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>>423242

You manage to get halfway through the first cigarette of the working day before the first piece of bad news lands on your desk. Not a record, but it's pretty close. Konrad beings you the report, which is something of a relief. One of the rare volunteers to this miserable place, Konrad is your unofficial second in command – you trust him to do his duties with both efficiency and diligence, and he's yet to disappoint you in that regard.

“Something that might interest you, chief,” he begins, dropping a slim file down onto your desk, “A girl.”

Another one night stand, you guess, is that it? When you told him to keep an eye out for any suspicious tattoos, you didn't expect him to take it upon himself to search every woman in Port Steyr.

“What? No, that's not it,” Konrad pauses, “Well, actually, there was... no, that's not important now. We've made an arrest.”

All attempts at making jokes or light hearted conversation drop away, and you focus on Konrad's next words with absolute concentration. You've got a fairly good relationship with the man – you'd even call him a friend – but that can't get in the way of business. Crushing your cigarette out in your ashtray, you meet his eyes and ask for the details. No doubt they're written down in the file he offered, but you want to hear this from him, his own opinions and interpretations. It's a system you've found yourselves falling into, and it's worked well enough so far.

“I'll put it simply,” Konrad begins, “The girl's mother reported it, she said she was worried about her daughter's behaviour of late. Wandering in the wilds, despite the dangers – how she even got past the guards, I don't know. Anyway, the mother suspected that her daughter might have become involved with, ah...”

Go on, you tell him with a wave, permission to speak freely. Not that he really needs to, you think, you know exactly where he's going with this.

“She thought her daughter had got herself involved in some kind of witch cult,” Konrad meets your eyes as he says this, as if expecting a rebuke. No such response comes – you just nod carefully.

“Well, I figure you can read it for yourself,” clearing his throat with an uncommon degree of nervousness, Konrad waves at the report, “What it comes down to is, we've got a girl down in the pits, and she might be willing to talk. It's the best lead we've got. So chief, do you want to go have a word with her?”

>I do. Lead the way
>You take care of it, but keep me informed
>Tell me about the arrest. Did she come quietly?
>This girl, what are your impressions?
>Off the record, Konrad, what's your take on witchcraft?
>Other

>>423243
>I do. Lead the way
>Tell me about the arrest. Did she come quietly?
>This girl, what are your impressions?
>Off the record, Konrad, what's your take on witchcraft?

>>423242
>and your measurements... well, that information is classified.
pls
>>423243
>I do. Lead the way.

>>423243
>>I do. Lead the way
>>Tell me about the arrest. Did she come quietly?
>>This girl, what are your impressions?
"Any tattoos?"

>>423242
>did she come quietly?

>>423243
>>Tell me about the arrest. Did she come quietly?
>Off the record, see any connection to the Tyrant?

>>423274
Also, whats with the ALL THE OPTIONS
>>423265
>>423263
>>423252

>>423286
Why are you quoting me? I picked one.

>>423290
Ah sorry.
hmm maybe we should check the report since konrad seems to clamp up.

Reaching across, you touch a finger to the slim file. Letting the pads of your fingertips rest on the rough paper, you stop short of actually opening it and reading the contents for yourself. You'd like to hear about the arrest itself, you tell Konrad, did this girl come quietly?

“She did, yes. I only wish everything else had been so simple,” Konrad grimaces, “For some reason, her father seemed to object to us arresting his daughter. He's a damn cripple, worked for a few years on the platforms north of here before losing a hand, but he still tried to fight us away. We could have arrested him as well – harbouring and protecting a criminal, something like that – but what would have been the point?” He shrugs, a trace of vague anger creeping into the gesture. “The girl herself, she didn't put up a fight. Smart move – she would have just got herself hurt.”

And the girl herself, you ask carefully, what's his impression of her? The faint reluctance in Konrad's words and gestures has you worried, as if he's not prepared to perform his duties. There's a first time for everything, after all.

“You're asking if I think she's innocent,” he deduces, “If it's absurd that a girl like her could be mixed up in something like this. That close to the mark, chief?”

You're just curious, you reply in a voice of calculated neutrality, there's much to be learned from first impressions – that's why you're interested in hearing his.

“Right, look, this girl – Blair Ashur – isn't some innocent thing. The way her parents tell it, she's had problems in the past, but they didn't elaborate on those. Truth be told, she creeps me out,” a pause, as Konrad touches his stubble, “I can't put my finger on why. She stares a lot, that might be it. So, if you're asking me about my first impression of her – yeah, I say she's up to no good.”

That's good enough for you, you decide as you rise, lead the way. As you follow Konrad out, a thought comes to mind. This girl, you ask him, does she have any tattoos at all?

“Hey, chief, this is only the first date, we've not gone that far yet,” Konrad forces a smile, “Far as I'm aware, she doesn't have any. Certainly, none that she's showing off to the folks round here.”

No, you murmur, you expected as much. Any kind of cult allegiances she wears on her skin would wisely be kept hidden. To wear them openly would simply attract too much attention. At the entrance to the pits – the cruel, informal name for the outpost's prison cells – you stop Konrad with a careful question. Off the record, you begin, what's his take on this witchcraft business?

“Off the record?” he repeats, “It scares the hell out of me, chief. I don't like the idea that there are things out there that we don't – can't – understand. If you ask me, I'm far happier sticking with normal, human problems. At least those, I can throw in a prison cell.”

[1/2]

>>423243
>Off the record, Konrad, what's your take on witchcraft?

Dangit, the mental image I had for Henryk was Corvo.

>>423316
Henryk does have a portrait in the beginning of the first thread.

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>>423311

You allow yourself a laugh at that, the image of Konrad trying to arrest some ephemeral being flashing through your mind. Alright, you continue once the laugh has died, so focus on the human side of things. Does he think that the White Tyrant might be wrapped up in all this, somehow?”

“I wonder,” an uncommonly thoughtful look touches Konrad's features, “I don't think Ashur is directly involved with him, but if she's meeting with others – the leaders of some cult group – then she might be an indirect spy. These... witches, they claim to worship northern gods, just like the barbarians. If you're asking me if I think there's a link there... I do, yes.”

Cultists and barbarians could be walking the streets, you think darkly, and there's nothing you can do about it. Not without some way of picking out the spies from the lawful citizens, at least.

“Right, here we go,” Konrad takes a ring of keys from his belt and unlocks the door, “I'm sure going to be interested in hearing your first impressions. She's something else, this girl.” Then, shrugging his shoulders, he leads you down into the pits.

-

They used to be tombs once, or so you've been told. There's nothing left that suggests this origin, but the air that hangs heavily around you has a definite edge to it, something that calls to mind the smell of old graves. Maybe it's just your imagination, mixing together with the dank stone and mould. Whatever it is, it does a good job of unnerving the guests.

Usually.

Blair Ashur leans into the bars of her cage, spindly arms dangling out, her hands hanging like dead spiders. Just as Konrad said, she's got a stare on her – a blank gaze that seems to contain some secret irony, but nothing more. Meeting her gaze for a moment, you say her name aloud. A few seconds pass before she nods slightly, confirming that, yes, she is indeed Blair Ashur.

You hate her already. Personal feelings aside, though, you need to figure out a way to approach her.

>Go hard, and force the answers out of her
>Keep distant and formal, just ask a few questions for now
>Try to bait her into talking, let her lead any conversations
>Other

>>423332
>Try to bait her into talking, let her lead any conversations

>>423332
>>Try to bait her into talking, let her lead any conversations
Dunno if the formal route is going to open up this girl.

>>423332
>Try to bait her into talking, let her lead any conversations
>Show slight interest, hide disgust.

>>423332
>Other

Did Konrad interrogate her yet? If so, and was reasonably gentle about it, I'm thinking he can play the good cop to our bad.

>>423332
>Go hard, and force the answers out of her
She doesn't seem like the type that would just be dying to lead any conversations.

>>423321
Have you seen it since?

>>423332
>Other

"Do you know why you're here?"

Taking Konrad aside, you lower your voice and whisper to him. How much has he talked to her, you ask, has he interviewed her yet?

“I was waiting for you to lead,” Konrad replies in a murmur, “I got her name, but that's about all she was willing to tell me. I didn't push her – you think that you could force her to talk?”

One look into Blair's sardonic eyes is enough to tell you that no amount of force – hard questioning or even physical violence – would be enough to drag the truth out of her. Neither are you convinced that a cold, formal questioning would reveal much – if she has no respect for the Ministry's authority or the office you hold, why would she bother to answer anything you might ask of her? No, she'll tell you whatever she wants to say and nothing more. The challenge, then, is getting her in the mood to talk.

The woods must be cold this time of year, you remark with only a slight note of interest in your voice, they can't be very fun to go wandering about in. You don't know about her, but it would take something pretty important to get you out there.

“More important than anything else,” Blair replies, matching your distant tone with her own, “Someone like you wouldn't understand.”

Someone like you, you repeat, is that so?

“Blind. You've closed your heart to this place,” a faint pity – tempered with a rich note of contempt – slips into Blair's voice, “What we do, what I've seen, you couldn't hope to understand. It doesn't matter, though – you'll know soon enough, when-” Blair's words are cut off sharply, her lips pressed into a hard line. For the first time, you see a indecisive flicker touching her eyes – she has a secret, some dark plot, and the urge to gloat about it must be incredible. In that moment, a theory begins to take form. A girl who's never had any kind of power or influence is suddenly presented with a divine mandate – maybe even told that she's been chosen by the gods. A tempting offer, for one of weak will.

Faced with that silence, you change track. Does she know why she's here, you ask, here in this prison cell?

“You want to stop me going out there,” she spits, “You're afraid of what might happen. It doesn't matter – it'll come whether I'm there tonight or not.”

Perhaps a flash of victory shows on your face, because Blair flinches back a little. Once again, her tongue has wagged just a little too much. She reels back a little, drawing herself back from the bars of the cell before throwing herself – suddenly, violently – back towards you. The change from sullen prisoner to raving madwoman seems to take place in the blink of an eye

“Go ahead, try and stop it!” she snaps, that sardonic composure fragmenting and falling away, “A great beast is coming, a divine beast. You can't hurt it, none of you can!”

A beast. Glancing across to Konrad, you pull him aside for a quiet word.

[1/2]

>>423387

Get on the radio, you tell him in clipped tones, and send for a Hunter. No wait, you correct yourself after a moment's thought, wait a moment. If possible, have them send Hanson – Henryk Hanson. You've worked with him before, and you trust him... a little. Better bringing a known element, in either case.

“Skies are looking clear, so there shouldn't be a problem with getting the word out,” Konrad confirms with a nod, “You believe what she's saying, about some great beast coming?”

You're not sure if you believe a word of what she's saying, you shake your head briefly, but you're not in the business of taking chances. She said it would be coming tonight – maybe their cult is going to gather in order to perform some kind of rite or ceremony. If that's the case, this is your chance to move in and take them out. If you can break up whatever ritual they could be performing, you might be able to stop this beast's arrival.

“For a moment there, you know, you really did sound like you believed her,” Konrad remarks, a dark shadow passing across his features, “You'd better be careful, chief. Next thing you know, you'll be painting flowers on yourself and dancing in the woods.”

You just fix him with a dark glare, and nothing more. Nothing more is needed.

“Right, inappropriate,” shaking his head, Konrad looks back to the cells, “I can see how many men I can pull from their normal duties, if you want to prepare a search party. I don't think we'll be looking at many, though – I wish these bastards had waited until a new group of recruits arrived before pulling this stunt, we've barely got enough men as it is.”

As is so often the way, you sigh, not enough men and too much ground to cover.

“Well, I'll get to work on that,” Konrad almost looks relieved to be out of here, away from the newest prisoner, “What are you going to do, chief?”

>I'll stay here, I wanted to talk with Blair some more
>I want to speak with Blair's parents. Maybe they can tell me something
>I'll be preparing for the raid
>Other

>>423410
>I'll stay here, I wanted to talk with Blair some more
See if we can't squeeze a tiny bit more Intel.

>>423410
Can we announce that we're gonna burn Blair soon? Maybe that should get the cult members to attack before they're ready with their beats

>>423410
>>I want to speak with Blair's parents. Maybe they can tell me something
Maybe they have some idea to narrow down where she's been going or any random tidbits that we might find interesting.

>>423410
>I want to speak with Blair's parents. Maybe they can tell me something

>>423410
>>I want to speak with Blair's parents. Maybe they can tell me something

>>423420
Blair is probably expendable and low on the food chain for these witches.

You want to speak with Blair's parents before doing anything else, you tell Konrad, they might be able to tell you something about her. They mentioned something about the girl having problems, didn't they?

“When we were taking her away, her father said it - “she's had her problems, but she's still a good girl.” Something like that, at least,” Konrad shrugs a little as he leads you out of the pits, “I guess every father wants to protect his little girl, even if... well, even if she's involved in something like this.”

But her mother was the one who reported her, you muse, that must make for an awkward situation.

“No more playing happy families, huh?” a bitter smile finds a way onto Konrad's face, his eyes as humourless as you've ever seen them, “It's going to be worse later, when we put the girl down.”

About that, you tell him, you want the news of this arrest to spread. Maybe you can shake up this hornet's nest and provoke any allies she might have into making a rash move. If not – they might consider her expendable, not worth the effort of rescuing, it'll at least serve as a warning to anyone else who wants to dabble in such matters. It's long past time that the people were reminded of Ministry law.

“Cold,” Konrad remarks, “Very cold, chief.”

The north is a cold place, you reply, you don't see why you should be any different.

-

The file Konrad gave you contained the Ashur family's address, and the building is easy enough to track down. Although it's only a short walk away, the chill wind wraps you in an unwelcoming embrace from the first moment you step outside. By the time you're entering the blocky, artless building, your face is pinched and sore. Even the tiny ember of the cigarette hanging from your mouth offered no trace of warmth – but then, you didn't expect it to.

At your first knock, the door swings wide open to reveal the blustering, furious face of Isaac Ashur, Blair's father. His right arm, you notice, ends in an ugly stump – a cap of old, cracked leather covering the disfigurement.

“You!” he snarls, “When are you going to let Blair go? This... this misunderstanding is simply unacceptable!”

“Isaac, let her speak,” Magda Ashur, the mother of the family, is far colder in tone. Not emotionless – you sense a despondent note in her words – but resigned to what must be done. Someone who understands duty, you realise, and the terrible burden it can be.

“Fine, come. Sit, and we talk this through,” Isaac waves you inside with his stump, the crippled limb making the gesture come off as uglier than intended, “Maybe she needed a scare, something to set her straight, but that's done now. It's over!”

Blair's darkly amused eyes surface in your mind, and you suspect that nothing in this world would be able to scare that girl straight. What, though, could have led her to that mindset?

[1/2]

>>423480

As you sit, you take the time to give Isaac and Magda a careful examination. Isaac has the paunch of a man who was once powerful, but has long since gone to fat from listlessness and poor diet. His eyes are desperate, without a trace of laziness or resignation. He's a man who doesn't have much left to fight for, you think to yourself, but desperately wishes to protect what little he has left – even a potential witch like his daughter.

Magda, by contrast, seems pushed to the brink of weariness and despair. Her eyes have the flat, unseeing look that so many people in Port Steyr seem to share. The eyes of someone who has stared into the empty north for too long to see anything else. Perhaps that moral exhaustion was what made it so easy to turn in her own flesh and blood, rather than duty as you first thought.

“I won't offer you tea,” Isaac grunts, “I save my hospitality for those who deserve it.”

You wish you could say that this was uncommon, but it's really not. You're not particularly well liked in Port Steyr, for obvious reasons. When you show up at someone's doorstep, it's rare that you come without bad news. Taking his rudeness in stride, you clear your throat and begin the interview.

>You should know, Blair is facing execution for her crimes
>Isaac, why would Blair need someone to scare her straight? Has she been involved in any trouble before?
>Do you know if Blair had any friends or associates – maybe someone older?
>I had a question about Blair... (Write in)
>Other

>>423499
>Isaac, why would Blair need someone to scare her straight? Has she been involved in any trouble before?
>Do you know if Blair had any friends or associates – maybe someone older?
"Any new women that she has been suddenly been hanging around."


Save this for the very end. Issac will be too pissed to answer are questions otherwise.
>You should know, Blair is facing execution for her crimes
"She admitted to conspiring to attack this town."

>>423499
>You should know, Blair is facing execution for her crimes
>Isaac, why would Blair need someone to scare her straight? Has she been involved in any trouble before?

>>423509
Oh and tell him that Blair confessed herself without any sort of torture and encouragement from us

>>423499
>Isaac, why would Blair need someone to scare her straight? Has she been involved in any trouble before?
>Do you know if Blair had any friends or associates – maybe someone older?

Isaac, you begin, he mentioned that Blair needed someone to scare her straight – why did he say that? Has she been involved in any trouble before, you ask, any fights or disturbing behaviour?

“She always was a bit of a fighter,” despite himself, Isaac lets out a small chuckle as he dips into happier memories, “The neighbours, they have a boy about her age. When they were younger, he took her toy and she gave him a fair black eye for the trouble. Since then, she's never had many close friends. None that I know of, at least – I don't know everything she gets up to.”

“Isaac, don't protect her,” Magda's voice is gentle, but there's a warning edge to it, “The investigator is going to need to know everything.”

A heavy sigh escapes Isaac, and his shoulders slump a little. “There was this one thing,” he admits, “I don't know how it started, whether it was an argument that got out of hand, or... Anyway, it was a few weeks ago. No, maybe closer to a month. Or was it...”

“It was a month ago,” Magda brings the conversation back on track, “Give or take a few days.”

“The long and short of it is, she nearly cut another girl's throat,” Isaac says this quickly, as if you might ignore this small detail if only he say it fast enough, “It wasn't deep or anything, she wasn't in any kind of danger. It was probably just a fight that got a little too serious, that's all. That, or some kind of accident.” His head sinks low, having made this admission, but then he sneaks a painfully hopeful look up at you.

He should have reported her there and then, you think to yourself, and maybe this could have been prevented. Because he tried to protect her, giving her one last chance – although how many “last” chances would he have been prepared to give her? - she fell even deeper into this awful situation. It doesn't matter, though – you don't like to waste time on bemoaning past errors. You'd rather look to the future, and that means getting as much information as you can from these two.

He said that Blair didn't have many close friends, you ask, is he certain about that? You're wondering if Blair might have made a new associate lately – perhaps someone older, a woman who might have started hanging around?

“Excuse me,” Magda clears her throat, “But Isaac, could you make some tea? I would like some, even if you won't offer any to our guest.” Her voice is mild, but there's steel in it. Taking the hint, Isaac heaves himself up and slouches into the small kitchen, rattling about with jars and cups. Now that you're alone, just the women, Madga speaks a little more freely.

“There was something,” she begins, “An older woman, just like you said.”

[1/2]

>>423579

“I have my own portion of the blame to shoulder, my own part that I played in this. It all started when Blair came of age, and I first found blood on her sheets. I'll not lie, I'm not an educated woman. I wasn't prepared to tell her what was happening, and the local League doctor...” Magda grimaces, covering her mouth with the back of one hand.

Doctor Korlov, you tell her, you can understand why she wouldn't want to send Blair to him. Some things should be shared among women. Is she saying, you ask, that she took Blair to an unlicensed doctor?

“I didn't see any other choice,” Magda whispers, “I had heard that there was a traveller in town, a worldly woman who knew of such things, and I introduced them. Blair was... fascinated by her, infatuated almost, and they spent a lot of time together. I don't know what they did, though – Blair would never talk about it, and we would end up arguing tremendously whenever I pressed. I can't be certain, but I fear that may have been the start of all this. Since meeting her, Blair's temper grew worse and worse. That's when she...” Shaking her head, Magda nods to Isaac's back.

That's when she attacked the girl, you finish for her, correct?

“Correct,” a sombre nod, “And that's when I knew I had to do something. These wanderings in the woods were just the last straw.”

-

Despite his gruff warnings, Isaac brings back a cup of tea for you as well – three old cups balanced precariously on a tray. In a way, you wish he hadn't. Considering what you're about to tell him, you don't want any kindnesses. Closing your eyes for a moment, gathering your thoughts, you clear your throat to get their attention. You needn't have bothered – their eyes are fixated upon you.

They should know, you begin heavily, Blair is set to be executed for her crimes. She confessed, without any duress, to planning harm upon all of Port Steyr. She, among other like minded criminals, conspired to attack the settlement. Because of the seriousness of her crimes, you have no choice but to-

Isaac wails, crying out like a man undergoing the crudest amputation possible. The cup spills from his hand, shattering on the floor and sending the contents spilling out in all directions. Any further conversation is futile, words would mean nothing to him now, and you numbly feel yourself rise. Setting down the untouched cup, you give Magda a deep and regretful nod – your sympathies left unspoken. Maintaining the stoic silence, you leave the pair to their grief and emerge into the cold outside air. Only then do you allow yourself a long, shaky sigh, and you put a cigarette to your lips.

[2/3]

>>423606

You've got other things to do – more important things – but you can't bring yourself to move until the first cigarette has become ash, and the second has just caught light. Then, forcing the sound of that desperate, despairing wail from your mind, you start back to the Ministry outpost. When you do, though, you spot Magda standing at the doorway to her apartment block.

“I remember something,” she says quietly, “A notice I saw. You're looking for a woman with tattoos, aren't you?”

Yes, you reply with the same hushed voice, a great many of them spread across her whole body. This unlicensed doctor, was she marked in the same way?

“I don't know,” Magda shakes her head, “She wore long robes, clean and white. Her face and her hands, that was all she left uncovered. I think, perhaps, she was trying to hide them from sight.”

You think so too, you agree, did this unlicensed doctor ever give a name?

“She did, but it had the air of an assumed identity,” the drab-faced woman shrugs a little, “She said her name was Hebona.”

-

Back at your desk in the Ministry outpost, your ashtray is just about overflowing. A rush of fresh air accompanies the opening door, cutting a path through the haze of smoke that has gathered. Waving a hand in front of his face, Konrad sits opposite you.

“Bad day, I take it?” he offers, as if he really needs to ask.

You can handle the execution part just fine, you tell him, but you hate telling the families. That's always the worst part. Stubbing out your cigarette, hard enough to cause the ashtray to shake, you force those thoughts back. You want a report, you tell Konrad, what's the situation with the raiding party?

“Six men, and I'm including myself in that,” Konrad gives you a vaguely apologetic look, “Those are the only men with enough woodland experience and motivation to be worthwhile. I've got another ten possibilities, but we'd be leaving the town lightly guarded and most of them aren't worth much. Personally, I'd stick with the seven of us – we'd move faster and quieter with a small group.”

But you could cover more ground with the extra numbers, you point out.

“I won't deny that,” Konrad nods, “It's your call, chief. I think I've made my position clear.”

>Seven is a fine number, we'll take a small party in
>I want those woods swept clean, even if it means leaving the town unguarded. Bring everyone you can
>Other

>>423632
>Seven is a fine number, we'll take a small party in

>>423632
>>Seven is a fine number, we'll take a small party in
Little point in sweeping the woods if they somehow slip by and set up camp in the town.

>>423632
>Seven is a fine number, we'll take a small party in
Do we have a flare or something? Just to give the men in the town a heads up that shit is about to hit the fan if that happens.

>>423632
>Seven is a fine number, we'll take a small party in
a bit greedy to assume we can round them ALL up in one go.

>>423632
>Seven is a fine number, we'll take a small party in

>>423632
Just went back and checked. Ornstein's witch friend was named Hebona.

>Seven is a fine number, we'll take a small party in

>>423689
Good catch.

Seven is a fine number, you decide, you'll lead a smaller party in.

“Good call,” Konrad nods, allowing himself a small smile, “The only problem is, we might be able to capture everyone in a single sweep. Chances are, there will be a couple that'll slip the noose.”

Acceptable, you reply, so long as you can break up this rite they're going to be performing. That's your priority for today. Everything else, you can focus on later. You're not saying that you believe that this ritual has any mystical power, you add before Konrad can say a word, but it's clearly significant to them. If you let them carry it out without any trouble, it'll only encourage them to act with impunity. You're not about to let some lunatic cultists roam the street doing whatever they like, just because they think they can get away with it.

It's only when you've finished speaking that you realise how loudly those last few words had become. Outside your office, curious eyes stare in to see what the noise had been about. As the sudden silence descends, all your observers very quickly go back to whatever else they had been doing. Bad day, you say to Konrad as you stick a cigarette into the corner of your mouth, sorry. Your next word is just a muffled curse, when you reach for your matches and find nothing.

Leaning forwards, Konrad produces a lighter and sets the flame to the tip of your cigarette. “So, a party of seven,” he delicately brings the conversation back around, “Eight, if we count our Hunter friend – although he won't be here for a week. By then, the situation might well be resolved.”

Still, you shrug, it might not be. Even if it is, you'd like to share the new information with him. For some reason, he struck you as the kind of man who'd stumble across a lot of interesting information. An interesting man in general.

“Well, whatever,” Konrad's response seems unusually brusque, “I got a clear message out, and central office said they'd be sending someone out. I don't know if it's your... friend or not. One Hunter is as good as any.” A short, harsh laugh escapes Konrad's lips, before he mutters to himself, “Little better than beasts themselves, from what I hear...”

And what about Blair, you ask, has anything changed with her? Anyone been sniffing around after the word of her imminent execution got out?

“I put out an announcement over the radio – local girl held for conspiracy to attempt sedition – but the fish don't seem to be biting,” Konrad sounds vaguely disappointed, “Maybe those barbarians don't get a good radio signal out in the woods.”

[1/2]

>>423699

“Anyway, Blair herself,” disappointment turns to open frustration as Konrad throws up his hands, “She won't say a word to me. I tried bringing her some food, playing nice, and she won't even meet my eyes.”

So this is it, you muse, he's finally found the one woman in Port Steyr immune to his charms.

“Huh, I found her years ago,” Konrad grunts, “No, I think the little Miss is throwing a tantrum over letting so much slip earlier. Still, that reminds me – you don't think, maybe, she gave up her secrets a little too easily?”

According to her parents, you point out, she's been behaving erratically lately. Maybe she's in the habit of speaking before she thinks.

“Maybe,” shaking his head, Konrad stands and smooths out his coat, “You want to have a word with her? Maybe you'll have more luck getting her to talk back – some kind of sisterhood thing, I don't know.”

Worth a try, you decide, especially now that you've got her family's take on things. Throwing a few family secrets in her face... if that doesn't get a rise out of her, nothing will.

-

At first, you think that Blair is sleeping, but then you see that her eyes are wide open – fixed on the stone ceiling above her. A girl with a history of violence, you think as you look at her. Starting with a black eye, and finishing in nearly cutting another girl's throat. No, it wouldn't end there – her aims were far higher, far darker than that. As if she senses your thoughts – or, more likely, heard your footsteps, Blair looks up to sneer at you.

“You again,” she says, “What do you want?”

It's not much, but it's more than Konrad got.

>Tell me about Hebona, Blair
>Looks like nobody's coming to help you
>I don't want anything from you. I'm just checking the prisoners
>Tell me something, Blair... (Write in)
>Other

>>423736
>Looks like nobody's coming to help you
You know what's gonna happen to you right?

>>423736
>Tell me about Hebona, Blair
"Did she come off as your best friend in the world? The only person that really understands and cares about you?"

>Looks like nobody's coming to help you
"Cause it looks to me like she was just using you. Cause when the chips are down and your life is on the line she isn't here."

>Tell me something, Blair... (Write in)
"What was she using you for Blair? What information did you give her about the town that made you 'useful' in her eyes?"

>>423736
>Tell me something, Blair... (Write in)

"Why did you try to cut that girl's throat?"

>>423736
>>Looks like nobody's coming to help you

>>423736
Does Camilla have Bull Blood powers?

>>423780

>Yes, that's a good point. I didn't work up a full character sheet, but I'll put down the basic details here:

>Academics: 0
>Firearms: +10
>Physical Combat: 0
>Survival: 0
>Thievery: -10
>Medicine: +10
>Diplomacy: +10
>Crafting: 0

>Focus: 1

>Ear of Suspicion: By spending a point of focus, lies and words of treachery will ring hollow in your ears – the truth will be revealed to you.

You'd like her to tell you about Hebona, you begin mildly, can she do that?

At the sound of that name, it seems as though an electric shock runs through Blair's entire body, jerking her upright like a puppet having its strings tugged. Her eyes, already wide, seem to stretch open a little wider, and her jaw hangs slack for the briefest of moments. “How...” she begins.

Did she come off as her best friend in the whole world, you ask, the only one who really understood her? The only person who really cared?

“You don't know her!” Blair cries, and that's the moment when you know that you've found the chink in her armour, “She's special, she's not like anyone else, she-” Biting her lip, and hard, Blair looks away from you, glaring into the corner of her cell before forcing herself to look back. “She's the only person I've ever met who was really alive. Look at yourself, just look!” a kind of manic laughter escapes Blair, “Your eyes are like glass, you're just like-” Again, she bites back her words, but this time you can finish them for her.

Just like Magda, you offer, right?

“Like everyone else,” Blair mumbles, “I didn't want to end up like that. Hebona... she said I could live, really live! I could be wild and primal, with all of nature's fury within me!” The more she talks, the more she seems to recover her brash confidence, her surety and purpose. Before she can get too smug, you ask another question to try and knock her off balance.

And because of nature's fury, you point out, she nearly slit another girl's throat. Why, why would she do that?

You feel Blair's answer in the pit of your stomach, as something between an uneasy shift and a sudden chill. Looking at you with earnest eyes, Blair gives you an answer of deathly simplicity. “Why not?” she asks, “I was just being true to myself, like Hebona taught me to do.”

Did Hebona ask for anything in return for these lessons, you ask, asking for any information?

“Not a thing,” Blair shakes her head, her eyes wide and innocent, “She gave, she didn't ask for anything.”

Hebona's not giving anything now, you snap at Blair, because nobody is coming to rescue her. When the real danger comes, she's nowhere to be found. Hebona was just using her, and now there's only one thing that's going to happen to her. She knows what it is, doesn't she?

“You'll kill me, sooner or later,” Blair tries to pronounce these words with resolve, but there's a slight waver in them, a slight break in her confidence.

That's right, you nod, and it's looking to be soon.

“Oh, wait, I just remembered something,” Blair leans forwards, pressing her face against the bars of her cell, “Hebona asked me to do something for her.”

A pause, as you gesture for Blair to speak. Her face split by an insane grin, she leers out at you and speaks:

“She asked me to keep you busy.”

[1/2]

>>423875
Fucking witches man, they all deserve what's coming

>>423883
Clearly we must become a witch and curse all our kind so we automagically get Red Eye

>Why ?

>>423875

Why, you ask coldly, why keep you busy here?

“While you're all focused on little me,” Blair's words are breathy, light and fluttery as she reaches out to paw at your sleeve, “Hebona is out there, preparing for the ritual. I spoke a little too soon – I'll pay for that sin – but I've done my duty. You're too late!”

A curse darkens your heart as you're hurrying upstairs to meet with Konrad. He's got some other men with him, his chosen volunteers, and he's halfway through giving them a briefing when you barge in.

It was a setup, you snap, it was a trick all along. This witch, this Hebona, she must have had people watching Blair. When the Ministry moved in to arrest her, when every eye was turned inwards, the witch herself must have been preparing for her ritual. Any other day, and there might have been a patrol, something that could have interrupted things. If there's one silver lining in this vast thunderstorm, it's that Blair spilled her guts early. Maybe, just maybe, you've still got a fighting chance.

Konrad doesn't waste time on picking holes in your theory or anything else. Giving voice to a shrill whistle, he gets everyone to pay attention. “Arm up, ladies and gentlemen,” he shouts, “Our day just got a whole lot worse!”

You'll be leading out a small team, you tell the rest of the assembled Ministry staff, to cut this cancer out before it has a chance to spread any further. If there's any trouble, any sign that the city might be in danger, you'll send up a flare. You want everyone to do their duty, and to do it well – is that understood?

The reply that comes is mixed – a few enthusiastic cries rising up from an ocean of uneasy muttering. That's fine, that's about as much as you expected. Strapping on your pistol, you're about to leave when Konrad leans down a little to mutter in your ear.

“They're playing with us,” he mutters darkly, “I don't like this. Feels like we're walking right into trouble.”

Maybe so, you reply, but that's your job.

-

The Ministry holdings at Port Steyr might be understaffed, but they're definitely not under-equipped. You, along with everyone in the raiding party, have a heavy Krag rifle cradled in your arms, one of the new models capable of putting down both man and beast. At least, that's what they claim. Marching across the dead ground between Port Steyr and the forests, you wish you could do something to lift the miserable gloom that hangs over you. The electrical torches you carry barely prick at the darkness, like a needle against the night sky, but they're the best thing you've got.

By the time you've reached the first of the trees, darkness has fallen properly, reaching in to clasp you all tightly.

In the distance, you can hear drums.

[2/3]

>>423953

With the distant drumbeat hammering like countless racing hearts, the seven of you press forwards through thick undergrowth and pick your way around vast, ancient trees. More than once, it seems like the drums are coming from more than one place, shifting constantly as they first surround you, and then point onwards to a single destination. Following the sound as best you can – and not quite shaking the idea that you're blundering into a trap – you gesture for everyone to stick close together. If the six of you get separated, it'll be-

Six?

Stop, you call out as you look at the rear of the group, where's Petrov?

No one can answer you. Petrov, your rearguard, has simply vanished. Either his nerve failed him and he ran, or something managed to pluck him away right from under your nose. You don't know which possibility you like less.

“Clearing ahead,” Brennan calls from the front of the group, “No lights, but I see people moving. There's... something else there, I can't...”

What is it, you shout back to him, man or beast?

“I don't know!” Brennan cries, “It's not... I don't know! Chief, you've got to see this for yourself!”

Those last words are almost drowned out by the sound of drums, the rhythm growing to a dissonant fever. Pushing ahead to the front of the group – poor Petrov, for now, is forgotten – you look ahead into the darkened clearing. Konrad joins you, gasping out in naked disbelief. What sits upon the great stone throne is almost a man, but one of formidable height and inhuman proportions. An idol, something spun together from stray and twigs, it has to be!

The “idol” rises to its feet, arms lifting to the sky. It offers this grand salute for one moment longer, and then everything goes to hell.

-

When the first shot comes, it passes so close to you that you feel the air shift and twist around it. No gunshot broke the night air, for it was no bullet that came flying out of the deep blackness. An arrow – the weapon of a primitive.

Primitive perhaps, but utterly deadly nonetheless. The arrow missed you, but that was for one good reason – it wasn't aimed at you. When you feel desperate hands clutching at your sleeve, and the sudden weight of a collapsing body pulls you down to the forest floor, you realise the arrow's true target. With his hands grasping weakly for you, alternating between tugging at your sleeve and the arrow buried in his throat, Konrad's eyes are alive with pain and horror. Blood, black in this poor light, wells up around the arrow and spills to the forest floor, its pulsing flow growing weaker with every passing moment.

The world could have been ending around you, and you wouldn't have noticed. All your attention is focused on Konrad, and it takes the sudden light from a flare sent skyward to drag you back to reality.

[3/4]

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>>424017

When the gunfire starts, it's shockingly loud, deafening you and stealing away whatever murmured words Konrad tries to give voice to. His lips move, their original desperation turning to a lazy, resigned wave, but nothing can be heard about the thundering of both drums and rifles. Maybe he didn't speak at all – it would be hard indeed to speak, with an arrow jutting from his throat like a flagpole – and the movements of his lips were just the twitches of a dying man.

Dying. Not dead yet. Maybe it's not too late for him!

As you rise, heaving up Konrad's limp body, the scene that meets you is a hellish one. Painted in the lurid reds of flare light, all around you men are firing wildly. They fire in bursts of six, before crouching low and thumbing metal stripper clips – fat with fresh bullets – into their rifles. If any of those shots find their mark, there is no sign of it. The air is thick with smoke and the scent of spent powder, but nothing else makes itself known.

Dragging Konrad alongside you, you begin to lurch out of this hellish battlefield and towards safer ground. If Petrov ran, you think bitterly, he had the right idea. As if the thought of his retreat gave you extra strength, you move quicker and quicker, faster until – all of a sudden – the ground seems to vanish beneath you. Tripped by some root or rock, you tumble to the ground and strike your face, blood shockingly hot against you. Lifting your head from the dirt, you finally see it up close.

The idol. The divine beast.

It stands, not ten feet away from you, and raises its hands like a loving father. Fumbling for your pistol, the only weapon you have to hand, you fire wildly at it. Ten feet away, and you're not a bad marksman – but the thing doesn't even flinch. If anything, a terrible laugh seems to roll through the forest.

As if you're nothing, not even worth the trouble of killing, the creature turns and sips back into the forest. Gliding rather than walking, the night seems to pull it in and swallow it, leaving you with nothing but a hot coal of anger burning within your heart. Rising shakily to your feet, you slam a fresh magazine into your pistol.

>Chase after the beast. You won't miss again
>Stop, just focus on getting out of here
>Try to regroup with the others, if you can find them
>Other

>>424046
>>Chase after the beast. You won't miss again

>>424046
>Try to regroup with the others, if you can find them

That thing didn't even flinch at our bullets. Let's focus on regrouping and getting out of this ambush.

>>424046
>Try to regroup with the others, if you can find

>>424046
>Try to regroup with the others, if you can find them

>>424046
>>Try to regroup with the others, if you can find them
Lets try to take back as many people as possible before we bail. Things got crazy real quick.

Crushing the rising tide of anger down into a hard, hot ball of fury, you force yourself to holster your pistol. That monster didn't even flinch when you fired on it – and you hit it, you're dead certain of that – and you doubt that the second magazine of bullets would find more favourable results. No, if you stand any chance of hurting that beast, you'll need to work with the rest of your group. Maybe your rifles can give it pause.

Struggling to pull Konrad up – he's completely unresponsive now, yet your mind refuses to dwell upon that for longer than a fleeting moment – you lurch towards the last place you heard rifle fire. All the while, you listen out for anything – more gunfire, shouts, anything. The drums, you notice with a sudden bewildering clarity, have stopped. A small mercy. If you're going to die here, you won't have to suffer that mocking rhythm while the life leaves your body.

You're mid-step when something bursts from the bushes ahead of you, colliding with you and spilling you out to the ground. Crying out, your pistol is halfway out again before you see wide, frightened eyes set in a familiar face. Brennan, although he is barely recognisable beneath a mask of unnamable filth.

“Chief!” he rasps, his voice distant to your aching, ringing ears, “What the hell is that thing?”

No idea, you reply, where are the others?

“No idea!” Brennan repeats, a wavering, maddened laugh escaping him, “I heard someone calling for a retreat, that's why I... I...” The rifle drops from his hands as he turns pale – pale beneath the mud that coats him, at least – and slumps against the closest tree. For a moment, it looks like he's either about to faint or vomit, maybe both, but then he rallies. “No... no, we've got to get out of here. I think we're the only ones left.”

You listen for what feels like a long moment. No gunfire, no human voices. Perhaps there is a rolling cackle of inhuman laughter... or perhaps it's just your imagination.

-

Konrad is cold by the time you reach the border of the forest, and you're finally able to accept the fact that he's dead. A single arrow, shot from the night – is that really all it takes to end a friendship of many years?

Brennan, at least, has recovered enough of his wits by then to help you carry Konrad's body out of the forest. At no point does he suggest abandoning the corpse, perhaps sensing that you would never accept the idea. Even though it feels like you're bent double under his weight, you keep Konrad's body upright all the way from the edge of the forest to the city gates. Then, and only then, do you allow the swarming guards to take him from you, and to guide you to safety.

Maybe you pass out at some point. It isn't really clear.

[1/2]

>>424168

Morning comes, and finds you standing opposite a mirror. A wide strip of bandage is taped beneath one eye, hiding the ragged gash from view. You'd call that a minor injury, considering. Of the six men you entered the forest with, only three survived – Brennan, Meyrink and Petrov, who fled before the fighting even started. Of the slain, only Konrad was lucky enough to have his body brought back.

Fatigue runs through your veins like a poison, while a cold rage burns you from within. You can't remember the last time you ate anything, but that seems like a distant and unimportant fact. Something else is sustaining you now, something goes beyond simple anger or vengeance. Drawing in a heavy breath, you lift your head and look in the mirror. Your eyes are flat and lifeless, like something painted on, like glass.

Like glass.

Clenching your fists, one hand constantly slipping down to the grip of your pistol, you march down to the pits, throwing open the door and taking the stairs two at a time. At some point, you drew the weapon, clicked off the safety and chambered a round. You don't recall doing any of that, but you don't care. Marching past rows of empty cells, you reach Blair's cage. Just like the first time you saw her, she's standing at the bars with her arms languidly reaching out. She sees you, and she gets the first word in.

“Where's your friend?” she asks, every word a drop of the move vile poison imaginable.

Snarling like a beast, you grab the collar of her loose, rough shirt and pull her close, her forehead hitting against the prison bars with a ringing clash. Gritting your teeth, you thrust the barrel of your pistol under her chin. Damn her, damn whatever secrets she might be keeping in that skull, and damn every pestilential witch in this cursed land – you WILL have your vengeance!

>Pull the trigger
>Spare her life – for now

>>424211
>Spare her life – for now
She'll come in useful before she hangs in the wind

>>424211
>Pull the trigger

>>424211
>>Pull the trigger

>>424211
>>Spare her life – for now
Cripple her instead of killing her, Wild and free things tend to die horribly with legs to stand on or claws to attack with.

>>424227
without*

>>424227
switching to this
Make it hurt

>>424211
>>Pull the trigger
Don't fall for any more witchy tricks

>>424227
I can support this.

Say something like "Humanity is good at breaking in wild things."

>>424211
>Spare her life – for now

Remember we still have Camilla's Bull Power >>423804 here.

Even if she lies to us we will still get answers. We should interrogate her now, then kill her afterwards.

>>424227
This. Shoot her and have her patched up so she doesn't die from it. She'll spill all the beans soon enough.

>>424227
This one's good, we can execute her later of course

>>424227
Moral compass where?
Not saying I have one either, totally feel like agreeing with this.

>>424284
It got distorted when her oldest friend died. Makes people go loco

Your sidearm is a brand new Daud Model Seventeen, with a trigger pull close to eight pounds. Eight pounds of pressure, and you could empty her skull with a single bullet. Eight pounds of pressure, all focused on the tiny sliver of metal that is the trigger of your pistol, and you could end her life in an instant.

You get to about four pounds before pausing, hesitating for a long moment, and slowly easing off. When you take your finger completely off the trigger and pull the gun out from beneath Blair's jaw, she lets out a shrill bray of manic laughter. A laugh of disbelief, of amazement, and not a little bit of relief.

She's right about one thing, you tell her in a voice of cold fury, she IS wild and primal – she's little better than a beast. Blair just has time for a victorious smile to take shape on her lips before the barrel of your pistol has dropped low, barking out a single shot that takes her in the knee. Crying out in sudden agony – more shock than pain, actually – she tumbles to the ground. Returning your pistol to your holster, you're dimly aware that the door to the pits has been thrown open, Ministry officials rushing down to investigate the gunshot. Through the sudden tide of overlapping voices, controlled panic and confusion colouring every word, you raise your voice and shout to Blair.

Just like a beast, you yell, crippled and kept in a cage!

-

A day later, you get the news that Blair is likely to lose her leg. She'll live, but she'll never be able to walk without help again. That suits you fine – if anything, she got off lightly. Spending the night in a cell of your own, you're released the following morning. It's only later that you read the official report. Apparently, Blair tried to take your gun off you in some misguided escape attempt.

That, at least, was enough to bring a bitter smile to your face. It's ironic really – this is exactly the kind of stunt that would get you exiled to Port Steyr in the first place. Now that you're here of your own free will, what else can the Ministry do to you? Demote you, perhaps – send some other mistake up here to rule the roost. You won't fight against it, if that's what they choose to do. You're not here for power or status, you're here to perform your duties, to protect the city and its people.

And that means going back into the forest. Next time, though, you'll be going in prepared.

[1/2]

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>>424379

One week after all this started, you find yourself standing at Port Steyr's docks. At the very least, the Ministry trusts you enough to stand here without an armed guard. A small privilege, but one you appreciate. It could hardly be called quiet here, not with dockworkers bustling back and forth, but you're left alone with your thoughts. You wouldn't be able to relax like this if you had a careful attendant looming over you.

If you'd pulled the trigger and killed Blair, would you really still have your freedom? Probably not, but not on any moral grounds. Executing the girl falls within your duties – she wouldn't be the first witch you'd executed – but there was the matter of due process, of paperwork and procedure. Killing her without filing the proper forms, well, that would have been cold blooded murder. Once the paperwork cleared, it would have been justice.

Sometimes, you can't help but think the world is a very strange place indeed.

-

A ship sluggishly pulls into the docks and begins to disgorge its cargo of passengers. Gazing across that sprawling tide of blank faces, you spot the one you're looking for. Henryk Hanson, a wolf-blooded Hunter. Handsome enough, in a brooding kind of way, and a welcome face indeed. His eyes, as he casts them about the dock, are cold and hard, somehow older than the last time you saw him. When those dark eyes fall upon you, he approaches, moving through the crowd with the easy grace of a born predator.

Henryk Hanson, you greet him, you've got one hell of a story to tell him...

>I think I'll end things here for tonight. We'll pick things up tomorrow, back with Henryk's perspective, and I'll stick around for a while in case anyone has any questions!
>Thanks to everyone who contributed today!

>>424420
Thanks for running Moloch.

Was Blair a reference to the Blair Witch Project?

>>424420
Really good story today, and as noted, the feels towards the end here.

>>424420
thanks for running!

>>424441

It was, yes. I'm not very good with names, so I kinda picked the first thing that came to mind.

>>424467
So this Divine beast is made of twigs and stray right?

>>424479

That's how it appeared, from the brief glimpse Camilla got of it.
That's really more of an outer skin, the insides are a bit more meaty.

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>>424504
Okay, just checking. Getting rid of that 'armor' might be prudent for bullets to work better.

Moloch! Just caught up, dude I really enjoy your storytelling, its awesome, your pacing is excellent, your world is fascinating, I cant wait to learn more about it.

Can you tell anything about the government of the free states? It seems like a pure bureaucracy, is that accurate? Is what-his-name in the capital, they guy we reported to re the doctor, really the head of state?

>>426493

This may be a little long-winded, so please bear with me!

The main form of government in the Free States is the Trident League, named because it has three branches – the Hunters, the Ministry of Health and Well-Being, and the College. The Ministry is the closest thing to a ruling body, dedicated to running the practical matters of day to day life as well as maintaining public safety. Over time, the system has grown pretty bureaucratically heavy, with paperwork and formal procedure taking hold.

The government itself is more or less a dictatorship – people don't get to vote on their leaders. The actual leadership comes in the form of the High Council, consisting of figures chosen from all three branches of the League. Only League members are able to ascend to the council. Sokolov is the head of the Ministry, although his duties largely revolve around sending other members of the League where they need to go.

So, I hope this answers your questions. I've tried to avoid large dumps of setting information in the quest itself, so there may be some areas I've not touched on much.

-

I'll be starting up properly in a few moments, just got to finish writing the opening posts!

By the time Camilla has finished her story, the ashtray sitting between you is overflowing, buried under gritty ash and crumpled cigarette butts. It's a story that would go well with a bottle of some strong liquor, but that might have been asking too much of her. You make do with a pitcher of some herbal drink, the taste harsh and medicinal. Considering how many cigarettes Camilla burns her way through, you get the sneaking suspicion that the taste is irrelevant to her.

When she mentions the great beast – and that's the term she uses, that precise wording – you lean forwards and pay a great deal more attention. You've never heard of a beast like that, and some whispered instinct in the back of your mind is confirming the theory that forms in your rational mind. This is it – one of Artemis' great beasts.

So, you ask at the end of the story, this Blair girl is still alive?

“Last time I saw her,” Camilla nods, reaching for the waxed paper carton of cigarettes before forcing herself to reconsider, “I thought you might like to speak with her, see if she knows anything about this beast. I don't expect she'll have much in the way of solid fact to offer you, though – I think the only one who might know the truth about it is Hebona herself.”

At the sound of that name, you freeze. Say that again, you ask with quiet insistence, that name.

“Hebona? From what Blair let slip, she seems to the leader of this witch cult. An important member of it, at the very least,” Camilla frowns, “Have you heard that name before?”

Covering up a moment of hesitation by taking a long drink, you consider what to tell Camilla. That Hebona is a witch, responsible for sinking your ship? A dangerous thing to tell a Ministry agent, but given recent events... it might be that Camilla will have more of an open mind than the rest. At the very least, sitting here in a haze of cigarette smoke and ill-rumour, you could do worse than sharing your theories.

You've come across the name Hebona before, you tell her, always connected with the northern witch cults. If what you've been able to find out is true, she had some hand in bringing down your ship all those weeks ago – either by witchcraft, or through some more mundane means.

“I knew it would be worth speaking to you, sharing information like this,” Camilla gives a decisive nod, a faint smile – sad, and heavy with regret – passing across her face. Looking down and away, her next words come in a hushed whisper, not meant for you but reaching your ears regardless. “I told you, Konrad,” she murmurs, “Didn't I?”

What?

“Nothing, it's fine,” shaking her head, Camilla stands and smooths out her clothes, “Do you want to go talk to Blair?”

Sure, you agree, it's a good place to start. There's just one thing you wanted to add.

“What's that?” she asks.

You're sorry, you tell her, about her friend.

[1/2]

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>>426806

“I'm lucky that I didn't lose my job over this,” Camilla remarks as she leads you through the grim, fortress streets of Port Steyr. A light dusting of snow covers the grey concrete, just barely managing to soften the hard, ugly lines of the city. “Shooting an unarmed prisoner without filling in the proper paperwork. Can you believe that, Hanson?”

You're just glad that you've got a simple job, you reply plainly, finding beasts and killing them. Nothing there to keep you awake at night, worrying about the morality of your actions. The Ministry does vital work, but you don't envy them. Will there be a problem, you ask, with getting to see Blair?

“Hopefully not,” Camilla frowns a little, “My word might not carry that weight with the Ministry these days, but I can call in a few favours if need be. Those bastards owe me a fair few, after all.”

-

As soon as you set foot inside the Ministry outpost, one thing becomes clear – Camilla's actions have branded her a pariah, a loose cannon and a liability. Wilfully oblivious to the stares and whispers that trail behind her, she marches up to a heavy, locked door. There, before her hand can touch the handle, someone finally stops her.

“I'm sorry, Camilla, but you know I can't let you in there,” the man that puts himself between Camilla and the door looks nervous, fully aware of how dangerous his actions might be, “After last time, I mean...”

“Petrov,” Camilla responds, in a voice devoid of anything but contempt, “Are you sure you want to get on my bad side, after everything that you've done?”

“I...” he swallows, “Your sidearm. Turn that in, at least, and I can let you past.” Sighing reluctantly, Camilla takes the pistol from her belt and hands it over, grip first, to the man. He seems a little more relieved once she's unarmed, and more relieved still once you're both heading through the door.

“That son of a bitch left us to die,” Camilla remarks, in a strangely conversational tone, once the door has swung closed behind you. Without elaborating on that, she leads you down to the one occupied cell. The girl, Blair Ashur, sleeps fitfully, the stump of her recently amputated leg kicking and jerking. “You ask her the questions,” Camilla mutters to you, “I'll keep an eye on her. If she's lying, I'll know about it.”

And how, you ask, can she be so certain?

“Natural talent,” Camilla gives you a vague smile, before rattling the cell door, “And a lot of practice.”

Flinching awake, Blair rises to look at you. Her face is sallow and bloodless, but her eyes are alive with anger. Sitting, glaring out, she spits a question at you. “What do you want?” she sneers.

>How do we kill it?
>I just wanted to see a witch with my own eyes. I can't say I'm impressed
>I hear you're quite taken with Hebona. Do you know the kind of things she's done?
>I had a question for you... (Write in)
>Other

>>426808
>I had a question for you... (Write in)
"I'm curious about this beast your fellows brought to life. We both weren't there for the ritual, but did the other witches talk about it at all?"
>How do we kill it?

>I hear you're quite taken with Hebona. Do you know the kind of things she's done?
"She or someone using the same name is sabotaging boats in the north, condemning sailors to death. Do you have any idea why she would do that?"

"Does your faction have a connection to the White Tyrant?"

>>426808
>I hear you're quite taken with Hebona. Do you know the kind of things she's done?
>How do we kill it?

>>426808
>How do we kill it?
>I hear you're quite taken with Hebona. Do you know the kind of things she's done?

>>426808
>I hear you're quite taken with Hebona.

Wiggle eyebrows suggestively.

>>426808
>I just wanted to see a witch with my own eyes. I can't say I'm impressed
>I hear you're quite taken with Hebona. Do you know the kind of things she's done?

>>426808
>I just wanted to see a witch with my own eyes. I can't say I'm impressed
>I hear you're quite taken with Hebona. Do you know the kind of things she's done?

You play at being a wild thing, I am one. You play at being deadly, vicious and primal, I am. Know you place pretender, and tell me what I wish to know.

>>426808
>Other

"Look into my eyes Blair, and tell me what you see."

You're curious, you begin mildly, about this beast that her fellow devotees brought to life. Neither of you were there to watch the ritual with your own eyes, but you have to wonder if her... friends mentioned it at all. Did they say what it was, what it was supposed to be?

Blair's reaction isn't what you expect it to be. You expected raging protests, abuse and insults. Instead, she tilts her head to the side and seemingly weighs your words carefully. Either she sees something in you, something that connects with her in a strange and wordless way, or she's just eager to speak with a new face. Whatever the reason, you won't complain about it.

“We didn't call it up, not really,” Blair begins, “It was already out there, unbound and free. We just gave it a body, a shell to inhabit.”

Fine, you press, but that doesn't answer your question. You're not here to play her games – she might pretend to be wild, but you're the real thing, vicious and deadly. You're not playing around, you repeat, so what IS it?

“A fragment of the divine,” the answer is tinted with a kind of pity, and a kind of contempt, “Older than anything, blind and furious and incomplete. That's what she said, at least.”

She, you guess, being Hebona. You've heard that Blair is quite taken with her, you remark, but does she know the kind of things that the witch has done? Someone claiming the same name has been sinking ships in the north, and dragging sailors to their deaths. Does she have any idea why Hebona would do that?

“Because the north isn't yours,” Blair replies simply, “It's not ours either, but we don't abuse it like you do. You feast on it, feeding an endless hunger, and you act like it's something you deserve, something you've earned. He'll put an end to all this, first here and then in the south – in your “civilised” lands.”

The more she speaks, the more you get a creeping sensation in the back of your neck. There seems... some disconnection between her words and her expression. The motions of her lips don't quite match up, and the intonation of her words bears the suggestion of an echo. Glancing across to Camilla, you see a sheen of sweat glistening on the older woman's pallid face. She doesn't notice your glance, her eyes fixed on Blair.

Who is this “he”, you ask, the White Tyrant? What connection is there between him and the witch cult?

“He created us,” drawing the words out, Blair slumps forwards and drags herself a few paces towards the cell bars. A few flowers of red blossom on the stump of her leg, but she pays it no mind. With sinuous – yet somehow graceless – motions, she pulls herself to the cell bars and stands, putting all her weight on her one remaining foot. “He gave us life,” she hisses, “He sent us our teacher – the woman you all fear.”

Hebona.

[1/2]

>>426836

Refusing to let the girl – although some air about her is that of something far older, that of a woman – rattle you, you force yourself to meet her lunatic eyes. This divine beast, you tell her, there's only one more thing you care to know about it.

How do you kill it?

She laughs. Letting out a loud cackle, Blair's head rolls back, the whites of her eyes blazing like fire. Even when you grab her by the collar and pull her forwards, she keeps laughing. “You people, you “civilised” people,” she giggles, “That's what it always comes down to, isn't it? Your guns and your knives, they won't help you this time – iron and steel, lead and brass... what are you, without your weapons?”

Fighting back the urge to snarl, you shake Blair until her head has slumped down. Look, you order her, look into your eyes. What does she see there?

“I see...” Blair's mouth twists, preparing the insult you had been expecting all along, and then the life and animation all falls from her face as she stares into your eyes. “You...” she whispers, “You've got a bird sitting on your shoulder. Its beak, it's... red with blood.” When that word spills from her mouth, Blair's body grows limp, and she slumps down against the bars of her cell. Grunting at the sudden weight of her nerveless body, you ease her to the ground. Fainted dead away? No, there are still signs of life. When her eyes meet yours once again, there is no recognition in them.

“Who are you?” she spits, “What do YOU want?”

As if she had no memory of the words you just exchanged. As if you'd been talking to some other mind altogether. This time, her furious eyes offer no hope of cooperation. You just wanted to see a witch with your own eyes, you tell her quietly, and you're not very impressed. Turning away from her, you join Camilla in a distant corner.

“I have no way of explaining what just happened,” Camilla sighs, shaking her head.

>Was she lying at all?
>Can you get me a weapon that isn't made with metal?
>So what happens to her next?
>Just wait, I had something else to ask her... (Write in)
>Other

>>426841
>Was she lying at all?
"Good work by the way, whatever it is that you did."
>Can you get me a weapon that isn't made with metal?
Fire maybe? Or am I thinking too conventional still?

>>426841
>>Was she lying at all?
>>Can you get me a weapon that isn't made with metal?
Spooky.

>>426841
>>Can you get me a weapon that isn't made with metal?
>Hebona was puppeting her, at least some of the time. Willing to bet that if we find the real Hebona it will be just a shell, with a beast inside.

>>426841
Time to bust out the silver sword
>At long last, I have finally become The Witcher™

>>426846
>Hebona was puppeting her, at least some of the time. Willing to bet that if we find the real Hebona it will be just a shell, with a beast inside.

I thought that was Camilla doing her 'No lying' power. That's why she was straining and not breaking eye contact with Blair.

Knives of stone or bone?
Can you tip bullets with one of these?

>>426852
Really? That would make sense too, but I also had the same thought that she had been possesed or something. We can just ask Camilla either way.

>>426855
>Camilla
dostn know wtf just thappened only that if she was telling the reall thing.You've got a bird sitting on your shoulder. Its beak, it's... red with blood.
she could see who we are workign for.i wounder what this is going to lead to
but fire always works fire and bone

>>426841
>Was she lying at all?
>Can you get me a weapon that isn't made with metal?

So, you ask quietly, was she lying at all?

“I don't... I'm not sure,” Camilla's voice shakes a little as she puts a cigarette to her lips. After taking a few drags, she regains her composure, “Whoever that was, they believed what they were saying – utterly, and with true conviction.”

Well that's-

“Whoever that was”?

“I can't explain it, but it felt there was this dissonance between her mind and her body,” drawing heavily on her cigarette, Camilla turns and blows a long ribbon of smoke back towards the cell, “You felt it too, didn't you?”

The way she dragged herself across the stone floor, you say with a nod, like she didn't feel a trace of pain. Like something else was just using her body to deliver a message. You can't offer anything in the way of proof, but you've got a feeling that it was Hebona herself using Blair as a puppet. That is, unless something else is hiding within Hebona's skin as well...

“That's real magic you're talking about,” Camilla points out, “Not parlour tricks, not playing around with stray dolls. Real power.”

After everything you've seen, you retort, does that come as much of a surprise?

“No,” shaking her head, Camilla lets out a heavy sigh, “No it does not. Look, I can't tell you exactly what that was, all I can do is confirm is that she was telling us the truth – and that, in of itself, is more than I was expecting. Let's put the issue of magic and puppets aside for now – what do you make of this “lead and brass” talk?”

Metal, you guess, she was talking about metal weapons. Lead bullets with brass casings, and blades of iron or steel. Can she get you a weapon that doesn't use any metal? Fire, perhaps, or some kind of stone knife.

“I can check the armoury. I wasn't around to see for myself, but I hear they swept the forest and found some discarded weapons. Primitive things, I hear – they're using them to build a case that it was a group of barbarians out there, nothing more,” her face darkens, growing bitter at the thought, “No talk of rites or rituals, no mention of a great beast. Nothing.”

Got to stick with the official policy, you offer with a humourless smile, right?

“Sometimes, I feel like we'll be arguing about official policy right up until something slits our throats,” Camilla mutters to herself. Shaking her head, she crushes out her cigarette and heads towards the door. When you call out to her, though, she pauses.

Thanks, you tell her, for whatever it was that she did back there.

As your words sink in, Camilla first looks surprised – it must be thankless work she does here - and then offers you an uncommonly sweet smile. “Let's see about those weapons, shall we?” she says lightly, that smile still playing around her lips.

[1/2]

>>426867


“Good to see you up and about, chief,” the Ministry agent at the armoury says when he sees Camilla.

“Good to be up and about, Brennan,” she replies, “But it's just “Camilla” now, remember?”

“Bah, that lot can go to hell,” Brennan shrugs his broad shoulders, “Way I see it, you'll always be the chief around here.”

“Just don't let anyone else hear it,” Camilla smiles again, “Or they'll give you the silent treatment as well.”

“They can go to hell,” Brennan repeats, “So “Camilla”, what can I do for you today?” Leaning back in his seat, the heavyset man notices you for the first time and immediately straightens up. “Here,” he begins, “You the Hunter they sent out? Glad you're here – it'll go a long way to keeping the chief in her job if you can bring back some solid proof of what's out there.”

You glance across to Camilla, watching as she covers up a wince. So, she has an ulterior motive for going after this beast, does she?

“Think you can get me some weapons?” Camilla asks, recovering quickly, “There's a catch – I can't use anything with metal. I hope that's not too much of an intrusion, but...”

“Let me take a look, see what I can dig up,” Brennan heaves himself to his feet, limping a little as he starts to retreat into the armoury. Before he vanishes from sight, he looks back over his shoulder at Camilla, “Damn good to see you up and about,” he repeats.

-

“I'm sorry, I should have been honest with you,” Camilla begins, once Brennan has vanished, “I didn't call you out here to save my reputation – the message was sent long before this all went wrong. Still, I need proof that there was a beast out there. Someone, and I don't know who, is trying to convince the rest of the staff here that I was delusional – that I saw their “idol” and imagined the rest.” She sighs heavily, reaching for a cigarette but leaving it unlit. “I don't care about getting demoted or protecting my reputation,” she adds quickly, “But I can't accept people turning away from a threat like this and playing it off as a hallucination.”

Silence, broken only by the sound of Brennan shuffling about in the distance. A moment passes, and then Camilla clears her throat.

“As I said, I'm sorry for the omission,” she offers a wan smile, “I hope this won't cause any friction between us.”

>It doesn't matter, I'm just here to do my job
>You should have been honest with me from the start
>It's fine, Camilla – we're in this one together
>Other

>>426877
>>It's fine, Camilla – we're in this one together

>>426877
>>It doesn't matter, I'm just here to do my job
>They're lucky someone still has the balls to fight, even when they themselves lack them. You're more of a man than they are Camilla, funny how that works isn't it?

>>426877
>It doesn't matter, I'm just here to do my job

>>426877
>It's fine, Camilla – we're in this one together
"Being honest with you as well I've been meaning to get back at this Hebona bitch for awhile now. Not to mention Vas and I were the ones to bring this to you in the first place. I'm glad I'm able to get a chance to finish what I started."

>>426877
>It's fine, Camilla – we're in this one together

>>426877
>It's fine, Camilla – we're in this one together

Friendly reminder that Henryks body and soul belong to Artemis, not filthy mortal women

>>426896
True. Her love is our greatest prey

>>426896
This
>>It doesn't matter, I'm just here to do my job

>>426896
Our great leprous lover.

The last beast we hunt will be her.

We;ve gotta address this with her next time we see her, if she wants us to not go after other ladies shes gotta guarantee us she wont get ugly AF, and she gotta start doin her duties

>>426914
Lol what the hell anon

>>426914
I think you were reading way too much into her messing with Henryk.

Also
>Asking for permission.

Let's just do what we want. As long as we keep killing the beasts and bantz with Artemis when we see her it should be fine.

You're here to do a job, hunting a beast, and that's what you're going to do. Matters of intent or motivation don't really come into it. Not professionally, at least.

“And... personally?” Camilla tilts her head to the side, waiting for you to continue.

Personally speaking? It's fine, it doesn't matter. The two of you, you tell Camilla, you're in this one together. You've both got good reasons to hold a grudge against Hebona – since you're speaking honestly, you'll admit that you've been wanting a chance to get back at her. Not just for your sake, but for Vasily and all his crew. For everyone that Hebona has hurt. As a professional, you're here to hunt a beast, but personally – you're here to finish what you started.

“I'm glad to hear it,” Camilla laughs a little, “I can't stand leaving a problem unsolved either. Not something serious like this.”

You'll tell her this, though – these people, they're lucky to have someone with some stones around here. She's more of a man than half the people you've met so far. It's funny how that works out, you add, isn't it?

“That was the strangest compliment I've ever received,” another laugh, this one more open and honest, escapes Camilla's lips, “...It was a compliment, wasn't it?”

You're not entirely sure yourself. Before you can say anything else, though, Brennan lurches back. You hear a clatter of something heavy being set down, and he clears his throat to draw your attention.

-

“We got a few of these of the forest, abandoned by whoever was out there,” Brennan begins, “Chief, are you...?” His words trail off, and Camilla nods for him to continue. With only the slightest hesitation, Brennan places a quiver of arrows – the tips carved from flint – on the desk before him. “These bows are more powerful than you'd think. Well capable of...”

“Of killing a man,” Camilla finishes for him, her voice hardening, “And there's no metal in them at all.”

Still, you murmur, hunting some beast with just a bow and arrow?

“I thought you might say that, so I signed out one of these,” grunting with the weight of it, Brennan lifts a flamethrower onto the desk, “The gun itself is metal, of course, but there's nothing metallic about a jet of burning fuel. If you think that's good enough, it's yours to borrow.”

“So, what do you think?” Camilla reaches out to touch the quiver of arrows, drawing her hand back at the last minute.

>I'll take a bow, keep things simple
>I'll take the flamethrower, I just hope it works
>I'll take both. Might be a little awkward, but I'd rather go prepared
>Other

>>426926
>I'll take a bow, keep things simple
>Other
Acquire Molotov cocktails for us and Camilla.

>>426926
>>I'll take a bow, keep things simple
>Can you rig my up some Molotov Cocktails instead? Fire is good but I'd rather travel light.

>>426926
>I'll take both

>>426926
>>I'll take both. Might be a little awkward, but I'd rather go prepared
I wish I had named that picture of this russian guy with tons of weapons on his back.
>This isn't my final form.jpg

>>426926
>I'll take the flamethrower, I just hope it works
We'll kill the beast or burn the forest down

>>426926
>I'll take a bow, keep things simple
Use some fuel to make fire arrows as a backup. I'd rather not get close enough to the beast for the flame thrower to work if I can avoid it

>>426926
>I'll take a bow, keep things simple
Flamethrower might be a bit too heavy and loud for a hunt. Let's get a bunch of Molotov cocktails instead.

>>426923
id wager not

>>426937
Fire arrows would be good too.

>>426923
You're being a bit dense anon

>>426926
>>I'll take both. Might be a little awkward, but I'd rather go prepared
not wanting to bang Camilla whats wrong with you guys tthow the fire boom arrows sound fun

>>426943
I'm really just trying to avoid the 'Oh no, Artemis might not like that' or 'We should ask permission from Artemis first' crap I'm already starting to see glimpses of.

Besides what do you think is more attractive to her. A dude that kowtows or someone with a little more spine.

>>426951
eats the weak ad lets the strong live soo ether ay we would have to beat her frist befor anything happenes

>>426954
And you should really learn how to type bro.

Like, it's legible, but goddamn.

>>426951
I feel like you're ignoring literally everything she's said to us but you're entitled to your own opinion I guess

>>426959
What the 'going soft in the heart for a woman' bit that would make us unable to hunt the beasts?

The occasional casual sex doesn't really mean shit in that grand scheme.

What exactly are you referring to?

seh wouldnt care if we fucked as long as we kill the beasts and not turn on her at the end should be fine
also shes sounds a bit like the old gods
primal so just let the beast thats inside out

Fire sounds like a good place to start, you decide, but you're not about to risk using a metal flamethrower. You've got no idea how strict this immunity to metal is, but you don't see any reason to bring in any additional factors that might complicate the issue. A flamethrower, in either case, might be too heavy, too slow for you to use effectively. A bow and arrow should be enough – nothing but wood, cord, feathers and stone. With some rags and kerosene, you can make flaming arrows, or some improvised firebombs.

You'll kill this thing, or you'll burn the whole forest down trying.

“Right you are, I think I have some glass bottles lying around somewhere,” Brennan offers you a furtive wink, “Not to imply that I enjoy a drop of the hard stuff now and again, of course, and definitely not while I'm on duty.”

“If I was still in charge here, I could have you dismissed for that,” Camilla points out with a faint smile, “But I suppose you already knew that, didn't you?” Brennan just chuckles as he ambles back into the armoury, seeking out this stash of empty bottles. When he returns with an armful of the things, Camilla chokes out a strangled cough that might have been a laugh or a groan. Maybe both.

Good weekend, was it?

“Oh well, you know what the nights here are like,” Brennan chuckles, “Cold and lonesome. A man has to pass the time somehow.”

“I'm going to assume that's a joke,” Camilla sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “For the sake of my sanity, I'm going to assume that was a joke. I just... Hanson, are you ready to head out?”

>I'm ready. Let's move out
>I had something I wanted to take care of first... (Write in)
>Other

>>426968
>I'm ready. Let's move out

>>426968
>>I'm ready. Let's move out

>>426968
>I'm ready. Let's move out

>>426963
Read the last thread, I'm on my phone so I'm not gonna spoonfeed you

>>426968
>>I'm ready. Let's move out

>>426968
>>I'm ready. Let's move out

>>426968
>>I'm ready. Let's move out
transform and rollout

>>426968
>Go go go!

>>426993
Or hmm wait we should practice with the bow a little!

>>426980
woops i wasnt there for that last bit
mybe the others got a kids and didnt want to hunt any more, but as long as we keep hunting should be fine right? shes not the jelly type right

>>426998
>shes not the jelly type right

She most likely is, but we can deal with that. This isn't a Master/Servant relationship. We are partners in this Beast Hunt.

>>426968
What are your bow and arrow proficiencies?

>>427003

>Just to keep things simple, I'm going to include stuff like bows in the Firearms skill. I hadn't actually considered using bows when I named the skill!
>And, I forgot to post it at the start of the session, so here's the character sheet:
>http://pastebin.com/TuHXz5Kp

File: 1440920825436.jpg (213 KB, 1280x720)

213 KB JPG

>>427003
>>426994
Just out of curiosity, what kind of Hunter is shit with a bow? Besides that one anime girl but who cares about her.

>>427001
>literal god granting power to someone who does what she says
>partners
choose one

>>427014
modern hunters I'd think

You're ready, you tell Camilla, ready to move out.

“Excellent,” nodding, Camilla casts one last glance to Brennan, “Remember your limits, Brennan – I don't want to find you passed out when I get back.”

“She's a hard woman,” Brennan tells you with a crooked smile, “Hard but fair, I've always said.”

Well, one out of two isn't bad.

-

Heavy with murky, volatile fuel and stopped with the rags from a shredded shirt, the firebombs clink lightly together as you walk. When the wind picks up, it rustles the feathers bunched around your quiver of arrows and causes them to whisper. Every little sound seems sharpened, crying out with nagging insistence and warring for your attention. Ignoring the common sounds of the forest, you tune your ears for any uncommon sounds. Drumming, say, or the diabolical laughter of a divine beast.

You can hear some crows shrieking in the distance, but that doesn't really count.

“Seems like they're not holding any ceremonies tonight,” Camilla murmurs to you, her hushed voice easily reaching you through the still, cold air, “Maybe they had a prior engagement.”

Doesn't this seem strange to her, you ask quietly, because no matter how you look at things they don't seem to add up right. This cult went to the trouble of calling up some kind of divine fragment – a fragment of the goddess Artemis, you almost say – and then they... what? They let it wander the forest freely? They've not made any move to attack the town-

“Not yet,” Camilla points out, “There's too much we don't understand about this to say anything for sure. Maybe they didn't have time to compel it or give it orders. Maybe they're waiting and gathering their strength. I'm not convinced that these people bother with little things like logical thought – they spend their evenings dancing naked in the snow, after all.”

Not this evening, you mutter. As you walk, you practice drawing back the bowstring and quickly nocking an arrow. How long, you wonder, has it been since you last used one of these? When you were younger, training to be a Hunter, probably. Still, as you go through the motions, the memories come rushing back. Maybe you won't be shooting a bullseye in the dead of night, but you're reasonably confident you can hit the mark when you need to.

Somewhere, a branch snaps. Immediately freezing in place, you look to Camilla with a question in your eyes. She just shakes her head – whatever made that noise, it wasn't her and it definitely wasn't you.

There's something else out there.

[1/2]

>>427015
Ah I think I get it now. You're scared of her. That explains a lot.

Trust me anon, don't be. She needs us just as much as we need her. Sure she can take away our extra powers if we stop hunting, but then we are both back to square one. And neither of us want that.

So stand up straight, take your balls out of your purse, and just talk to the goddess like you would anyone else, though with a tad more respect I suppose.

Cause come on, a Goddess of the Hunt would find someone who has a spine way more interesting than a someone who kneels and toes the line.

>>427025
I just think Artemis is just best girl anon. You're being really dumb though. You're saying that she wants us to bang random women? I don't think it could be any more clear that she's possessive of us.

>>427025
Regardless, we've been shitting up the thread for too long already. Let's just focus on the hunt.

>>427034
I'm saying that she isn't petty enough to get up in arms over the occasional casual sex. Henryk is a dude in his 20s with a stressful job and the brown maid keeps making eyes at him.

And if she is that petty that just opens her up to you teasing/flirting with her about being jealous yeah?

>>427043
But I agree. I'll drop it. Just don't be scared of her. If you really think she is best girl don't make Henryk just a plaything that kinda entertains her. Talk to her, bantz, establish chemistry, be partners and equals, etc.

>>427044
>Isn't pretty enough
Dude she's a fucking goddess

>>427049
Well I said petty, but I agree that she is pretty.

>>427023

Sweeping like a shadow, like the flag of a dead empire carried on a lonesome gust of wind, the divine beast slips from one patch of cover to the next, moving from tree to tree. Crowning the dark and shapeless mass of its body is a white skull of a face, featureless and distorted in a way that defies categorisation. In the space of the short glimpse of it you stole, your eyes slipped away from its face to focus on the antlers rising up from its head. It couldn't have been visible for longer than a few seconds at most, but those seconds seem to draw out far longer than they have any right to.

Pulling one of the glass bottles from your belt and casting a thin circle of light with your lighter flame, you prepare one of the firebombs and start after the beast. It darted from behind one tree to the other, so it should be-

Not here. You reel for a moment, your mind scrabbling for answers as you look at the blank expanse of forest that should have contained the looming beast. What was it that Camilla had said? It drew away from her and melted into the darkness – could it be shifting that way, phasing from one pool of shadow to another?

Then you'll push the darkness back, driving it away as best you can. There comes a soft whoosh as you touch the lighter's flame to the oily rag of your firebomb, and the weak light burst into something far stronger, far brighter. The cloak of darkness is drawn back, revealing the beast before you. Through a mouth that seems more akin the the stitching of a crude sack, it shrieks out a blaring siren of pain, and throws up spindly hands to shield the black pits of its eyes.

Barely a few feet away from you, from your exposed back. That, as much as anything else, prompts you to throw the firebomb at the beast. Glass shatters against it, and the hungry fires cling to the beast as the shadows once held it in their embrace. A beacon against the encroaching night, it lurches back and sweeps away from you, wildly seeking a pool of darkness to retreat into – an impossible task, lit up like that.

Fumbling an arrow into your bow, you draw back the string and aim at the retreating beast.

>Calling for a Firearms roll, so that's 1D100+15. This is aiming to beat 80/100, and I'll take the highest of the first three results

>>427049
>she's a fucking goddess
No, she's a goddess of the hunt. Does this setting even have a fertility goddess?

File: 1468835241656.png (843 KB, 1000x1000)

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Rolled 44 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>427070

Rolled 56 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>427070

Rolled 28 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>427070

Rolled 66 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>427070
I want to believe

Rolled 6 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>427070

>>427080
Burn focus for the +20 to pass

Injuring it will hopefully lower the DC for future rolls.

>>427086
Second

>>427082
>>427081
goddamnit posted on the exact same second

>>427086
Yeah focus point

>>427094
For some reason, I think the dice gods and Artemis aren't exactly buddy-buddy

File: The curse is real.jpg (38 KB, 898x154)

38 KB JPG

Rolled 54 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

The curse is real.

>>427086
Seconded.

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>>427106
Sometimes though, you get those rare occasions where a nat 1 is just barely cockblocked by someone's third roll.

I feel like we need more combat bonuses with the DCs being this high nearly every time

>Using Focus to boost our result

Wreathed in flame, the beast might make for a visible target, but the piercing brightness stings your eyes and makes aiming far harder than you had been expecting it to be. Though it feels like it might boil the eyes clean from your skull, you draw together all your focus, all your precision, and you loose the arrow. As soon as it has left the bow, you jerk your head aside and release the breath you had been holding, hissing it out as a long and pained gasp. The night seems impenetrable after that, your vision blasted away to nothing.

You don't need to see, however, to know that the beast is wounded. The shrill squeal of pain that rises up, like a dagger against your ears, is enough for that.

“Hanson!” Camilla calls, her voice seeming distant and remote, “You still out there!”

You're here, you call as you try to blink away the haze in your vision, it's on the run! You've wounded the beast!

Without wasting time on any other words, you nock a fresh arrow and start on the beast's trail. It's not hard to follow – even without spotting the dim glow of its flaming body, those same fires have left their mark on every tree and bush that the creature has passed. As you start to gain ground on the beast, though, you hear a sudden hiss, and the light is snuffed out. A lake, a river – some source of water must have quashed the flames.

Fine, you snarl to yourself, you'll burn the bastard as many times as it takes. Of course, you've got to find the thing first – now that darkness has returned, it can-

The night comes alive and falls upon you. First driving you down into the hard packed soil and then scooping you up in a tight grasp, the beast lifts you by the throat. Spitting a curse as best you can, you twist your head down to look upon the creature. What you see, there, stills your struggles for a brief and horrific moment.

The rags and tatters, the twigs and dried grass, have partially burned away to reveal the creature's innards, its delicate insides. Pulsing like a great heart, the meat glistens wetly, oozing and seeping dark fluids out to the ground beneath. Fingers of naked bone begin to tighten around your throat, and you know that it's now or never.

Your hand finds the knife in your belt. With a desperate hope in your heart, you pray that the wet insides are not immune to the metal blade.

>Calling for a martial combat roll, so that's 1D100+15. This is aiming to beat 60/80, and I'll take the highest of the first three results

Rolled 79 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>427165

Rolled 98 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>427165

Rolled 7 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>427165

>>427160
Well, we had a 72.5% chance to get over the lower threshold, and 38,6% to manage the higher one, and that's without focus.
While I'd like Henryk to die, our chances aren't quite as shabby as they might seem.

>>427173
Jeez.

>>427160
I think the DCs are fine. We tend to roll crazy high most of the time and when we don't we get a +20. I think it's fine to fail a roll once every blue moon.

>>427160
>>427179
I should add, those numbers are for 80/100. 60/80 would be 91% and 72.5%, respectively.

So, I don't think we should complain.

Crying out with the last of the air in your lungs, you drive the point of your blade into the beast's oozing flesh. For a moment, you almost expect it to fail, for the blade to glance away uselessly, but the slushy sound of raw meat parting reaches you, a split second before the beast's scream wipes out everything else. Releasing you, its hand convulsing with shorn nerves, it recoils away as you hit the ground hard. Dragging in a desperate lungful of air, you tighten your grip on the knife and force yourself to rise. You need to kill this bastard before it can escape again, before it can retreat into the shadows.

The light that spreads out from the pitiful torch of your lighter barely does anything against the lurking dark, but that small difference seems to be enough. Rather than melting away into nothingness, the beast back away slowly, moving with a terrible wounded dignity. Legs, once hidden behind trailing rags, dangle freely as it glides a few inches above the ground. Blood-slick flesh catches your eye, and you surge forwards to drive your blade through it. The honed point punches clean through the creature's shin and down into the frozen soil, nailing it in place.

Screeching and writhing, thrashing like a bug on a pin, the beast struggles to free itself. Panting, never more than a few degrees away from laughing like a madman, you reach for a new firebomb. Broken glass scours your fingers, half of your improvised explosives shattered when you were driven to the ground, but then you find one precious, intact bomb. Setting the lighter's flame to the rag, you throw the firebomb at the beast.

Like a witch at the stake, the beast burns. For a few agonising moments, it tries to tug the knife free but such efforts prove fruitless, and when the thing's hands burn away to nothing even those pointless efforts cease.

As a sudden wave of fatigue washes over you, you drag yourself a few paces away from the blazing monster and slump against a tree, slowly sliding to the ground. You watch it burn for a long time, lulled into a trance by the dancing flames. When the fire finally fades away to nothing, so too do your thoughts. Here, of all places, you fall into a deep and unnatural sleep.

You know what will be waiting for you on the other side.

[1/2]

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>>427310

“Henryk, you brought me a candle!” Artemis' voice, the first thing that reaches you, is girlish with excitement, “Oh, isn't it charming?”

Charming, you think to yourself as you rise, isn't quite the word you'd pick. The newest addition to Nihilo, this bleak abyss, wails endlessly as it drags itself along an aimless path, fire licking endlessly at its hide. At least it's far enough away that its cries are just one more piece of background noise, an undulating groan not unlike a particularly harsh wind. Together with the stillbirth and the brute, it walks around Artemis in a never ending circle.

“It's nice to have a little light around here,” the goddess remarks, “Why, it's even starting to get a little crowded in here, and we're only a quarter of the way through!”

Nine more, you sigh, you've barely gotten started.

“Oh come now, it'll be fun,” emerging from... nowhere in particular, Artemis places a hand on your shoulder, “You'll get to go places that haven't felt the footsteps of men in countless years – think of the sights you'll see!”

And the hideous creatures that will be waiting to take a bite out of you – can't forget those.

“Details,” Artemis waves a hand through the air, “Anyway, it doesn't matter – you'll be powerful then, capable of breaking anything that dares oppose you. What have you to fear, with my power bolstering you? We'll make a wonderful team, you and I. Anyway, now that you've settled this little matter for me...”

Circling you until you're eye to eye, Artemis once again offers you her hands. One porcelain white, bearing the virtues of civilisation, and one blood-slick red, bearing the power of a great and divine violence.

As ever, the choice lies with you.

>Take the gift of bloodshed (+5 to combat rolls)
>Take the gift of civilisation (+5 to non-combat rolls)
>Refuse her gift

>>427408
>>Take the gift of bloodshed (+5 to combat rolls)
Flirt some more with her

>>427408
>>Take the gift of bloodshed (+5 to combat rolls)
Combat rolls need a little more padding.
When did we kill the second beast again? Was it the one in the city?

>>427408
>Take the gift of civilisation (+5 to non-combat rolls)

>>427408
>>Take the gift of civilisation (+5 to non-combat rolls)

>>427414
Actually change to civilisation. our dip rolls are shit

>>427408
What would happen if we refused? Would it rollover so we can pick twice next time? That way we can take both her hands for maximum lewd.

if you guys let Artemis pussy whip you you're all a bunch of cucks. Listen to when the smart man speaks you retards

>>427408
>>Take the gift of civilisation (+5 to non-combat rolls)

Artemis is white, Arktis is red. Same drill as devil summoner London.

>>427448
that would make sense.

>>427408
Have we even had a single diplo roll so far?
Or perhaps they're all hidden rolls?

>>427408
>Take the gift of civilisation (+5 to non-combat rolls)
Just to get our Diplo out of the negatives. And all the other bonuses help too.

>>427408
>Take the gift of bloodshed (+5 to combat rolls)
Worst thing that can happen out of a diplo fail is us being inconvenienced, worst thing that can fail in combat is us snapped in half

>Seems like Civilisation wins this one. Writing the next post now, and I apologise for how long things are taking. I'm not at my best today.

>>427415
>When did we kill the second beast again? Was it the one in the city?

>The second beast was the large brute we fought in Nebel

>>427438

>Refusing Artemis' gifts wouldn't have given us any immediate benefit. Long term, who can say?

>>427508
>Refusing Artemis' gifts wouldn't have given us any immediate benefit. Long term, who can say?

Great now I am morbidly curious. But the gains...

>>427508
huh don't remember that fight. To the archives i go.

Reaching out to Artemis, you take her unblemished hand in yours, holding it tightly as if savouring the feeling of her cool flesh for as long as possible. Even as you take her hand, she lifts it to your cheek, a wave of calm seeping into you as she touches your face. At some point, the touch turns into a caress, her fingers dancing low to brush against your throat. Not so long ago, a looming beast was gripping you by the throat, threatening to crush your neck at any minute, and you felt less uneasy than you do now.

Perhaps for the first time, you notice how sharp Artemis' nails are. With a single violent twist, she could open your jugular or carve a smile in your windpipe.

Then her hand is back by her side once more, and the threatening thoughts vanish. By the time Artemis has her hands behind her back, leaning forwards in a slightly coy stance, the danger is already a distant memory.

“Like I said, this is a path that will take you to many interesting places,” Artemis turns and walks a few paces away, humming something to herself, “And you'll meet many interesting people, I'm sure. Some of them, I'm also sure, might be interested in you as well.”

Something, some weight in her voice, sets alarm bells ringing in your mind. You open your mouth to ask something, then reconsider. You should word this carefully...

“Oh Henryk!” Artemis laughs aloud, “We're not married, you know – I don't care what bed you choose to lie in... just so long as your heart remains here, with me. But I don't need to worry about that, do I?”

The problem with Artemis, you think, is that you never quite know when she's being serious and when she's just indulging her capricious will.

She is a woman, after all.

>Sorry about this, but I'm going to have to end things earlier than planned, I've hit a total block. I'll pick things up tomorrow, starting at the same rough time.
>Thanks to everyone who stuck with things today!

>>427630
Thanks for running Moloch.

Guys I think next time we take down a beast we should refuse her gifts out of curiosity's sake. Just to see what happens you know?

>>427630
No problem, thanks for running Moloch.
I still don't see what all the worrying about Artemis and other waifus is about. Camilla is an ex, Lize is a daughteru/apprentice and I don't think we should have any plans to do anything with anyone else. Seems like a total tangent to go on when the main thing is to be a hunter and kill stuff or explore.

>>427650
I think we should wait and leave that for some end game shit. We need to pad our rolls a bit more and we'll have plenty of time to refuse her after we get a few more gifts under our belt.
Speaking of beasts, we didn't exactly take a trophy this time, yeah? We straight up burned him down so there shouldn't be anything to take as a trophy when we get back either.

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>>427630
>“We're not married,


We will be.

>>427630
Oh I was going to ask Artemis, but since we are ending I'll just ask you directly.

The divine fragment the witches animated. Was it just a loose fragment they got a hold of? Or the corpse of one of the knights/beasts? What made this situation different from the Brute Beast we fought who was just hanging around?

>>427689
>I still don't see what all the worrying about Artemis and other waifus is about.
Some anons were scared that if we looked at another girl Art would rip our throat out or something.

>Camilla is an ex
Priscilla was the ex. Camilla is the girl we are hunting with right now.

>>427707

All the beasts are a little different. The Brute was, in essence, a fragment of the divine that incarnated into an existing body. The Idol we fought today was a fragment seeking a body - one that the witch cult was able to provide it with.

I'll include a more "in-character" explanation tomorrow, just so Henryk knows what we know.

Is anybody else getting suspicious about the witch cult? Why would they bring back the beast and then leave it? Maybe they want us to gather the fragments and bring back Artemis.

>>427736
Good. They have the right idea.

>>427707
>Priscilla was the ex.
Oh shit. I've been confused this entire time. Well shit that changes quite a lot.

>>427630
Is there any way we can get a different power from Artemis instead of a flat bonus? Something like enhanced regeneration or physical abilities?

>>427732
>I'll include a more "in-character" explanation tomorrow, just so Henryk knows what we know.
Alright cool thanks.

>>427746
In a sense the flat bonuses are enhanced physical abilities, just subtler.

>>427746

I do have some additional powers prepared, once we pass certain milestones - the fourth and eight beasts. As an in-character explanation, Artemis needs to regain a certain amount of her own power before she can pass that onto us.

>>427765
With our current bonus are we noticeably a little too good at combat related stuff?

>>427783

I'm honestly not sure I could comment on that. Setting the target difficulty of things is probably my weakest area, I'm afraid. I'm sorry for not being able to give you a proper answer for this.

>>427841
No Moloch, what he means is do people watching us in character think we are a little too good at fighting due to Artemis's boons.

Like if Camilla saw us would she think 'Henryk is abnormally good at this'

Imagine if we had a +30 to Physical. Would people start to take notice?

>>427848

Oh, right, I see. That's more of an interesting question for sure. Well, I'd say that we'd never appear to be overtly supernatural in terms of how we fight. To an outside observer, Henryk would simply appear to be an excellently trained Hunter. Certainly a rare example, but not so powerful as to be inhuman.

Sorry for the misunderstanding!

We should bank upgrades at least once

>>428199
For sure. And if it does have some kind of long term investment we should do it at the earliest time possible.

>>428212
Next one then?

>>428222
Depends on what we get for killing Beast Number 4.

>>428222
Well here is the question. If it's just +5 Bloodshed/Civilization again then yeah.

But Moloch did say we would get something on 4th kill milestone. Probably don't want to refuse that one. If we can refuse the Bloodshed/Civil AND get the new power I'd be all for that.

If not we can wait til the 5th one.

>>428199
we should also upgrade banks. i dont believe theyve been mentioned once this thread, and theyre vital to the stabilization of a nations credit and the handling of financial business.

Not having one is a major oversight on Moloch's part.

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>>427877
Happy 1 year "I decided to write fiction for random strangers on the internet" anniversary Moloch!

>>428543
Really? D'awwww

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>>428543
>>427877
Had to.

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This almost feels like a candlelit dinner, only there's no dinner and only a single candle – and the candle is the moaning, shambling carcass of a beast condemned to burn for all eternity.

So, it's really nothing like a candlelit dinner.

Still, you've got to admit that sitting here with Artemis by your side, sharing a solemn kind of silence, is nice. Peaceful, even with the distant groaning of beasts. It shouldn't be calming, this dead wasteland of black ice and sky, but something about it... suits you, suits your temperament. There's no single word you could use to describe the atmosphere of this place – nostalgic and menacing, despite the inherent contrast between them, seem the most appropriate choices. Which one wins out seems to change with every passing second.

It's a strange place, Nihilo, as capricious and mysterious as its mistress.

“The High Priest Not To Be Named,” Artemis says suddenly, pointing out across the wasteland at her newest guest, “That's the best name I can offer you. Even in the old tongue, it would be difficult – how do you name something, when it specifically tried to be nameless?”

Quite the conundrum, you agree.

“Isn't it just?” the goddess shifts a little, easing up beside you and resting her head on your shoulder, “And it's not the only unanswerable question. I wonder... imagine you were given a choice, an inescapable choice between two options. Would you rather be free to travel to the furthest and most distant corners of the land, on the condition that you could never touch the things you found there? Or would you rather be bound, locked into a body that can touch and feel as it likes?”

She's talking about the beast, you guess, the witch cult's high priest. It was roaming loose, and they called it into that shell of twigs and rags.

“Just so!” Artemis pats you on the chest, her hand lingering for a moment as if to feel your beating heart, “I bet that wasn't what you expected when you came looking for a beast, right?”

[1/2]

>>430701

You'll admit, you weren't sure what to expect. A beast, created by the hands of men. No, not created – it was already in existence, roaming wild and free as Artemis described – but given form, given reign over the night and the forests. One thing's for sure, you say half to yourself and half to Artemis, she always manages to surprise you.

“In a good way, I hope,” the goddess purrs, “But you'd do well to be prepared for anything – man or beast, bodiless spirit or antediluvian relic... your path will take you to all of these, just as all will fall beneath your blade. Ah, but that's still to come – savour the moment, Henryk, the thrill of the hunt! After all...” she turns her eyes to yours, and they dance with life – as wild and boundless as the primal freedom Blair had aspired to, “That's what we both want, isn't it?”

Not for the first time, but keener and sharper than ever before, you feel a thorn of doubt worm its way into your heart.

>The thrill of the hunt – of course that's what I want
>I don't know what I want any more
>I met a witch, and when she looked in my eyes, she saw a bird – one with a blood red beak. Does that mean anything to you?
>These bodiless spirits you mentioned – how do they take form?
>I wanted to ask you something... (Write in)
>Other

>>430703
>The thrill of the hunt – of course that's what I want
>I met a witch, and when she looked in my eyes, she saw a bird – one with a blood red beak. Does that mean anything to you?
>These bodiless spirits you mentioned – how do they take form?
I really don't know what else Henryk wants. Ask her what she knows about the witch cult.

>>430703
>>I met a witch, and when she looked in my eyes, she saw a bird – one with a blood red beak. Does that mean anything to you?
>The thrill of the hunt – of course that's what I want
Fighting a bodiless spirit sounds incredibly annoying.

>>430703
>I met a witch, and when she looked in my eyes, she saw a bird – one with a blood red beak. Does that mean anything to you?
>These bodiless spirits you mentioned – how do they take form?
>I take thrill in the Hunt Artemis, but I am also mindful of WHY I hunt. These beasts need killing as much as I enjoy killing them.

>>430703
>The thrill of the hunt – of course that's what I want
"I've had more excitement since I partnered up with you than I've had in awhile. Is it my only motivation though? I don't know, I'm still figuring myself out honestly."

>I wanted to ask you something... (Write in)
"What about you Artemis? Is it just thrill of the hunt and reclaiming the fragments of yourself for you? No other wants or aspirations?"

>I met a witch, and when she looked in my eyes, she saw a bird – one with a blood red beak. Does that mean anything to you?
>These bodiless spirits you mentioned – how do they take form?

>I wanted to ask you something... (Write in)
"Hey Artemis, I'm curious. When you grant me your gifts what are you actually doing to me? It isn't as simple as just 'bestowing power' is it? Nothing ever is that simple."

>>430703
>>The thrill of the hunt, yes it is something I want but one need some calm to appreciate it truly.
>>I met a witch, and when she looked in my eyes, she saw a bird – one with a blood red beak. That was you I presume?
>>These bodiless spirits you mentioned – how do they take form?

>>430703
>The thrill of the hunt – of course that's what I want
>I met a witch, and when she looked in my eyes, she saw a bird – one with a blood red beak. Does that mean anything to you?
>These bodiless spirits you mentioned – how do they take form?
Add this, are you a spirit or a god? Can you take on a body? Are you supposed to be chaste

>>430703
>I met a witch, and when she looked in my eyes, she saw a bird – one with a blood red beak. Does that mean anything to you?
>power, power is what I wanted, and the hunt is how I attain it. The thrill is a bonus.
blech, got an early day tomorrow. Don't go around dancing naked while I'm gone.

>>430709
On second thought I guess he wants to avenge the people Hebona killed and he wants to find a cure for Lize but I don't think he wants anything more than hunting for himself.

>>430733
>Vengeance on witches which might be vengeance on White Tyrant too
>Curing Dragon's Blood Madness
>Hunt

>Maybe wants to get rid of Red Eye Sickness if he has a chance?
I could see him potentially wanting to get rid of it at it's source or something after what happened to Nethe.

All that time ago – but really, has it been so long, now that you think about it? - Artemis offered you power, the chance to become a Hunter without peer. It had been her gift to you, granted in exchange for this service you carry out in her name. Now, nothing has changed – it's the thrill of the hunt, of the kill, that drives you on. Even so, though, you know better than to let yourself get lost, blood-drunk, in the hunt. Better men than you have been lost to madness that way. You savour the hunt, true, but you never forget why it must be done.

“An admirable claim,” Artemis begins to pace slowly, “One that many have made before. I wonder, though, how honest those words were. You wouldn't be the first Hunter to cover up a beast's fangs with a mask of virtue.”

And what about her, you retort, what does she really want? Is this just about the thrill of the hunt, about reclaiming her fragmented form, or does she have any aspirations of her own?

“Really, I'm not what to tell you,” she stops pacing before you, hands clasped behind her back, “All incomplete beings desire to be whole, and that goal is where my heart lies. Once that had been attained... perhaps I'll think of something. We can decide together – won't that be nice?”

When she's complete, you ask, could she take a body for herself? A physical form, one capable of touching and feeling the world as she described?

“That may be possible,” tilting her head to the side, Artemis reaches out and lays her palms flat on your chest, “I think... I remember touching things once, things outside this dream. If I did it once, perhaps I could do it again. Ah, but what should be the first thing to gift with my touch?”

You don't need to ask to know that she's got a fair few ideas about that already. Just the way her hands move on your chest makes her intent clear. Smiling – smirking, really – she draws her hands back and clasps them primly to the collar of her white garb. She watches, and she waits.

-

You met a witch, you tell her evenly, and she saw something in your eyes. A bird, its beak red with blood – is there some significance there? Your question seems to change the feel of the air, cooling the tension that had been thickening. With cool and measured interests, Artemis looks into your eyes just as Blair – if that really was Blair – had done.

“I said you might meet interesting people,” she offers, “And it seems I was correct. To recognise that, she must have been a very old witch indeed. There are few alive today who would be able to sense that in you.”

That?

“My touch, my influence,” a smile touches Artemis' lips, “Of course, they wouldn't use the same name as you or I would.”

[1/2]

>>430758

Arktis, the northern spirit. So what is she, you ask – goddess or spirit?

“I wonder,” touching a slim finger to her lips, Artemis looks up at the dark sky, “What's the difference? Perhaps the nameless gods are just spirits that have cast aside their identities to become something more primal. Perhaps spirits are what becomes of a god that takes a name and form. Perhaps both are true... in the cold, northern lands, boundaries and categories often become meaningless.”

Which tells you nothing, once you set aside gloss and glamour. Could it be, you wonder privately, that Artemis herself doesn't know the nature of her existence?

So these witch cults that have been appearing of late, you ask her, what's her take on them? She implied some difference between witches of old and the modern kind, some vast gulf of knowledge and understanding.

“That's exactly it,” Artemis nods, “The children that call themselves “witches” these days know nothing of what they do. Their rites and rituals... they take them on faith, trusting that they will attract the attention of the nameless gods. It was in a more ancient time that those rites were devised, created through maddening acts of study and science. Funny, isn't it? Your Ministry might well be correct – witchcraft, as an art and a discipline, is dead.” She laughs then, shaking her head. “Almost dead. If there was yet one who recognised the signs...”

You say nothing for a while, consider Artemis' words. Hebona, the unseen leader of this cult, might very well be the last true witch, the last one who has true understanding of the acts she performs. Little wonder, then, that she was able to draw a bodiless spirit into a shell – but that raises a question in your mind. How do these bodiless spirits take form, you ask, can they steal a man's body and use it as a puppet?

“Fear not, Henryk, that won't happen,” the goddess laughs lightly at the relieved look that darts across your face, “No, they are drawn to a shell that resembles their former self. The beast you fought... perhaps it saw something of the ancient Knights in that crude idol they pieced together. It recognised enough of itself to call that shell a home, at least.”

It was certainly tall enough, you remark as you think of those lofty doorways decorating the most ancient buildings in the land. As Artemis giggles, she covers her mouth with one hand – a hand that was, not so long ago, running red with mystical blood. At the sight of it, you find yourself wonder about her gifts. When she grants you power, you ask her, what exactly is she doing to you?

[2/3]

I vote to kiss her before we leave.

>>430799
Slow your roll. We got plenty of quest. Let that sexual tension build.

>>430804
But if we do it now then she'll be taken completely by surprise!

>>430804
>>430799
I still think this romancing Artemis stuff is out of left field. Especially when there was talk of hunting her down back when she first showed up. There's no stopping it now but I just hope people don't get too carried away and start heading in a weird direction.

>>430820
It's just an option. One of many. So was the hunting her down bit. We have no idea where we'll be 4 threads from now and things could have completely changed.

Also the 'romancing' prospect is being less out of left field cause of Artemis herself as you've seen.

But like I said, who knows what is going to happen? I'm not really planning for anything. Not long term anyway.

>>430786

“Blood has power, Henryk,” she purrs, “Your noble families know that all too well.”

The Dragon's Blood, you nod, you've not forgotten.

“Oh, but not just that,” Artemis' eyes widen slightly, “They took your blood, did they not? Took it away, tested it, and then set you on the Hunter's path. This is something you were born into, Henryk, made what you are by virtue of your blood. The wolf's blood sleeps within you, and all I'm doing is... rousing it a little. Waking the beast, if you excuse the term. Age and experience would find the same results, I'm just speeding things along a little.”

And then you think of the old Hunters you've seen – shambling from one fight to the next, never able to slake their thirst for blood. Is that what lies at the end of your life, a fate just as inescapable as the one that Lize herself is facing?

“Time to wake up, Henryk,” Artemis tells you, her voice a song, “You're making people worried.”

No, you call out, wait-

-

Wait a minute!

“Damn it, Hanson!” Camilla curses as you leap from a dream into a struggle, trying to shake off the hands that had been gripping you, “I'm trying to help you!”

Sense prevails, then, and you can look around you with unclouded eyes. You're being held aloft, carried from the forests by the Ministry agent – she's stronger than she looks, it seems. When she barks out a hard laugh, you realise that you said those words aloud.

“You're not the first man I've carried out of this damn forest,” she grunts, “Now can you stand?” As you take your own weight, sensation crawling back into your numb limbs, Camilla brushes down her clothes and gives you an appraising look. A cigarette, unlit, hangs from the corner of her mouth. “Honestly, you should be more careful – you nearly burned to death out there. I found you slumped there, clothes soaked in fuel, just a few feet from that... that bonfire. You got damn lucky.”

Lucky, you repeat, you're not sure if you feel that way. Nothing has changed, not really, but still you can't shake the impression that everything is different. There's something gnawing inside you, something that can only grow – day by day.

Suddenly, you know how Lize must have felt. Even knowing that you can't run from this, from your own blood, the urge to flee into the night burns brightly within your veins.

“Hanson?” Camilla asks, “You okay?”

>It's private. Personal
>I'm fine, but I need to get back. When is the next ship?
>I need a drink. What about you?
>Other