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There is a resonating sense of satisfaction in the White Claw as you call for more power. Threads of quicksilver wind their way down the brass filaments, seeping into your flesh. You can feel the gears and cogs churning beneath the surface of your skin accelerate their revolutions. Flywheels spin out of their housing. A crackling energy, an exaggerated burning of the soul, rises from deep within you.

You erupt.

The water around you churns as pointed gears bulge beneath the surface of your flesh. The currents nudged into being by the beast's natural power are subverted by an outpouring of raw spiritual puissance, a wave of ego and presence that momentarily reverses the world around you. Your flesh splits, segments, then heals whole once more. The delicate circuitry of Wrath woven into your flesh bulges and expands. You watch as the gaps in your hardened flesh fill with liquid brass and hazy mercury. The water around you churns, a burgeoning maelstrom born of a long-imprisoned spirit's chance to finally stretch his wings.

In your grasp, your spear has become an unrecognizable instrument of destruction. The simple wood and iron of the ancestral spear have ceded way to a brass imitation. Spinning teeth of pure silver essence edge the tines of each trident prong. The instrument roars to life alongside the bellow of your spirit.

The gifts of Modi Magni compound unto themselves.

> [Modi Transformation Lv. 2: Body of War. Significantly boosts Osyki's strength and endurance. All mundane weapons are refined into ornate tools of war. Greatly boosts mobility.]

Veneni flickers into your grasp without a second throught. You spiral down, smashing through the plates which previously stymied you. The jagged, broken edges of those plates skitter off of your hardened skin. Your arm plunges down through the water, sinking Veneni deep into the flesh at the base of the Shark's dorsal fin.

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>>46565744

> Sever the fin.
> Take a ride on the shark while the Veneni does its work.
> Wrestle the beast upside-down.
> Plunge Modi's Spear into the beast's gils.
> Write-in

---

You are Osyki, journeyman Totemist and first line of defense for your village against the rabid Behemoths wandering the land. Your master, the previous Totemist, fell in a battle against a terrible Behemoth, leaving the duty of defending your settlement to you. Explorations near the coast have landed you in the maw of a terrible shallows predator.

[[Previous Threads: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=totem

>HTML Bindings Spreadsheet (Hover for descriptions!): http://zamubafoo.github.io/
>The Cast Thus Far: http://pastebin.com/VsJpEUx3
>Binder's Log / Misc Inventory: http://pastebin.com/XvvRSk4W
>Transformations and Unions: http://pastebin.com/0v9XMEv0

>Ask: ask.fm/DiarcaEXE
>Quest Twitter: @TotemistQuest ]]

>>46565767
>Wrestle the beast upside-down.
I think that what kills sharks, right?

>>46565767
[x] Sever the fin.

HERE WE GO SON

>>46565767
>> Sever the fin.
It'll probably still be able to swim (of some sort) through its current manipulation, but that'll distract from the shark from fully hindering Osyki.

>>46565767
>Plunge Modi's Spear into the beast's gils.

>>46565965
Actually it just makes them docile

>>46565767
> Plunge Modi's Spear into the beast's gils.

>>46566201
You can overstimulate some receptors by rubbing the tip of their nose to do the same thing too. Good chance of being bitten though.

>>46565767
>Sever the fin.
I am no marine biologist but I reckon that would fuck a shark right up.

>>46565767
> Sever the fin.
It's somehow focusing the water magic that its belly scales are generating. Cut it off and it will be less powerful.

>>46565767
> Plunge Modi's Spear into the beast's gils.


Kill it dead

>>46565767
>> Sever the fin.
Is this symbolic enough to count for the binding ritual?
Also, Woo Kill-stuff-and-wear-its-skin Quest!

We should try to go for something vital immediately. The longer we're here with blood in the water, the more likely we'll have some more hungry visitors

>>46566415
Pretty sure the binding ritual only works when the thing is about to be dead. Plus it involves an actual ritual with runes and shit.

>>46566415
I have to say, that is one of the most fun parts of this quest. The whole thing is enjoyable, but in terms of raw visceral thrill you can't beat wearing your defeated foe's corpse as a hat.

>>46565767
>> Take a ride on the shark while the Veneni does its work.
Shark surfing guys.
Shark. Surfing

>>46566489
We dont actually have a hat you know. Maybe we should get one just so we have more shit on our body to force dead animals into.

Your whip your tail round, plunging the newly sprouted barb at its end into the flesh of the shark to anchor yourself. The plume of blood that peels away from the thrashing beast paints carmine ribbons in the water around you. Already, Veneni's virulent poison can be seen eating away at the spiritual power of the shark. The lines of brilliant crimson edging its extremities have been invaded. Inky black spreads through the curled designs.

Using Veneni and your tail barb as an anchor your rear back with Modi's spear in hand. The rotating quicksilver teeth of the chainspear rumble with enough force to send the water around it churning. You prepare to lash out at the weakened fin when a sudden impact jars you, twisting your grip on Veneni and nearly dislodging your tail.

You shake your head, glancing around just in time for another solid slam. The water around the shark ripples strangely, peppered with a minefield of solidified force. The Shark thrashes through this cloud of debris with reckless force, intent on shaking your from your perch.

To make matters worse, you recall the sorely limited supply of oxygen in your lungs. Though Modi's power momentarily pushed back the burning building in your chest, you are once more accutely aware of your underwater limitations.

> Roll 2d100

Rolled 74, 25 = 99 (2d100)

>>46566767

Rolled 81, 6 = 87 (2d100)

>>46566767

Rolled 3, 43 = 46 (2d100)

>>46566767

Rolled 6 (1d10)

>>46566767
Come on, daddy needs a new pair of sharkskin shoes.

>>46566900
Okay, how did that happen? I definitely put in "dice+2d100". How did it roll 1d10? Madness.

Rolled 68, 82 = 150 (2d100)

>>46566767
aww come on

Rolled 3, 9 = 12 (2d100)

>>46566767

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>>46566976

>>46566814
>>46566873
>>46566886
>>46566953
>>46566976
81, 43. Not the best on that second roll, hopefully it won't be too punishing.

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The difficulty of your task is twofold. The impacts come seemingly at random, since the projections of force in the water are invisible to the naked eye. Taking the time to focus your third eye on the spiritual traces would require the shark to cease thrashing, which doesn't seem to be in the game plan any time soon. Compounding that problem, the rapidly diminishing air in your lungs will rapidly pose a marked problem to your consciousness. You'll need to strike fast.

You brace yourself for the next impact, brass fingers wrapped in a deathgrip around the knuckle-duster handle of Veneni. When the breath-stealing impact inevitably comes you make your move. Shaking off the momentary disorientation you lash out with the growling lance in your hand, sinking it deep into the shark's fin.

A gout of blood and gore erupts from the slate blue-gray flesh of the beast, a vitaeclasm akin to a volcanic eruption. The blade of your lance chews through projected force and flesh alike, shearing into the thick scales without protest or trouble. Your lunge forward, uncoiling your tail in an effort to push the lance entirely through the massive wall of sharkskin before you. The world around you rapidly becomes a bubbling pot of ropy gore.

>>46567329

Unfortunately, that selfsame viscera makes it difficult to keep an eye on your surroundings. You flinch as what feels to be a pair of massive jaws clamps down on you. The projected oceanic force shakes you like a ragdoll, tearing your tail-barb and Veneni from the beast's skin and throwing you into the murky waters your efforts have borne. Your skin in unpierced for the time being—you can see indents in the brass of your skin where the conjured jaws failed to penetrate your flesh. Still, the genuine article is doubtless looping back around to introduce you to a -real- sharkbite...

And you appear to be out of air. Or so your lungs desperately inform you.

> Make for the surface, pronto.
> Boand will arrive soon. Get clear of the blood cloud.
> This is getting hairy. Bunker down and activate Void Tap.
> Take blind potshots with Song of the Deep
> Write-in

>>46567352
> Make for the surface, pronto.

>>46567352
> This is getting hairy. Bunker down and activate Void Tap.

>>46567352
> Make for the surface, pronto.
I don't think Void Tap negates our need for air, at least going by the description in the pastebin. Air first, then we can power up.

>>46567352
>> Make for the surface, pronto.

>>46567352
>Make for the surface, pronto.
Would also bring us out of the gore cloud hopefully.

>>46567352
>> Make for the surface, pronto.

Welp I have to sleep. Try not to become fish food.

You can't wait for Boand to find you in this murky cloud. The risk that you'll end up inhaling water or passing out before she manages to make it down to you with whatever oxygen-delivery she has planned is too great. You flex your tail, making for (what you think is) the surface. The fact that the shark hasn't already come crashing through the blood fog with jaws gaping is simultaneously comforting and paranoia-inducing in you. Still, the desperate need to draw breath outweighs your lesser concerns. Your fins lash the water, properlling you ever upward.

Emerging from the bloodied water confirms that you've chosen the correct direction. The sun plays off of the waves of the surface overhead, sending dazzling beams of light lancing toward the ocean floor. You can see dots of black dancing at the edges of your vision as you swim. Just a few more feet now.

A stray glance back sends a chill down your spine.

The blood cloud beneath you bulges momentarily before disgorging the shark. The seaborne leviathtan rockets upward toward you. A solid chunk has been shorn from its fin—you can see the appendage's exposed innards as the beast furiously charges through the water to swallow you whole. The shark's scale-tags glow, and with the gore streaming from them you can momentarily see the replica jaws spiraling upward toward the water: force-copies of the monstrosity's own fangs intent on tearing you apart or dragging you down.

The surface is so close now. Can you make it?

> 1d100

Rolled 19 (1d100)

>>46568304

Rolled 79 (1d100)

>>46568304
in retrospect trying to out swim a shark was a questionable choice

Rolled 31 (1d100)

>>46568304

>>46568403
This whole fight is nothing but questionable choices.

>>46568403
Well, let's hope a 79 is enough.

And this whole fight is odd: we really were not prepared for an underwater fight.

>>46568403
In fairness it is severely crippled.
>>46568420
Come on, this isnt even like the third hardest fight we have had.

Rolled 25 (1d100)

>>46568304

Rolled 9 (1d100)

>>46568304

Rolled 83 (1d100)

>>46568304

Oxygen.

Your head breaches the surface of the water. You sputter up a mouthful of water, then suck in another deep, greedy breath. You have time for another before you feel something clamp down on your tail fin. You fill your lungs with as much air as they can hold before the tidal forces drag you below the waves.

Reinvigorated and no longer feeling hypoxic, you turn to face your foe. The shark seems intent on swallowing you whole. With the size of the gaping, razor-lined maw below you, you have no doubt it would be an easy thing. In fact...

You glance over your form. The shark's assaults have all failed to penetrate your skin since your transformation. Though the jarring impacts and deprivation have spiked your arendaline, you don't seem to be particularly wounded by the tearing fangs that have struck you thus far. There's no guarantee that the genuine fangs of an ocean predator would be any less powerful that the water maws currently clamped round your tail, though.

A pair of idea swim through your skull. The marked tinge of essence denote which spirit each has been offered up by.

-Dive into the beast's maw and tear it apart from within,- Modi urges. -It's fangs are as nothing to my power. I will show it that fangs of Wrath bite deep.-

-It's coming right at you!- Cordia exclaims in the back of your mind. -You've got Modi's power and the Bolide besides—haul it out of the water and let it choke on the air. It won't be able to use its power if it's not submerged.-
(cont.)

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>>46569081

Both ideas seem to tend toward the ridiculous, but you've never been one to turn down a spectacular display of dominance immediately pre-binding, and both would certainly fit the bill. You can see Boand in the distance, her hands clamped down on a glowing orb of white-blue water. The sphere melds and twists between her fingers. She's swimming toward you as fast as she can, the exertion of moving at top speed and keeping her magics under control simultaneously plain in the pained expression of her face.

The churning gears beneath your skin compel you to action. You pry the watery jaws free of your tail with a swipe of Veneni. You don't have much time before the monstrous denizen beneath is upon you.

[You have 3 rounds of air remaining.]

> [Modi] Dive into the beast's maw.
> [Cordia] Turn the tables. Throw the shark into the air.
> [Void Tap] Reject both proposals. Dive down and beat the shark with your bare hands.
> Make a break for it and regroup with Boand.
> Write-in

>>46569081
>-Dive into the beast's maw and tear it apart from within,- Modi urges. -It's fangs are as nothing to my power. I will show it that fangs of Wrath bite deep.-
Modi I love you and your madness but sometimes a nigga gotta stop and think...
>Nah fuck it mate let's do that.

>>46569111
>> [Modi] Dive into the beast's maw.

>>46569111
> [Cordia] Turn the tables. Throw the shark into the air.
Leads to the best binding possibilities

>>46569111
> [Cordia] Turn the tables. Throw the shark into the air.
Cordia, I love you. I've been wanting to do exactly this ever since we fought that swamp monster way back when you were still a Bone Warden. Let's do it.

>>46569111
>> [Cordia] Turn the tables. Throw the shark into the air.

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>>46569111
How about we mix both Cordia and Modi's? Throw it into the air then dive into it's mouth and pull a chestburster?
>3 claw would be proud or suffering from extreme ptsd

>>46569111
>Just keep fighting normally.

>>46569111
> [Modi] Dive into the beast's maw.

WRRRRYYYYYYYYY

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>>46569111
What's the delay before firing the circle again? I fear I may have been a bit premature in firing it.

[[Minor internet hiccup. Back shortly with a post.]]

>>46570764
>>46570767
Every fucking time. It was three seconds, Diarca. How do you respond so fast?

>>46570767
Where does your ass live?

>>46570998
Between his back and legs probably

>>46570998
The World Without probably has internet subscription services based off proprietary deals. Every time Diarca makes a note of internet trouble I imagine he's got to deal with some ethernet spirit inhabiting his totem modem.

The urge to give in to Modi's plan and dive headfirst into the mouth of the abyss is strong. You can feel his fury pulsing in your veins, threads of white-hot quicksilver hate begging for the chance to revel in an unchecked festival of violence. For a moment, you imagine yourself sinking your arm up to the elbow in the shark's heart and tearing the beating core of the monstrosity asunder—

Too messy. Too likely to go wrong. Instead, you brace yourself. Your curl your tail beneath you, lowering both arms in anticipation of the oncoming freight train of scale. You can hear Boand shrieking something at you distantly. She must think you addled, to stay in one place in the face of the danger rapidly ascending from beneath. She's never seen you work, though. Not in person. Stupid stunts like this are really the name of the game.

The next few heartbeats pass agonizingly slow. Your mind smears the contents of the intervening time into a few tightly focused images.

A wall of polished, sharpened ivory fangs.

A glowing trail of spiritual power.

A line of runes flaring up your arm, Bolide's power writ large.

The megalodon barrels upward toward you. Your tail coils tight, ready to spring into action. You'll dive beneath the beast as it tries to snap you up in its jaw. Its own momentum will be the instrument of its demise.

At your throat, the Edge of Dawn gleams bright. The sun is at your back.

-Ready?- Cordia's voice echoes peacefully through your skull. -You can do this. I'm here with you.-

> Roll 1d100

>>46570998
Comcast territory. Pray for me.[/spolier]

Rolled 41 (1d100)

>>46571371

Rolled 24 (1d100)

>>46571371

Rolled 16 (1d100)

>>46571371

Rolled 14 (1d100)

>>46571371
rollan boss

>>46571392
>>46571427
>>46571436
Well, fuck us.

>>46571436
>>46571427
>>46571392
Maybe we'll actually lose an arm this time.

>>46571449
could be worse, we could have tried to get eaten alive

Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>46571371
Critical success, come on.

So Boand's going to yell at us for this, huh?

The megalodon barrels into you faster than you believed possible. You dart too little, too late. Enough to escape the forest of razor fangs, but not quick enough to escape the wake of the titanic fish.

So close.

You fingers scrabble for hold against the hide of the shark moments before it breaches the surface. The sharkskin grates against your hands, shrapnel scrapes of brass and chips of scale erupting in every direction.The moment the Reaver breaks surface tension your world is flipped upside down.

Forcibly dragged up and out by sheer water pressure, you find yourself tumbling through the air. The sun races in dizzying orbits around your field of view as you struggle fruitlessly to right yourself. The ocean retreats, then doubles back and leaps upward to greet you once more. As you brace for impact, a shadow falls across you.

A glance upward. The shark's leaping form uncurls toward you. A mammoth wall of fin.

The shark's tail fin slaps down atop you as you meet the surface. The force of being sandwiched momentarily between the wavetops and the shark's muscular body drives the air from your lungs. The arrested inertia of your descent deserts you just long enough to mock your failed gambit before resuming with gusto, seizing hold of you and dragging you down toward the abyssal depths once more. Above, the dull -thump- of the shark re-entering the water dimly penetrates your awareness.

You suck in a mothful of water in your confusion before sputtering. The shark is now between you and your surface respite—with no air in your body and no weapon (where did Modi's spear go?) you are divested of the majority of your options.
(cont.)

>>46571775

Unexpected respite comes in the form of a bubble blooming around your head. You whirl to find a thin beam of cyan energy connecting you to the sphere clasped between Boand's laced fingers. She gives you a restrained nod as she focuses on channeling life-giving oxygen from the surface down toward you.

For the first time in what feels like hours, you take a deep breath. The shark above is recovering from the shock of breaching the surface. It won't be long.

> Attempt to summon Modi's spear. His power still courses through your veins.
> Getting close isn't working out for you. Plant a Song-ray in the shark's eye.
> This time you'll get it right. Charge the Megalodon and lift it from the water.
> Enough. Modi isn't living up to expectations. Activate the Void Tap.
> Write-in

>>46571815
> Attempt to summon Modi's spear. His power still courses through your veins.

>>46571815
> Enough. Modi isn't living up to expectations. Activate the Void Tap.

>>46571815
>Getting close isn't working out for you. Plant a Song-ray in the shark's eye.

Fry the fish. This I wish.

>>46571815
> Attempt to summon Modi's spear. His power still courses through your veins.
Get our weapon back. No matter what we do, we need our spear.

>>46571815
>> Attempt to summon Modi's spear. His power still courses through your veins.

>>46571815
> Enough. Modi isn't living up to expectations. Activate the Void Tap.

>>46571815
>> Attempt to summon Modi's spear. His power still courses through your veins.
Knew we shoulda chestbursted

>>46572237
With those rolls?

>>46571815
> This time you'll get it right. Charge the Megalodon and lift it from the water.

Though the impact of the shark's tail-slap knocked Modi's spear from your grasp, you can still -feel- his presence. The core of nuclear rage lashed into the shape of the White Claw isn't far from you. You haven't the time to go scouting after it, however—you'll need to improvise.

You extend your hand before you, concentrating. Modi Magni's spiritual essence flows through you, beads of mercury and brass pooling in your palm as you reach out through the water. Blood calls to blood as your aura reaches out across the veil of space. You are linked.

The water before you ripples as you concentrate. The shark above you twitches to life once more, ebon eyes raking the sea. You feel the water around you grow leaden as it fixes you to the spot with anchors of unseen aquatic force.

You plunge the summoning hand forward, reaching toward the disturbance in the sea before you. To a concept so mercurial as Wrath, distance of time and space mean little. Your fingers wrap around the shining haft of the spear, and as you pull your arm back the fabric of the veil before you parts. Modi's spear manifests within your grasp, aglow from end to end with seething red energy and wreathed in flecks of soft gray mist. The megalodon checks its progress as the weapon roars death deep into the surrounding sea.
(cont.)

>>46572914

The moment's hesitation is all the distraction you require. As the shark shies away your spear-tip dances out, scoring a jagged wound across the shark's abdomen. The teeth of the spear catch against the rough spear, ripping the head of the weapon off of its base. You watch with calm certainty as the detatched spearpoint burrows into the shark's flesh, tearing through muscle to carve the first rune of binding into the beast's flank. The staff in grow grasp rumbles and shakes as another trident-head is grown anew in wireframe lines of brass and silver.

-Your confidence is well-placed. Pray, remember it the next time I advise you of the shortest path to victory.-

> [Modi Transformation Lv. 2: Body of War. Significantly boosts Osyki's strength and endurance. All mundane weapons are refined into ornate tools of war. Greatly boosts mobility. You cannot be disarmed in this form.]

The shark shudders as it sweeps 'round for a second pass. With Boand's aid, you feel the tide of the battle turning. You give her a nod as you slice the shackles of force free from your tail, looping to meet the shark on its circuitous approach.

-Let us end this,- Modi suggests. -I grow weary of this pointless hunt.-

> [Modi] Battle Gambit: Heaven's Spear.
> Charge the shark.
> Confuse it with Songs, then flank it.
> Write-in

>>46572946
> [Modi] Battle Gambit: Heaven's Spear.

>>46572946
Charge the shark.

>>46572946
> [Modi] Battle Gambit: Heaven's Spear.
Let's just get this over with. The fight has gone overly long already.

>>46572946
> [Modi] Battle Gambit: Heaven's Spear.

>>46572946
>> [Modi] Battle Gambit: Heaven's Spear.

>>46572946

> [Modi] Battle Gambit: Heaven's Spear.

>>46572946
>> [Modi] Battle Gambit: Heaven's Spear.

-Agreed,- you tell Modi. -But I'll not come out of this empty-handed.-

-I've already begun your work for you, Totemist. When I strike, your runes of imprisonment will be in place.-

In the distance you can see the megalodon trailing an increasing jetstream of blood. Smaller oceanic predators have begun their approach. The perimeter of your battle is already packed with scavengers snapping up scraps of the titan's torn flesh. Any longer and you'll be attracting seriously unwelcome attention.

-Fine.- You release your grasp on the spear. -Make an end of this trial.-

-With pleasure.-

The spear writhes and twists with weird life. Animated by fell power and sheer fury the gears of your ancestral weapon spin, sending the polearm flying upward and out of the water. You track its progress as it breaches the surface, unfurling wings of jagged, rusted clockwork spreading wide just before it exits the waterline and your sight.

Unarmed, you turn to face the encroaching shark. Your fists burn bright with the waning runes of Bolide as the Reaver makes its final approach. You sense no animosity or fury from the shark. This is a being of hunger and killing intent. In that way, you suppose, it is the antithesis of the doom flying toward it on wings of rust.

You bring an arm up, countering the now-predictable first assault. The scale-tags of the shark glow with unearthly radiance. Your Bolide-driver fist shatters through the wall of ethereal force, sending a perfect ripple spiraling outward in the water before you. You need only bide your time now.

–-

>>46573125
Yeah but we'll end up with a strong focus for it

>>46574358

Far above the waves, a tortured shriek rings out in unending vibrato. Wingbeats of shorn metal carry a strange creature aloft, a spear serpentine in arrangement and clockwork in composition. The clouds part as the sinuous thing ascends—a maelstrom of sheer power swirls around it, buffeting away nimbus and avian alike. At the apex of its leap it lets out a cry of unadulterated agony. It dives, wings folded into a sleek delta. And as it falls, it grows.

–-

The megalodon is more cautious now. Once bitten, it slaps aty you with its tail to stun you before moving in for a bite. The debris cloud of volatile aquatic force has returned, though its efficacy has waned somewhat as you no longer feel the overwhelming need to retreat.

You duck low, driving your arm forward in a perfect boxer's haymaker. Two runes of Bolide's power wink out as your fist stops the swinging tail of the beast cold in its tracks, the shockwave of bleedoff force enough to send a plume of water skyward far above you.

The eruption of force masks the entry of your wayward projectile from the shark's senses until it is far too late. The sky overhead darkens as a titanic spear, a fanged harpoon the size of a ship's prow, divides the water before it. You retreat a (metaphorical) step or two backward as Modi's enormous orbital strike slams into the megalodon's exposed flank. The spear passes cleanly through the beast, sinking the pair until the tip of the churning weapon sinks into the sand of the ocean floor below.

Time to claim your prize.

> Fin
> Fang
> Scale-tag
> Eye
> Write-in

>>46574391
Fang

>>46574391
Did we...did we just hit it with a Final Fantasy style summon attack? Is that what Modi just turned himself into? Awesome.

> Write-in
Can we get the entire set of jaws? Fossils have led me to believe that thing just pops right off a shark. I want those water bites. If that's impractical, though, I'll settle for the scale-tags.

>>46574391
> Fin

>>46574391
> Scale-tag

>>46574391
> fin

>>46574391
> Scale-tag

>>46574391
> Scale-tag
Water manipulation?

>>46574496
I figure fin is better because we could use a bit of extra mobility, especially in water

>>46574391
> Fin

>>46574602
We have the Swamp Ykree fin for that, unless you want a stronger water-mobility foci.

>>46574391
A winged, serpentine shape? Careful, Modi, that's sounding awful like a dragon.

>>46574391
>> Scale-tag

>Let's take its whole bottom or top jaw.

Osyki gotta take the most dangerous part.

Now, back to trying to git gud at Bloodborne.

>>46574391
>> Write-in
Slice out a gill! He used water magic channels and the whole point of this was to get us something that could help us out underwater. Not being beholden to Boand would help and the gill bits are really intense organ bits.

BESIDES we already have a glow-y magic organ from a fearsome beast and we never ever use it (siren heart)

>>46574889
It was heavily implied that he was using the scale tags to control the current.

>>46574391
>> Scale-tag
or
>Fang

>>46574889
What are you talking about? We use the Siren Heart all the time, it's our main ranged punch.

You dart downward through the water, unhindered by the natural forces of resistance or buoyancy as the twilight of your spiritual trance settles over the ocean around you. Your ritual knife snaps out. Your target has been obvious from the start—the glowing scale-tags hanging from the Reaver's belly seem to power its uncanny manipulation of the ocean around you. You invest a spark of your own soul into the severed length of square scales, marking it as your own. The world accelerates around you in stop-motion as the scale-tag shrinks to a ribbon of flexible, paper-thin sharkskin. A subtle glow follows it as you move to stow it in your belt.

Your hunt concluded, you feel Modi's power draining from you. Your ancestral spear returns to your grasp as the brass and mercury painfully eject themselves from your wrists. The cloud of metal whirls in place for a moment before sinking back into the white claw. You'll have some lovely bruises in the morning, but you're mostly struck by a gut-punch of fatigue as Modi's might leaves you. You've exerted yourself far beyond your physical limits without realizing it.

Boand drifts down, looping one of your arms gently around her shoulders. Together the two of you make for the ruins once more.

–

>>46575481

You sprawl out on the sun-warmed stone of the ruin walls. The site of your battle is visible even from here. The waves are capped with a frothy pink, and shark's milky underbelly bobs serenly at the water's surface. A feeding frenzy is no doubt taking place below. You're grateful you're not privy to it.

“You alright? That was a stupid stunt if I've ever seen one.”

“Would've worked,” you grumble. “I'm just not used to having a tail.” You reach down to massage your freshly unfused legs, attempting to rub some of the stiffness from them.

“Mmm.” Boand's tone drips disbelief. “Satisfied?”

“For the time being.” You've stowed the Scale Tag focus in your pack alongside its fellows. “We may have to put off dealing with the brothers grunge for the time being. I feel like meat pudding.”

“You nearly look it, too.” Boand shakes her head. “Just be ready to jump out of bed if they decide to come splashing through my territory. Deal?”

You nod. “Deal.”

Seagulls circle overhead.

> Coax your limbs into a little more exploration. (Spirit market / The Spirit Isle / The Crustacean Nest)
> Return home for the time being. (Quick Recall)
> Return to Eluneia. (Quick Recall)
> Write-in

>>46575500
>> Return home for the time being. (Quick Recall)

>>46575500
> Return home for the time being. (Quick Recall)
Don't forget the armor though.

>>46575500
>> Return home for the time being. (Quick Recall)
We have some armor to collect before we head out though.

>>46575500
> Write-in
Grab that armor from the tower, then return home.

>>46575500
Coax your limbs into a little more exploration. (The crustacean nest)

Super crab totems! Maybe even find a neat pearl for Elana/Boand/???

>>46575500
>> Coax your limbs into a little more exploration
Crustacean Nest. While these are likely to be dangerous and angry little beasts, Osyki seems to like that, and he needs some bit of decompression after the shark fight.

>>46575500
Grab the armor and return home.

>>46575500
>Coax your limbs into a little more exploration. Custacean Nest

>>46575500
>> Coax your limbs into a little more exploration. (Spirit market)

Market market market
Let's take boand to the market

>>46575500
>Coax your limbs into a little more exploration. Custacean Nest

>>46575500
>> Coax your limbs into a little more exploration
Nest

Rolled 1 (1d2)

Ollie outtie
>>46575552
>>46575567
>>46575611
>>46575614
>>46575845

Crab Hunting
>>46575637
>>46575756
>>46576060
>>46576192
>>46576208

Spooky Shopping
>>46576180

[[Rolling for tiebreaker]]

>>46576352
Phew. I was not looking forward to getting swarmed by crabbies.

You glance toward the coast. That crab nest remains explored, but the thought of trudging into what is likely (knowing your luck) a subterranean deathtrap somehow fails to tickle your fancy. You force yourself upright instead. With Boand's aid you collect the remainder of the plate armor on the top floor of the ruined tower. Your pack bulges fit to burst, and the seams of your bag's straps protest visibly, but you're loaded down with the full set of mail. You've opted to carry the breastplate.

“Heading home?” Boand asks as she adjusts the helm atop your brow.

You nod. “Think I could use a quick nap before I get back to the Mother to report my success.”

She grins. “A nap. Knowing you, you'll spend from now 'till sunset playing with your new toy.”

The thought is tempting. You brush her hands away from the helm before she musses your hair beyond repair and attempt a skillful deflection. “You may want to spend some time at the pond until I can catrch up with Anid and Onid.”

She nods. “I thought the same. No reason to get my river all messy.”

“Nor to make enemies with your neighbors,” you remind her. “I still need to stop by Eluneia at some point, too...”

“One thing at a time,” she says reassuringly. “For now, go home and take a rest. Eluneia will still be there when you wake up.”

You hope so. Given the recent trend toward the dramatic of your outside encounters, sometimes you wonder.

“True enough. Thanks for your help.”
(cont.)

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>>46576869

She flips her hair over one shoulder, shrugging with false modesty. “All in a day's work. It was nice to get a chance to stretch my legs. See you tomorrow?”

“I think I can manage that.”

She nods, blowing you a kiss. “Until then, Totemist.”

The world ripples strangely as the two of your retreat to your respective sanctums. The cold of the Mists reaches out to envelop you. Your eyes close in a sun-bleached ruin. When they open, a surprised Quinn is stumbling backward into the workbench. The soft pitter-patter of rain beats against the roof overhead.

“Cor gods,” he mutters, clutching his chest. “We've gotta set up a warning system for that.”

You'll take a few hours to rest. Then...

> Spend the rest of the day experimenting with your new Focus.
> Set off for the swamp to report your success to the Mother.
> Seek out Sylvia.
> Work on training your apprentices.
> Write-in

>>46576895
>> Set off for the swamp to report your success to the Mother.

>>46576895
> Set off for the swamp to report your success to the Mother.
She can probably sense it, but best we do the polite thing and tell her.

>>46576895
>> Set off for the swamp to report your success to the Mother.
>> Seek out Sylvia
Let's get all the important plant women updated on things.

>>46576895
> Set off for the swamp to report your success to the Mother.

>>46576895
>> Set off for the swamp to report your success to the Mother.
Probably should go and make sure she knows we fulfilled our promise

So I have an idea I'd like to put out here just to gauge interest on. I'm not yet seriously suggesting it.

It bothers me that Ayren ditched Boand so frequently that she reflexively assumes we'll do it now. What if the next time we go visit her, we make a promise that we'll never willingly abandon her? Really emphasize that she's a friend to us, not just a contract.

>>46577212
Sounds like a relationship flag, senpai. I approve.

>>46577212
We'd need to keep it by acknowledging her neediness.

>>46577212
I think actions will speak louder than words. It would do more to reassure her for us to just always be there for her and let our loyalty go without saying.

>>46576895
>Seek out Sylvia
then
>Set off for the swamp to report your success to the Mother.
THEN
>Work on training your apprentices.

>>46577249
Dangit, no. That's what I was trying to avoid implying. Why is it every time I suggest going out of our way to be nice to someone female in a /tg/ quest, everyone assumes I'm trying to waifu?

>>46577333
Because you're going out of your way to be nice to someone female in a /tg/ quest.

>>46577333
Because you're playing with a board full of fedora wearing aspies who think being nice to a girl automatically grants you vagina access.

>>46577333
Because that's what everyone else wants to do? Or at least, everybody is traumatized from the assorted waifu wars from other quests and fandoms.

>>46577333
Because you're making a serious promise that shores up the insecurities of a woman who's already expressed interest in us in what may be construed (intentionally or not) as a romantic way?

>>46577425
Thank you for providing a reasonable answer. I can accept that even if I don't agree with it.

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>>46577333
Everyone gets so ronery at times, or they don't understand natural progession. It's clear that we need to romance the Swamp Mother, who is the hardest to get.

Then invite Sylvia.

Reminder that Boand has been thoroughly used by Ayren.

>>46577727
Reminder that loving Cordia is necrophilia by proxy.

>>46577727
Who cares? It was fishy before he got there, and it's still fishy after.

>>46577727
So was his house, Modi, the holy blade, and every other thing Ayren had.

>>46577727
Reminder that Elana route will likely result in missionary position sex with staring lovingly into each others eyes while holding hands. Clearly the most repulsive and degenerate option.

>>46577803
I don't think he fucked Modi.

>>46577835
Didn't say fucked, said thoroughly used.

>>46577835
Dunno, Ayren was pretty murdersexual when it cames to totems.

>>46577727
Ain't even care, Boand still a best

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>>46577921

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>>46577921

>>46577727
Ayren "Pump 'em and bind 'em" Overwake

>>46578211
kinky.

>>46578211
We learned from the very best.

You offload your pack without much of an explanation to Quinn. He throws you a cloth to dry your hair with. Collapsing into bed, you immediately drop into a deep slumber. Dreamless and without fitful stirrings, you slumber until, abruptly, you do not.

It's clear that you've overslept the instant you awaken. A candle is lit at your bedside and the hearth crackles with the remnants of a merry flame. The sounds of soft snoring from the library tell you that Terra has retired for the evening. Outside, the moon peeks just over the jagged teeth of the Ikrins.

You rub the sleep from your eyes, patting yourself down. As expected your wrists have blossomed purple and black at the site of Modi's rapid exit. Aside from that and a green-red imprint of the Reaver's fin across your back, you find yourself mercifully unmolested. Stiff, perhaps, and more than a little sore, but all things considered that was one of your more successful fights. Modi's power is nothing to sneeze at.

You collect your spear from the far wall. A few rapid binding changes outfits you for a short jaunt—Auspicious Rest gleams eagerly in anticipation of liftoff. You arrange your armor on a relatively clear workbench for later examination, draw your cloak tight around your shoulders, and take to the skies.

The village rapidly retreats beneath you as the disc levitates upward. You clutch the front rim of the golden chariot as it devours the distance between you and your destination.

The Brush is peaceful this time of night, even with the breeze and the rain coating you in sheets. Small fae-lights bob to and fro beneath what remains of sparse leaf-cover, likely minor spirits taking shelter from the downpour. Your draw the hood of your cloak a little further over your brow. At least there is little moonlight by which to track your progress. A note of Ayren's ingrained paranoia reassures you that only the keenest eyes could pick you out against the dark of the overcast sky.

>>46578272

The swamp, unfriendly in the best of circumstances, seems to bristle with predators while you wing your way overhead. You don't bother with formalities. As you approach the Road of Flowers Cordia is already by your side. The instant your boots hit the water-laden mud underfoot the world fades to misty nebula around you.

The petals of the blossom unfold to allow you entrance. The dryads and flora within are bustling as always, independent or unknowing of the time and the weather. A familiar blossom-crowned retainer brings you to the Mother's antechamber. You hang your cloak on a nearby branch to dry.

“Thereupon traipses my wayward courier.” The voice surprises you. You turn to find the Mother leaning against the doorframe. Her garb is decidedly flowing this evening, long lily-like petals wrapping her form in a makeshift toga. “I knew you would not dare make me wait until the sun rose.”

You bow, restraining the urge to wince as the muscles in your back make their protest known. “I think you've waited long enough already. It would be untoward to expect anything further.”

She nods, stalking into the room with you. “It would,” she muses. “I had no doubt you would see your task through, though. Already I can feel my seedling supping deep of the wellspring you chanced upon.” She traces two fingers across her belly, sighing contentedly. “Most satisfactory. I'm pleased to find you more agreeable than your predecessor in that regard.”

You can't help yourself. “I've been getting that a lot lately.”

Surprising you twice in as many minutes, the Mother laughs. The sound is somehow predatory, tinges of barely restrained wilderness growling at its edges. “The night is yet in its infancy, Totemist. Would you stay and partake of my hospitality once more?”

> Most gracious. I accept.
> Unfortunately, I am ever required elsewhere.
> Not yet. First, we must discuss the planned roadway.
> Write-in

>>46578292
>> Unfortunately, I am ever required elsewhere.

>>46578292
>Not yet. First, we must discuss the planned roadway.

>>46578292
Do we have anything better to do in actuality? Or do we just not want to stay in creepy swamp land?

>>46578292
>> Not yet. First, we must discuss the planned roadway.

>>46578292
>> Unfortunately, I am ever required elsewhere.
>> Not yet. First, we must discuss the planned roadway.

>>46578292
> Most gracious. I accept.
> Write-in
"Let me send message off with one of my spirits first, though. I've been spending a lot of unanounced nights away from my home, lately, I think I'm starting to worry my students."

>>46578292
>> Not yet. First, we must discuss the planned roadway.
But let's try to be sort of social while we cement the deal, yeah?

>>46578292
>Not yet. First, we must discuss the planning roadway.

Is it just me, or does she seem a bit eager to have us say?

>>46578292
> Most gracious. I accept.

>>46578292
>> Not yet. First, we must discuss the planned roadway.

>>46578575
Yes. This is a blatant trap.

>>46578575
The well of power got her thirsty

>>46578575
>getting that power up made her super horny.
>Ayren "Find 'em, 'fuck 'em, bind 'em" Overwake himself was scarred of Mother when her juices got flowing.
>Upon returning home Osyki gets struck with a scroll that read "never power up the Mother, ever!"
>A second scroll unroll itself with the recipe to a potion that'll cure his broken pelvis "I warned you, why didn't you listen" is written in bold letter.

You hold up a palm, shaking your head. The inviting expression on the Mother's face begins to wither instantly.

“Not yet. I'm afraid I have other business with you beforehand. We must discuss the proposed roadway between Grisoch and Eluneia.”

Her sour expression vanishes as quickly as it appeared. At once, the queen of the swamp is all sly misdirection once more. “I see,” she says. “As I recall, you had requested I do my utmost to keep the beasts that dwell in the bog from supping on the workers as they labored.”

You nod. “And that you do your part in maintaining the road from weather and wear. You realm in particular does not suffer change gladly. The waters of the swamp would claim even a paved path without your watchful eye.”

She puts a hand to her pointed chin, silently mulling over your words. After a moment she snaps her fingers at you, then crooks her index. “Come,” she tells you. “Walk we me.”

Though you get the impression this will be a prelude to a longer night than you had planned, you fall into step behind her. The two of your walk together out of the well-trafficked antechamber. The mother struts down the vine-limned hallways of the blossom. Your path at her side curves ever upward.

“I have considered your terms.” She finally breaks the silence a few minutes into your stroll. “Though the beasts of this place only seldom acknowledge me as their ruler, they know sense enough to fear my power. My guards will keep your laborers unharmed while the road is constructed, under the condition that the mortals do not ask aught but silent stewardship of my subjects.”
(cont.)

>>46579255
Well, we haven't translated all the drawers yet. "Fuck a spirit" very well could be one of the achievements he expected of us.

>>46579299
Dropped my trip.

You try to imagine the straight-laced Eluneians collaborating with the Mother's lizardfolk servants. It's an amusing image. “I think that can be arranged,” you agree. “And thereafter?”

She turns on a dime, pressing a pointed nail into your top shirt button. The heady floral scent of the hallway around you thickens. “I never allow a favor when a service might be rendered, Totemist. You will gain nothing for free. What might you offer for my continued watchful eye over the traders and migrants who would pass through my land?”

> A yearly tribute from those travelers.
> A prayer ritual to be performed before walking the road.
> Another favor yet to be named.
> “What would you suggest as fair?”
> Write-in

>>46579255
"It has begun" -- Sylvia

>>46579319
>> A prayer ritual to be performed before walking the road.

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>>46579319
> “What would you suggest as fair?”
Diplomacy time.

>>46579319
> A yearly tribute from those travelers.
It's easier to convince people to accept taxes for passing through a foreign power's territory than to convince them to pray to a god other than their own.

>>46579343
>The Mother is called that for a reason.
>She has a /ss/ fetish.
>She's old enough that she considered Ayren as a fine piece of shota.
>She hit the motherload(get it?) with Osyki.

>>46579392
I was going to say prayer, but that is actually a really good point. Especially since the travelers are coming from moon cult central.

>>46579319
> A yearly tribute from those travelers.

>>46579319
> A yearly tribute from those travelers.

>>46579319
>perhaps we can come to an agreement "mother" *wink wink*

>>46579433
"He never knew how deep her treachery went" -- Boand

>>46579319
>A yearly tribute from those travelers.

>>46579319
>> A yearly tribute from those travelers.

>>46579319
>A yearly tribute from those travelers

How are you holding up, Diarca?

So how do we want to organize this? I think the best way would probably be road tolls collecting funds to use to obtain the tribute, rather than paid directly to the Mother of the Swamp. That way we can more easily guarantee that it's something the Mother wants, there's no guarantee that travelers will have suitable tribute but they're likely to have money. And it should be within our rights to set tolls on the road to begin with, so Eluneia won't have grounds to complain about it like they might if we requested them to send the tribute themselves in a yearly payment. Toll roads are an ancient concept, they should be fine with it. Initial tolls will have to mainly go towards repaying Eluneian laborers, as they'll be fronting most of the bill in constructing this thing, so we'll have to contribute the majority of the tribute in early years, but past the first few years it should start paying for itself. Hopefully with some surplus left over to go towards maintaining the road. Even with the Mother keeping the rot and beasts away, it will need occasional work.

“I'd never be so bold as to expect your charity,” you counter. “Once the road is complete, I expect a toll will be levied that a yearly tribute might be made to you for your steadfast vigilance. Every mortal who walks that road will contribute to the granduer of your palace and the prosperity of your lands.” You risk a confident smile at the Mother. “As is proper.”

A long moment passes as she searches your face for traces of falsehood. Dewdrop eyes bore into your own. Apparently satisfied she removes her manicured claw from your shirt, taking the button along with it as her prize.

“Eminently reasonable,” she declares. “A compromise few could find fault with. A representative from my court will be present at the first meeting of your peoples to exact an appropriate tax in writing. And of course,” she says, smiling up at you with a mouthful of needles, “Those who fail to pay tribute can hardly expect to enjoy the benefits of my boundless compassion.”

“Of course,” you echo. “Any foolish enough to deny you your due will doubtless learn the error of their ways.”

“Hmmm.” The Mother shivers quietly at the thought. “I've always said that fools make the best fertilizer. My gardens grow fat on the flesh of cowards.”

You don't have a witty reparte for that, so you elect to remain silent. The two of you approach the Blossom's zenith on your long, winding path upward. The air here is humid. You can feel beads of moisture streaking your brow and the back of your neck.
(cont.)

>>46580570

“So, Totemist,” the Mother continues. “What say you to my original offer? The Blossom's ammenities are always open to a traveler of your... stature.” She turns, one arm reaching out to brush aside a leaf-wall invitingly. A puff of steam escapes through the newly opened aperture.

You weigh the pros and cons of turning down the Mother's offer and walking the long flight of steps back down to the Blossom's base. On the one hand, you did have things you'd like to accomplish today. Sylvia bade you visit her when the rains came, and you're half-afraid turning down the Mother to her face might sour your otherwise flawless negotiations thus far.

On the other hand, the look in those eyes threatens to devour you whole. Literally? Impossible to say.

> I'd be a fool to turn down so gracious an offer.
> Though it pains me, I must request your hospitality another time.
> Write-in

>>46580593
> Though it pains me, I must request your hospitality another time.
We truly are sorry for it, as all our previous stays in her domain have been most enjoyable. But we are a busy man with many obligations, ones we can no more neglect than we could her. Perhaps we could arrange a time when both of us are free?

>>46580593
>I'd be a fool to turn down so gracious an offer.

Just feed the beast, Osyki. Don't risk making her worse.

>>46580593
> Though it pains me, I must request your hospitality another time.

>>46580593
> I'd be a fool to turn down so gracious an offer.

>>46580593
>> I'd be a fool to turn down so gracious an offer.
It's the middle of the night. Probably Sylvia should wait until we don't smell like a corpseflower.

>>46580593
Nnneh

I feel like things will turn really ugly if we turn her down, but appeasement sets a bad precedent. But then, the other option implies that next time we visit we'll stick around (literally) which is just putting the problem off.

So it's a toss-up. However, the Ayren Overwake rule is now in effect, so when put in a position where you could alienate friends, you do the opposite of what Ayren would do.

> Though it pains me, I must request your hospitality another time.

>>46580593
> I'd be a fool to turn down so gracious an offer.

Hopefully this will be the last time we need to visit the swamp for a while, so we get this out of the way, and then we don't call in the morning. Or ever. A slight discrepancy shouldn't do any harm, and it's better than ruining the negotiations and suffering the wrath of a woman scorned.

>>46580593
>> I'd be a fool to turn down so gracious an offer

>>46580593
> I'd be a fool to turn down so gracious an offer.

>>46580593
>> I'd be a fool to turn down so gracious an offer.

>>46580593
> I'd be a fool to turn down so gracious an offer

>>46580593
>> Though it pains me, I must request your hospitality another time.

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[[Much as it pains me to cut things off when people are posting fast and furious, I need to hit the hay. The next few sessions will be a little more politically heavy if all goes according to plan, so strap on your negotiator pants and get ready.

As always, asks in the ask box, etc. I may endeavor to start running shorter mini-sessions during weekday evenings depending on my schedule. I'll keep you posted. See you next week if not.]]

>>46581195
Take care Diarca! G'night!

>>46581195
Good night, Diarca. Sleep well. And as always, thanks for running.

>>46581195
Thanks for running!

>>46581195
Thanks for running Diarca!

>>46581195
Time to negotiate with non-humans!