Rolled 7 (1d100)

>>488522
>>Confront Lucky, but tell Aima to stay put.
SUCH A LUST FOR REVENGE

(Writing + drawing. Going to try a new thing and end voting 10 mins after first reply.)

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>>488660
(Actually, forget that)

>>488632
You try to clear your mind, but what little was there instantly fizzled away, with not even the faintest trace of your thoughts remaining.

Shaking it off, you talk to Aima, “Stay put, okay? Focus on whatever’s coming. I’ll be right back.”

It looks like she was already on it, but she nods anyways. Walking away, you take one more glance and see Aima peering over the edge. When you turn around, you see Lucky staring you down. You palm the necklace as you approach her.

“Hey!” she asks, “…How’s it going?”

Her hands hide behind her back.

“I’m great, thanks for asking,” you seethe. “I’m curious, why?”

“Why what? Because I tried to kill you? Or because I tried to kill her?” she fidgets, betraying her smirk. When you don’t reply, she continues, “I did the world a favor, and the world knows it too. Really, it was just circumstances. With you that close, she wouldn’t have stopped the harpoon. No hard feelings, right?”

You step forward, teeth grinding. “A favor? What are you saying?”

“You know why they’re called mythoi?” She tenses. “They’re animals, Seven. Powerful, selfish, impulsive monsters. Just because you can speak with one doesn’t change anything.”

>Blast her off the ship.
>Know what would make you feel better? A good sock in the face.
>Keep talking.
>Write-in.

>>488800
>>Keep talking.
Also, tell her to put those hands where we can see 'em.

>Know what would make you feel better? A good sock in the face.

>>488825
>>488923
(Next vote breaks tie, or I roll a die in 10)

>>488923
this. the only monster here is her.

On another note good to see this back on /qst/

(Drawing and writing)

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>>488923
>>488999
Your fists tighten, and you being walking toward Lucky, your speeding picking up. After a few steps, her right hand sweeps from her back to you, gripping a pistol. A glowing white canister sits on it and flickers when an explosion ripples through the air. It hits your right shoulder, blowing it to shreds before everything decelerates and fly back to your body.

“That’s one mystery solved,” she notes.

Dashing forward, you can only tough it through as she fires another shot. The momentum of your body is interrupted for a second, but you move on, running past the flying strips of cloth. Raising your fist, you swing and miss as Lucky ducks, her left hand sliding out with a knife, slashing forward. You can feel blood on your cheek. Backing off in surprise, you hesitate momentarily before going back in. Her shoulder connects with your fist and almost gives way. Lucky’s slow, slower than Kae - but you have no sword. The knife slips through the air, gashing deep into your left arm, and her gun follows shortly. Moving out of the way barely in time, you feel the air explode by you. She’s trying to dismember you.
[Roll 1d100, Bo3]

>Enough games, send her flying off of the ship.
>Tackle Lucky and push her to the edge.
>Call for Aima.
>Write-in.

Rolled 52 (1d100)

>>489125
>>Tackle Lucky and push her to the edge.
Preferably going down with her. No need to take a chance and have her survive magically.

Rolled 85 (1d100)

>>489125
>>Tackle Lucky and push her to the edge.

Rolled 41 (1d100)

>>489125
>>Tackle Lucky and push her to the edge.

(Writing and drawing)

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>>489132
>>489135
>>489273
[Rolled 85, Great Success]

You smash into her, slamming her into the pillar as her knife digs into your stomach. With a groan, you toss her over and back up while she tries to gather herself, only to find you charging straight into her when you two meet eyes. Your arms wrap around her waist as you jump, bringing her over the edge with you. You’ll be fine even without a blessing, but her?

The air rushes into your face as the airship slowly speeds away. You two grapple, her hair flying in the wind at your face and her knife almost between your eyes. Just as you feel the cold steel, something separates you and Lucky horizontally. Force magic - blunt, imprecise, and weak, but still strong enough surprise you - emits from a flying figure. Strands of thin cloth cover his eyes, his bony face leading to a thin white beard. The sash and emblem shines in the sun, betraying his status.

Your fingers latch onto Lucky’s rolled up sleeve and pull, causing you both to swing in midair. She’s surprised too, but you’re already taking action. Turning her around, you place her in a chokehold and tear away her knife. The water will hit you any moment, and the old mage is closing in.

[Roll 1d100, Bo3]

>Launch the knife at the man.
>Hold Lucky hostage with the knife and blast him.
>Kill her.
>Write-in.

>>489387
(Voting extended for about 10 minutes longer than the usual 30, something came up. Or first reply if there isn't any.)

Rolled 87 (1d100)

>>489387
>>Hold Lucky hostage with the knife and blast him.

Rolled 50 (1d100)

>>489387
>>Kill her.
Guy seems like a good guy, he technically saved us.

Rolled 19 (1d100)

>>489387
>>Hold Lucky hostage with the knife and blast him.

(Actually it would be better if I cut voting short, this is going to take longer than I expected. Now writing and all that.)

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>>489403
>>489480
[Rolled 87, Great Success]

With the knife in your hand, you hold flatly against Lucky’s neck, lest you accidentally slice her through when you hit the water. If he tries to pull you two apart again, he’ll risk killing her. Gripping the necklace, you tap into the mana of the gemstone. It’s rough on you; the mana was never yours to begin with, and now it’s straining your mind. You lash out, projecting a force not through the air, but directly at the man. His body flinches and moves to cast a spell, but it’s too late. The mana contorts and sends him flying away, all the while Lucky is writhing in pain. You tap into the necklace again, but you find that’s it’s being emptied unnaturally. The old man? A second later, there’s almost left when you hit the water.

The impact hurts, as if you were landing on solid ground. Collecting yourself, you try to swim back up when suddenly something brushes past you.

Aima said there were two pursuers. The Kraken? No, you’ve left it behind in the south.

A human? No way. This was something else.

Darkness sweeps by as a long, scaly body swims past. Its width is easily over the size of your body. A foreign voice giggles inside your mind. Suddenly, you see an open maw lined with rows and rows of teeth, one that’s approaching you awfully fast.

You hate the Salt Sea.

>Brace yourself.
>Toss Lucky away and swim in a different direction.
>Expend the last of the mana to repel it.
>Write-in.

>>489609
>>Brace yourself.
SPLIT YOUR LUNGS WITH BLOOD AND THUNDER

>>489609
>Brace yourself

>>489609
>>Brace yourself.

>>489609
>>Brace yourself.
It's probably friendly.

(Writing and drawing)

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>>489612
>>489618
>>489626
>>489653
You brace yourself. Lucky is squirming incessantly, air bubbles slowly escaping from her mouth. The rows and rows of teeth pass you, the roof of its mouth casting a shadow on you before closing down. Complete darkness. Flowing with the water down its throat, you’re surprised you weren’t skewered yet, even more so when the voice appears again.

“Wasn’t expecting you to be here. Upsy daisy!”

You can’t tell what’s more uncomfortable. The fact that your thoughts are being invaded or the fact that this mouth is familiar. In a quick shake, you feel the entire head of the beast shift and point upwards - and then you’re flying. Barely having a grip on Lucky’s overalls, the voice speaks again as you violently tear through the hull of the airship and land onto the wood flooring. The ship’s coming apart.

With a giggle, it adds, “Be careful, okay?”

As you get up, you find Aima rushing over to you. “Are you okay? Hey, who’s that?” She pauses. “Is that Lucky?”

The little girl looks utterly confused, and a glance at the pilot shows that she’s not the only one. Except he’s also terrified. Checking on Lucky, you find that she’s out cold, that’s one problem down. Getting up, you’re greeted by a violent blast of wind from behind. Your body collides with the edge of the boat, the wood catching you before you fall again. The old man hovers nearby. If you could see his eyes, you’d imagine he’d look absolutely pissed. When you look over, you see that you’re already over land.

Suddenly, Aima drops onto the ground, yelping in pain. The necklace is wrapped around your left arm tightly, and when you tap into again, you find it’s empty. The knife is nowhere to be found, but Lucky’s gun is lying a few yards away, opposite distance of the open hatch. God damn it.

[Roll 1d100, Bo3, beat 70]

>Dive for the gun.
>Attempt to talk.
>Jump down the hatch.
>Run for the pilot’s room and the controls.
>Write-in.

Rolled 50 (1d100)

>>489848
>Dive for the gun.

Rolled 1 (1d100)

>>489848
>>Write-in.
Make sure we have a decent grip on Lucky if we don't already. Then jump down the hatch.

Rolled 45 (1d100)

>>489848
>>Attempt to talk.
And if that doesn't work
>Dive for the gun.

>>489876
Wew
Get ready lads

(Writing and drawing. Crits are active, by the way.)

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>>489858
>>489900
You eye the gun, which you imagine would be very helpful right now. As soon as you make your first step, he puts you down instantly, seeing it coming from a mile away. Pushing against the floor, you lift your body up to see what the old man’s doing.

The gun is in his hand. He shoots your left wrist, separating your hand from your arm. You cry out in pain as the hand reconnects back, chunks of tissue slowly moving back. Too slow. He fires again, and this time when the black ribbons fly out, they stop mid-air, as if it hit a wall. Your left hand collapses, and you don’t feel it anymore.

You hear the old man mumbling to himself in affirmation. He’s testing your body. As the ship slowly goes down, a loud crash interrupts it all - the sound of wood being torn to shreds. An oversized battle axe flies through the flooring and clanks down; the chain connected to it pulls back, spinning the entire airship acting like an anchor. There’s a sound of creaking, and then it breaks through the floor, leaving the ship careening to the ground. You and everything on the vessel are thrown around. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as a pillar holding a propeller slam into the old man. You can hear yelling and screaming, from the pilot and a voice in the hull below.

The axe flies through again, this time latching onto a wing. It pulls the ship toward the ground, and you hit your head on something hard. Barely on the edge of consciousness, you crawl up to the edge of the ship and trace the chain, your eyes going from the wing to a woman holding the other end.

The world stops for a moment as you watch her rip the airship out of the sky. In the middle of a dirt path surrounded by a field of glimmering white flowers, she stands, smiling with the dying sun sinking behind her.

Orion.

>>490083
(Whoops, you didn't see that. Thanks for coming back and playing! I'll be back on Sunday, same time as usual.)

>>490086
Thanks for running Sunphei! (That's your twitter too, right?)

>>490086
I'm glad to have you back

>>490089
(Yup, that's it. Link is https://twitter.com/sunphei )

>>490095
(Glad to be back, and glad to have you all with me!)

>>490083
Another best girl is showing up? Sweet. Thanks for running, see ya next time.

>>490083
thanks for coming back
nice read

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When you open your eyes again, you find that you’re being carried awkwardly. Draped over Orion’s shoulder, you feel the guard dig into your side with every step. Dangling in front of you are your arms - one of them ending abruptly to your dismay.

“Hi Orion,” you greet.

Noticing you’re awake, she responds, “Welcome home, Helios. Another decade and I would have gone searching.”

You imagine her cracking a small smile. The only sound that reaches your ears is the crunching of dirt beneath Orion’s armored boots, and the only scent that reaches your nose is the earthly fire of the flowers nearby.

“Not that I’m ungrateful…” you say, “but couldn’t you have found a better way to carry me?”

“Such as… a princess carry?”

“Like piggy back,” you meekly reply, “I don’t know…”

“You reek. Would you rather I drag you to the doorstep?”

Your memories, once shattered into tiny fragments, slowly reassemble themselves.

“No… I’m good…” you say, your eyes half-closed. “Hey, can you drop me on a chair or something?... I don’t want to ruin my sheets.”

“Helios, your sheets are long ruined.”

Have you forgotten something?

“…Wait, there was a kid with me,” you say.

“The girl’s inside, and the rest are either dead or gone.”

Your eyes close in affirmation, and you drift off, dreaming about the past…

>”His birthday!?”
>”You can’t have three participants in the ceremony…”
>”…please don’t spar in the backyard!”

>>494927
>>”His birthday!?”

(Writing and drawing.)

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>>494954
“His birthday!?”

“…You didn’t get him a present?” you ask.

“I forgot!” Orion looks at you desperately. “Helios, help me out!”

Standing in the front door of the mansion, you sigh in resignation as you walk back in.

“Okay fine. We can both say we made the cake. Phaethon likes sentimental stuff anyways.”

“Thank you, you’re a life saver!” she says, following you in. Her nose wrinkles. “Is something burning?”

Oh no. Making a mad dash for the kitchen, you find that the entire room is engulfed in fire. Quickly, you run for the furnace and blast the flames away. Away onto you.

“Ahh!” you yelp, attempting pat down your shirt which has been set ablaze.

“You idiot,” Orion says while emptying a bucket of water on you, ”What are you doing?”

“I didn’t want to make it soggy!” you reply.

“Gods, the house is going to burn down!” she exclaims, “Call Phaethon already!”

“N-no! I’ll get the maid; we’re not ruining his birthday!”

Your eyes open, and you rub your nose from the smell of smoke. She was never good at anything in the kitchen, but you guess after destroying a good chunk of the mansion you didn’t prove to be much better. Stretching, you sit up on your desk, the surface surprisingly free of dust, and look around.

Your room pretty small, consisting of a wardrobe, two filled bookshelves of varied texts, a desk, and your bed. Well, the bed is gone now, and in its place is just the metal frame. Cursing you yourself, you wished you had enchanted your bed along with your books.

A quick glance wouldn’t hurt.

>”Roots of Agnos: The Three Nations”
>”Magic for Dummies: Classes”
>”The Keystone and Magic.”
>Don’t feel like reading.

And pick one.

>Explore the house a bit.
>Go down for “breakfast.”
>Search around your room.
>Write-in.

>>495217
>>”Magic for Dummies: Classes”

>Explore the house a bit.

>>495217
>>”The Keystone and Magic.”
>Explore the house a bit.

>>495217
>>”Magic for Dummies: Classes”
>Explore the house a bit.

(Voting ended)

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>>495228
>>495238
>>495263
You pick up “Magic for Dummies: Classes” with your right hand and drop it onto your desk, flipping through the pages quickly.

Magic is immeasurable; even with the work Luxia and its mother country, Lunaria, all that came into fruition was a class system founded on the results of a spell. As with the nature of magic wells, the efficiency of mana conversion varies from person to person and from action to action. This book will mainly cover the Lunarian classification, but the studies of the Fengari would be noted occasionally.

It can be said that every spell can be placed within one of these categories: Life, Mana, and Matter. Within each of the three are two more: Creation and Manipulation.

With this, the Lunarians have developed six classes of magic: Genesis, Flow, Construct; Soul, Sense, Force.

To have usage of even one of these classes would be considered a feat itself, as the average efficiency of a spell makes it unusable for a normal well. Mastery over four or five of them would place one in the upper echelons of society, fit to command over an entire kingdom. It has been theorized that usage of all six would be practically impossible. There would be a one in a billion chance for all the elements to align…”

You close the book, tired. Walking around could do your brain some good. As soon as you step outside, you see a golem, a moving pile of rocks, armor, and junk walking up the curved staircase. It surprises you at first, but you end up watching it stroll into one other rooms down the hall and start cleaning. The handiwork - that’s got Orion written all over it.

You take a quick peek into the other three rooms. Orion’s is a mess; books, gems, and strange devices litter the entire room. At least the drawers are closed. Checking Phaethon’s, you find… nothing. Closing the door with a sigh, you make your way to the last one on the other side of the wall, the guest bedroom. You think it used to be the maid’s, but there’s not a trace of her left. Instead, in the center of room is a bed of blankets with a cloak over it - Aima’s. The bathroom is adjacent from here, but you ignore it for now.

Stepping out, you check the hallway. The other end goes from burnt flooring to a wall of clean cut stone, ending suddenly.

Oh god, the cake.

>Go downstairs for breakfast.
>Take the book with you downstairs.
>Examine the golem.
>Wash yourself off.
>Write-in.

>>495438
>>Examine the golem.

>>495438
>Wash yourself off
Might as well try not to reek as much.

>>495438
>>Go downstairs for breakfast.

(Going to extend voting for about 10 minutes. Getting food.)

>>495466
i good go for food as well

>>495460
+1

>>495460

(Calling votes.)

Rolled 5, 2 = 7 (2d6)

>>488522
66666666666

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>>495458
>>495460
>>495473
>>495510
Stepping into the bathroom, your eyes are filled with renewed determination, as you witness for yourself when you gaze in the mirror. You look terrible.

The water stings your wounds; your entire body hurts like hellfire when you enter the bath. Finishing the ordeal as quickly as possible, you don a bathrobe that was lying around. It looks like you need magic to heal your body further, or else you’ll actually smell of rot forever. Grabbing your shredded clothes, you throw them in the trash bin and walk outside. Waiting impatiently there is Aima.

“Jeez, you take so long. And you missed breakfast too.”

She runs inside and closes the door. Huh, the girl’s surprisingly content with everything - you guess that Orion talked to her. Somehow. Maybe she sweetened her up with candy.

When the golem steps out the guest room, you follow it out of curiosity, smelling like gold. Examining it carefully, you find that it’s held together by two spells. You’re not good with coming up with tricks, but you can sure copy one and refine it. This looks like Orion’s awful attempt at Phaethon’s golems, except it was imbued with your mana. The Genesis magic used was basic, and a constant use of Force magic binds it together. If she used a corpse, it would’ve been a lot more efficient.

But then she’d be using a corpse.

>Practice modifying the golem.
>Grab a different book from your shelves.
>Go downstairs to talk to Orion.
>Wait for Aima to ask about healing.
>Write-in.

>>495599
(The image is flipped. Damn it.)

>>495599
>>Go downstairs to talk to Orion.
Orion a cute and more importantly a friend.

>Practice modifying the golem
No, Helios. you are the golems.
And then Helios was a corpse

>>495637
this
a CUTE

(Calling votes.)

>>495638
+1

>>495599
>>Go downstairs to talk to Orion.

>Go downstairs to talk to Orion.
3 votes
>Practice modifying the golem
2 votes

Would've been nice to recover some of your mana/ get to know how your own body works/ get a new hand.

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Poking at it with a spell and a probe, you test your old mana that this golem is filled with. It should have long ran out by now, but it seems she had been feeding it with her mana too recently. You stand up and walk down the stairs. No point in messing with the new maid.

The first thing that you notice is that the stone wall goes all the way to the ground. Shaking your head, you walk through the dining room, which was eerily empty, and to the kitchen. Or second kitchen. Orion turns her head, and you see the small black ribbon on her neck.

“There is some food left,” she notes.

“Do we even need to eat?”

Oops, slip of the tongue-

“No, but it’s nice to be normal now and then.”

You see a plate of barely burnt scrambled eggs lying around with some meat in there. Grabbing a fork, you settle down on a table nearby and bite in, finding that it’s the best thing you’d had since forever.

“Have you been practicing cooking?” you ask.

“Who else would cook for me?” she answers. After a brief silence, she says, “I would ask you so many questions, to have you tell me about your journey, but it appears you cannot.”

“I have so many questions too. I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Well, relax for now. What are you planning today?”

You can’t relax. Something inside is tearing at you to run, to take action. But you can’t remember what it was. It’s fine, you tell yourself. You’ll just start from square one again.

>”My left hand is on top of priority list.”
>”I’m rotting. I need to do something about my body.”
>”We should check out the airship.”
>”There was something in the Salt Sea near this place.”
>Write-in.

(Feel free to write a question to ask Orion. The most voted one will be selected.)

>>495869
>>”I’m rotting. I need to do something about my body.”

>”My left hand is on top of priority list.”

>>495869
Anyone got a good question?

>>495869
>>”My left hand is on top of priority list.”

(Writing and drawing.)

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>>495923
>>495951
“My left hand is on top of the priority list.”

“It has yet to come back to you?”

“Nope, a mage did something to it. I lost it on the ship, so either it’s there, off to the side, or already eaten by some animal.”

She turns away to think as you finish eating. Picking up the plate, you go over to Orion to help out.

“You could build a golem hand…” she trails off.

Orion opens a drawer and fiddles with a handful of forks. She then holds it near your hand and pumps it full of magic. You flex it, expending Orion’s mana. It’s freaky, but it sort of works? The hand need to be powered by something, but you have no well. No direct connection to the plane of mana. You’d be running on batteries the entire time.

Orion interrupts your thoughts, “What if you dig up the chambers? You can reset them.”

Chambers…? You vaguely remembering Phaethon purchasing an obscene number of gemstones for them.

“What chambers?” you ask.

“The ones that were built after my death. You and Phaethon configured them to reconstruct whoever it was set to. All three should be underneath the backyard somewhere.”

You don’t think it’ll come back after it’s been digested, but your focus is lost when Aima bursts into the room.

“Hey Helios, what adventures are we going on today?”

She says that, but you find a bit of sadness in her. Homesick already?

>You’d rather have a golem hand, but maybe you can find something better than forks.
>Try and find the reconstruction chambers.
>Look for your hand on the airship.
>Search for the sea monster.
>Write-in.

(You can still ask a question, from now to the end of the session.)

>>496132
>>You’d rather have a golem hand, but maybe you can find something better than forks.
Who was I?

>>496132
>>Look for your hand on the airship.
I want to make sure Lucky got killed off but I don't want to head for the ship in case it leads to an encounter. This or chambers would be fine.

>Try and find the reconstruction chambers.

(Writing and drawing.)

>>496132
>>Try and find the reconstruction chambers.

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>>496138
>>496146
>>496217
>>496260
A hand that can fail at any moment is useless to you, especially one that can be nullified by that old man. If he can do something to deplete the mana in the necklace, then no doubt others could too. Your necklace - it’s probably lost forever. Shame, you better look for the chambers.

“We’re digging for treasure!” you say.

While Aima cheers, Orion gives you a questioning look.

The sun is past noon when Aima finds something. While you’ve been hard at work digging with a shovel, she had been destroying the earth around her using her magic. When she calls you and Orion over, Aima feels around the steel plate she’d hit and opens it, revealing countless gemstones embedded onto the circular walls. It’s a giant hollow ball of iron, one with a massive crystal ball at the bottom.

“We’re rich!” Aima says.

Quietly, Orion warns, “Be careful.”

You drop down, telling the two to wait up there. The entire chamber is flooding with mana, but none of it is yours. This is Phaethon’s chamber, the first one ever made, and it’s working a prototype. You realize just by unearthing this you have placed him in incredible risk - if he was still alive that is. He’s dead, his body burned to prevent resurrection, and his ashes were spread a long time ago.

Tapping into the crystal ball, you probe the entire chamber with Phaethon’s mana. It stings with discomfort, but you proceed. Slowly, your memories piece back together with every discovery. Every second the gemstones draw mana from the other plane, acting as magic wells - the last breakthrough you two ever made together. The ball in the center, acting as command central, monitors Phaethon’s health constantly, tracking his location by sending a handful of mana every second. It’s off now. Three of these chambers exist. One for Phaethon, one for you, and the last one built for Orion.

“Helios, what are you doing?” Aima asks.

Maybe… maybe you can mess with it.

[Roll 1d100, Bo3, beat 40/50/60]

>Reconfigure the chamber to observe Aima.
>Reconfigure the chamber to observe you.
>Reconfigure the chamber to observe Orion.
>Disassemble the gemstones.
>Write-in.

And pick one:

>Dig for your chamber.
>Don’t.

Rolled 74 (1d100)

>Reconfigure the chamber to observe you.
>Dig for your chamber.
Helios' chamber is likely to be a burnt-out husk.

>>496387
Mostly because I'm curious about the state of mana in Helios' chamber, and having two chambers might help out with empty wells.

>>496138

In the midst of your digging, you ask Orion, “Who am I?”

“Pardon?” she replies.

“I don’t remember.”

She pauses to think for a moment. “From what you told me, you were one of last three candidates for the throne of Stella, along with me and Phaethon.”

“From what I told you?”

“I’m afraid I can’t recall more. We’re alike, in that sense. I do have some small memories, but not much. You left in the same year I was revived.”

Oh. You nod, and go back digging.

>>496387
seconding

Rolled 76 (1d100)

>>496378
>Reconfigure the chamber to observe Aima.
>Dig for your chamber.

Rolled 83 (1d100)

>>496387
This.

(Writing and drawing.)

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>>496387
>>496415
>>496445
[Rolled 83, Great Success]

Your body is rotting, and your left hand is gone - two birds with one stone. Contorting the mana inside, you attempt to reconfigure the chamber to observe you. Creating systems, modification of an artificial intelligence, adjusting the output of a magical entity, they all fall under the classification of Soul magic. Part of you regards this classification with contempt as it’s utterly useless with its vagueness. You’re good at some pieces, others, terrible. Regardless, you tinker with it until finally something clicks into place.

You feel the magic flow through the gemstone wells into the crystal, and the watch as it converts it into energy. Second by second, your skin grows less and less grey, and your wounds start to shut completely. Even the stitches start to fall off. However, you still don’t feel your left hand. Cursing, you expend a bit more mana to probe for your chamber, scanning for a familiar energy. There it is.

“This is booring,” Aima complains.

“Sorry Aima, we’ll find something more interesting, okay?” you try to comfort her.

Her face is full of disappointment. You jump up, and Orion helps pull you out of the chamber. Something’s bothering her too, you can see it on her face.

“We should bury this, but first there’s one more I need to find,” you say, and then whispering to Orion, “What’s wrong?”

“We have uninvited guests. Quite a number of them.”

Despite being fully aware in the past few minutes, you have yet to feel a thing. You surmise that she’s been reading into Phaethon’s spells.

In a booming voice, a recognizable arrogance reaches your ears from past the mansion, “Lucky, do you remember me? It’s Kae, from the Arachnid Caves. Come out with your arms in the air. I promise I’ll treat you fairly, but only if you choose to not resist.”

Someone’s ready for round two.

(Thank you all for playing! My twitter is @sunphei for those who are interested. Classes begin for me soon, so I'm afraid I can't run on Fridays anymore. Well, maybe I can when the workload is light enough, but I can't tell for sure right now. As usual, comments and critique are welcome, even if it seems as though I don't take some into account. I do try, I swear.)

>>496625
thanks man

>>496625
Oh hey the cave buddies that we ended up pissing off. Could we take someone else hand and attach it the same way we did the forks? Thanks for running, see ya next time.

>>496625
Thanks for running!