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>>434647

Welcome to RE: Animated round 12. For those dropping in for the first time, welcome to the tales of Lee Townsend, a re-animated skeletal bard on a personal quest to do some good and tie up loose ends in his inexplicably extended time on earth.

The backlog can be found here:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=re%3A+animated

And all announcements for the quest are posted to my twitter:
https://twitter.com/bananon_QM

>>434647
>[] Well, if it’s on the way, we can help

> [] Well, if it’s on the way, we can help

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>>434862
>>434716
>>434647

“Well, it it’s on the way, we can help,” you insist, looking over the map. “A few more dots to connect would be well worth the travel time out of the way.”

“To The Lonely Road it is then,” Father Michael sighs, putting away his map. “Taverns to town guards, that’s where the murder was reported.”

“A merchant?” you question.

“Nah,” he says. “Just a local by all claims, a lad by the name of James Whittaker. Still, they’re thinking he met his end by your lady friend’s hands, and that’s a problem.”

“Shouldn’t take much doing to change their opinion, then.”

“Pah,” Michael scoffs. “Ain’t never that easy.”

With the matter thus concluded, you spend the rest of what little evening there is addressing your traveling mates and telling them about the change in schedule. Complaints being few and far between, you let them go to sleep, and turn your thoughts once again to honing your skills.

> What will it be tonight?
> [] Illusions
> [] Swordsmanship
> [] Armor
> [] Spirit Magic
> [] Fire Magic
> [] Other

> Also, feel free to emphasize tricks you want to learn within these categories.

>>434982
> [] Illusions
We've neglected this a bit, but it used to be something of a specialty I believe?
Lets try doing hypnotic illusion abilities, and Illusions of sensations and senses other then sight.

>>434982
>> [] Illusions
Try and see if we can combine our other schools of magic into the act

>>435007
>>435021
>>434982

Ah, right, roll 2d100.

Rolled 46, 22 = 68 (2d100)

>>434982
here goes

Rolled 75, 45 = 120 (2d100)

>>435037

Rolled 23, 100 = 123 (2d100)

>>435037

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>>435249
>>435204
>>435040
>>434982

> 75, 100

A clear mind and a clear evening, that’s all that’s needed for effective practice, and as you step out of the fire light and conjure some of your own in its place, you can already feel your mind shifting into the proper rhythm for expanding upon your boundaries. Of course, at this point, it might be better put as retracing old boundaries before anything can be expanded on, but you don’t let that disparaging thought push you off your kilter.

It was just a matter of practice, you remind yourself. Rehearsal, rehearsal, rehearsal, until you could once again bend the senses every which way you chose with but a passing thought. Perhaps in time, you could even do something about your own less than whole sensory suite, but for right now, you focus on what you can verify without a test subject. Seeing the light flicker through the branches, you begin to twist and shape it, molding it into an image of yourself running ahead.

Next, you imagine an archer is closing in from behind, bow drawn, arrow knocked, prepared to let fly. If nothing is done, he’ll stick you but good. And while that may not be a particularly intimidating thought given your lack of meat, you try to humor yourself and imagine it were dire. What can you do to ensure he doesn’t hit?

There’s always producing a double, or a screen of pure black, but maybe something more inventive would be better. A bit of art perspective could work, a paint brush on the illusory scenery that makes the sight bend and sway rather than center. Then you need only reverse the apparent wind direction, and… there! The illusory arrow fires into the distorted pastels and passes your dummy by far more than a hair, perhaps a meaningless activity when you control the flight of the arrow, but one you take pride in nevertheless.

Of course, during all of this, illusory birds chirp and crisp leaves sway in the breeze. A softer chorus of green sounds then round out the foreground to try to take the edge off where the sound’s reverb may not be quite right. All this extra care, you realize, still stems from a recollection of the time Thelma the Druid had schooled you on over a dozen different species of bird, none of which you had been imitating during your attempted charades.

It had been an annoying lesson, but a valuable one in the end. After all, an illusion was only as good as its least convincing component, an optical illusion fit to be shattered with a single mispainted smudge or misremembered line. Strong or subtle details could lead the eye and ear away from mistakes, of course, but the worst part was that the illusionist was always the least fit to judge the validity of his own work.

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>>435555

A tricky situation to say the least, and a perilously vexing one as it concerned your missing senses. After all, how could you ever know whether what you were feeling was really what you were supposed to be feeling, or merely what you desired that feeling to be? Such was the burden of wandering spirits, Yesh had told you, to be caught between worlds of what is within their own mind and what was in the world of the living. Yet, perhaps there was another way, one you already knew of in another life…

“Satyr’s Scintillating Caress”, the name makes you laugh softly to yourself as you once again crack open your old journal and take a peek at your decades old handiwork. Truly a thing of debauched beauty if ever there was one, a crass kitchen sink of devious design from every school you had half a finger in from evocation to register temperature, abjuration to give form, transmutation to detect composition. You have no idea how or when you managed all of the research that must have gone into this while your very real hands were presumably occupied with a real woman… or man… or a mug of ale to forget about the latter two.

But while some mysteries may never be solved, and the outlines are undoubtedly crude in places, a bit of information from later in life helps you tidy up those loose ends. It’s an intensive process taking several hours, but between your painstaking notes across those years, you finally take a deep breath and with a flash of fierce concentration bring into being a most inauspicious hand.

Well, it’s floating and disembodied, but it isn’t on fire or anything. Yet, far, far more interesting is what happens in your mind as a result, your mind going blank and your knees weak as you feel a sensation pouring into your mind as it arcs across the void from its open palm: namely, the wind. Soft like silk, cold and damp with the pre-morning dew gathering, you can feel it tingle against your imaginary skin, even feel moisture bead on its solid shape as you just hold it there aloft in rapture.

You had gone so long without feeling anything, touching anything: like seeing the light after a year in darkness, it’s almost enough to overwhelm you as you shift targets, fingers scraping rapturously over dry bark, rubbing cold metal, and at long last, gripping the soft leather of your cane’s wrapping bent on loosing it. Unfortunately, as you make the attempt with said hand, you find yourself rudely interrupted.

In morbid fascination, you watch as your newfound hand flounders, pulling feebly on the object that remains trapped beneath a break away snap. In the end, that shouldn’t be a surprise, of course. After all, it was nothing but a mage hand, a weak abjuration barely able to hold itself aloft, and the notes had told you as much about its limitations.

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>>435563

However, Yesh had told you something equally important in the not so distant past, and so with another pulse of power you forcibly manifest your spirit, pulling its aura out like a tendril and spearing it through the fingers of the hand like a puppet, the unsettling visual imagery unlocking an almost too natural path for you to channel your power through as two and two connect.

And in that moment, much as in the demon fight, you suddenly find yourself laughing with unnatural abandon. While all of this transpires, you stand there almost manically rattling as the illusory hand pulls your cane free of its sheath while your two real arms war to remove your right glove. With a flourish and a snap, you throw the armor aside as swiftly as you can then, skeletal fingers plunging through the projection as you will the two to spatially connect.

“Gahahaha!” you chuckle. “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“Oi, Bone head!” you hear Father Michael yell, the holy man appearing with a nightcap still on his head. “Last time I heard a laugh like that was a funny lookin’ werewolf with an allergy to poppies gettin' a nose full. Now are ye gonna be alright, or have ye finally gone completely, bloody mad?”

> What do you say?
> [] “But… hand…”
> [] “Apologies.”
> [] Other

>>435572

Sorry for the delay folks. It ended up being a long update in part due to the 100.

>>435572
>> [] Other
Would you call a being such as I sane?
Being stuck as a skeleton tends to erode your sanity.

>>435572
> [] “Apologies.”
"Though on sanity, youre one to talk."

>>435572
>[] “Apologies.”

>>435974
>>435842
>>435589
>>435572

“A bit hard to say, father,” you admit, the lapse in concentration losing you the spell. “I have to admit, being stuck as a skeleton seems to erode your sanity little by little. Anyway, apologies on the early wake-up call, but are you really one to talk on sanity?”

“Hardly,” he laughs, walking over with a grin. “Or hell, maybe I’m better qualified than most on account of how I’m always lookin’ at the damn line. Don’t know which, to tell ye the truth. Just know I don’t envy ye yer position after a spell o’ sensory deprivation meself.”

“Really?” you question. “How’d that happen?”

“Pah! Some ceremony or somethin’ to bring us closer to the light of our lord. In less fancy talk, they plant yer arse in a hole in the ground and leave ye for a few weeks with an enchantment to keep ye alive and deaf to the world.”

“Sounds like a recipe for psychosis,” you say.

“Nonsense,” he chuckles, producing a cigar from his pajamas, striking a match, and taking a few puffs. “Had lads lining up around the church for a chance at it, as a matter o’ fact.”

“Bet they all felt fresh as a daisy afterward…”

“Covered in as much mud at any rate,” Father Michael finishes, “but it’s been a tradition since ancient times. Findin’ yer own light an’ all that. Anyway, curious as to why ye were pulling off the world’s worst jackal impersonation in the wee hours of the mornin’.”

“Ah, that,” you sigh, once again focusing and trying your best to recreate the hand from before.

It’s easier the second time, though that isn’t saying much as you present it to the priest.

“So a creepy floatin’ hand?” he questions, warm hand grabbing ahold of the spectral one.

“A feeling hand,” you emphasize, articulating the fingers. “An invention from my youth that happened to come in handy as of now.”

“Well that’s mighty ‘handy’ then, isn’t it?” Father Michael chuckles.

“I can definitely see it coming in ‘hand’,” you agree, wishing you had eyebrows to waggle.

“Who has awoken me from my slumber…?” comes a grumbling, elven voice with fake airs as the frazzled owner comes wandering away from camp.

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>>436127

“Ah, nothin’ lass,” Michael assures her. “Lee here was just givin’ me a hand with figurin’ somethin’ out.”

“Honestly, I think I have to hand it to the father here, I’m feeling much better now.”

*Rattle-Rattle*

“Why are you two idiots laugh-“ Lucy stops when she sees the illusory limb wave in her direction, jaw opening, closing, then opening again before she simply storms off back to her tent.

“Do you think we got a bit out of hand?” you question.

“Nah. Hands down, I’d say she was overreacting.”

--

Coffee come the morning proves a little tense given the large, elven eyes skewering both you and Father Michael from your friendly rogue, and it certainly doesn’t help you occasionally stumble into a few more puns without thinking about it. Still, eventually, the campfire is put away, horses are saddled, and you are all back on the road with an absolute minimum of stabbing.

Over hills and across well-trodden paths, you find the journey pleasantly boring, not a shade or flesh rending demon to upset your casual canter to the sleepy town of Dark Hollow, though it appears, someone took the liberty of renaming it Dank Hollow instead on the entry sign. Well, whatever their gift or lack thereof in the arts of lampooning, you don’t let it confuse you from winding down the lonely road to The Lonely road and… wait, seriously? These people had no creativity whatsoever.

However, as the sign is quick to tell you on the way in, they do have the county’s most delicious apple pie served hot and ready, something the innkeep, Matilda, is quick to offer up when she catches sight of your illustrious group wandering into her tavern.

“Durn near impossible to get help out this way!” the thin woman complains after you’ve told her why you’re here, all while she doles out a generous helping to each person in turn. “Reckon them folks was in and out in less than a day. Heck, barely even looked at the body before they called the case closed.”

“Well, we’re here to see that justice is done, ma’am,” you assure.

> But where do you start?
> [] The body!
> [] The crime scene!
> [] Ask about the victim!
> [] Other

>>436134
> [] Ask about the victim!
Lets face it, we are not knowledge enough about forensics to have any use for the crime scene or the body.

>>436134
>[] Ask about the victim!

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>>436200
>>436189
>>436134

“So, what can you tell me about the boy, Ms. …?” you begin.

“It’s Maple,” she sighs, grabbing a seat. “Ms. Matty Maple, if ya gotta know.”

“Right, Ms. Maple,” you continue. “Anything you can tell us about James Whittaker will help while we’re investigating. Would anyone have probable cause to want to see him harmed.”

“What in the sam-“ Her eyes widen in shock. “Little Jimmy Whittaker weren’t nothin’ but a kid, and a good un at that. Hell, if I coulda traded him for two of three rascals still around here… but no. He ain’t made any enemies. In fact, he was in good with pretty much every old timer in this neck of the woods on account of him going bait huntin’ for ‘em.”

“Bait hunting…?” you question.

“That’s the size of it,” she affirms. “Ye ain’t never seen worms grow in cans, after all, and the kid’d fish just about anything for anybody out of the woods for just a chunk of change. Always-“ You see her eyes get a bit misty, expression tightening as she continues. “Always used to bring a smile on my face to see the little feller wander in with that big ol’ smile o’ his… t-till that overgrown snek woman gotta hold of ‘em!”

“Wait, a giant snake? Are you sure?” you probe.

“Ain’t been to no crime scene,” she admits in a whisper, breathing heavily now as the tears flow, “but I seen the body all twisted up and broken, filled with holes where some wild beast got at him! That tin-fer-brains Harrison’s what said it was a lamia or whatever the hell folks call ‘em. I couldn’t give less of a fig unless he brought back a corpse.”

“I understand,” you assure her, “and I promise you we’ll be trying to get to the bottom of this. However, where did the attack occur? Does anyone know?”

“The s-sheriff’s the one ye gotta ask about that,” she continues, though it appears she’s having difficulties breathing. “I d-didn’t see nothin’ ‘cept the last time he was through my store…. S-Shoulda seen him, smile fit to split his face when he sold that big ol’ box o’ caterpillars to those big city fellers from a couple counties over. Ye’da thought they just handed him all the money in the world…”

Seems she’s about at her limit.

> What to do?
> [] Investigate the crime scene
> [] Investigate the body
> [] Caterpillars?
> [] Other

>>436285
> [] Caterpillars?
Let me guess, Silk worms?

>>436285
>> [] Caterpillars?

>>436285
>[] Caterpillars?
>[] Other
"Oh, twisted up and broken, just like if he'd been beaten by a group of men wanting to keep a boy's mouth shut, then."
Stupid, ignorant trash. This is the kind of scum we have to "protect".
They deserve to be put under a bootheel and ground into the mud.

But can't let any of that come to the surface yet.

>>436298
>>Stupid, ignorant trash. This is the kind of scum we have to "protect".
They deserve to be put under a bootheel and ground into the mud.
Wow, someone has issues. totally out of character issues

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>>436298
>>436294
>>436290
>>436285

“Caterpillars?” you ask, hazarding one last question. “Pardon, ma’am, but what in the devil could big city residents want with a box full of caterpillars?”

“And did they look anything like these?” Margy prompts afterward, pencil quickly scratching out an image on parchment, a rather terrifyingly precise depiction of a silk worm.

You were going to have to ask her how she did that later.

“Reckon it’d look pretty durn close,” she confirms tiredly. “Hard to tell without colors.”

“And tell me ma’am,” you say. “Does the nearby forest contain silk worms by any chance?”

“’Fraid not…” she answers, eying you with suspicion now. “Though ye wouldn’t be the first durn fool to try pickin’ a pod full o’ bagworms and makin’ a mess. No, I reckon those boys were just city slickers out to ‘get in touch with their roots’ or whatever it is city folks say when they come down off their reservation and start stumblin’ ‘round the backroads. Anyhow…” With a tired groan, she begins walking toward the back of the tavern. “I’ve said about as much as I can stand, and I can’t stand no more. Ask Sheriff Norris if ye’ve got more questions. But as for my tavern, gonna have to ask that you go on and git.”

Grabbing a CLOSED sign from behind the bar, she politely but sternly then shepherds the lot of you out, wishing you well before closing up shop and shuffling back to her apartment.

“So, we have a group of uptown men on a fishing trip and a murder not long after,” you sigh. “Guess it’s back to square one, then.”

“Not exactly,” Margy interrupts. “I can’t say whether those men were involved or un-involved, but I can tell you they weren’t fishing.”

“Oh?”

“Well you see,” the sister suddenly realizes she’s the center of attention and wilts slightly. “Err, that is, if those weren’t silk worms, there’s only one other species that looks like that in the area, and those are toxic to fish…”

“So, a couple of men sequester a box of poisonous caterpillars and a boy winds up dead,” you correct. “Still not much of a connection, though it does beg the question of what they were doing.”

“Investigate first, draw conclusions later,” Lucy insists, hurrying the pack of you along to the sheriff’s office and knocking on the door.

“Yes, who is it?” a shortish, bearded man is quick to answer, swinging open the door while wiping what must be the remains of lunch off his face.

> What do you want to investigate?
> [] The body
> [] The crime scene
> [] The investigator
> [] Other

>>436422
>> [] The body
> [] The crime scene

>>436422
>[] The body
Lucy, with her experience, should be able to give us some idea if there are any stab wounds that could indicate the murder.

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>>436422
>>436434
>>436432

“Investigators on behalf of the Church of Orrin,” you say, offering you hand. “We’re here to inquire further into the death of young Jimmy Whittaker.”

The man’s expression becomes far less cheerful, but he welcomes you into his office all the same and offers as many of you as he can a seat.

“Well, what’ll it be then?” he asks. “Not that I don’t mind a second set of eyes after that cat and dog show Harrison ran through here, but it’s been a few weeks on the crime scene at this point. That means wind and rain have done a number on the attack site-“

“And the body’s probably mulch,” Lucy finishes in a huff.

“As a matter of fact, the body’s fine. Well, as fine as it can be,” he corrects. “A traveling cleric came through and saw Jimmy held up for the first investigation. However, they said he’d keep for about a month. I’m not one to go disturbing the dead, of course, but if you think there’s something to be gained, we can have him topside in an hour or so.”

“You seem awfully willing to just turn up a body at the drop of a hat,” Lucy notes.

“To tell you honestly,” he admits, brushing a hand through his hair before replacing his hat. “Not knowing who you are or where you’re from, I’d still trust your word on the matter better than Harrison’s. And at the end of the day, I want Jimmy’s Pa to have some peace.”

> Exhume the body?
> [] Yes
> [] No

> Also, any questions for the sheriff?

>>436466
>[] Yes

>Questions for the Sheriff
Anything on the people who last saw the boy alive? What about the clients that he did his last job for?
And does he still have what the boy had on him when he was found? Clothing, bait boxes, anything the killers could have been trying to cover up and missed?

>>436466
> [] Yes

> Also, any questions for the sheriff?
By the by, how exactly did they come to conclusion a gorgon did this anyway. Its a little out of the way...

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>>436521
>>436478
>>436466

“In this case, I fear we’ve little choice,” you say. “We simply don’t have enough evidence to go off of as of now. As for whether or not we can come closer to reaching a conclusion on the matter, I hesitate to promise anything, but we will certainly try. By the way, while we’re on the subject of the former investigation, I’m curious as to how they came to conclude this was a gorgon attack. Were there witnesses on the scene? Tell-tale marks on the body?”

“Define ‘tell-tale’,” he comments. “It’s not like we found the boy turned into marble and crushed to powder or like that would even be decent proof anyhow.”

“How-“

“The world’s a big place,” Norris explains. “It’s filled with all sorts of people, cultures, and ways of life. And we can’t rightly get along if we don’t understand each other, now can we? For instance, I know Gorgon’s as a general rule can’t freeze a man with a glance. They also aren’t savages. Hell, they built an empire on the Stone Isles larger than a number of human kingdoms.”

“Then why would you attribute the death to a gorgon?” you press, drawing a hopeless laugh from the man.

“You’re acting like that was my doing,” he sighs. “You know what it says in my files? Case not solved, because so far as I’m concerned, that windbag Harrison didn’t know what he was talking about. You’ll see when you take a look at the body, but it’s more like a bear did the mauling than any snake.”

“Then why-“ Lucy begins.

“The murder was declared part of a string of crimes that superceded my jurisdiction,” he explains, “and as a result, Mr. Ford was very quick to tell me exactly where I could shove my opinions on the matter of the investigation. In the end, who was I to question how the baron’s own private investigator did his job? Needless to say, he played too fast and loose with his reasoning for anyone around here to feel like they had closure before he hit the bricks. Anyway, let’s get out there, shall we?”

The sheriff leads you outside slowly as he makes a call to the grave digger, giving you time to think up a few more questions.

“So, was there anything found on the body at the scene?” you question.

“Just clothes, blood, and bone,” the man says, “and a pretty healthy coin purse.”

“So whatever attacked had no interest in his money,” you conclude. “Speaking of, was there any evidence against the last men he sold to?”

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>>436604

“That pair did a suspiciously good job of hiding where they were coming from and where they were going,” he admits. “Still, I followed the lines far enough to know they must have come from Holtheim, and up there, you don’t fish unless you’ve gotten pretty chummy with one of the nobles. Anyway, it’s suspicious, but they left town long before the kid was attacked. So, I dropped it.”

“Well, let’s solve one mystery at a time then,” you agree.

And so comes an uncomfortable period of time in which you and your group are left standing by a grave plot as a grim faced man upturns the body. In the end, Father Michael even joins in to lighten the load, but it still feels like far too long for a dead man to be standing so close to a place of final rest. Still, an eternity later, the box once more reaches solid ground, too small for a full grown man by a solid third and unsealed with all the care the two men can muster between them.

The sight within, well, it isn’t pretty. It must have been a closed casket funeral from the way the rib cage appears to have been sheared of its meat, skull bashed beyond recognition, limbs broken.

“Lucy…” you hesitate. “I guess you’re....”

You don’t get a chance to finish before she and Ricky are already moving past you, toolkit coming loose from her belt as she begins examining the corpse in-depth, moving aside flaps of skin and twisting bones with a mixture of care and casual occupation you find unnerving.

> What do you do?
> [] Ask more questions? What?
> [] Try to help with the autopsy! (2d100)
> [] Wait until the autopsy is done
> [] Other

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>>436605

I'm gonna sleep and pick up again tomorrow.

>>436605
> [] Ask more questions? What?
Was there anthing else happening around that was unusual prior to or around the time of the murder? Strange happenings, weird rumors, unusual comings or goings? If this was done by some kindof animal, maybe there was some kind of activity on that emd, livestock going missing, or other local animals clearing out might have happened if something new showed up.

>>436629
Supporting

>>436605
>[] Ask more questions? What?
Any reports of wild animal attacks? Livestock gone missing?

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>>436828
>>436716
>>436629
>>436605

“So…” Might as well continue the line of inquiry. “If the boy was in fact torn apart by a wild beast, do you have any likely suspects? Were there any strange happenings around town around that time, weird rumors, unusual comings or goings in or out of town? What about livestock or the local wildlife population?”

“You know how it goes,” Norris offers. “A pig or a goat goes missing here or there, as much liable to be the work of a clumsy farmer as a super natural being. Wolves remain a concern, but last I checked, they don’t bash their prey. Other than that, things are usually pretty quiet around these parts. Fishing’s even been a bit above average since an unknown hunter went and cleared out a local grizzly den.”

“That ain’t an easy feat,” Father Michael points out.

“And they didn’t bring the pelt back here for cleaning,” he admits. “Then again, if it was a fur trader, they might have just skinned it on the spot and moved on.”

“Or…” Lucy speaks up. “It wasn’t anything human at all.”

With a squelch and a grunt of effort, you see the elf begin slowly removing something long and sharp from inside the boy’s chest. Gore and muscle distend in a nauseating way as it strains to keep its prize, but in the end, a long spike is removed and brought out into the light, almost curved like a rib.

“I was thinking this looked peculiar,” she elaborates, continuing to poke and prod the body. “Bones were broken and splintered but the muscles themselves weren’t ripped in the least. Something had to have immobilized his muscle control before setting in, and at that point, it was choosy with what it took. Bicep, heart, liver, intestines, with the chest cavity torn open to allow access.”

“A manticore, then,” Ricky concludes, and Lucy nods.

“They’re intelligent predators with paralytic venom,” she concludes, “but why would one swipe a kid with farmland nearby? It doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

“Well, they’re malicious and known for killing out of spite,” Ricky points out. “Of course, in that case, it probably wouldn’t have stopped with just one kid.”

> Out of one rabbit hole and down into another…
> [] Go to the crime scene
> [] Ask more questions. What?
> [] Other

>>437820
>> [] Go to the crime scene

>>437820
>> [] Go to the crime scene

>>437820
> [] Ask more questions. What?
Have there been any other murders or disappearances? Any other wild animal attacks?
Seems strange that a manticore would stop at just one kid when there's farms and a town nearby.
>[] Go to the crime scene

>>437820
> [] Go to the crime scene
> [] Ask more questions. What?
Well, what else do we know about manticores then? Where do they come from/ hole up, things like that

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>>437883
>>437871
>>437837
>>437820

“If we’re lucky there may be evidence at the crime scene,” Sheriff Norris says, leading you all away from the graveyard and back to the stables.

“Have there been any other murders or disappearances?” you question on the way. “Any other wild animal attacks?”

“Like I said,” he grunts, getting up into the saddle. “We’re just a sleepy little town without a lot of goings-on. That suits most of the people who live here just fine, of course. We don’t have any hunters either, so I’m not sure who would have gone and pissed off a- Damnit!” He stops, slapping a hand to his forehead. “That son of a bitch!”

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“That son of a bitch, Harrison! He walked in here bragging about being a seasoned hunter, and what else is he showing off to anyone within ten feet of him than a manticore hide belt!?”

“So the dumbass kills a manticore’s mate…” Lucy leads.

“The manticore mauls a kid…” Ricky continues.

“And then an investigation into the matter turns up short, pointing in the absolute wrong direction…” you finish.

“Either that, or he’s too big of an idiot to tell the difference,” Norris sighs. “Anyway, let’s get a move on.”

In the end, it’s a small town and a small trip over to where the attack took place, an insignificant patch of roadside with an animal pen not far from sight.

“Someone scrubbed the prints,” Lucy confirms immediately, pointing to a patch of gravel. “The grain’s been brushed one way and they didn’t even both to pack the right amount of mud back in.”

“That’s assuming no one has been by to patch the holes,” you point out, but Norris has a follow up.

“No one’s been out this way but Old Man Whittaker, and he’s hardly been in the shape to fix breakfast, let alone holes in the ground,” he assures you.

“We’ve still got the blood for what good that does us,” Lucy points out.

“And they may have missed tracks further in,” Ricky confirms, then stops, “or further up.”

As you collectively turn your eyes to the tops of the tree, you can see the distinctive signs of snapped branches, shorn off leaves, and something else.

“We’ll need someone to go up and collect it, then,” you say. “Someone good at climbing trees.”

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>>438027

“Wh-? Why are all of you assholes looking at me?” Lucy demands. “Not all elves climb trees, damn it!”

“So you’re saying you can’t?” Ricky probes.

“I’m saying shut up and hold my fucking gear!” Lucy huffs, roughly shoving her tools into Ricky’s hand before hopping onto the tree and beginning a swift and graceful ascent, though you notice a bit of red around the tips of her ears.

“Yep, definitely claw marks,” Lucy confirms near the top. “And something else.” Snatching an object off of a nearby branch, she then begins her descent, reaching the bottom before offering up what appears to be a strip of thin, ragged leather. “Wing membrane.”

“Well, that would explain the lack of follow up attacks,” you note. “Hard to fly on a damaged wing.”

“Aye, but once it’s on the mend, it’ll be back,” Father Michael points out.

> So that leaves you options…
> [] Hunt down the manticore. How?
> [] Other

>>438030
>[] Hunt down the manticore. How?
See if anybody in town knows where Harrison was when he went hunting

>>438030
>[] Hunt down the manticore. How?
Ricky, Michael, and Lee will do the actual fighting.
Lucy just gives us information on how to track it, maybe helps us hunt it down (maybe during the day if it's nocturnal?), and stays out of the fight.

Michael and Lee can fight the thing without getting incapacitated by the poison. Ricky can use a crossbow to wound it.
Norris should come along to verify that there really was a manticore and that it's been taken care of, and that it was the manticore that killed the boy and not Lady Cassandra.

>>438045
This anon has the right idea, he has my support.

>>438045
Sounds like a solid tactical framework.
>>438030
> [] Hunt down the manticore. How?
So, Judging by how eager this Harrison seemed to show off his hunting skills, I dont suppose anyone stuck around long enough to hear the whole story of how he got that belt?

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>>438030
>>438042
>>438045
>>438069
>>438100

“Well, we’ve got a hunt on our hands then, and limited information to go off of,” you begin. “You can join in the fight proper at your own risk, but I’d at least like you to follow us, Sheriff Norris, to confirm there was a beast and that it has been dealt with.”

He nods.

“And for you, Lucy. I’d like your help tracking at least. As of now, I have no idea whether these things are nocturnal or what as of now.”

“Definitely nocturnal,” she confirms, “so if we hurry, we might be able to catch it before evening hits.”

“That’s all well and good,” you say, “but first we need to know where the manticore is or was lairing around the time Harrison took his belt. Any chance you know of anyone who stuck around for the full story, Norris?”

“Well…” the man begins, and next thing you know, you’re once again knocking on the door to The Lonely Road and staring down a very groggy matron.

“You lot again?” she puzzles. “And I see you brought the sheriff with ye this time. Come in, come in, then. Here’s hoping it’s good news.”

Without pause, you quickly relay to the woman as best you can what’s been going on, of the manticore attack and your suspicions that Mr. Ford may have played a role in inciting it to attack Jimmy.

“Durn bastard!” the old woman murmurs. “Shoulda dunked his head and kicked him and his little party out the first night they stumbled in here, the whole sorry lot of ‘em! But yeah, I heard the whole durn story of how he crawled into a hole in the ground and shot the critter’s brain out with that gun o’ his. Got the feeling he was blowin’ smoke though.”

“How so?” you question.

“Gave me the same look as my husband, god bless his soul, back when he used to tell me how big a’ fish he caught before it got away. Let’s just say, I don’t doubt he went down into a hole and stabbed hisself a manti-whatsit, but I’m durn sure it weren’t a coincidence he only had enough for a belt by the end.”

“A youngling, then?” you question.

“Hell if I know,” she rebuffs, “but what I do know is that if that moron was talking about the caves I think he was, that weren’t a hunter that cleared out those bears.”

“And that might mean twice the trouble for us,” Ricky throws in.

“Anyways, the Fool’s Paradise is the name of the place,” Matty mentions. “And if ye’ve got Norris with ye, it won’t be hard to find. Just try not to get yerself kilt.”

“That would be the ideal,” you retort.

> But what’s the plan then?
> [] Try to stealth your way in. (3d100)
> [] Try to set a trap. How?
> [] Other

>>438176
> [] Try to set a trap. How?

Manticors are smart, and flyers. Kill a deer with a bow and arrow, use the body as bait in a trap to drop a net (or us) ontop of the beasty when it comes in to pick up the easy meal. Make it look like the thing was killed and left.

We want to keep everyone in cover as much as possible, anyone getting hit by that poison is a dead man walking.

Rolled 26, 81, 45 = 152 (3d100)

>>438176
>> [] Try to stealth your way in. (3d100)

Rolled 53, 89, 57 = 199 (3d100)

>>438176
>> [] Try to stealth your way in. (3d100)
Got an advantage, being bones, and hard to smell and all. Just confirm the situation first.

>>438267
>>438229
>>438223

Looking for one more dice roll.

Rolled 95, 63, 7 = 165 (3d100)

>>438176
>>438331
I'd roll anything for you,rotten banana!
> [X] Try to stealth your way in. (3d100)

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>>438176
>>438223
>>438229
>>438267
>>438343

> 95, 89, 57

As luck would have it, Fool’s Paradise lies along a river whose body falls not too far from the town itself, giving you an easily traceable, if not so easily followed route to the manticore’s lair. In the end, it takes a few hours of just following the flow over rocks and drops, not to mention past a few junctions to catch sight of your destination, but even so, the sun still favors you with its warm glow.

“And I think this is where we’ll need to split off,” you comment, looking back to your group. “While Father Michael and I may be able to manage a few stings on our own, I fear that the lot of you will fair far less favorably. That said, if they are held up inside of this cave, assuming there aren’t multiple entrances, they may try to flee. That being the case, I’d like you prepared to open fire on them, so long as it doesn’t put you at risk.”

“Not a problem,” Norris confirms. “I can also ready a net to catch at least one of them so it can’t fly off.”

“Good man!” you applaud, turning to your priestly compatriot. “Any complaints?”

“If I go down gurglin’, try not to run me over too many rocks on the way out.”

“Well, let’s hope that request doesn’t prove prudent,” you quip, throwing up an illusion with a steadying breath before you both disappear from the world of sound and sight.

A short jaunt over the open field later, and the mouth of the cave lies open before you, dark with cool air billowing up from its depths. And even from here, you can hear the steady sound of two large beasts breathing in sync with one another. Lovely, you think to yourself, but you don’t let it slow your pace as you and Father Michael move like shadows in the dark, intent upon your destination.

It really is a magnificent place that you find yourself traveling through whenever you spare some of your focus to glance about. Wherever the cave walls and ceilings break away to reveal sunlight, they sparkle like diamonds in the rough. Of course, it was all just a trick caused by trace amounts of quartz most likely, but it doesn’t make it any less beautiful as you pass through winding hallway and chamber to finally reach the center where two massive forms lay.

However, more concerning, one of those forms seems not entirely asleep, ears perking, glowing eyes shifting in the dark as they search for something unseen. Was it your scent, some peculiar sixth sense? You drop that particular mystery where it stands to better reinforce your illusion, shuffling you and Father Michael around the room until you reach what you feel is a more advantageous position. The question is now, what to do.

> What to do?
> [] Attack! Strategy? [8d100]
> [] Wait
> [] Other

>>438460
> [] Other
Try to lure the awake one out of the cave on its own. It'll be much easier to take them out one at a time. maybe you could do it by illusioning up some type of prey. A bear maybe, since those seem to have been cleared out of the area by them.

>>438508
>>438460

If you want to go with this one, give me 9d100, the first three accounting for your shadow bear puppetry.

Rolled 6, 54, 73, 82, 9, 19, 48, 69, 98 = 458 (9d100)

>>438686
will do

Rolled 43, 76, 87, 33, 20, 42, 45, 23, 82 = 451 (9d100)

>>438686

Rolled 32, 40, 93, 90, 77, 56, 14, 45, 17 = 464 (9d100)

>>438686

Rolled 30, 98, 54, 86, 83, 52, 71, 48, 83 = 605 (9d100)

>>438686

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>>438925
>>438828
>>438733
>>438708
>>438508
>>438460

> 43, 76, 93, 90, 77, 56, 48, 69, 98

Best not to try to fight the two of them at once, you conclude, summoning up your mana. That meant you were going to have to create a distraction, a delicious and non-threatening one from the viewpoint of your intended prey to tempt it from the den. And so, with a wisp of magic and a moment of concentration, you will into being an image of a young cub struggling its way down into the blackness then scurrying along the edge of the chamber in search of something, maybe family, maybe food.

Whatever it is, it isn’t long before you can see the manticore’s head turning to track the little one’s progress, leonine legs unfolding beneath it in silence and bat-like wings tucking to its torso as it prepares to pursue. Thankfully, the beast doesn’t seem in the mood to share its evening meal either, taking pains not to alert its partner as it positions itself for the impending chase. For your own part, you do much the same, quickly circling the chamber as you prepare to continue the game of illusory cat and mouse.

In the end, the beginning comes with but a split second’s notice. A flick of the tail, a poison barb sailing in utter silence as it pierces through your illusion and clatters against the stone floor. However, you cannot let the show end now, not here, and so, thinking fast, you throw out the smell of blood and have the little one take off in a full, slightly off kilter sprint.

Maybe the spine had only grazed the skin. Perhaps it had gone through too cleanly. You’re not sure what thoughts, if any, are going through the manticore’s head in that moment, but it apparently doesn’t dissuade it from finishing the chase, large form now barreling full tilt after the frightened cub as you travel behind as quickly as you dare.

Fortunately for you, the tunnels work to your advantage here, twists and turns giving you chances to regain ground against the otherwise much faster predator. However, even then it’s no easy task to keep up a high speed farce with such an aggressive creature, to always have the cub mere inches from its jaws but never within. Needless to say, it comes as a relief when you see the end of the cave in sight, because at that point, all you have to do is will the cub to trip on the lip of the entrance, form tumbling end over end into the waning sunlight and giving the beast the perfect opportunity to pounce.

The perfect opportunity to pounce right into a net, that is, and a brace of arrows isn’t far behind as your allies launch an all-out assault into the thrashing beast’s now exposed flank. Of course, that isn’t enough to kill it, merely wound it, and in response it looses a roar of pain, confusion, and warning that you’ve no doubt reached the very depths where its mate resides.

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>>438953

That left you little time to finish this. You and Father Michael share a mutual gaze of understanding in that regard as you drop your illusion and you both turn all of your focus to killing this thing quickly. And so your fire roars and your sword flashes, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Father Michael’s fists blaze with holy light, a fact that goes unaddressed as you both dogpile in on top of the beast with ferocity to match its own, if only barely.

That’s because it was a hunter, born and bred, a beast backed into a corner and faced with a simple ultimatum, kill or be killed. And even if it had been pierced with arrows, trapped within a net, it wasn’t going to leave this world without a fight. It makes that abundantly clear as its claws and teeth sheer through the netting to get at you, as its tail whips in every direction hurling poisonous spines. You hear them plink off of your armor like rain, some stabbing straight through amid the screech of claw against metal and Father Michael’s shouts as he likewise bears the brunt of the assault. However, given its handicap, the odds are simply too overwhelming, and it isn’t long before it finally succumbs beneath your combined assault, your blade and Father Michael’s arms becoming progressively more red until the beast finally lies still on the ground.

Still, there isn’t time to rest.

> Prepare for the next assault! How?
> Roll 8d100

Rolled 73, 57, 55, 16, 48, 68, 21, 21 = 359 (8d100)

>>438956
Have the father climb up above the mouth of the cave, Lee get in front of it and the rest at a distance out of sight. The other manitcore wont look up. they never look up. when it comes out, the Father should aim to disable the tail, that ought to drastically decrease its potential to harm the others at least.

Rolled 1, 30, 92, 61, 76, 12, 28, 100 = 400 (8d100)

>>438956
Continue creating a sounds of the fight, reset the net, get everyone else in cover.
Make the fight sound desperate so that the mate will be more likely for a direct assault to aid its endangered mate rather than try to outflank us by using another exit from the caves.
Lee makes it look like he's got his back turned to the mouth of the cave, in a perfect position to be pounced upon by the remaining manticore.
In reality Lee and Michael are at either side of the mouth of the cave, ready to pounce on the manticore when it comes through into the awaiting net.

>>439029
>>439023
>>438956

Just need one more set of rolls.

Rolled 61, 6, 99, 65, 43, 99, 65, 10 = 448 (8d100)

>>439023

bup

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>>439172
>>439029
>>439023
>>438956

> 1, 57, 99, 65, 76, 99, 65, 100

“Get to the top of the ridge!” you shout to Father Michael, mentally and magically rekindling the sounds of battle while conjuring the illusion of an ongoing conflict. “The rest of you, hold your positions! Now when the other comes around-”

You don’t get to finish that thought as the sound of heavy paws pounding against the ground turns into a deafening drum roll accompanied by a hellish roar. Looks like the mate was going to be earlier than you had anticipated. And so, while ducking off to the side, you try to frantically motion out the rest of your plan to Father Michael in pantomime, something he seemingly understands as he hurls himself off the edge the second the creature pops out of the tunnel… only to be immediately batted aside by a massive, mace-like tail covered in quills.

“Clever girl…” Michael grunts as he somehow manages to land on his feet back where he came from, bloody smile only growing wider as a brace of arrows comes raining in on the creature from the sides, “but not clever enough!”

With a sanguine roar, he then comes flying back into the fray, not to mention straight into the waiting jaws of the predator. However, he’s far from unprepared as he breaks his fall squarely on its head with his heels then whips around to shatter a knife on its skull. The latter, unfortunately, was unplanned, and as steel meets more than its match, your compatriot’s shoulder subsequently is torn to shreds by a pair of powerful jaws before he can manage to find his balance.

That would have been more than enough to kill a normal person, but as is you aren’t too worried by that alone. Now the tail that’s coming in to finish the job… With a flick of your wrist you lash out with Thorn, tearing the air in a silver stream as the metal not only pierces, but wraps around the manticore’s tail, ensnaring it from further movement with the only mild cost of apparently bringing its line of fire directly back toward you.

Once again, the storm of spikes is pounding against your armor like a maelstrom, many of the treacherous spikes finding their way through but none of them able to phase you. Noticing this, the creature turns tactics, tossing Father Michael to the side like a meaty ragdoll before charging directly at you with abandon. What’s worse is that with one hand full of a now immobile weapon, you’ve basically no defense as it attempts to tackle you to the ground, that is, until you think to twist your body and turn into the charge, pulling with all your strength as the now coiled blade pulls like a garrote.

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>>439332

Had it been only a lion, you’re positive that would have spelled the end, but neither that or the dozen arrows piercing its hide seem to register as it continues powering through like a being made of iron, wings unfurling in stride as it takes to the sky with you still attached. It’s an unreal feeling as your feet leave the ground, wind whistling through your helm in a deafening chorus as the two of you fly into the air on a hellish ride.

Of course, however unreal the situation may be, the pain is frightfully so as his jaws seemingly take hold of the whip and you find yourself whirling about him like a marionette on the end of it. Your arms, your armor, everything threatens to rattle apart for minutes as you do your best impression of a flail, your only choice in these circumstances for fear of what letting go might mean. Of course, all rides have to have an end, and yours comes with the sound of splintering metal up ahead and a sudden easing of tension as he snaps your whip at last and throws you into free fall, majestically soaring onward as you catch a pitiable look at how far away the ground is and the reforming blade in your hand.

This was bad. This was very bad, but you remind yourself that you’ve no time for panicking as you force all of the mana you can spare into Thorn, urging it to reform, urging it to once again fly at your enemy in a flash of silver. And fortunately, somehow, it responds.

In a rush of wind and with a violent tug, you’re once again bound to the soaring behemoth, one who seems none too happy for your restored companionship or the way you are presently lassoing him about the neck. Thus, with a roar and a hiss, he bellows his discontentment and doubles his efforts to be rid of you, bashing you with his tail and filling you with spines as he throws both of you into a death spiral.

Well, this was just lovely. You can probably see Cassandra’s tower from here were it not for the damn spinning and while you have a fist full of flame, your hesitant to use it on the only thing keeping both of your air borne at the moment. Decisions. Decisions.

> What to do?
> [] Kill it! You can survive the fall, probably! (4d100)
> [] Try to tame it somehow! How? (4d100)
> [] Other

Rolled 69, 20, 100, 6 = 195 (4d100)

>>439338
>[] Try to tame it somehow! How?
Swing around onto its back by pulling ourselves up Thorn, then with one arm around its neck and the other still gripping Thorn, headbutt it in the back of the head repeatedly until it acknowledges us as its master, or it falls unconscious, whichever comes first.

Rolled 43, 37, 3, 11 = 94 (4d100)

>>439338
> [] Try to tame it somehow! How? (4d100)
Oh hell yes, I'd love a tame manticore, and itd make great evidence..
As for how, well, maybe get up near the head and get into a position where you could clearly kill it, and it knows it, but then... dont? Theyre supposed to be intelligent.

>>439360
>>439379
Better idea to go along with this, Super impose the image of a bigger, more dominant manticore over Lee, to help establish the idea of him as a more fit member. It'd probably be easier to get it to accept that then some more lien invader that came in and killed its mate.

>>439360
>>439379
>>439338

I'll leave this one open until tomorrow, I think.

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>>439408

Oh right. Here, have a harpy.

>>439410
Mmm... I do approve of your choice in artists. Maybe a Cassandra aswell with some spiced up version somewhere not so blue?

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>>439613

I don't know about anything not so blue, but I've actually posted Cassandra's portrait a couple of times now. Of course, come the end of the day, you're free to picture them however you want.

>>439648
A blue boad is Safe For Work, and for spice I meant what Lime usually adds to female characters.

> [] Try to tame it somehow! How? (4d100)

WE'RE MAKING THIS HAPPEN

Rolled 43, 20, 25, 55 = 143 (4d100)

>>440210

Wait shit fucked up the dice

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>>440212
>>439379
>>439360

> 69, 37, 100, 55

First things first, with a swift twist of your legs and some careful maneuvering, you let the manticore’s rolling form slide between your knees before clamping down tight around its flanks. That at least means it isn’t spinning along with the rest of the world as you try to plot out what to do next. Maybe an illusion would be enough to cow it, you reason above the rancor, something like an image of a greater member of its species commanding it to you yield. However, that only seems likely if it had any interest in looking up or really in any fixed direction for long, and as it continues to ring your bell with its tail and thrash around like a maniac, you don’t see an end to that in sight.

“Hold still, damn it!” you finally shout in frustration, pounding your skull into the back of its head to find all of the accommodating yield of a brick wall.

Still, you were nothing if not persistent or maybe it was desperate at this point. Whatever the case, you aren’t going to let this stupid cat be the death of you. And so, with a burst of your diminishing mana you force the plates of your helm to reinforce themselves for prime bashing potential and commence with your best imitation of a wood pecker, pounding your skull repeatedly into the place where its horns sprout from as you try to convince it to yield.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem that this species gets by predominantly on using its brain power or its willingness to cooperate with other species. Either that or it was because it was proving difficult to get your full weight behind any given strike when it was busy throwing both of you around in an attempt to dislodge you. Whatever the case, you’ve had enough of being gentle.

“Sod it!” you mutter angrily, clenched fist erupting in flame as well as (surprisingly) Thorn as you begin viciously pounding the back of its head with as much godly might as you can muster. “I. Said. Stop. It. You. Stu-pid. Cat!”

With each hit, its mane smokes ever more fiercely, your fist eventually coming away red with blood before finally, the beast goes limp beneath you. In that moment, as the horrid rotations finally come to a end, you feel almost triumphant. That is, until gravity reasserts itself on the both of you and the ground comes rolling into your trembling view, so very far away now as you feel the beginning of a long, now fully uncontrolled descent.

> Oh god, what do you do?
> [] Wake it up somehow!
> [] Maybe you can pilot it… like a kite or something?
> [] Didn’t Yesh say something about these situations?
> [] Other

>>440341

Ah right. Roll 4d100 either way.

> [] Maybe you can pilot it… like a kite or something?

STRAP IN BOYS WE'RE IN FOR A ROUGH LANDING.

>>440349
question, how deep is the fall?

>>439338
>>440356

Higher than in this view. More precisely, high enough to where Lee now has his doubts about actually surviving the plunge.

Rolled 39, 40, 77, 27 = 183 (4d100)

>>440355

AAAAAHHHHHHH

Rolled 39, 54, 69, 45 = 207 (4d100)

>>440341
>>440366
in that case....
>aim for Father Michael

Rolled 47, 39, 2, 82 = 170 (4d100)

>>440341
>[] Didn’t Yesh say something about these situations?

Rolled 39, 66, 67, 53 = 225 (4d100)

>>440341
> [] Didn’t Yesh say something about these situations?
> [] Other
when in doubt, try decend at an angle, and fire what magic you can into the ground to slow your decent.

Rolled 49, 49, 53, 22 = 173 (4d100)

>>440341
>> [] Maybe you can pilot it… like a kite or something?
>> [] Didn’t Yesh say something about these situations?
If nothing else aim for Father.

You know, an easier solution would probably be to just like, hook a tree as we pass or something. we'd probably still take some damage, but not as much as hitting the ground.

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>>440472
>>440461
>>440392
>>440377
>>440375
>>440341

> 47, 66, 77, 82

“AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHAHAHAHA!”

Oh god. Why is the ground so far away? Where are your allies? Why didn’t you pay more attention when Professor Siff was emphasizing the necessity of featherfall?

All good questions, all equally useless in this situation you remind yourself as you let the last of the screams carry away the most part of your anxiety (or try to anyway). As things stood, you didn’t have time to panic. You were maybe a couple of hundred feet in the air right now, and if you didn’t act quickly, you’d be very well acquainted with the ground very shortly.

“Pardon kitty, but would you kindly wake up!?” you scream, grabbing its failing wings and spreading them with your hands as you attempt to flap them manually. “It would be very nice if you could wake up now before we both take a dirt nap!”

Unfortunately, your cold-cocking was nothing if not thorough and there’s not a hint of a response from your less-than-consenting mount. That just left you, your whip, and several tons of manticore to stabilize before you both reached a point of no return. However, as your panicked mind parses through the options, you have no idea how to keep both of the wings spread open. The whip could get one of them but as for the other…

Your open palm staring back at you sends a flash of inspiration surging to your upstairs (where, come to think of it, there’s probably a terrified spider holding on for dear life right now). However, no sense worrying about him at the moment. After all, you’ll need every last ounce of effort you can spare to save the three of you. And so, with a crackle of arcane energy you try to reach into the vaults of your memory and remember what Yesh had told you not so long ago.

“To bend the will, to shape it and stoke its fires, that is the call of a spirit shaman!” he had shouted while beating you about the head with that staff of his. “With just a thought, you may someday be able to raise golems from nothing but dirt, send spirits back to their rest with a glance, or-“ A horrifying chittering had rung about your helm a split second before a squirrel had dove into your eyesocket. “Call upon wild beasts for aid. It’s all in the will, one soul speaking to another. Now I’d hurry, before it begins gnawing away at your ribcage!”

That lesson had been particularly horrifying and ended on a less than terrific note as you danced about the clearing like a madman trying to get the fuzzy devil out of your insides. Still, you’d always been a quick study, especially when the chips were down, and as you look over the beast’s shoulder and at the rapidly approaching landscape below, you are certain at least the latter holds true in this case.

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>>440932

So, with a surge of effort, you attempt to clear your mind, to condense your will into the very fabric of your spirit and then forcibly drive it directly into your opponent’s steel dome. You will it to fly, to awaken, to do anything that will prevent the two of you from shattering to pieces on the incoming rocks. However, much to your concern, it feels no different than if you had just punched him lightly, if even that.

In that moment, you find yourself in the depths of despair, panicking as your last option fizzles out. Without really thinking, you prepare to throw another fist. However, you find yourself coming up short as your hand refuses to move away and your entire body goes alight with sensation. Like you had just begun an earthquake, you feel tremors rumbling through your form, bones and armor rattling as a primal, furious resistance makes itself known.

Who were you to issue commands? Who were you to cause this being pain? You were nothing, skin and bones, and soon to be broken-

You don’t have time for this. Neither of you do, and so as you feel the manticore’s spirit lash against you like a wave, you let your own flare with every drop of mana you have left to spare. For a moment, you find yourself blind to all save that struggle, the wind deafened as your spirit surges against his in some imagined mental space, growing tall and terrible as your own ego attempts to batter his into submission.

And as many a fair maiden had told you in the past, your ego (among other things) was massive. Like a titan against a mouse, you feel his wave of resistance die as yours asserts itself, destructive flames erupting against his defensive walls, tearing away his defenses as you impose the image of something far mightier than he upon the dimly lit excuse for a brain he sought to keep against you.

“Now fly!” you command as that fortress crumbles, your soul screaming against the strain as you feel his wings heed your call and the fall threaten to tear them from his body.

However, even beaten, battered, and bruised, his body still refuses to break, wings curving dangerously against corded sinew before a mighty roll of his wings triumphantly levels out your manic descent, the tops of trees battering you both as he begins a far gentler ascent back into the air.

> What to do?
> [] Try to find your allies (4d100)
> [] Jump off while the getting is good
> [] Other

Rolled 39, 56, 95, 62 = 252 (4d100)

>>440935
>[] Try to find your allies (4d100)

Rolled 27, 5, 95, 78 = 205 (4d100)

>>440935
>> [] Try to find your allies (4d100)

Rolled 64, 17, 14, 86 = 181 (4d100)

>>440935
> [] Try to find your allies (4d100)

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>>440977
>>440967
>>440941
>>440935

> 64, 56, 95, 86

Well, that’s one near re-death experience you could have done without. As things stand, you could swear you can actually feel your heart beating hard in your chest despite its decades long absence, and that can’t be good. Anyway, the only real issue for right now was going to be getting back where you came from.

And no sooner have you thought that than the manticore is turning on a dime, wings flapping back toward a familiar looking river. Convenient, you think to yourself, but your otherwise not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, let alone a gift manticore.

Needless to say, riding high on a hilariously dangerous magical beast makes the local wildlife less than willing to interfere with your movements, meaning the ride is as smooth as it can be while you slowly draw nearer to familiar territory, the distinctive top of the rock face soon coming into view.

Unfortunately, as an arrow zooming by reminds you, no one told your allies about recent events and you are still very much riding a hilariously dangerous magical beast in their direction, something that calls for evasive actions before you can shout off a warning for them to stand down and clean up the signs of the recently deceased. You figure the least you can do is not to let this situation spiral out of control again. However, through your link, you can feel those words don’t go by unaccounted for. Still, the beast doesn’t fight you on your way in at least, landing you safely back on the ground in much the same place as you left off before finally just collapsing to the ground, exhausted.

“Well, I see someone’s been enjoyin’ themselves,” Father Michael laughs, giving you a pat on the shoulder. “An’ here I was thinking we’d have to leave before yer lolly-gaggin’ arse got back.”

“Says the man who was crying a couple of minutes ago,” Lucy cuts in.

“I have no idea what yar on about!” Father Michael insists at first, but then reneges. “Alright. Alright. Ye got me, but it ain’t what yar thinkin’. I just get downright sentimental when it comes to scavenger hunts. Reminds me of when I was a wee lad.”

“Whatever the case,” Ricky responds. “We’re glad to have you back in one piece, Lee, though I have my concerns with your new friend here.”

“Aye, are we gonna have to put kitty down for a nap before he eats somebody?”

In an instant, the beast is back on its feet and staring Father Michael down, voice like thunder as it dares him to try.

“That’s right, ye overgrown furball!” Father Michael jeers. “Talkin’ about you now, aren’t I!? Want to have a go then?”

“Michael, stop…” you demand weakly, feeling a sudden pull on your mana where your will is being forced to curb the manticore’s away from murder. “Let’s just all play nice. No one else has to die today…”

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>>441073


With another pull from your reserves, you manage to get the beast once again seated, but you can tell this link is going to run your dry before long. Decisions will need to be made.

> What to do? How? [4d100, either way]
> [] Try to use diplomacy to convince it to come with you?
> [] Try to use diplomacy to convince it to let you leave?
> [] Finish it quickly while it’s still tired
> [] Other

>>441074
> [] Try to use diplomacy to convince it to let you leave?

In exchange for telling it who killed its cub and a promise that it wont keep attacking the local settled populance. We can point out that we could have killed it but giving it a chance to live instead.

Rolled 78, 70, 11, 26 = 185 (4d100)

>>441084
Heres a set of dice supporting this

Rolled 71, 11, 75, 95 = 252 (4d100)

>>441084
ah, yeah, the dice.
Heres mine.

Rolled 69, 46, 36, 57 = 208 (4d100)

>>441074
>[] Try to use diplomacy to convince it to come with you?
We know of the one who killed its cub, and we're trying to take him and his master down. And it's not like it's safe here for it; it'll be in a constant fight between it and the humans. Better if we can relocate it to somewhere in deeper wilderness.
It's sad what we had to do its mate today, and it's not like the people are happy about the dead boy they ate, but no one else has to die today. And the people that do deserve to die will have their deaths.

>>441095
>>441096
>78,70,75,95

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>>441107
>>441096
>>441095
>>441074

> 78, 70, 75, 95

Well, if that last outburst was anything to go by, this thing had a knack for human speech, maybe in part due to the connection you presently share, though you don’t want to cut yourself off for the purposes of testing that out. That said, there was only one way of knowing how far its comprehension met, and you figure it doesn’t hurt to strengthen the connection beforehand by putting one hand on the manticore’s muzzle and clearing your mind.

“So,” you begin, speaking aloud into those smoldering eyes. “It seems we’ve come to a pause in all this horrible business now, and maybe a chance to at least put an end to the bloodshed.”

At the last word, images of carnage flicker between your mind and his: an empty nest, a puddle of blood, grief, anger, and his mate returning one night with a red muzzle and the stench of humans thick upon her. He had not been glad at the sight of it, and now she too was dead, her blood already cold on the ground.

“No more blood left to shed…” it concludes solemnly. “None that matters…”

It had found a wife, a home, food, and happiness here, but now these walls would hold nothing but echoes and emptiness, all because of the nest stealers. Sorrow and bitterness coats everything in the wake of that realization, the brief flare of anger for that scent, the murderer’s scent, swallowed up as the beast’s mind truly comprehends what is to come for it.

“We’re going to find the man who did this,” you promise, “and we’ll bring him to justice. However, we have to do it the human way, the right way, or else there will just be more killing.”

A door opens at the mention of the human way, a gateway to fear and loathing, deceit and treachery, of fair faces and evil hearts that came when the sun burned high in the sky to murder indiscriminately and in the dead of night when hunters flew to pilfer that which could never be replaced. However, there’s no satisfaction in the gruesome images it conjures in its mind of what fate might affect the hated man, just disinterest, disinterest in the whole of this world and everything that surrounded it.

In that moment, it’s as though something impossibly fragile shatters beneath your touch, and without another word, the creature simply stands up to its full, impressive height and begins walking away, a towering titan of muscle, sinew, and scales that had had every inch of its body bloodied, beaten, and bruised. Of course, were that all, you would have no worries. No, what concerns you most is how those fierce eyes are vacant now, stance unchanging even as its sudden movements send your allies scrambling for their weapons.

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>>441247


Simply put, it was too tired to play their games anymore, or the games of whatever cruel god had chosen to cast its scorn upon him. That utter feeling of resignation is the last parting gift he leaves with you as he passes into the cave with nary a whisper, darkness covering all as he fades from sight, a threat to no one and no thing anymore until the end finally comes for him.

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>>441252

Alright folks. This seems like a good stopping place for now. So I think I will leave it here. Hope everyone had fun.

>>441262
>>441252
>>441247
I hate you

Well that was shit.

welp fuck

>>441262
Dammit. If we hadn't mentioned humans but one of the non-humans instead, such as gorgons, would that have worked better?
Or were the rolls simply too low?

feels bad man

>>441270
>>441281
>>441300
>>441304

I'm sorry folks. It was supposed to be a bit sad, but I honestly hope no one feels cheated or misrepresented or anything. It was just a lot for one cat to process in a short period.

I am feeling a bit that the intended result of this conversation was not what people wanted though, and if I didn't have a campaign that I was supposed to run right now, I'd gladly pick it back up right away.

Keep in mind, you guys do control the flow of the story in the end, and if you want Lee to go running after the cat, he can if you say the word. Just let me know.

>>441324
>go running after the cat
>"Can you track the murderer?"

>>441324
>>441346
We dont need to track him, he thinks he got away with it and hes got a prominent position that will make it easy to find him.
Anyway, I think we could do better then just saying we'll get the guy with "human justice." The least we can do is get him his childs hide back, and if I had a choice, I'd bring the guy back here after conviction so he can be executed via manticore. It might not fix whats happened, but it might make him feel better.

>>441324
I do want to get the manticore some justice, and move him to somewhere he can be at peace. And do whatever manticores do for their dead; if there's some kind of manticore burial ground like what elephants do or something.

As a self-styled Spirit of Vengeance, as well as having been brought back from the dead to right wrongs, trying to pay reparations to those that have been wronged by humans seems like it's part of Lee's To-Do list.

>>441391
At this point, the manticore really does not give a shit.
The whole "fuck you humans, fuck whatever god decided that it'd be fun to take away my kid and wife, I'm out" stands in the way of using vengeance as any means of motivating him.

Showing him that we're not human anymore might help, but you gotta remember we did just murder his mate today.

>>441346
Lee is far more tactful than that.
Besides the obvious retort being "Yeah, there's a murderer standing in front of me", he doesn't give a shit anymore, because of a long history of murderhobo adventurer humans hunting him and his kind, and he's tired of all this bullshit and just wants to die in peace.

>>441391
I would prefer throwing the murderer at the manticores feet and leaving

>>441435
Thats kind of what I was implying. I think we'd Still need to throw his wrongdoing out for the court to see beforehand though, if only so as to clear the dear gorgons name.

>>441597
It's unfortunate there's no way to punch the memories of how the humans as a race have been absolute assholes the past few decades and that's why no one likes them anymore, into the minds of every human we come across.

Because while we shouldn't blame townspeople for the actions of a few murderhobos, it's still true that there's a lot of closet racists around that need to be judged.

>>441617
Thats the thing, it wasnt even the villagers doing this stuff, theyre just getting stuck with the fallout.

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>>441346
>>441391
>>441423
>>441252

No!

You feel your teeth clack together as you grind them in frustration, sadness and hopelessness warring with anger as the gravity of this entire asinine situation tries to settle about you like a cloak made of lead. After all of that goddamn work, after nearly dying in the process, it couldn’t end like this! You were not going to be left standing here clutching nothing but a handful of emotional baggage!

“HEY ASSHOLE!” you shout, blade stabbing into the beast’s path and your anger scorching a ring of flame between him and the depths he’s seeking to slink into. “Where the hell do you think you’re going, huh? Are you just gonna sink into a hole and die, now? Is that it?!”

The manticore turns slowly away from the fire to regard your tantrum, giving you a bemused stare as you try to delay the inevitable.

“Don’t you give me that look!” you shout. “Don’t you dare look at me like that and tell me that you don’t care!” You feel something give as you force more mana into your hand, but it doesn’t stop you from grabbing that stupid cat by the neck then lifting its front paws off the ground by it. “It’s that sort of selfish attitude that makes the world the detestable sinkhole that you see all around you! That’s why your family is gone!”

You feel your head threaten to cave in as his tail slams against it with a sound like thunder.

“Good!” you roar back. “Anything’s better than that miserable wretch you were pretending to be five seconds ago! So tell me now, are you really that selfish? Well, are you!?”

Vertebrae snap beneath the next blow, but you don’t relent, grabbing on with a second hand.

“Because if you go back into that hole right now and pretend the world doesn’t exist, nothing is going to change!” Snap. “Innocents will continue to die by the hands of murderers!” Crunch. “Families will be torn apart by their actions!” Snap. “And all of their wicked deeds will go unpunished because good men stood by and did nothing!”

With a final roar of defiance, it winds up being your helmet that gives first, the metal splitting before the dented bowl is sent flying away to reveal the battered skull beneath.

“Take it from a dead man,” you spit, body shaking with the effort as you struggle to maintain your grip. “It’s up to the living to shape the world of the living, not only for themselves, but for everyone that comes after! Those who can’t even do that, don’t deserve pity!

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>>442378

“So, what’ll it be you stupid cat? Are you going to die like a rodent cowering in the dark, or are you going to help me make a better world? We can stop this asshole before he gets to anyone else, but I need to fucking hear it! Are you a manticore or a mouse? HUH!?”

The power of the roar from a full-grown manticore was said to be able to kill an adult human at twenty paces, a roar so mighty that it could be heard by both the living and the dead. You have no idea whether that was true or not, old wives’ tales being what they are, but in that moment, standing right at the source, you can almost believe it. More than your body, your very soul trembles as whatever fire had died inside of the beast erupts back to life with explosive force.

Then again, maybe it had something to do with pushing yourself past your limits. You just hope he doesn’t eat anyone before you wake up. That’s about all you can do as the world of light spins violently out of focus.

So, uh, can we get the spider in Lee's head to start making like, a couple of motivational web-posters?

And, next time, maybe we can try not resorting to immediately trying to kill the sentient creature that might turn out to be sapient and being a better person than a good number of the humans we've met.

>>442388

Motivational web posters are definitely a possibility. Just might need to get Jerry some spider evos and some die first.

Now, as for the manticores, just to be clear, they aren't really sapient. Lee is simply able to communicate with them by more or less connecting their spirits. Think of it as "speak with animals" with "dominate animal thrown in as an option".

Had you stumbled into their lair and made yourselves known, they probably would have done their best to tear you limb from limb. However, given why most people or really even any animal would suddenly arrive at another animal's home, you can see why that might be prudent.