over your cloak in the process, you hear a soft clunk as you move, scrambling behind a crate.

The door creaks open a moment later and you pull your hood down, trying to blend in as much as possible, as a seven foot giant steps into the room, dressed head to toe in chainmail, with a bucket helmet to round out his look, an eight pointed sun emblazoned on his chest.

His head rotates, scanning the room quietly, “Hmmm.” He ponders, before shrugging, moving into the room.

You can feel your heart beating faster, noticing the longsword at his hip, the shield strapped to his back as he sweeps his torch around the room, ducking lower down behind the crate.

“Oh?” He grunts softly. You hear a clattering of steel and the source of the light lowers. “Who left this here? Would be a waste, most likely some daft acolyte.”

He stands again, and you dare to peek around the corner. Damn it! He’s holding your candle. You pat your pockets down, but you must have dropped it in your hurry. He stares at it a moment, before pocketing, shaking his head and pocketing it, before he leaves the room again, pulling the door shut behind him.

You let out the breath you’d been holding, willing your heart not to explode, you take a moment to sit in the dark…

Okay, no candle. That’s an issue if you need it, but for now…

You wait for the footsteps to retreat, before peaking your head out the door, the hallway outside lit with torches set in sconces.

Looking left, the hallway leads to a dead end, seperate rooms branching off onto, judging by the snoring, bedrooms. To the right, you spot a staircase, leading both up and down.

>Poke around the bedrooms, might find a disguise
>Head down more
>Head back for the surface
>Write in

>>45569425
>>Head down more

>>45569425
>Head down more

>>45569425
>>Poke around the bedrooms, might find a disguise

Need a couple acolyte robes.

>>45569425
>Head down more

>>45569425
>Poke around the bedrooms, might find a disguise
Get an acolyte robe.

File: I've been waiting for this.png (96 KB, 376x238)

96 KB PNG

>>45569425
>poke around the bedrooms, might find a disguise

Ha! Ha! Time for bunny waifu simulator!

>>45569425
>Head down more

No sense in being here longer than I have to with that armoured guy looking around.

You hurry towards the stairs, heading down, the stone steps looping back on themselves, you come down to another floor, his one without another staircase leading downwards. Seems you’re not getting any lower than this.

Heading forwards, you creep between patches of shadow, the droning sounds of exhausted wails of pain becoming slowly audible as you make your way forwards. Most of the hall is barren for doors, save the very end, where three branch off, one ahead, with the others heading left and right.

A sharp scream cuts the air suddenly through the small window in the central door. You freeze, glancing over your shoulder, before rushing closer to look, peering in through the window.

A teenage girl in her smallclothes is bound to the table with leather straps, a bald man pacing around her as her scream trails off into laboured breathing, a long needle held in his hands, as he bellows at the woman. “YOU’RE THE WITCH, AIN’T YA?”

“No-no no, please, no! Sir!” Her voice breaks a little, “Sir please, I’m not a witch sir!”

He paces around her again, his back to you, “I think you’re lyyyying.” He chuckles, “Let’s just see if my little needle here can find the spot on you.” Another scream from the girl almost bursts your ears before she trails off, the torturer pulling his needle loose and wiping the blood off with a rag. “Every witch has a spot on her, where no matter what you do to her, she won’t feel nothing.” He taps a finger to the needle, “I’m VERY good at finding them, no matter how long it takes. So you might as well confess now.”

“But- I’m n-AAAAAAAAAA!” He's stuck her again.

The doors unlocked. He’s not that big of a man, a good swing to the back of his head, and this monster would lie dead. That’s all it would take. One swing.

You blink, the thought retreating for a moment. The low droning of pain, sobs and cries are coming from the left door, with silence on the right

>Go for it, attack the torturer
>Go left, check the injured
>Go right, silence might be more worrying
>Write in

>>45569969
>Go for it, attack the torturer

>>45569969
>Go left, check the injured

>>45569949
>Go for it, attack the torturer

>>45569969
>Go right, silence might be more worrying
We find Mr. Johnson. Then we kill this torturer.

>>45569969
>Go for it, attack the torturer
guys. come on. this is obvious.

>>45570038
I don't like that the thought was put into our head, possibly by an actual witch.

>>45569969
>Go right, silence might be more worrying

>>45569969
>Go right, silence might be more worrying

>>45569969
>Go right, silence might be more worrying

I really wanna tear this shithead a dozen new ones with that needle.

Unfortunately, we need to focus.

>>45570060
somethings been putting destructive thoughts in our head since we got here, may be a plot hook

>>45570275
Doesn't mean we have to go full retard about it.

Apologies on the delay, was having lunch, writing now

I clench my teeth, ignoring the screams and slip through the door on my right, into another hallway. Walking down it, the path changes from brick and mortar stonework, to rough, natural stone, must be leading into a natural tunnel.

I head for the door at the far end, before something catches my eye, a small divet in the rock wall leading into a short path that comes to rest at a gate that reaches from floor to ceiling, blocking the small tunnel off. But most concerning is that it’s made of bright silver, flashing and twinkling in the light of the stone torch.

You file that away, before heading for the door at the end. This one also has the window at eye level, with the same bars set in it, along with a slot at the floor. Peering in, you see about ten people in the tiny room, slumped over themselves, some crying, others sitting still, some rocking back and forth.

No locks on this door, just a simple sliding latch.

>Tell everyone to stay quiet and still, go inside
>Open the door and tell everyone to run for it
>Check out that gate more, before you do anything else
>Write in

>>45570589
>Check out that gate more, before you do anything else

>>45570589
>Tell everyone to stay quiet and still, go inside

>>45570589
>>Tell everyone to stay quiet and still, go inside

>>45570589
>Check out that gate more, before you do anything else

>>45570589
>Check out that gate more, before you do anything else

>>45570589
>Check out that gate more, before you do anything else

These people need help, yes…. but that gate is a mystery in it’s own accord.

You backtrack to it, looking closer.

Slender wrought metal running from wall to wall, ceiling to floor, fit perfectly into the wall, behind it, the rough tunnel walls quickly return to being stone underneath, and if you squint hard enough, you can make out the shapes of coffins.

“Catacombs.” You nod to yourself. “But… why the gate?”

You reach out and rattle it, but it’s sturdy beyond belief, not even the slightest give in the lattice worked surface.

If you shoved…. just shoved with all your might, you might be able to get it loose, get past it and investigate further, to see what’s behind it all.

You slap yourself across the face. That was NOT your thought that time.

Something… something’s affecting you here. You bite the inside of your cheek, pain sharpening your mind for a moment, you stare into the dark, but… there’s nothing there. The screams of that poor girl still reach you here, barely audible, and muffled to distortion… but it’s still happening.

You grip your staff tighter, gulping and steeling yourself.

>Go back for her, she needs help
>Sneak into that cell
>Let everyone out, time for a prison break
>Write in

>>45570971
>Go back for her, she needs help

>>45570971
>>Sneak into that cell

>>45570971
>Go back for her, she needs help
We wasted too much time.

>>45570971
>>Go back for her, she needs help

alrighty, gimme a d20 best of three

Rolled 16 (1d20)

>>45571206

Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>45571206

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>45571206

And so Leon discovers that hes good at hitting things

>>45571248
we had to have something we we're good at

Okay, she needs help. The spooks in here somewhere, but that girl is actively being tortured in front of you.

You hurry back to the central hallway, nudging the door open, a fresh scream hitting your ears, her voice going raw and exhausted now.

You peer through the hole, making sure his back is turned, before letting yourself in, grabbing your staff by the bottom end with both hands and swing the heavy end down on his skull as he finishes pulling the needle out again.

He crumples with a single blow, dropping like a sack of bricks, the needle tinkling as it hits the floor and rolls off, the girl still trying to thrash free, blood seeping from a half dozen wounds all over her body.

You step forward, laying a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to lay back and be still. “Calm down!” You tell her. “You’re okay now.”

You slip the straps pinning her down loose, tears seeping down her face as she tries to hold in racking sobs, the holes in her muscles looking nastily deep. “If- if you can keep it together, I’ll do my best to patch that up.” I tell her, before averting my eyes, landing on the crumpled dress in the corner.

I toss it to her, before inspecting the torturer, simple brown garb, not exactly anything like the others were wearing, the collar stained red from the head wound you gave him. He’s…. still breathing, shallowly, as the girl steps up and spits on him, wiping her cheeks and driving a foot into his gut with a sharp kick.

“What’s your name?” She asks quietly.

“Leon.” You tell her.

“Sarah.” She whispers back, brushing black locks of hair out of her face. “You’re a spook right?” You nod, and she nods back, “The one you’re looking for, he’s down that door on the right, in the quiet room.”

>Stick with me
>Stay here and rest, I’ll be back soon.
>Write in

>>45571420
>Stick with me
>Write in
Jam the needle into the torturer's jugular. Make him bleed out. It's a better death than one he deserves.

>>45571420
>Stick with me
>Look for keys or anything else useful on the torturer's belt

>>45571420
>Stick with me

>>45571420
>Check her with salt first, though try to avoid her wounds with it.

>>45571420
>>Stick with me

>>45571420
Poke her with our staff, we must be certain.

After this we need to get a blade. we might be able to get a sword off our squire buddy, if not adding a silver inlaid spear head to our staff would do.

“Stick with me. We’ll be leaving in just a minute.” You tell her.

She nods, as you check the torturers belt, but all he has is a key to this room. Well, worth a shot.

The two of you steal down the hall again, towards the room, slipping inside, Sarah points to the old man in the corner, slumped against the wall silently. “Mr Johnson?” You ask, shaking his shoulder.

He jerks awake, head whipping up to you. You can’t make out much of him in the dark, but his eyes flash in the bare light. “Boy?” He asks, his words half a wheeze. “Leon? You- how’d you…” He shakes his head, holding a hand out to you. “Help me up boy.”

Gruff as always.

You grab his hand and pull him up, expecting him to breeze past you towards the door, but he pauses, staring at you. “Good work boy.” He nods, shaking your hand once, firmly. “Now, how’re we getting out of here?” He asks, limping towards the door.

You stir the other prisoners, holding the door open, Mr Johnson forces himself into the light, revealing the extent of what’s been done to him. His face is badly bruised, his nose broken and reset poorly, with a black eye and he’s got an eight pointed sun branded on his left leg, where his pants have been torn, his shirt little more than tatters, with his cloak long gone.

“Ignore these boy.” He grunts, snapping his fingers in your face. “I’m a tough old goat, now, how are we getting out. The longer we spend down here, the more danger we’re all in.”

>Everybody rush the stairs, they can’t stop a crowd
>Sneak towards the stairs in small groups, try and take some clothes from the bedrooms.
>Every man for himself, you’ve got to get Mr Johnson out
>Write in

>>45571748
>Sneak towards the stairs in small groups, try and take some clothes from the bedrooms.

>>45571748
>Write in
Get the other prisoners in the other cell freed, then take the torch from the torturer's room, and start a fire in the dormitories.
Use the fire, smoke, and confusion to rush the ladder and get out.

>>45571748
Lets start a fire >>45571788 but avoid destroying their food stock here. They'll start raiding or the like if they don't have enough.

>>45571748
>Sneak towards the stairs in small groups, try and take some clothes from the bedrooms.
guys fire is never a good idea

>>45571892
What about saving the prisoners in the other cell?
The one's that were injured but not broken yet?
We haven't opened that cell yet.

>>45571788
>>45571882
BURN IT ALL DOWN

time to start a fire then

roll me a d20

Rolled 6 (1d20)

>>45571977

Rolled 10 (1d20)

>>45571977
guys pls no

Rolled 12 (1d20)

>>45571977
RIP Leon and several prisoners

Rolled 16 (1d20)

>>45571977

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>45571977
Wait, what about the other prisoners? Aren't we saving them as well?

>durr let's set fire to this building that we're currently inside

>>45572064
I should hope so.

We're about to be slapped upside the head by a disappointed Spook.

“I want to get the others prisoners free, then I’ll start a fire in their dormitories.” You tell him. “When they’re all panicking and running around in the smoke, everyone rushes up the stairs to the next level. I’ll leave a door open, with a ladder that leads to the surface.”

He considers the plan for a moment, Sarah helping him limp down the hall, as I crack the door open. “Alright, just be quick about it.”

I nod, ducking into the torture chamber to grab the light, before cracking the opposite door open, this one leading right into the cell. “This is a jailbreak!” You hiss, “Everyone that can walk, help the others who can’t. There’s gonna be a fire, just follow the others.”

They stare at you blearily, but pick themselves up, heading into the hall.

Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I hurry up the stairs, looking for something handy to light. I end up with a bundle of dry old rags, along with a sack of dry seeds, hurled into the center of the hallway, I tuck the carpet lining the hall into itin a few places, before lighting it all up, tossing some of the other torches on the pile, before retreating to the ladder room.

“FIRE! FIRE! THERE’S A FIRE!” I scream, after letting it buil into a proper flame, spreading down the hall, catching on the bedroom’s wooden doors.

I can hear hurrying feet coming down the stairs, trying to beat at the flames for a few minutes, before they give up the attempt, running for it, while a church bell tolls loudly.

I hurry downstairs, waving everyone to rush up, heading for the surface.

Sarah and Mr Johnson are the first to reach the ladder, hurrying up, with myself on their heels, busting out of the storage room, I knock over a bench of candles, setting them spinning across the room, spreading the fire further, smoke now clouding the church hall, as everyone streams out.

I look around, before tossing aside the bar blocking the main entrance, allowing all of them to stream out at once, into the freezing cold outside.

I take Mr Johnson off Sarah, helping him limp forwards, as the priests start to move to intercept us, concerned but confused as well. “Who in Oenda’s name are you?” The priestess who welcomed you earlier demands angrily, “What were you doing in there?”

I almost start to think of a response, before Sarah steps forward and punches the priestess square in the temple, sending her sprawling in the snow, before the girl staggers forwards.

The guard at the gate is running at me now, his cudgel drawn, as the other priests get out of our way. He swings high, his weapon ready to come crashing down on me, only for something to leap on his back.

Alison crashes her pistol’s hard wooden base into his eye, smashing his face with it, the giant dropping his club and steering off course, trying to throw the redhead off of him.

The other prisoners stream past as I push Mr Johnson on, letting him run for it, as the guard shrugs Alison off, preparing to smash her down, before my staff meets his ribs with a nasty crack.

A loud boom echoes across the yard, part of the cathedral roof caving in, as the flames silently lick higher into the sky, smoking coiling up as the snow comes down.

“Run!” Alison roars, shoving you on, bolting out the gate, you get onto the street Kara and the dog running to you as you grab Mr Johnson and bolt for it, making your way down street after street, until his feet go out from under him.

I come to a stop, leaning the old man against a building. He’s passed out… “Needs some food, and sleep, but... “ I listen close to his breathing, “No smoke damage.”

“Should we find a place to stay the night?” Kara asks.

“I know a place, not to far from here, the Bull’s Head.” Alison grunts. “He needs to get out of the cold, and soon.”

Sarah managed to trail behind your group as well, shivering in the cold, barefoot, with the dog bringing up the rear.

>We need to get out of the city. Now.
>Alright, let’s get to this inn.
>Write in

>>45572347
>Alright, let’s get to this inn.

>>45572347
>>We need to get out of the city. Now.

>>45572347
>Hand sarah our staff and cloak as we walk out of the city. the wood burns witches and we have to be sure.

>>45572347
>Alright, let’s get to this inn.

>>45572420
Backing no matter what we do we need to be DAMNED confident that sarah is not a witch.

File: Spoiler Image (530 KB, 800x1240)

530 KB JPG

>>45572347
>Alright, let’s get to this inn.

bun is love, bun is life

>>45572347
>Alright, let’s get to this inn.

calling it

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“Alright, let’s get to this inn. Help me carry him.”

The older girl steps forward and together, we throw him over our shoulders, marching onwards with Alison leading the way.

I can feel exhaustion setting into my bones now, after that blind dash through the city streets, Alison nodding at a tavern Kara runs ahead and holds the door open for us.

We set him down in a chair, and I barely bother to haggle, handing over a few coins for the night, he slips a few keys to me, and I pay extra to have Mr Johnson’s room heated with a fire for the night.

We push him up the stairs, dropping him off, I tuck him in tight, feeling his forehead. No fever, not yet at least. “Who’s the girl?” Alison asks, jerking her chin at Sarah.

“She was being tortured under the church, with a needle.” I tell her.

Alison winces, “I’ve hear of that…. that’s rough.” She pauses, “You’re…. not actually a witch, right?”

She stares at the three of us, her eyes going wide. “What?” She asks, shivering and holding herself tight, dried blood caking on her arms and legs. “No! I’m Sarah Danes! I’m from Tarlick!” She points to the dog, “That was my father’s friends, h-his name is Lance.”

The dog whoofs happily at the name, but doesn’t move any closer to the dark haired girl.

>I trust you, get some rest
>Test her with the staff
>Salt her
>Write in

>>45572729
Test her with the staff. Throwing salt on the horribly wounded girls injuries to see if they hurt is not a good witch test.

>>45572729
>I trust you, get some rest
>Patch her wounds up

>>45572729
>Test her with the staff
Now is not the time to white knight tg.

>>45572729
>Test her with the staff

>>45572729
>Test her with the staff

I hold my staff out, “If you’re not a witch… then you’ll let me test you? It’ll only take a second.”

She gulps eyes locking on the wood. “What… what does that do to people?”

Alison shoots me a significant look over that. “Oak wood burns dark witches.” I tell her. “Now hold still.”

She purses her lips as I bring it towards her. “W-wait!” She clears her throat. “My mother- she was, well, she was a healer woman- and she was teaching me some things… she wasn’t evil or anything like that though, I swear!”

“Like I said, only dark witches. Now hold still.” She grimaces, as I press the wood to the exposed skin of her arm.

A long moment passes, but she’s got no reaction to the wood, and I pull it away. “My mother was the one the church was after. She and my father died when they took the village.” She sniffs loudly, tears starting to roll down her cheeks again.

Ouch.

Alison and Kara both still seem on edge around her though… as the girl sits at the foot of the room’s other bed, sobbing into her hands.

“It’ll… be okay?” I offer weakly, but her sobs just redouble harder, more blood trickling down her skin as she opens her wounds, staining through her dress.

“Can you patch yourself up?” I ask her, “If you were learning healing?” She wipes her eyes, looking up at me.

“Maybe.” She sniffs, “D-do you have bandages?”

I really wish I could ask Mr Johnson’s advice right about now.

>On second thoughts… you need to go
>Hand them over
>Offer to help
>Write in

>>45573027
>Hand them over, let her change in peace
Leon getting an awkward boner over this would just make everyone uncomfotable

well this is dead

Wrapping up for the thread now

I rustle in my bag, slapping the soot off of it, before handing over some bandages. “We’ll give you some space.” I tell her, heading for the door.

The dog stays behind, rotating on the spot, before lying down. “That girl’s gonna be in a lotta pain for a long time.” Alison sighs, tucking her head down and leaning against the wall in the hallway. “How big was the needle? Three inches?”

I nod, “About that, yes.” I can feel my eyelids drooping, struggling to keep them open, before Kara slips one of my arms over her shoulder. “I feel bad for her, and not just for that though.”

Alison grunts, “I’m sure you do, but we can’t have you falling over and bumping your head, can we? Get some rest bucko.”

I try to protest, but Kara’s pulling me off to the other room we booked. “You did a good thing today Leon.” She murmurs, patting the hand around her shoulder. “Get some rest.”

She pushes me down into bed, piling extra blankets over me to avoid the chill, before looking at Alison. “You two can take the room.” The redhead sighs, heading for the door, “I’m gonna get me something heavy to drink after that.”

I struggle to get my cloak of under the blankets, Kara helping with the knot, before slipping under the blankets with me, “For warmth.” She whispers quietly. “And because I like being this close.”

I smile a little, shutting my eyes.

First day in Oendal… could have gone worse.

>End of Spook Quest 12

>>45573235
Thanks for running!