>>46825219
>Crude magic catalyst

>>46825219
>>Broken dagger
Sup Kaz?

>>46825219
>Broken dagger

File: Broken Dagger.png (40 KB, 132x426)

40 KB PNG

>>46825337
>>46825410

He wasn't your first kill, but he had to have been the messiest. The lack of a whole blade forced you to get up real close and personal and close the distance. There are only so many places to slice and stab unprotected by leather armor. By the time he finally ceased struggling, the body was more bloody meat than person.

The only regret that you have is the inconvenience of his death. You wanted to make him squeal longer, suffer more. He was only a fresh join from his colors, and it was more than likely that he had nothing to do with your loss.

It was nothing personal. He just happened to be a convenient target for you to pin all of your grievances against the Red Snakes to. There was no doubt that the others would come after your head after they found the body, but you didn't care anymore. You have little to live for as it was, and you would rather freeze to death before they press-ganged you into whatever dark services they had in store.

Suddenly, their voice comes unbidden, scolding you for not taking care of yourself and finding shelter when you had the chance to. Platitudes about revenge, how its pursuit only ends in two graves and words of comfort come rushing out of memory. The name that the browbeat tone of voice addresses you with is...

>Marcus
>Morganna

>>46825504
>>Morganna

>>46825504
>>Marcus

>>46825504
>>Marcus

>>46825504
>>Marcus

>>46825504
>Marcus

>>46825504
>>Adrian

>>46825766
>YFW this whole thing is just Pixie and Adrian larp-ing

File: Serena.jpg (121 KB, 850x1275)

121 KB JPG

>>46825642
>>46825655
>>46825714
>>46825727

Marcus. Just the memory of your name coming off of her lips in that scolding, concerned tone twists your entrails up in all kinds of knots. Knots Serena knew how to unravel with a warm smile and an assuring hand on your shoulder. On harder days, they would linger, an unconditional affection and gesture of solidarity between two street rats living in the streets on their own.

And on some nights, the smile became mischievous, and the hand on your shoulder slowly traveled down, down and down, unraveling the knots of crude leather armor just as quickly as the ones constricting your innards.

You smile bitterly as you tie the final knot of the bandage. How typical of that sentimental bitch to reprimand you from the grave. She never knew when to keep her mouth shut, or how to read a situation properly. Or how she insisted that one day, everything was going to get better, and that as soon as that day came…

…

…it would find the two of you living without the fear of a knife in the back, a life far away from the rotting corpse of this Empire.

You hate her. Even more than the Red Snakes. You hate Serena with every fiber of your being. You hate her for helping you when no one else would, for sharing a loaf of bread when you were starving and on death’s edge. You hate her for being an optimistic fool, always smiling that grin of hers no matter how high the odds were stacked against you.

You hate her for giving you hope for a better future.

You hate her for making you fall for her.

You hate her for leaving you all alone.

(cont.)

>>46825877

Moisture runs down your cheeks and your vision blurs. These are not tears. Marcus Painel does not cry. You can’t even remember the last time you had a nice and proper cry. Some snow must have gotten onto your eyes-

The sudden noise of footsteps crunching against the snowfall draws your attention back to the present. Your ears pick up the telltale jingle of metal fangs clashing from a chord of twine, accompanying the curses and threats that echoed from the walls of the alleyway.

Red Snakes.

You spit out a globule of blood and stand on shaking knees, flexing your hands and clutching the broken dagger. They were onto you faster than you expected. This kind of response was more reserved for clashes with other gangs in territory struggles.

Or maybe they’re determined to finally put the last of the biggest pains in their asses into the grave.

You grit your teeth, ignore the throbbing pain in your side and start running as fast as you can.

>Head to the main road.
>Stick to the back alleys.

>>46825912
>Stick to the back alleys.
Probably know them best anyways

>>46825912
>Stick to the back alleys.


Someone killed our Not!Waifu? VENGEANCE!

>>46825912
>>Stick to the back alleys.

>>46825953
>Not!Waifu
I dunno man, that seemed like Marcus's full on waifu.

Probably the Red Snakes killed her.

>>46826040
What is a man to do when his waifu is killed other than vengeance?

>>46825939
>>46825953
>>46825957

The Red Snakes think that the darkness was is ally. They believe it is a steadfast friend that helps them commit heinous crimes and deeds against those living in the gutter of Aderaveth. They strut as if they cannot be caught, cannot be found, and can do anything that they want.

They are foolish and naïve.

You were born into the darkness. The shadows belong to you.

And as long as they searched for you in the land of your birth, their efforts would be fruitless.

Say what you want about the Empire’s administration, but there is no denying the advantages their architecture provided for people of your trade. Brick walls with handholds and footholds to escape from marauding gangs, and walls packed tight enough to perform near-impossible feats of dexterity. The city itself is perhaps one of the greatest tools in your arsenal.

You vault onto an empty merchant’s stall, grabbing onto a window’s ledge to scramble up the wall. There is no fear of falling, hesitation or second guesses. Your movement is one seamless transition from one handhold to the next as you reach the shingled roof. This is second nature to you, as instinctive as breathing.

Taking a moment to catch your breath, you squat on the roof and check the bandage. Blood has begun to seep through the linens, an unfortunate byproduct of your exertions, but it is nothing severe-

Wait. You narrow your eyes. In one of the distant alleys below on the street, a group of men congregate in the clearing, four voices cursing the cold weather and their inability to find you. The crimson pattern adorning their leathers is unmistakable. Red Snakes.

Before you even know it, the broken dagger is in your hands in a white-knuckled grip.

>Ambush them from above.
>Head back to your hideout.
>Wait and see what happens.
>Custom option.

>>46826403
>>Head back to your hideout.
Heal up, you hothead.

>>46826403
>Wait and see what happens.
We'll have good info for our next journey for vengeance

>>46826403
>The Red Snakes think that the darkness was is ally.
They merely adopted the dark.
We were born in it, molded by it.

>Head back to your hideout.

>>46826403
>>Wait and see what happens.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

Rolling for tiebreaker.

1. Hideout
2. Wait

>>46826464
>>46826536
>>46826651

It takes every ounce of your self-control to stay still and remain calm. The sound of your heart comes like the rhythm of a fell drumbeat in your ear, but you force your breath to even out. Deep breaths to regain your energy, becoming slower and smoother as you adapt a waiting stance, knife at the ready.

Those bastards came dangerously close to your position. How did they find you so quickly? A trail of blood, perhaps? Or was it the footprints in the snow? And were you still giving off some kind of trail, one that you couldn’t see…

You check your bandages one more time. They’re firmly secure, with no drops of blood leaking or dripping from them. That possibility was ruled out, at least.

But you digress. You need information from these scumbags. It would be a waste not to take advantage of this unexpected boon.

You close your eyes, drowning out all external stimuli save for the voices in the alleyway….

“I’m telling you, he has to be somewhere around here…” One of them says in a nasal tone. The end of his sentence is punctuated by a particularly violent sneeze. “Fuck me, it’s freezing out here.”

“That’s what you get for going out without gloves on,” The harsh reply came. “You’re seriously dense in the head to forget that these leathers do shite to protect form the cold.”

“Enough,” Their leader cuts them off, a balding man with a snake tattoo trailing down his face. “He can’t have gotten too far, especially if he was wounded. But this is definitely where we went. Those little street rats weren’t lying. Not with our little questions…”

“And we can’t expedite this little chase because…?”

(cont.)

>>46826945

“The thaumaturge has to perform at least another hour’s worth of rituals, and mistakes when dealing with screwing up with blood magic are never pretty.”

“Like what happened with-”

“Aye, don’t remind me. And since Joran is an impatient bastard, he wants our sorry selves freezing in this piss-cold weather just to find Painel before he can escape. Not that he has anywhere to go where we can’t track him.”

“Heh. Oran wasn’t as useless of an idiot. Did us a right solid before he kicked the bucket.”

“Bastard was as dumb as nails, but he could swing his blade correctly. More than enough blood for our friend to work with.”

You resist the urge to curse. They have a magic-user stupid enough to use Blood Magic. You never had the Spark yourself, but Serena did, and you’ve seen her reading whatever books on the subject you could get your hands on.

There was a reason why it was banned, not that you’re surprised to see the Snakes break yet another law to advance their own agenda. It corrupts the soul, chips away at the owner's persona and pollutes the spark with corruption until there's nothing left but an uncontrolled abomination.

You’re torn on whether to feel smug that your head mattered enough to Joran Asmodai to get someone to dabble in black magic, or mortified that you’d have the gang hot on your heels within the hour.

“Still, don’t be so eager to exact revenge on our own on the bastard when we find him, alright? Joran’s got a bonus for bringing him in alive. He won’t be too happy to have the last of the Black Alley Locusts die from someone else’s hands.”

“I know, I know. Like the other one Zera’s crew got the other day, right? They just couldn’t control themselves and ended up killing her in the middle of their fun. For a magic-user, she was surprisingly feisty in…close quarters. Gave us a lot of love as well.” He points to a set of clawed marks running down his face.

(cont.)

>>46827285

“Not to mention a screamer,” Nasal says, making a gesture of picking his ears. “I can still hear the other guy’s name ringing, and I didn’t even touch the bitch. It took three tankards of ale to drown out ‘Marcus, Marcus, Marcus’ going on and on and on in my head…”

The sound of their laughter at his falsetto is drowned out by the sudden roaring in your ears, of your heartbeat pounding like the drums of war. The hand gripping your blade is shaking now, and no amount of calming techniques can stop the tremors.

“Don’t know about you lot, but I could use some warmth down here as well…”

>Kill. Them. All.
>Stay your blade.

>>46827335
>>Kill. Them. All.

>>46827335
>Kill. Them. All.

>>46827335
>>Kill. Them. All.

Some warmth, aye. They say it's what you feel just before the realization you've bled out sets in.

>>46827335
>>Kill. Them. All.

If possible make them longer between life and death in pain and anguish unable to be saved. Also remember Vera's name.

>>46827335
>>Kill. Them. All.

>>46827408
Seems we have a new goal, find and kill this "Zera" person

Props to Kaz for realizing the best way to add rails is to have the waifu brutally raped and killed

>>46827450
Our objectives are
>Main goal
Kill every single last Snake
>Side Goals
1. Find and brutally kill Zera and all he loves
2. Stop the blood Mage from finishing that ritual so they can't track us.

File: blood_PNG6089.png (120 KB, 1024x515)

120 KB PNG

>>46827345
>>46827353
>>46827375
>>46827408
>>46827410

“…but it’s a real shame we can't go back since she’s nothing more than stone cold-”

He doesn’t even have time to finish his sentence. You descend from the rooftop, cloak billowing in the winds of winter as you drive the broken blade into the bastard’s neck with the force of all your grief, your rage and sorrow. His words are violently cut off by the sudden font of blood to erupt from his ruined mouth.

The force of your attack drives the bastard’s twitching body on the ground with a violent crunch, and you vault off the body before it hits the fresh snowfall with little more than a quiet muffle. But you don’t leave him without a final favor.

Your hand reaches at his belt, drawing another big knife from its sheathe with seamless precision. It is whole and unbroken, and devoid of the mark of the Red Snakes. Testing the weapon in your hands, you already shift into a battle stance before his body hits the ground, and starts to stain the snow with his colors.

“Shit!” The rest of them back away, drawing weapons of their own. Daggers, throwing knives, wooden clubs, bronze knuckles and other weapons best used against the unsuspecting or unwary. “Go get the others! Tell them we found Pain-”

You look upon them, and they quail at the look in your eyes.

There is nothing to be spoken on your part as you descend upon them. The sound of steel striking steel, flesh being parted from bones, and the screams of dying men do more than mere words can convey in their place.

Serena…

>Roll 1d100 + 30 Combat
>Best out of three.

Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>46827629

Rolled 62 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>46827629

Rolled 81 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>46827629

Rolled 85 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>46827629
You goofed assholes, you goofed bad.

>>46827643
>>46827670
>>46827725

The roaring in your ears eventually fades away, and you regain control of your bloodlust. You stop the dance of death, breathing hard as you take in your surroundings

Two more men lie dead on the cobblestone, joining the Snake you had killed with your ambush. When you parried his sword and drove one of your daggers to the hilt into Nasal’s skull, the other tried to quit the battle. His flight didn’t take him more than ten feet out of the alley before your new blade caught the bastard right in the hamstring.

He had actually soiled his leathers long before you actually came to his downed position. You gave him and his pleas of mercy only a glowering look of unabated rage before you slit his throat. You didn’t flinch as the hot blood dyed your clothes red, filled your mouth with the taste of iron.

Their leader still lives.

You broke his nose with the hilt of your weapon and hit him with a solid punch to the temple. He had fallen like a puppet with his strings cut, like a deboned fish. Aside from the puddle of blood running down his face with the ferocity of a waterfall, he still breathes.

>Ask him some questions.
>Just slit his throat.

>>46827868
>Ask him some questions.
"Where is Zera"

>>46827868
>>Ask him some questions.
Who's doing the blood magic, Where said magician is, and where's Zera.

You know, I never understood in fiction why you would ever brag about killing/raping/maiming someones lover when said lover is the Batman/Punisher of that setting.

Like, when someones whole schtick is that they show up out of nowhere to punish/kill people that do crime and wrong others; why would you ever assume that they're NOT right around the corner just waiting to kill you.

It's like being a mook and calling out "IT'S A GUNDAAAAAAM!" or saying "What could possibly go wrong?". It's virtually guaranteed to summon up the worst possible outcome for you.

>>46827982
I don't think Marcus is known as the vigilante, he's just some kind of killer right now

And in other fiction, that usually happens BEFORE the vigilante is known well. After that, they'd probably take their conversations indoors.

>>46828063
Well, they said we're the last of the "Black Alley Locusts" and the fact that they're searching for us this hard makes me think that whatever the locusts were, they had the snakes scared; so I just assume the last of them would probably be the strongest/scariest of the lot.

>>46827982
They called Markus Painel. Maybe they think markus is a different person?

>>46827896
>>46827897

All it takes is a punch to the throat to get him to wake up. Wheezing and sputtering past the blood blocking his nostrils, you don’t even give him time to recover before you drag his body and slam it against the wall. The edge of your new blade presses hard against his throat, cutting deep enough to draw blood, but not hard enough to sever through his windpipe.

“You said you had a blood mage tracking me,” You say in a voice devoid of any sort of inflection. As far as he was concerned, you were merely asking an old friend where he could find the canned sugar. “You’re going to tell me where I can find both him and Zera.”

It is not a question or a request. It is an order, one that you expect to be obeyed without hesitation or pause.

You’re not sure whether or not it’s bravado or stupidity that prompts the man to spit into your face. The two are not mutually exclusive traits in these kind of people. But from the way his Adam’s apple was bobbing nervously above the knife, it had to have been false bravado on his part.

“Say I do, you little street urchin,” He growls through a mouthful of blood, “And what then? What happens to me when I sell out my comrades and leave them to your mercy?”

>Roll 1d100 + 20 Social to Intimidate
>Best of three

>“I’ll let you go.”
>“I’ll make it painless.”
>Custom

Rolled 89 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>46828124
>“I’ll make it painless.”

Rolled 90 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>46828124
>>“I’ll make it painless.”

Rolled 44 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>46828124
>>“I’ll make it painless.”

>>46828124
>"I'll let most of you go."

>>46828124
>“I’ll let you go.”

>>46828124
>>“I’ll make it painless.”

>>46828124
>“I’ll make it painless.” (Lie)

Marcus is scary.

>>46828322
Waifus are serious business, dubs man.

>>46828141
>>46828142
>>46828150

Your eyes narrow as you ignore the bloody spit going down your face. “I’ll make it painless. Right now, every part of my body is screaming for me to take my sweet and bloody time with you, and make you suffer even more than what the rest of your friends did to Serena. But I’m willing to extend the tiniest of mercies if you cooperate with me.

“If you don’t…then I’m sure I can find several creative ways to get you to listen to my way of thinking. But I’ll have to do a fast job since I’m running short on time. And I’m not known for being clean when I’m in a rush.”

You practically snarl the last word out as you apply more pressure to the dagger. That seems to have done the trick. The leader’s eyes widen and he feebly raises his hands in a gesture of compliance. “…okay, okay, fine! I’ll tell you where they are…just…don’t…”

A smart move.

It’s as if the gates of a dam were let open, because he starts spilling information without any sort of care or pause. “The mage’s name is Kellar, or some other Tuthalan name. He’s a foreigner from the Northlands. All I know is that Joran paid twenty thousand arums for his services, and another ten thousand to use blood magic to track you down. He’s holed up in our hideout, the Asmodai Antique Shop, with ten men and Joran keeping the place guarded.

“As for Zera…” Here, he swallows nervously, a feat quite difficult to do with the knife at his throat, “Joran sent him and five other men to the eastside of the slums. That’s where we found your girl last time, and he thought you’d be lurking over there…”

>He’s telling the truth.

You nod once. “Thank you for cooperating with me.”

And you grant him a painless end.

You don’t even turn around to give him a second glance as you wipe the dagger clean of blood…

>Track down Kellar first.
>Track down Zera first.

>>46828457
>>Track down Kellar first.
Gank the mage first.

Rolled 6 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>46828457
>Track down Kellar first.
Then we can take our sweet time with Zera without having to worry about being tracked down to wherever we take him to.

File: 1443225692320.jpg (139 KB, 594x501)

139 KB JPG

>>46828457
>>Track down Zera first.

Let them know where we are, we're going to murder them all anyway.

>>46828494
Here:
>>46828502
Has a good point actually, if they know where we are we can just set up a shitload of traps and just kill whoever comes to kill us.

Changing my vote to:
>Track down Zera first.

Man, Marcus is totally going to die, no way around it.

Without PLOT

>>46828457
>Track down Kellar first.
Geek the mage!

>>46828457

>Track down Kellar first

Fucking BLOOD mages man.

>>46828457
>>Track down Zera first.

>>46828550
So long as we get to kill Zera and as many snakes as possible first, I'm totally cool with it.

>>46828550
The way I see it, going after the mage means entering their HQ, he'd probably get the spell off shortly before we can murder him and we'd be fugged.

Alternatively, we go after the murderer and we get scryed and we get swarmed and fugged.

Even if we interrupt the mage, we'd still be stuck in enemy territory and more than likely fugged.

We're fugged.

Fugg

>>46828604
>Cue Bebop style ending where we end up killing fucking everyone before limping away and dropping dead in front of the guards who finally decided shit needed to get done

Rolled 1 (1d2)

Rolling to tiebreak.

1. Kellar
2. Zera

File: Youre gonna carry that weight.jpg (9 KB, 500x375)

9 KB JPG

>>46828639
"Never seen a bluer sky..."

>>46828774
Guys, fuck off, every time I think about that show I choke up.

I'm trying to get hype for murder, not depressed.

>>46828479
>>46828557
>>46828561
>>46828652

The Blood Mage has to go. There’s no getting around that. Tracking is only one facet and application of blood magic. The things a thaumaturge could do with someone’s blood was only limited to their imagination. And if Kellar’s allegiance to Joran Asmodai was any indication, then it’s more than likely that he was just as bad as the Head Snake was.

But you smile. Once you stick Kellar, Asmodai and the other Snakes, you’ll be able to take your sweet time with Zera. He and his goons would have no idea that you were going to get them.

You briefly check your bandages, cursing at the sudden dampness. It seems like either the pressure you applied wasn’t enough to completely staunch the bleeding, or the last few minutes of physical activity caught up to you. Either way, this is definitely far from a good sign.

>You will take -10 to Combat Rolls due to Blood Loss.

But you soldier on in spite of the pain, only taking a moment to shear more fabric off of your clothes to make fresh bandages. You haphazardly tear away the old and dirtied wrappings and quickly apply the new ones in their place. Once you’ve secured the knot properly, you return to your objective.

Once again, you take to the rooftops, scaling up handholds in the bricks and convenient window sills that are strewn about in your environment. The noise of your ascension does not attract the attention of the house owners whose property you’re trespassing through. It is simply too cold for anyone with a roof over their heads to bother checking up on the noise.

>You make it to your destination.

Asmodai Antiques stands before you, a seemingly dilapidated building just barely making ends meet. But you know better. It’s simple exterior harbors far more deadly things within than falsified treasure maps or cheap reproductions.

This is the den of the Snakes.

>Through the front door.
>Find a way to sneak in.

>>46828906
>>Find a way to sneak in.

>>46828906
>>Find a way to sneak in.

>>46828906
>Through the front door.
Be a man

>>46828906
>>Find a way to sneak in.

Maybe we'll find a lucky window next to the mage and his stupid fucking tomes.

>>46828965
We're already taking -10 on combat rolls, might as well try a sneak attack instead of getting ganked before we wreck the mage

>>46828906
>Find a way to sneak in.


Remember Snake, this is a SNEAKING mission.

Also we're gonna need some Adrian-like rolls here, except for the crazy voice/probably Alice roll. Passing out in front of Orias like a little bitch was bad.

>>46829006
Oioi! You keep that in your pants! This is about Marcus, we need his righteous fury in the dice.

>>46829069

I never said I meant we were gonna fuck the poor bastards to death.


...course I never said we were NOT gonna fuck the poor bastards to death.

>>46829260
Adrian's rolls wouldn't help us anyway, he can only roll well in non-violent situations revolving around women.

>>46829322
No, Adrian gets good combat rolls. It's just he has a weak mind.

File: Kellar.png (1.08 MB, 1680x944)

1.08 MB PNG

>>46828928
>>46828951
>>46828968
>>46829006

As much as you want to charge through the front door and let your blood roar and the steel in your hands sing, it is far from the most efficient way of getting to this Kellar. And when it came down to mages, it was always good to close the distance real quickly without giving them the chance to cast their magics. Doubly so for a Blood Mage.

You cut across the building, taking your time to inspect the building as discreetly as possible. Asmodai put guards loitering at the entrance, but it doesn’t even take you a conscious effort to avoid them. You make your way around the adjacent building, a closed bakery of indeterminate origins, and climb up along the wall.

The overcast sky is on your side. In this darkness, the moon does not give away your position, leaving you to go even faster without alerting the guards. You make it to the roof of the bakery, and find yourself with an unrestricted view of the "antique shop".

There. In one of the rooms on the third floor, an adjacent window reveals the one who is undoubtedly Kellar He has the familiar skin tone and musculature of one of the Ingulan tribesmen, as well as the piercings and miscellaneous objects and fetishes that mark him as a mage.

Standing in a magic circle, his eyes are closed, and he chants in the tongue of magic. It is a harsh and guttural sound, a sharp and ugly noise to the melodic syllables that Serena once incanted, and it hurts your ears with every word uttered. In his hands, raised up to the ceiling, your eyes make out a vial of crimson fluid that thrums softly with fell power.

It is, without a doubt, your blood. There is no other explanation.

>Dynamic entry.
>Subtle entry.

>>46829376
>>Dynamic entry.

>>46829376
>Dynamic entry.
Subtle risks him finishing the spell at a dramatic point in time

>>46829376
>>Dynamic entry.

Go for the throat from the window.

>>46829376
>Dynamic entry.

File: SURPRISE MOTHERFUCKRE.gif (499 KB, 300x225)

499 KB GIF

>>46829376
>Pic very related.

>>46829376
>>Dynamic entry.

>>46829385
>>46829392
>>46829407
>>46829436
>>46829521

There’s no time to lose. Your grasp of time was never one of your strong suits, and for all you know, he had made headway in finishing the spell as you traveled through the slums. But you don’t know that for sure. For all you know, he still had another half-hour before the ritual was complete.

That was a risk you were not willing to take. You have to act now.

You are not a reckless man. Serena had beaten those kinds of habits out of you with her staff more than once when you came home bruised and bloodied. The desire to have more finesse and grace in your craft stemmed equally from a desire to kill more efficiently and the fear of her wooden staff.

Steeling yourself, your resolve, and your hands, you launch from the roof and aim towards the open window. Midair, you smile briefly. This was something that she would definitely beat you for. And you wouldn’t mind the pain this time around.

This is gonna hurt…

>1d100 + 10 (-10 Penalty for Blood Loss)
>Best of three.

Rolled 64 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>46829540

Rolled 8 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>46829540

SURPRISE NAT 100 MOTHERFUCKER

Rolled 77 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>46829540

Rolled 46 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>46829540

>>46829549
>>46829563
>>46829569

There are many things you have done in your life that fall under recklessly stupid. And more often than not, these kind of endeavors have proved to be ultimately fruitless come the time for results.

Not this time.

You crash through the window, shielding your face as broken glass traces small cuts along your skin. The mage’s incantations are immediately cut off mid-sentence, and his eyes open in surprise at the sight of you coming in through the window.

You don’t give him any time to react or cast a spell. Without pause or a quick breath, you roll along with the impact and push yourself up. Leaping towards him, you drive your dagger all the way to the hilt inside of his chest, right where his heart would be.

Kellar grunts in pain as the knife plunges into his body, and the impact knocks the phial of blood out of his hands. Regretfully, it doesn’t shatter upon impact with the ground, but it rolls towards a far away corner of the room. You’ll get it later.

But right now, you twist the dagger inside of the Ingulan’s body, and tear it out of him as hard and violently as you can.

>Roll 1d10 Damage
>Multiply by two for Sneak Attack

Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>46829907

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>46829907

Rolled 6 (1d10)

>>46829907

>>46829909
>>46829911
>>46829915

Oh, you definitely tore through something vital. Because as soon as you step back to take appraisal of the situation, Kellar seems to be having difficulty breathing. His breath comes out in short, ragged gasps, and they’re more often than not punctuated with a very wet gargle. He says something in Ingulan, a harsh language of barely-comprehendible grunts and odd throat undulations.

Judging from the vehemence behind his words, he most likely said something along the lines of killing you slowly. That’s a universal concept that you are very familiar with. In spite of a unified language, it seems that even foreigners want their three pounds of flesh out of you.

From his waist, he draws a magic catalyst, a cylindrical rod of varnished ash nearly seven inches in length. In any other situation, you would have laughed and made a joke about compensating for something. But not today.

You have enough time to react before he can fire off a spell…

>Attack him once more.
>Smash your blood vial.

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>46830055
>>Smash your blood vial.
It's why we're here after all.

Once they can no longer track us. we can retreat and hunt them down at our leisure

>>46830055
>>Smash your blood vial.

>>46830055
Hold the vial out to get hit by the spell/brain him with it. Otherwise,
>Smash your blood vial.

>>46830078
We need to make sure not to spill any blood of ours here too; they could probably hire another blood mage if we kill this one anyways

>>46830069
>>46830076
>>46830078

In spite of stabbing him, Kellar was not your penultimate goal.

It was your blood vial.

You feint an attack towards Kellar with your knife, and he flinches away from you instinctively. But that proves to be a mistake on his part, because halfway through your charge, you break away and make a wild lunge in the direction of the vial. Your opponent realizes what you’re really after, and tries to close the distance.

But it is too late.

You snatch it from the floor, rolling away from Kellar’s clumsy swipe and throw it out the window as hard and fast as you can. And at the sound of glass shattering against the wall of the bakery, you can’t help but give a triumphant smirk.

But with the last set of acrobatics and your little clash with Kellar cost you. Already, you can feel more blood leaking out of the bandages around your midsection, and you don’t have any time to change them out. You can definitely feel its toll, though. You’re reflexes aren’t as fast or fluid as they were before the night’s events.

>You now take -20 to Combat due to Blood Loss

The mage roars in anger, and raises his catalyst. Barking a phrase in the language of magic, he fires off an azure bolt of energy towards your position. From what magic lesions you had with Serena, you can identify him as a Spirit mage, one who utilized the Mind and Soul over the Elements. While he could not conjure balls of fire or unleash lightning from his hands, Kellar still had wide access to a variety of spells.

And being a Spirit mage came with the additional benefit of accessing the darker forms of magic as well…

>Roll 1d100 + 10 to dodge.
>Best of three.

Rolled 82 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>46830259

Rolled 33 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>46830259

Rolled 65 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>46830259

>>46830265
>>46830266
>>46830274

In spite of your wound, you still manage to avoid Kellar’s magic attack with another impossible feat of acrobatics. You’ve had much worse things to dodge than a spell, faster things than magic. Throwing knives, metal balls and all other sort of unpleasant projectiles. It’s not an easy time, but you still manage to do it without any further injury.

As you ready yourself and make ready to counter-attack, you hear a commotion coming down from the lower floors. Shouts, furniture being moved, and the sound of urgent footsteps rushing up flights of stairs. Kellar doesn’t even look back at the door. He only smiles a smile of bloodied teeth.

Smug bastard. It sounds like Asmodai’s men are coming up for you. You aren’t surprised at that given the noise you and Kellar made. What does surprise you is how slow they took to respond to your entry.

Still, it saves you a lot of time from having to hunt them down, one by one. And with the mage already heavily wounded from your earlier attack…

>Stand and fight.
>Strategic withdrawal.

Rolled 1 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>46830471
>Strategic withdrawal.
Time to leave and recover from our wounds. We can pick them off later since they can't find us now

>>46830471
>Stand and fight.


>>46830480
Holy fuck am I glad we weren't rolling for this.

DON'T. ROLL. AGAIN.

>>46830539
Why do you want to fight off an army of people at -20 to all combat rolls?

File: Elmer Fudd.jpg (28 KB, 600x382)

28 KB JPG

>>46830547

Pic related. That and I just wanna kill that damn mage.

>>46830580
If we fuck up then we'll never be able to kill Zera though. Mage can't track us without our blood anyways; so how about we don't stay and leave a bunch when we get the shit kicked out of us?

>>46830471
>Strategic withdrawal.

>>46830471
>Stand and fight.

Guys, I'm feeling a little tuckered out now. I have class in a few hours, but I'm more than willing to pick up where we left off if the thread is still up when I finish my classes.

See you guys in a bit?

>>46830471
>Strategic withdrawal.
But stab Kellar first, even if we have throw a dagger. (I assume we picked a few up after we offed the other mooks)

bump

Bumping for justice.

>>46830480
>>46830605
>>46831716

You’ve already got what you came for. There’s no point in lingering when the odds are stacked against you. Four men, you can kill easily with a well-timed ambush, but in a straight-up fight with upwards of seven men?

It would be a lie to say that you aren’t feeling slightly suicidal, but you aren’t about to throw your life away foolishly. Zera and his men still have to die, and you would be damned if you died before killing them all.

But you’re not about to leave without a little parting gift.

The Red Snakes you killed earlier were not short on weapons, daggers and other implements of death to supplement the broken one you’ve been carrying since the longest time. You took what you could and left everything else to rot with their owners.

And it is one of these extra daggers that you hurl towards Kellar, right towards that conceited little smile of his as you leap from the window.

>Roll 1d100 + 10 Combat (-20 Blood Loss)
>Best of three

Rolled 98 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>46835666

Rolled 26 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>46835666
YAY SATAN

>>46835674
Welp, time for me to fuck it all up.

Rolled 12 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>46835666

>>46835694
>>46835754
Thank you for not fucking up my 98, not the 100 against Fitz, but closer than that 96 I rolled.

>>46835674
>>46835694
>>46835754

It’s a common saying that those with the Spark of magic are unparalleled masters of the arcane, but remain extremely vulnerable to physical attacks. The sword through the entrails, and the knife between the ribs. That is why mages, thaumaturges and all other practitioners of magic rely on others to protect them from the more physical threats that the battlefield had to offer.

A mage in the battlefield can blast their spells and evoke their elements. But they could only do so much against superior numbers dedicated to overrunning them, overpowering them. On the one day that you were not there to help her, that is what happened to Serena.

But just like your lover, Kellar was completely and utterly bereft of anyone to help him fight you.

The dagger you hurl at his face goes into the bastard’s left eye, almost all the way through to the hilt. It makes a terrible noise as it destroys the organ, shredding through flesh and scraping against bone.

You don't have time to see the final result of your handiwork as the sight of the mage disappears as you descend from the window...

>Roll 1d10 Damage
>Multiply by two for critical!
>Best of three.

Rolled 8 (1d10)

>>46836130
For Serena.

Rolled 5 (1d10)

>>46836130

Rolled 5 (1d10)

>>46836130

>>46836143
>>46836173
>>46836355

Judging from the screams and angry shouts that you hear coming from the top floor, it seems like you’ve killed him as well. That should definitely prove to be a fatal setback for Asmodai. Thirty thousand aurums wasted on the now-dead Kellar, a shattered blood vial, and no more means of tracking the last thorn in his side.

You smile a grim smile. Most people could only claim to have knocked two birds with one stone. You managed to get three snakes with a single dagger.

The instant you hit the ground, you roll into the shadows once again, blending into the darkness that the looming walls and structures cast against you. You climb up walls and leap from alcoves, pushing yourself to get away as far as you can, as fast as you can, away from the headquarters of the Snakes.

>You make a clean escape.

You take a moment to gather your breath, once again applying a new set of bandages to replace the bloodied ones at your side. It’s nothing more than a stop-gap measure at this point, but it should keep you from bleeding out before the hunt, and the night, was over.

Ignoring Asmodai himself, the only targets left for tonight are Zera and his crew. Serena's killers.

Recalling what the Snake leader told you earlier, you set off on a course towards the eastern part of the slums. You ignore the feeling of cold slowly creeping through your extremities, and every minor obstacle on the rooftops. The only thing you are aware of is the sound of your heartbeat, pounding in your chest like the drums of war.

>Roll 1d100 Perception
>Best of three.

Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>46836635

Rolled 18 (1d100)

>>46836635

Rolled 47 (1d100)

>>46836635
We gonna find you.

>>46836665
apparently not

File: Zera.jpg (14 KB, 200x200)

14 KB JPG

>>46836648
>>46836654
>>46836665

There. You find them on a barren street, six men clad in Red Snake leathers and brandishing naked weapons in their hands. They don’t bother trying to hide, or make themselves discreet, as they go about terrorizing the smallfolk on the streets.

“Where is Marcus Painel?” You can hear one of them shout above the snowfall. He slaps a wooden club against his hands as he presses an elderly man against the wall. “Tell us where we can find him, and we’ll let you go, grandfather.”

“I…I don’t know-”

The old man’s sentence is cut off by a bone-shattering crunch, and a mangled scream of pain. The Red Snake breaks his wrist with the club, and unceremoniously drops the elder to cradle his hand in the snowfall. “No luck here either, Zera. Either they don’t know where he is, or they aren’t talking.”

Zera steps forward, a hulking man at least a whole head taller than you. He is even bigger than Asmodai, his musculature belonging more to that of a soldier in the army rather than a thief. Either he had Ingulan blood mixed with him, or some other unsavory breed. You aren’t above suggesting that some giant blood is in there.

“They were telling the truth,” He growls, throwing a condescending glare to the rest of the streetfolk, who quail underneath his gaze. “Painel hasn’t been back here for days. And the flat we checked was empty as well. He’s been on the run.”

“We turned up every corner of that shack and found nothing. Not even a pouch of aurums to compensate for this cold.”

You try and only moderately succeed at suppressing a slight tremor that runs down your body. Zera and his men managed to locate your domicile. There is no telling how extensive the damage was when they undoubtedly ransacked it, but you don’t care. All of your valuables are already on your person.

(cont.)

>>46837436
I can't believe you used that guy as Zera. I see where part of the inspiration for this quest came from.

>>46837495
The only reason why I used him was to suggest to your imagination how horrific Serena penultimate fate was . Barring his image, this quest has no other influence from THAT other thing that I have no desire to discuss on a blue board.

Writing....

>>46837545
She's lucky she died.

>>46837495
>>46837545
where is this guy from?

>>46837436

“At least we’ve got that guy working on that ritual, right? I say we should head back now before our toes freeze off.”

“Zera, there’s nothing here for us left to find. I mean, we could always come back and get some more answers out of these street rats, but…”

The mook jerks a finger towards one of the street corners. A pile of bodies, at least five of them, lie collapsed on the snow, staining the ground red with their blood. Even from this distance, you can already see that most, if not all of them, are dead. The terrible wounds caused by the greatsword strapped to Zera’s back leave no room for doubt.

Said bastard scratches the back of his head and gives the empty street a cursory inspection. “Alright, alright. Quit your whining. That Ingulan whoreson unsettles me something awful, but he’s ultimately what Asmodai paid for. I’m not about to question his investments.”

“He was already in the middle of doing that weird magic to Painel’s blood when we left, right? He has to be done now.”

“Aye. He probably is. So I’m in agreement with you miserable lot, for once. Let’s head back to Asmodai.”
A chorus of agreement comes from the men. Without even giving a second look to the whimpering old man and the pile of bodies they had left in their wake, they follow their leader and start the long trek back to Asmodai Antiques.

You could not ask for a better opportunity. The path of their journey takes you right underneath your hiding spot. Six more men left, six more bodies into the ground.

One more step closer to avenging Serena.

And then, once they were all dead…Asmodai.

You unsheathe your blades, and prepare yourself for the attack…

>Attack Zera first.
>Attack Zera’s men first.

>>46837609
'Search Google for this image' is your friend, anon.

>>46837766
>>Attack Zera first.
Fuck him. He took her from us.

>>46837766
>Attack Zera first.

>>46837766
>>Attack Zera first.

>>46837766
>Attack Zera first.

>>46837789
>>46837847
>>46837854
>>46837871

Asmodai may have been the one to give the order, but it is Zera who was responsible for Serena’s fate. With his actions, he not only took the love of your life, but your smile, optimism and hope for the future. All of that, gone in an instant with Serena’s death.

And right now, the gods have been gracious enough to present the thief that took everything from you.

Once more unto the breach.

You step off from the roof, descending upon the Red Snakes as a vengeful wraith would upon the living. Shards of ice and the wind’s sharp bite scrape against your face as you fall upon Zera and his men, but you don’t care in the slightest. Tiny inconveniences, minor discomforts. Nothing is going to stand in the way between you and your target.

…wraith. A fitting epitaph. You are already a dead man with nothing left to hold you to this world. Once is all said and done, the only thing left for you to do is depart and return everything to the balance of things.

Your daggers plunge into Zera’s back, scraping past the greatsword to strike deep into yielding flesh. His grunt of confusion at the weight on his body suddenly gives way to a roar of pain as the steel penetrates through frozen leather armor and breeches through the skin

>Roll 2d10
>Multiply by 2 for sneak attack!
>Best of three.

Rolled 19, 6 = 25 (2d20)

>>46838033

Rolled 4, 7 = 11 (2d10)

>>46838033
rolling
Aim for the joints, cripple him. He's not getting off easily.

>>46838041
wrong dice

>>46838033
>>46838041
whoops.

Rolled 5, 2 = 7 (2d10)

>>46838033

Rolled 2, 10 = 12 (2d10)

>>46838033

>>46838060
>>46838077
>>46838079
5+10 = 15 x2= 30

>>46838101
The way I'm calculating it is:

7 x 2 = 14 for one dagger
10 X 2 = 20 for the other dagger.

Because it's best of three. I take the best rolls from the entire pool of dice.

Writing...

>>46838180
Fuck, so he's dead or or out for a while, right?

>>46838060
>>46838077
>>46838079

You push off of Zera, flipping once, twice before landing in a battle stance, blood-stained daggers at the ready. His men react more calmly than the others from before, quickly drawing weapons as they come about to surround you. In spite of the fear in their eyes at the sight of your bloodstained clothes, it’s clear that they fear more of what will happen if they don’t attack you.

You internally curse as Zera stands shakily to his feet. Damn. There was Ingulan blood in him after all. You’re more than certain that it went through his lungs, and even scrapped the heart, but he was still standing. Either it was a sign of superior breeding, or some form of magic keeping him up.

More likely the former of the two, given his prominent browline and sharp nose.

“Disarm him!” Zera shouts, drawing his greatsword from the baldric. He shows a sign of mild discomfort as he reaches for the blade. You must have cut through a muscle. “A thousand aurums to the man who can take him in, and another two thousand to the one who brings me his hands!”

Greed ultimately wins over common sense, and as one, the men all come rushing into your position.

The dance begins…

>Roll 1d100 + 10 Combat (-20 Blood Loss)
>Best of three.

Rolled 93 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>46838360

Rolled 12 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>46838360

Rolled 16 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>46838360

>>46838374
Murderhobo revenge man is very lucky isn't he?

>>46838538
Waifus are serious business. Especially waifus that gave you a new meaning to life.

>>46838360
Kaz this is going to end with us sacrificing our name for some sort of magic to wreak vengeance and being only known as Pain isn't it?

>>46838374
>>46838416
>>46838436

Lv. 3 Mooks don't get dodge rolls.

With a single stroke, you sever the tendons of a man wielding a club, the one who had broken the elder’s wrist. You cut his throat before the weapon even hits the ground, and when it finally lands in the snow, you’ve already killed another one, a rogue with a dagger. Him, you dispatch with a kick to the groin and a knife through the eyes.

Two men left, four to go.

The death of their fellows causes the others to hesitate, backing off as they nervously cast glances towards you and the bodies of the Red Snakes you’ve killed. At that, Zera growls and shoves his way through the crowd.

“You gutless cowards!” He roars, bringing his greatsword to bear against you. “Am I going to be the only one with the spine to face off Painel? He’s only one man, and we are four together! Sooner or later, he will fall underneath our numbers!”

He punctuates the end of his sentence by charging your position and swinging the greatsword. The arc of his blade is sloppier than one would expect. The damage you did to his shoulder muscle shows quite well.

>Roll 1d100 + 10 to Dodge (-20 Blood Loss)
>Best of three.

Rolled 68 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>46838760

Rolled 31 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>46838760

Rolled 2 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>46838760

File: 29017.jpg (24 KB, 400x250)

24 KB JPG

>>46838800
Damn dude.

>>46838800
Too close, anon.

>>46838812
>>46838818
That was payback for the 98 I rolled earlier.

>>46838774
>>46838793
>>46838800

Zera is a warrior, but he lacks the finesse and skills of those truly experienced in combat. The way he swings his blade already tells you where he plans to have it go, and it makes dodging it all the more easier. A predictable attack. Anyone can swing a sword, but it takes a veteran to attack without giving any sort of advantage or hint.

Or perhaps he was a veteran and his shoulder was giving him trouble. You could honestly care no less.

You effortlessly dodge the blade, not even leaping out of the way. All it takes is a sharp tilt of the head and side step from your legs to avoid the incoming charge. You don’t even shift your body more than two feet in the process.

He overcompensated. The swing was too much for him to handle. As Zera struggles to recover from his failed attack, you fall upon him and make your counterattack.

>Roll 1d100 + 10 Combat (-20 Blood Loss)
>Best of three.

Rolled 7 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>46839109

Rolled 27 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>46839109

Rolled 95 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>46839109

>>46839160
clutch anon, Clutch

>>46839117
>>46839127
>>46839160

You take your time. You plunge both daggers into his stomach, twisting them before you violently tear through the leather and rip them out of his body. It is only through grace of the leather armor he wears that Zera’s innards have not spilled all over the snow. The blades went deep, and draw even deeper wounds.

He regards you with an enraged expression before he collapses to the ground, clutching at his midsection and cursing your name. A bloodied hand reaches desperately for a dagger at his belt before you kick him in the midsection and lift the dagger off him. And just for good measure, you kick his greatsword into an empty alleyway.

>Zera is critically wounded!

You stand up from your handiwork and turn to the remaining three Red Snakes facing you. The color has fled from their skin, and their eyes are wide open in shock, fear and dread at the sight before them. Zera, Joran Asmodai’s number one man, has fallen.

You take one step towards them. That’s all it takes.

As one, they drop their weapons and run, screaming from the empty street, pride and honor among thieves forgotten. They don’t spare their fallen leader a second glance, too concerned with their own pitiful lives.

>Hunt them down.
>Return to Zera.

>>46839655
>>Hunt them down
Zera ain't moving.

>>46839655
>Return to Zera.
Make it slow.

>>46839655
>>Hunt them down.
They helped him hurt her, they die.

>>46839655
>Return to Zera.

>>46839655
>Return to Zera.
Why bother chasing down the mooks?

>>46839876
Because they raped and killed Serena?

>>46839902
They'll head back to the boss in typical mook faction. We'll get to them in time.

>>46839670
>>46839790
>>46839876

You turn your back to them and focus on Zera. They are culpable as well, and their hands had just as much of Serena’s blood as their leader did. But their demise can come later. It would be in poor taste to have Zera bleed out while you chased his henchmen. You’d never forgive yourself for that.

He’s moved since you last left him, desperately trying to reach his sword even as one hand clutches his ruined midsection. You have to give him credit for not trying to run away. He had more of a spine than his followers. Damning praise, but praise nonetheless.

Not that it was going to help him.

You return to his position just as his good hand was about to grasp the hilt of his sword. This time, you don’t remove the weapon from his reach. You drive a dagger into the back of his hand, pinning the offending appendage to the ground. That elicits a pained grunt from his lips.

Coughing past the blood stuck in his mouth, he snarls a curse at you. “...you just couldn’t stay away, you little shit…you and that whore of yours just had to meddle in our business…”

You don’t even dignify that with a response. You twist the knife in his hand deeper to get him to shut up. One would think that at the hands of their executioner, they would keep their mouth shut. But Zera must have been one of those that wanted to get the last word in.

“Heh. Touched a nerve there, did I? Just like we did with your woman. Wanna hear how we did it?”

The blade in your hand trembles. It’s small and almost unnoticeable, but he picks up on it and continues.

“Oh, she wouldn’t stop screaming,” He says, a bloody leer drawing across his face. “Because I think we did a better job at loving her than you ever would. You ever have a woman underneath you screaming as seven men-”

>Cut his tongue out to shut him up. Slowly.
>Flay the Snake Tattoo from his body. Slowly.
>Custom option.

>>46840523
>>Cut his tongue out to shut him up. Slowly.
Shut his lies.

>>46840523
>>Flay the Snake Tattoo from his body. Slowly.

>>46840523
>Flay the Snake Tattoo from his body. Slowly.

>>46840523
>Flay the Snake Tattoo from his body. Slowly.

>>46840523
Cut his cohones and dick off. Slowly.

So is this just a oneshot or a new quest?

>>46840754
New quest. Gonna try bi-weekly between this one and TF666.

Writing...

>>46840571
>>46840578
>>46840591

There are several ways to get someone to shut up, and you’ve had your fair share of practice. Cloth or leather gags tied tight around mouths are a classic tradition. Cutting off the windpipe is another method, along with actually knocking them out to shut them off. But there are other ways to shut someone up. And exact your pound of flesh from Zera.

The Red Snakes like their tattoos to cover the entirety of their arms, as a symbol of intimidation against the rest of the street folk. Only in the slums could they ever hope to walk with their insignia open for all to see and tremble before. It’s an ostentatious thing, a red serpent coiling around the forearm and up along the shoulder.

More than enough for you to work with.

With one cut, you slice the armor protecting Zera’s forearm. He doesn’t even have time to look confused before you plunge your knife into his arm, right where the tail of the snake is, at the wrist. The pitch of his screams increases in frequency as you slowly and methodically flay the skin from his arm. The leering words and mockery dies in his throat as you slowly work your way up.
That certainly gets him to shut up.

It’s a messy job, one that does nothing to keep your clothes clean and devoid of even more blood. This is the first time you’ve ever flayed someone, but you don’t take the extra care to make a good job of it. More than once, you’ve had to retrace your path along the muscles, all the nerves just to make sure you’ve got the entire snake.

(cont.)

>>46841261

By the time you’ve reached up to his elbow, Zera’s screams have reached a fever pitch. You only give him a withering glance as you take what skin you’ve already cut off in a bloody fist and tear the rest from his body. It comes away with a messy sound, not something that would be out of place in a butcher’s shop.

It seems that the only bit of the snake left on his arm was the head. That, you simply carve out and haphazardly toss to the side.

You remove the dagger embedded in his other hand, and step back to admire your work. Clutching his ruined forearm, Zera shakes uncontrollably as he bleeds into the snow. It seems that he also soiled himself as well, and all of the anger, pride and headstrong nature. All gone, disappeared with the skin from his body.

“P-please…” His voice, hoarse from shouting, whispers to you in a desperate tone. “…e-end it…end it…please.”

>“What did you do when she asked you that question?”
>“You are not worth anything anymore.”

>>46841449
>>“What did you do when she asked you that question?”

>>46841449
>“What did you do when she asked you that question?”

>>46841449
>“You are not worth anything anymore.”

>>46841449
>“You are not worth anything anymore.”

>>46841607
>>46841617
Why?

>>46841449
>>“What did you do when she asked you that question?”

>>46841449
>“What did you do when she asked you that question?”

Make sure he dies slow. He was dead the moment he laid a hand on her. Just didn't know it til now.

>>46841644
Why not?

>>46841721
You're going easy on him.

>>46841449
>>“What did you do when she asked you that question?”

Wew.

What else could we possibly do to him?

Why, castration of course!

Not really, but a dickstabbing is in order.

>>46841477
>>46841485
>>46841674
>>46841720
>>46841795

You regard him with a look, and quietly whisper, “What did you do when she asked you that question?”

His eyes glimmer sharply as his mind processes the words. But before he can even make another plea, you flip him onto his back and excise the last pound of flesh from his body with one final slice. And this time, you take care to avoid the spray of blood that comes from the place where you struck.

The pained howls of his voice echo and ring across the cobblestone streets, bouncing off the brick alleyways and passages of the gutter. Even in the dead of night, in the middle of the harshest winter, there is no one within thirty yards that did not hear him screaming. They wisely stay indoors.

You leave him, whimpering and begging for death in the middle of the street. Even as you clean the blades with his tunic, a fine layer of snow comes to cover his body. The carrion crows and the winds of winter will claim him just as it will the rest of the others.

Come morning, he will have long since bled to death. There was no healing salve or extract that could cure such grievous wounds. And even in the unlikely circumstance that they had a cleric perform their magic, the damage had been done.

Serena will be the last woman to suffer under Zera’s machinations.

Now, all that was left…all that was left to take care of was Asmodai and the last of the Red Snakes.

And then…everything will be all finished.

>Roll 1d100 Blood Loss
>Best of three.

Rolled 23 (1d100)

>>46841974
Not. Yet.

Rolled 99 (1d100)

>>46841974

Rolled 44 (1d100)

>>46841974
Roll high or low?

>stabbed in the dick

Yeah he bleeds out in under a minute at this point.

>>46842011
>all these amazing rolls

>>46842011
SUSTAINED BY VENGEANCE

>>46842024
High rolls are better.

>>46842011
>>46842030
>>46842081
>tfw even the RNG will aid Marcus until all the Red Snakes are dead.

Writing...

>>46842011
Who needs blood when you have anger?

>>46842100
Waifus be serious business son.

>tfw Marcus gets to a MUCH better start than Adrian

>>46842332
Start? This is where Marcus dies, mang.

He's been bleeding all night.

>>46842332
Pretty sure this is a one shot. Quick revenge story.

>>46840818
>>46842430

Someone can't read.

>>46842413
>>46842430
see
>>46840818
This is apparently only the beginning

>>46841644

eh, I was just voting for the option that WASN'T it because it's not like there's an answer to it that would satisfy Markus.

>>46842430
nah. Markus gets turned into a sword or a ghost or something.

>>46842457
>implying death means a finality

The end of Marcus, yes, but not the end.

>>46842504
Like I said this is a START for Marcus. Whether the start of his end or something else entirely? Only Kaz knows.

>>46842540
>the implication

>your head

Whatever mang.

>>46842006
>>46842011
>>46842024

You press your hand to the bandages around your midsection, and your palm comes away sticky once more. It isn’t as severe as the other times you’ve had to change them, but the rate of your blood loss has significantly increased. Fighting will do that, tense and hard against multiple opponents.

But not yet. You can’t die yet. Kellar is dead, and you just sent Zera to join him.

Just one more…one final push.

>Perk Gained!
>Indomitable, Rank One
>You ignore all penalties imposed by Blood Loss!
>You will still suffer the health loss conferred by Blood Loss.

>You retain your +30 to Combat!

…and then you can finally get some rest. Heh. After all this...you don't plan to get up anytime soon when you finally succumb to your exhaustion.

Once more, you pull yourself up from the streets, up to the windowsills and head to the roofs once more. The pain in your side is little more than an annoyance at this point, one that asserts itself every time you twist or move your abdominal.

Every so often, you have to wipe snow running down your cheeks, and ice that clings to your eyes as you leap and vault your way across the slums. The gods do not make any attempt to overtly hinder your progress, but they will not stop you in your quest for vengeance.

That is more than you can ever ask for.

Your sense of time has never been the best, and you can’t tell how many minutes or half-hours it takes. But before you even know it, you find yourself standing in front of Asmodai’s building, looming from the building across the street.

Three men in Red Snakes leathers stand nervously at the front, holding crossbows and short swords. Their eyes scan the nearby rooftops, and those either brave or stupid enough to be wandering through the streets have suffered warning shots from their attacks. They are nervous, alert and incredibly high-strung from your last attack.

>Through the front door.
>Find another way in.

>>46842668
>Find another way in.

>>46842668
>Find another way in.

>Full combat rolls again
yus!

>>46842668
>Through the front door.
They're watching our other route of entry so we might as well.

>>46842668
>Find another way in.

Old citys are usually built on interesting cellars and architecture. A man with a sense of direction and a pick can walk end to end of a city without ever seeing daylight.

>>46842668
At this point, if any of the Red Snakes survive our name should be spoken of in whispers, like a curse amongst other gangs.

"Touch not a man's waifu, lest Marcus Painel come for you."

>>46842737
The body count Marcus has managed to make in just one night of bloody activity should have perked the interest of many independant factions in this city.

Frankly, if his ass is not being recruitment hunted by this time tomorrow, provided hes not dead (which he probably will be), i would be surprised.

>>46842793
>Frankly, if his ass is not being
You're assuming death would stop some factions

>>46842668
>>Through the front door
Better to kill all the mooks now and scatter them into disarray

>>46842852
Yeah, but the factions were death does not stop them tend to require a body, so thats a case of first come first serve. And we do not know the settings stance on necromancy in this local.

>>46842903
If blood magic is taboo, I imagine necromancy is too.

File: mourning dove.jpg (60 KB, 600x600)

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>>46842694
>>46842709
>>46842730

It was 'find another way in' when I wrote this

If something is not broken, then there is little point in trying to fix it. One of many sayings that you live your life by. However, trying to find another way in as the last time you came for Asmodai proves to be more difficult than the previous attempt. Significantly more difficult.

The back door is guarded by two men, likewise wielding crossbows. Short swords and daggers are sheathed at their sides, and a small series of braziers set in the alley helps them drive back the darkness and the shadows. Smart move.

There is one additional man with a crossbow on the top floor, keeping a sharp eye out around the perimeter of the building. Just like his comrades down below, he seems similarly nervous. Nervous enough to the point where he shot at a passing mourning dove in flight. The one who shot missed by a dramatic margin and was chastised by his fellows, but it is still enough to give you pause.

There is almost little to no guarantee that you’ll be able to kill them all quickly enough without causing a commotion. And once your cover was broken, they would descend upon you like files to honey.

Three possible routes for you to chose from.

>Go through the front.
>Go through the top floor.
>Go through the back.

>>46843091
>Go through the front.
That dude on the top floor is a good shot

>>46843091
>Go through the front.

>>46843091
>Go through the top floor.

>>46843119
He missed. And his nervousness means we can fuck with him into shooting at nothing before we jump his stupid ass.

>>46843091
>Go through the top floor.

>>46843153
Lol shit. Don't drink and quest.

>>46843119
Changing to top floor

>>46843153
>>46843177
>>46843366

The lone sentry at the top of the building is your next target. Out of everyone else, he seems to be the one that’s the most susceptible and vulnerable. His fear is just another tool to use in your arsenal.

After positioning yourself on their side of the street, you quietly make the leap, coming in from the bakery’s alcove to hug the wall of Asmodai Antiques. Perhaps someone heard the impact of your body against the wall. Perhaps they didn’t. Either way, it looks like the men below on the front and rear failed to hear your approach.

Inch by inch and brick by brick, you scale up the wall, ignoring the splintering wood and other sharp things that prick your hands as you climb. The pain is only in your head. You’ve definitely felt worse injuries than a tiny grain of wood embedded into your skin.

Directly underneath the sniper’s vantage point, you gather your breath and focus. This isn’t going to be an easy maneuver by any means necessary. Once…two…three!

You push away from the wall, jump, reach and grip the window’s alcove with your hands. In the next instant, you pull yourself up to the window as the Red Snake guarding it backpedals in a panic, wide-eyed and completely terrified out of his mind. He’s no older than fifteen, if the freckles were any indication. Little wonder why he was scared.

He panics, bringing his weapon to bear with trembling and shoots his crossbow at you…

>Roll 1d100 + 30 to dodge.
>Best of three.

Rolled 51 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>46843655

Rolled 67 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>46843655
Wooo anger!

Rolled 36 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>46843655

Rolled 65 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>46843655

>>46843665
>>46843683
>>46843699

Had to go get some food

The bolt misses. It does not come close to hitting you, but you had to expend a considerable effort to avoid having your arm catch the missile. The shot flies out the window, fling off into the distance to

He drops the crossbow and backs up away from your position. Quivering hands reach to a short sword at his side before you grab him by the collar of his tunic and press him up against the wall. His cry of pain is cut off by a single flex of your fingers around his neck, and the cold steel of the knife at his windpipe.

After swallowing considerably, he manages to recover his voice. “I didn’t do anything to her!” He hoarsely whispers past the knife at his throat. “I wasn’t with Zera’s crew that night. I’m only a recent join, and I only did it so I could feed my little sister…we were so hungry…”

You regard him with an unchanging glance. “It’s the truth, I swear! Please…please don’t kill me…” He actually starts to cry. If it wasn’t necessary to muffle his voice, you’d remove the hand as mucus and snot start to come out of his nose and eyes.

>He is telling the truth.

"If I die...who's going to take care of her?"

>“Not many men get second chances.” [Knock him out]
>“Regret your choice in the next life.” [Slit his throat]

>>46844143
>“Not many men get second chances.” [Knock him out]
"Find a better line of work."

>>46844143
>“Not many men get second chances.” [Knock him out]

>>46844143

>“Not many men get second chances.” [Knock him out]

>>46844143
>“Not many men get second chances.” [Knock him out]
Hug her when come too

>>46844168
>>46844200
>>46844206
>>46844314

“…not many men get second chances.”

That’s all you say before you squeezing tightly around his neck. For the briefest of moments, he flails wildly and tries to claw his way out of your grip. But it is to no avail. Eventually, his eyes roll into the back of his head and he stops struggling against you. You’re quick to release your hold on his neck and lower him to the ground as quietly as possible.

You check his pulse. He’s still breathing. That would be embarrassing. The one person you go out of your way to save ends up dying on you. You’d never hear the end of it. Not that if she was here, Serena would have any intention of letting you off easy. This kind of trouble was exactly the kind she hated.

Imagining her reaction to the night’s activities pulls a melancholic breath from your mouth. You’d give anything in the world to have her reprimand and yell at you again. Even if it was for the rest of your days, that was more than enough for you.

But you clear your head of passing dreams and take up your blades once more. The night is still far from over, a fact that you’re well aware of as you pass through the door and enter the main building proper. Nervous sounds can be heard from all the way up the stairwell.

The hunt resumes.

>Head straight for Asmodai
>Kill everyone in your way.

>>46844600
>Kill everyone in your way.
Red Snakes will be dismantled.

>>46844600
>>Kill everyone in your way.

>>46844600
>Kill everyone in your way.
Slow, steady, silent. But butcher this house.

>>46844600
>Kill everyone in your way.
Is there some reason we're so great at killing?

>>46844704
They Tortured raped and killed are waifu, that brings out a darkness in a man.

>>46844736
It doesn't make you automatically great at fighting though

>>46844954
You said killing not fighting

>>46844979
Killing clearly involves fighting retard

>>46844954
Most the folks weve been fucking up is because we jumped them and then started the dagger pummeling while they were still surprised.

File: Spoiler Image (19 KB, 717x727)

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>>46844704
>>46844979
>>46845022
This is only one of many flashbacks that Marcus has. This is not necessarily the origins of his mysterious skills, but a particular moment in time prompted by "blood and winter".

The origins of his skills will be explored in another session. Or perhaps this one if I can write fast enough.

Writing...

>>46845046
We threw a knife into someone's eye anon

>>46845064
>image

I don't believe you.

>>46844640
>>46844647
>>46844686
>>46844704

“They say that if you kill the head, the body will die. It works for most animals, but not men. Men are cunning and vicious. We are the most dangerous animals to roam the earth, and these kinds of men that you will kill are more than capable of going on without a head. Sometimes, they even replace it with a new one…”

The words of your mentor come unbidden to your mind. You grit your teeth. The sound of his grating tone is the last thing you want to hear. His was a voice you’d buried long ago. But for his complete and utter bankruptcy of morals, he was certainly a font of wisdom when it came to the dance. And he taught you the moves quite well.

“Don’t give them a chance to strike again. Don’t give them the chance to grow back that missing head. You must completely and utterly destroy the body. Then and only then will you have brought the enemy to total ruin.”

You’d certainly scared that boy straight. His words are genuine, and he certainly won’t be replacing Asmodai or the others any time soon. Or far off in the unforeseeable future.

You kick the door down of one of the occupied rooms and fall upon their startled occupants.

But everyone else is fair game.

Cut off the head. Kill the body. Bring the enemy to utter ruin.

>Roll 3d100 + 30 for Combat
>Best of three.

Rolled 43 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>46845249
Nat 1

Rolled 70 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>46845249
RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAGEEEE!!!!

Rolled 56 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>46845249

Rolled 44 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>46845249

Rolled 78, 73, 82 + 30 = 263 (3d100 + 30)

>>46845345
Fugg

We weren't angry enough

>>46845345
Holy Shit Kaz those rolls. Asmodai is not a wimp, clearly.

>>46845281
>>46845282
>>46845289

It is with a bloodied arm that you carry on the slow march to Asmodai’s formal office. One of the bastards got lucky and put a bolt right through the palm of your hand. You paid him back for that by driving the hilt of your blade all the way through his neck, making a nice mess of his throat.

>Your left hand is incapacitated.
>You will now only do 1d10 when making attacks.

Even with your little handicap, you still managed to take them all down. Your mentor – you will never call him master – trained you well. You are as proficient with eating, writing and killing in one hand as you are in the other. An absolute trait for someone of your unsavory trade.

The only ones left in this building are Asmodai and what guards are left to him. At least two of the best ones right after Zara, along with their boss. The Snake himself is no fighter. He is only an old man with illusions of grandeur and power and a fat enough purse to pursue his dream of becoming the king of the slums. And for every aurum he made from pimping, racketeering and smuggling, he was just as morally bankrupt in every single way.

In a sense, he is worse than your mentor. At least every cruelty inflicted on you made you into a better killer.

You don’t stand on ceremony. As soon as you make it to the double-oak doors of Asmodai’s office, you kick them in, and swiftly pull to the side. A wise move. Two crossbow bolts come screaming through the doorway, embedding themselves in the opposite end of the hallway.

Now is the time to strike.

(cont.)

>>46845778
Did we pull the bolt out or is it still embedded? Is it possible to regain use of that hand through magic or healing or is it lost to use forever?

File: Ouch.png (130 KB, 279x379)

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>>46845839
You did pull it out, but wound makes gripping anything in that hand almost an impossibility. Sure, you can grip a dagger in there, but it would be lost as soon as you used it to block an attack, or stabbed someone with it.

You don't have any magic at the moment. But given time, it will heal on its own.

Writing...

File: Asmodai.png (210 KB, 443x339)

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>>46845778

Joran Asmodai is just as ugly as you remember him. The grandfather-like appearance was something he cultivated to appear harmless and innocent. And if it weren’t for the condescending eyes, it would have worked. He had all the laugh lines and wrinkles to make it work. But the biggest tell was the shaved head. It made him look more like the snake he really was.

“I wanted them to bring you in alive,” He growls, all pretense of civility gone. “So I could take my time with you. Make a real example out of those who screw with the Red Snakes just as I did your girl. But now, I know better. I’m doing what I should’ve called for earlier. Artu, Arton, kill him! Bring me his head!”

A pair of Ingulans flank the old man’s sides. Twins, surprisingly, clad in similar clothing and tattooed in identical fashion. Both maintain stoic fronts as they drop their crossbows and draw their weapons. At Asmodai’s order, they advance towards you, without preamble or taunting words.

This is not going to be an easy fight.

>Go for the one with the sword.
>Go for the one with the axe.

>>46846030
>Go for the one with the sword.

>>46846030
>Go for the one with the sword.
Axe is more likely to get stuck then it's gg

>>46846030
>>Go for the one with the sword.

>>46846030

>Go for the one with the sword.

>>46846075
>>46846081
>>46846187
>>46846294

It’s easier to dodge an axe. Their strikes are too predictable, and the best attacks take time to actually deliver on and strike. Not so with swords. They are certainly more versatile than the double-bladed one in the twin’s hands, and have too many variables and patterns to use against you.

Not to mention that you’re armed with daggers. Correction: only one dagger. One that is slightly bigger than the norm, but a dagger nonetheless. But you’ve dealt with swordsmen before. And lived to tell the tale with a nice set of scars to go with it.

But you digress. The swordsman has to go. Then, you can take your time with the axeman. Asmodai isn’t going anywhere. It’s the second floor, and the only exits in the room are the window overlooking the street, and the double doors behind you.

You walked into this room to find three others. And you’re going to be the only one that’s going to be walking out, with an empty room behind you.

It’s a shame, really. From what you’ve read about the Ingulan tribes with Serena, they seem to be an interesting bunch. She was more focused on their cultures and magic. You displayed more interest in the toxins and poisons indigenous to their territories.

Ah well. To each their own.

>Close the distance and strike.
>Stay back and throw a knife.

>>46846344
>Close the distance and strike.

>>46846344
>>Stay back and throw a knife.
He will flinch, no matter how good he is.
Follow up afterwards.

>>46846344
>Stay back and throw a knife.

>>46846385
>>46846546

What most people don’t get about throwing knives is that their primary function is not for killing. They may advertise themselves as such, but you cannot blame their merchants for not knowing how to best use them. For assassins, the best use of a throwing knife is that of a distraction.

And yes, it is possible to kill with such a throw. Just harder to pull off, is all. But not so for you. You've had plenty of practice and experience.

Flipping the knife in your good hand, you send it flying towards the Ingulan swordsman. To his credit, he doesn’t reel back or dive out of the way. His hands move, and he knocks the blade out of the air. The ricochet sends the weapon careening into a nearby lamp, shattering it and spilling hot oil across the room.

Within seconds a stack of papers containing some scrawling goes up in smoke. In another instant, half of the bookcase has caught on fire, the flames hungrily devouring the musty parchments and tomes. That causes the rest of Asmodai’s irritated demeanor to completely give way to panic. And as much as you like seeing the Snake squirm, you’ve got another thing to worry about.

The room is now in the process of catching on fire.

The only silver lining you can find from this is that the Ingulan left himself wide open deflecting the shot. Unsheathing another dagger from your belt, you step forward once, twice, three times and leap towards the swordsman, the cold steel of your blade aiming straight towards his neck.

>Roll 1d100 + 30
>Best of three.

Rolled 67 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>46846941
Adrian Luck, go!

Rolled 65 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>46846941

Rolled 47 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>46846941
Dice gods please

>>46846990
>>46847008
>>46847011

It isn’t a deep cut, and even a neck injury for that matter. But it still lands, and you get in a satisfactory hit before you dance away. You pull your blade and step back to inspect the wound. It’s a nice gash at least four inches across, trailing down the collarbone and towards the upper chest area. Ingulans aren’t big on armor, and that is a trait that you press to your advantage.

But you have to give him credit. Where others would scream or flinch, the swordsman doesn’t even flinch. He only grunts and returns to a combat stance. Your eyes narrow. He’s good. And whether or not you’re going to prove yourself to be the better entirely depends on your ability to put out damage with only one arm.

Still, you’ve always been up for a challenge. And don’t most people feel only the most alive in extreme circumstances?

>Roll 1d10 Damage
>Best of three.

Rolled 10 (1d10)

>>46847471

Rolled 1 (1d10)

>>46847471

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>46847471

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937 KB JPG

>>46847505
>>46847506
>>46847526

Ingulans are notorious for being tough bastards. And this guy is no exception. But you can see that you hurt him. He just does a really good job at hiding it.

Stepping in line with his brother, the swordsman shifts his combat stance and lunges towards you. In the split second after the attack, his twin follows suit, coming from the side with a wicked arc of his axe.

As the three of you fight, you see Asmodai desperately trying to put out the flames engulfing his bookshelf. With little progress. For every book that he saves or manages to put out, it only seems like another one, or some kind of wall piece catches fire. He howls in particular grief over a painting of some kind. A old and weathered map of the continent of Kaithe and the surrounding islands.

You’d smile if you could. It’s quite the comical sight to watch the Snake dance to a tune not of his own design.

>Roll 2d100 + 30 to Dodge
>Best of three

Rolled 82, 56 + 30 = 168 (2d100 + 30)

>>46847731

>>46847731

Rolled 15, 22 + 30 = 67 (2d100 + 30)

>>46847731

Rolled 33, 55 + 30 = 118 (2d100 + 30)

>>46847731

>>46847744
>>46847779
>>46847807

The swordsman’s strike is easy enough to doge.
It is the axman who gives you trouble. You actually have to move your dagger to parry the blow that would have otherwise left your inactive arm only hanging by a few fibrous sinews of muscle. You’d rather not have to make such a maneuver. Dodging was always the preferable choice, but you had no other option.

The force of his axe striking against your wrist staggers you temporarily. It hurts, really bad, and you can feel the impact rattle your bones. But you maintain your grip on your blade, and force the weapon away from you.

Any stronger, and it would’ve broken your wrist.

Ingulans. Not even once.

Still, it’s your turn for a counter attack. And as far as your concerned, your current paradigm of getting rid of the swordsman has not changed in the slightest. If anything, the desire to freely engage his twin galvanizes you into taking him out quicker.

>Roll 1d100 + 30 Combat
>Best of three.