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“Can you not just up and disappear like that?”you sincerely request from your most elusive teammate.

She eyes you with a sidelong glance as she frowns. “Said I'd meet you here.”

“I meant earlier on the boat,” you specify. “You just left. I was worried.”

“Sorry, mom,” she replies.

“C'mon Kyra,” you say with a shake of your head. “You could have at least told us what you were going to do.”

“You worry about you. I worry about me,” she rattles off her meaningless saying.

“Kyra,” you practically growl low in your throat. “Look –”

Before you can finish your thought, another furious yell in the distance from a barbarian on the warpath reminds you that you aren't that far away from another potential sucker punch. Or perhaps a confrontation much worse than that with farther reaching consequences. You sigh out in exasperation.

Licking your lips, you switch topics momentarily. “We shouldn't be having this conversation right here.”

“We shouldn't be having this conversation,” the thief retorts in a dark mutter.

Ignoring that jab you continue. “We can talk back on the hill you were observing the docks from. Farther from Kroll that way.”

“Fine,” she says.

“Good, let's take a stroll –”

“Meet you there.” she emphasizes. Before you can properly inhale to voice your dissent she transforms again into that gaseous miasma of darkness and zips away, straight back towards the hills. You groan angrily, taking off into the sky and resorting to following her purple trail of magic once again.

A minute or so passes and you can feel the magic granting you flight ebbing away – forcing you to land now if you don't want to crash later. Thankfully your magically enhanced sight and your prior viewings through the crystal ball have given you an accurate idea of where Kyra has retreated to. Sure enough, she sits high up in the tree she was initially observing the Roscoli fleet from when the sun was still high in the sky. You choose to land beside her, the gentle disturbance of your weight shaking the branch and informing her of your presence immediately. You uncloak from your invisibility, now that you are secure from any more run-ins with Irontide's bunch, so Kyra can read the anger plain on your face at her constant distancing tactics.

“Want to talk about why you're running from Kroll?” she asks sarcastically, attempting to change subjects with the change of scenery. From here you have a wonderful vantage point to see the various fires dotting the coastal landscape, seeming so peaceful and natural from this distance compared to the sources of chaos they were when you were in the thick of it.

Disregarding her question, you continue with what you were going to say earlier. “We're a team. We should be looking out for one another. And you're making it unnecessarily difficult.”

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“I do my own thing. No warnings, no communication. Disappear and reappear when the time is right. How I function. How I've always functioned.”

You simmer in annoyance at her reluctance to connect with you right now. “What is going on? Really. Randomly scouting against Blackburn's express orders? You've been completely gone for over a month. You've minimized contact with the rest of us as much as possible, abandoning us at the drop of a hat when you are forced to associate with us and don't you dare pretend this is how it has always been.”

“It is,” she lies. “Drop people when they slow me down.”

“Not your friends,” you counter.

“Don't have friends. Not in this business. Can't afford them.”

Anger finally rises in its entirety to your cheeks as you can't help but explode. “Do not give me that!” you practically snarl at her. Her head snaps to the side, staring into your glowing, glaring pupils as you give yourself a moment to calm down. You shake your head at her deflections. “Look, I don't know if you think you're being subtle about this, but I'm not so easily fooled. Whenever Rowe encounters a problem her first instinct is to run away and isolate herself. And you're doing the same exact thing! Why are you acting like this?”

Silence descends as Kyra purses her lips and looks forward. You study her face looking for some sign of emotion but she maintains that unreadable mask even now.

. . .

A cool, night sea breeze blows past, causing you to shiver. Kyra is unfazed by the cold.

. . .

“It's my fault,” she eventually informs you.

You furrow your brow, confused. “What's your fault?”

“All of it,” she expands upon her original statement with even more vagueness.

“What are you talking about?”

“Remember the two heists? Ones I pulled the same night?”

“Yeah,” you recall, nodding your head. “The nobleman's sword and the lockbox on the boat.”

“Lockbox contained important documents. Couldn't steal them, though. Part of the contract. Had to copy the contents down. Kinda like tonight.”

You eye her warily as your mind begins to work, connecting the various threads. She meets your gaze unflinchingly.

“It was a list of names,” she tells you point blank.

You gulp. “I don't suppose –”

“Alan Percival Rodain,” she speaks your full name from memory. “Never use your middle name. Why's that?”


>It's my father's name
>Did you know what you were doing?
>So you regret it then?
>You jeopardized the entire nation's security for coin
>You should have said something
>Something else? (write-in)

>>1026767
>It's my father's name

Sorry, work called me away and I couldn't post earlier.

>>1026767
>It's my father's name

>>1026767
>It's my father's name

>>1026859
>>1027122
>>1027289
> Its my wife's son's name

>>1026767
>>It's my father's name

>>1026767
>tfw no one actually addresses the issue

Fuckin fine.

>Did you know what you were doing?
>So you regret it then?
"Is this what this is? You being a one woman army is you trying to make up what happened?"

Internet is fucking me. No post until late tonight. Warning u ahead if time it will be short

“Percival is my father's name,” you find yourself explaining. You're rather dumbfounded and at a loss for words in regards to every other element of this situation so maybe it's best to just stick to the mundane shit you actually know for the moment. “I love my father but our relationship has been . . . stressed at the best of times. Bit of a shitshow at the worst. Whenever I hear Alan Percival Rodain I think of him and . . . well, people don't go by their full name most of the time anyway so it was never much of a problem neglecting to mention it."

A pause. Kyra simply nods in recognition of your story, seeming satisfied with your answer. "I take it the others had their names on that list as well?”

She nods again. “Them. A few dozen others.”

“So that's what this has all about then? A one woman army trying to right wrongs?”

Kyra shrugs. “Thought if there was evidence of my involvement I could destroy it before anybody else found it.”

“Huh,” you utter, mulling over that sentence. “If you wanted to cover it up then why are you telling me this now?”

“You're suspicious,” she points out. “Thought you might understand. Maybe keep it a secret. Between us.”

>Not a chance
>Alright, we'll keep this buried
>Something else? (write-in)

>>1028633
>Alright, we'll keep this buried
Honestly I don't think it matters much. We're all friends with Gabby, and she's an unrepentant murderer.

>>1028644

As long as no one asks us about it, we don't have to tell anyone.

But I think it might be beneficial to Kyra to be forthcoming with this. We've all had things in our past that we're not proud of, and I think the others would understand.

As it stands, if the information did get to the Empire, they'll likely have counters and contingencies tailored to us.

>>1028736
>>1028644
Secrets have a way of getting out, and I'd hate to see the rest of the group get angry at Kyra over not telling them about this sooner.

>>1028644
>unrepentant murderer.
though, admittedly, her dad did seem like he deserved it.

>>1028633
>Did you know what you were doing?
>Was her (Kyra's) name on the list and how did she react?
>other:
We have to tell Blackburn and the others that the Empire knows our names and might be prepared, like Wrenloft said. Although in the case of Alan he is very different from before.

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You sigh out. “Well, Blackburn and the others definitely need to be informed that the Empire knows our names.”

Kyra frowns. “They do. Etriarch told Blackburn he saw the recruitment list.”

You grimace, remembering the specifics of the half-deranged elf's ranting. “You're right,” you echo. “Although I think he mentioned the Imperials didn't even know who on the list was his former partner. Was this document just a list of names? Did it mention anything about us other than that?”

The thief shakes her head. “Full names. Nothing else.”

“Sounds relatively uninformative,” you remark. After taking a second to think about it you look to Kyra and regard her with a curious stare. “Was your name among the recruits?”

She shakes her head again. “No. Woulda burned it. Contacted by Renault much later. Associate gave up my involvement in the other score while under 'duress'.”

“Did you know what you were doing when you took that job?” you ask.

“Knew I was being paid. Knew the target was government. Didn't care.”

You lick your lips as you think it over. “Alright,” you eventually capitulate. “We'll keep this buried. Nothing can be undone at this point. It's what we do going forward that matters.”

“Speaking of. Plans for what to do now?”

>Wait for Quissonce to come get us
>Follow Irontide's group back to Seaside
>Watch the supply base to see how the Imperials react
>Something else? (write-in)

>>1028857
>Watch the supply base to see how the Imperials react
>Wait for Quissonce to come get us
When will the other characters mention Alan's unfailing ability to forget important details like the fact that Blackburn already knew that the Empire had a list of Republic people coming to the island and that we were fucking there when he was told about it?
Maybe some concern that Alan is becoming senile, or has brain damage to explain why he's so stupid at times?

>>1028857
>>Wait for Quissonce to come get us
>Watch the supply base to see how the Imperials react

>>1028857
>Something else? (write-in)

Should we also continue discussing with her to not go off at random or has she agreed not to? Because I don't remember seeing a confirmation.

If she wants to go ahead and find whatever evidence it is, she should let us know so we can keep track of one another in case something happens.

Also, Trick, does it go against the Great Will's teaching to if we keep something like this secret?

>>1030212
in addition, we could help her cover things up, if necessary, or encourage her to trust in her friends more and let them know the truth.

>>Wait for Quissonce to come get us
>Watch the supply base to see how the Imperials react

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“My plan is to wait here until Quissonce comes to get us which will probably take a few hours. In the meantime we can scope out the ruins of the supply base – see if anyone checks up on them and watch how the Imperials react.”

“Sounds good,” Kyra replies. She shifts slightly upon the high branch you both are seated on, leaning against the mighty oak's trunk to make herself as comfy as possible before your resident wizard and personal teleportation service comes to pick you up.

You relax as best you can without having a large stable pillar of wood to rest your body against. Instead you keep yourself relatively alert and perceptive as you focus your best efforts on maneuvering through and integrating your arcane sight into your regular, everyday vision. No matter how long you wait the ability seems to persist – even half an hour later. So either this spell that you don't remember casting lasts a very long time or it may just be one more permanent feature you've taken on, adding to the list of odd physical changes you have manifested. You let Muffin at some point out of his satchel to stretch his gliding flaps.

You turn to engage Kyra in conversation in an attempt to stave off boredom after you've thoroughly gazed at the stars and monitored the dying flames coming off from the supply base for quite mind-numbingly long enough.

“I believe we got sidetracked,” you admit. “Maybe my memory is failing yet again, but I don't think you confirmed whether or not you'd stop leaving us at random.”

“At random?” Kyra focuses on that specific phrase, eyeing you once more. “No. When it's smart to do? Yes.”

You shake your head, disappointed. “Could you keep me posted at least when you do run off ahead?”

She makes you wait a long, silent moment before flashing a half-smile and answering. “Sure.”

You smile back. “Thank you.” You plan to leave it at that for now, but apparently your rogue isn't finished with the conversation.

“Now you,” she says. “Story behind Kroll hating you?”

You click your tongue as you ponder on how to answer that. “Remember when you suggested that I should 'go for both'?” you ask.

Kyra cocks her head slightly, her smile growing wider. “Yeah?” she asks, encouraging you to explain further.

“Well I . . . sorta did,” you explain.

“Nice,” Kyra comments. Then she suddenly furrows her brow. “Did it work?”

“Yeah. Kinda. I was outta town for a few days and in the meantime Kroll and Gabby had a bit of a fling. When I came back I . . . well I'm pretty sure Kroll would say I stole his girl.”

“Nice,” Kyra echoes. “Can't believed that worked,” she mutters afterwards. Raising her eyebrows again she continues questioning you. “And Rowe was alright with that?”

“Well she was involved in the whole event. Pretty heavily,” you admit, trying your damnedest not to brag.

“Niiiiiiiice,” Kyra elongates the word.

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“WHAT THE FUCK!?!” you suddenly hear Quissonce shout into your ear, startling you so badly you nearly fall out of the tree you're sitting in.

Turning around to look for her, still dumbfounded by her sneaking up on you, you realize she's not actually here at the moment.

“I'm sorry I just finished scrying you and I think I came in at a very weird point in the conversation. What 'event' are you talking about?” the seemingly omnipresent voice of Quissonce rattles off in your ear.

“Quissonce,” you meekly reply at her sudden intrusion, still taken off guard by the unannounced vocal entrance.

“Why would Kroll say . . . no Ed! No, you just heard . . . I'M NOT EAVESDROPPING HE TOLD ME TO DO THIS . . . fine. If you two would please return to ground level so I don't have to teleport into mid-air,” she orders you, bitingly.

You exchange a slightly concerned look with the thief, who managed to overhear that entire one-sided tirade since she was sitting so close to you and Quissonce was shouting so loudly across her crystal bal.

The two of you comply with Quissonce's orders, landing upon the ground below. And soon after the wizard appears before the both of you.

Her expression displays disgust. She grabs Kyra's hand but refuses to touch your own, requiring Kyra to complete the link by holding your hand instead.

Within the blink of an eye you are back in Eve's magister chambers within the Circle, sporting a slight stomach ache to accompany the remnant feelings of your dying headache. Having teleported for the first time in her life, Kyra falters slightly, her grip slipping from your own hand as she stumbles. Quissonce appears to be too irate and disgusted to have her constitution falter any further despite her usual negative reaction to the teleportation spell's side effects. You spy Ed and Eve also standing in the room, having awaited your return late into this fine evening.

“Were you successful?” Ed inquires.

You pat the bottom of the cylindrical container on your back. “Got as much as we could. Irontide interrupted however and –”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY 'INVOLVED IN THE EVENT'?” Quissonce screeches, interrupting you.

Ed rolls his eyes. “Quissonce, we have more important –”

“Pretty sure they're talking about the threesome,” Eve interjects.

“What?!” Quissonce screams.

You give Eve a puzzled look. “How did you find out about that?”

“WHAT?!” Quissonce repeats.

Eve scoffs. “Well duh. I mean Kyra and I –”

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Suddenly Kyra lurches forward and claps her hand down on Eve's mouth, silencing the scaly gnome from finishing her sentence.

“Were just about to leave,” the rogue finishes the thought as she forcibly escorts the sorcerer out of the room with her.

Eve struggles in vain, but eventually both of them leave the room.

“BUT IT'S MY ROOM!” you hear Eve's muffled protest through the recently shut door.

“WHAT?!” Quissonce demands once more, drawing your attention back to her.

Ed grabs her hand and drags his girlfriend away as well, practically pulling her off her feet as he gives you an apologetic wave goodbye. Quissonce seems too stupefied to resist.

Soon you're alone in Eve's room, hours ahead of Irontide's return.

>Go to Blackburn
>Find out what Eve was trying to say there a moment ago
>Figure out why Quissonce is so skeeved about all this
>Check on Dolah to see how her date went
>Something else? (write-in)

>>1031579
>>Find out what Eve was trying to say there a moment ago
>>Figure out why Quissonce is so skeeved about all this
>>Check on Dolah to see how her date went

>>1031605
This

>>1031579
>Figure out why Quissonce is so skeeved about all this
>Check on Dolah to see how her date went

>>1031579
>>Go to Blackburn
is the most important, but we have "hours" as you said. So we can do the other stuff first.

>>1031579
>Go to Blackburn
Work. This is the most important, because it's entirely plausible that the General would frame the attack as stealing from Burn's hoard since all of that money was already designated to be paid to him, and we could have an irate dragon heading towards us within the week.

>>1031579
and go see blackburn, too, i guess.

>>1031899
We have hours before Irontide's group gets back to Seaside.

We have no idea how quickly or if at all Burn will attack Seaside.

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You take your leave of the sixth floor and stroll towards exiting the Circle, intent on getting these maps to Blackburn as well as debriefing on the developments that occurred over the course of the mission. You catch up to Ed and Quissonce walking down the stairs to the 4th floor, muttering between themselves energetically in a hushed argument of some kind. You overemphasize the sounds of your footsteps so as to make them aware of your presence before your exceptional hearing lets you unintentionally eavesdrop on some private piece of information.

Both of them look back and upwards as you approach, stopping in their tracks as you pass them by in the stairwell.

Ed tries to maintain a smile but Quissonce is still wearing that expression of shock mixed inextricably with disgust.

You pause and meet her gaze, giving her an honest shrug demonstrating your naive innocence to what you interpret is deep offense.

“I don't understand why you're so skeeved about this,” you admit.

“Because it's weird. And gross. And skeevy,” she explains. Ed shakes his head, chuckling softly to himself. The silver-haired elf suddenly shudders. “Yuck just imagining . . . When did you even . . .” her face goes slack as she processes everything she's already heard you say, the wheels in her brain turning mighty quickly. As she comes to some realization, she narrows an angry glare in your direction as she seems to discover some new gross perversion to take offense with. “Wait. Did the three of you do . . . that the same night we fought that angel?”

You nod your head yes.

“Gah!” she splutters out, inarticulate at the audacity of you answering in the affirmative. “You're telling me the same night you alluded to your desires to marry Rowe you were fucking another woman?”

“Guess we know what Alan considers 'wife' material,” Ed cracks more good-naturedly, in contrast with your elven friend's indignation.

“And this was right after your little birthday hunting trip getaway!” Quissonce declares.

“ . . . And?” you ask, perplexed as to that fact's significance.

“Well clearly you're supposed to have a threesome on your birthday, Alan,” your former roommate continues to joke. “If you insist on flubbing tradition like that no one will ever be able to take you seriously.”

“This isn't funny,” Quissonce, snaps turning on her boyfriend and backhanding him in the chest. She returns her focus to you. “I just can't believe you'd be so brutish as to pervert something as sacred as a . . . a pre-marriage honeymoon with your lusty, baser urges. Not a shred of tact or gentlemanly behavior. It's disrespectful to your whole relationship.”

>Ehhhh, you might have a point
>Nice projection spell, Quissonce
>I'm just making the best of a complicated love triangle
>Something else? (write-in)

>>1032401
>Something else?
"Hey, look, Rowe and I talked about it, she agreed she wanted it, and our relationship seems to be all the better for it. I'm not saying that it's a standard for anyone to aspire to, or anything; just that it works for us."

>>1032401
>>1032416
seconding

>>1032416
I wouldn't go so far as to say that the relationship is better, but it hasn't seemed to have been hurt by it.

>>1032401
>>I'm just making the best of a complicated love triangle
"And yes when you boil it down you're right, it was pretty tactless, but time sort of was an issue. Heat of the moment and all that. Had to act."

>>1032401
>>I'm just making the best of a complicated love triangle
>Nice projection spell, by the way.
>>1032416
could mention that the whole thing was consensual, and all parties involved are looking to have another go at it.

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“Hey,” you call out defensively. “Rowe and I talked about it beforehand. And she agreed to do it.”

Quissonce rolls her eyes. “I'm sure she did after much cajoling.”

“No,” you disagree. “Very little cajoling, actually. She wanted to do it and our relationship has seemed all the better for it since.”

“Oh well it probably seems much better from your point of view. You successfully convinced your lover to sanction your cheating,” the wizard sarcastically comments.

“By definition it isn't . . .” you trail off, fed up as the obstinance of the elf you're arguing with frustrates you too unmanageable levels. You sigh out, taking a moment to cool down. “I'm not saying it's a standard for anyone to aspire to or anything like that. It just works. For us, that is.”

Quissonce recoils suddenly in response to your words, narrowing her eyes as she reads between the lines. “You aren't thinking . . .” she begins speaking slowly. “Of doing it again, are you?”

You shrug. “Probably, yeah. After Rowe has recuperated.”

Quissonce visibly gags in response. “WHY?”

“Why? Because it was consensual and fun for all the involved parties and . . .”

>Y'know what, I don't have to justify this to you
>You have a book on sex magic and fuck an orc
>Your best friend is a gay gnome with a dragon fetish
>Something else? (write-in)

>>1034491
>>Something else? (write-in)
and we wouldn't have had hard feelings between us, which could have been dangerous.

Besides, we could point out that some of our teams' sexual preferences may be considered deviant, but we don't judge them on that because it's their business, and their shame or pride or neutrality to it isn't our call.

>>1034491
>Y'know what, I don't have to justify this to you

>>1034517
This and
>You have a book on sex magic and fuck an orc

>>1034998
>>1035047

I'd avoid saying these because they seem a bit confrontational, and I'd rather not make Quissonce any more angry with us.

The more angry a person is, the less receptive they'll be, and we're trying to go for receptive and accepting here.

>>1034998
>>1035047


if we are going to say these things, can we at least mellow them out so that they don't sound so blunt and standoffish?

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“And so we wouldn't have any hard feelings between us, which could have been dangerous.”

“Wait,” Ed interjects, bringing his head up from where he had been intently examining the staircase's stonework for the previous few heated exchanges. His brow is furrowed. “Wasn't Gabby together with Kroll when you, ahem, 'stole', her?”

You feel your throat dry up a bit at Ed's almost surgical inspection of your statement. “Uh, well . . . that's a barbaric way of putting it, but yeah.”

“And Kroll is aware of this?” the half-orc needles further. “Is he, uh, taking it well?”

You grimace. You feel sweat pouring down your forehead. “He . . . punched me in the back of the head.”

Ed cocks an eyebrow. “So you exchanged the prospect that maybe Gabby would get over her crush on you after spending a long enough time with her new boyfriend . . . for a chance at a few threesomes . . . with the added baggage of the eternal scorn of a powerful enemy . . . because this way forward is less 'dangerous' than the alternative?”

Quissonce crosses her arms across her chest and leans back, a smug grin plastered across her face. “Gotcha.”

“Uh . . . I . . .” you search for words, taken aback by the verbal assault. Eventually you give up on that avenue and merely fix Ed with the piteous stare of a man betrayed. “I thought you were on my side.”

“I am!” he insists. “Just, y'know, cut the bullshit dude. You wanted to fuck Gabby because she's hot and this is a legitimate way to do it without being an asshole. Whether that's alright is between you and Rowe. Sweet and simple. There's nothing wrong with that.”

“YES THERE IS!” the elf shouts, rounding on her half-orc.

“Look,” you say, getting her to focus her attention back on you. “I don't think I'm the only person on the team whose sexual preferences could be considered deviant. I don't think we should start judging each other.”

“Preferences?” Quissonce repeats. “No, I'm sorry. Being interested in women is a preference. Being interested in men is a preference. Two women at the same time, isn't a preference.”

“What is the issue here, Quissonce?” you earnestly inquire, getting fed up.

“What you are doing is abusive! And it's certainly going to stunt Gabby's growth as a person. It's untenable in the long run. Not only all of that, but it's also horribly sexist as well. And, as a woman, I take that rather personally.”

You are outright stunned by the barrage of insults she just labeled you with. Ed finally has had enough and attempts to intervene one final time.

“Alright,” he begins. “Tensions are running high at the moment. It's best if we went our separate ways and cooled off.”

“I don't know, Ed!” Quissonce cries sarcastically. “There seem to be some hard feelings right now. Maybe we should all fuck each other until they go away.”

Ed's eyes quickly snap to you. “She doesn't actually mean that.”

“I figured,” you respond dryly.

“C'mon! It's the Alan-approved method of dealing with our interpersonal relationships and issues.” Quissonce beats her chest and begins making monkey noises. “OOK! OOK! DICK MAKE EVERYTHING BETTER! OOK! OOK!”

Ed's displeased expression says it all as he finally grabs his girlfriend by the shoulders and, in his new role as impromptu Circle bouncer, begins dragging her down the stairs towards their room, quite sure it's time for her to make an exit.

You shake your head as Quissonce continues to simulate the sounds of simians chattering up until their door slams shut.

Sighing out you pinch the bridge of your nose.

>Go find Rowe
>Go find Gabby
>Go debrief with Blackburn
>Go find Dolah
>Go Find Eve
>Go find Kyra
>Something else? (write-in)

>>1035119
Thank you, Wrenloft, for fucking things up again and making us look absolutely stupid.

>>1035123
>Go debrief with Blackburn

Why is Trick a faggot?

>>1035163

The world may never know.

>>1035163
If players didn't open themselves up to such ridicule, we wouldn't look so stupid.

I mean, Trick would still be a faggot, but at least the ridicule wouldn't be so obviously our own fault.

>>1035123
>>Go debrief with Blackburn
>>1035130
>>1035174
I probably should have elaborated that internal division would be extremely problematic for our group.

though, in hindsight, what would you suggest?

>>1036029
A curt end to the conversation and that Quissonce should ask the people involved about their life choices instead of assuming that she has all the answers and her morality is superior to everyone else, just like what happened with Paul.

>>1036057
we'd need to first dissect her argument here, as well.

>“What you are doing is abusive! And it's certainly going to stunt Gabby's growth as a person. It's untenable in the long run. Not only all of that, but it's also horribly sexist as well. And, as a woman, I take that rather personally.”

We'd need to understand why she considers it abusive as well as horribly sexist. Or why she thinks this stunts Gabby's growth.

In regards to Gabby, out interactions with her have generally left a positive impact which helped her trust in others and move off of the evil alignment, due in part to the mutual attraction.

I'm not sure what she means by untenable, so I wouldn't know what to say to that.

In regards to abusive, we certainly didn't coerce any of them into this, nor are we preventing them from leaving it, and we certainly don't intend on hurting them either.
Though next time we meet, perhaps then we should suggest to her that she ask Rowe or Gabby about their life choices rather than us?

>>1036214
Honestly I feel that Quissonce is forgetting the lessons of Paul's failed ritual and she's letting her own personal morals and overconfidence in her mental, and therefore moral, superiority get the best of her again.

We could try to spend time and effort, weathering her tirades, to bring her around to seeing that this is not harmful to any of the three of us.
Or we can just crush her arrogance under the weight of her failures.
The Circle Magisters did reject her application for Magister rank for a reason. And to think that we had voted to accept her application.

>>1036606
I think it would be best to be diplomatic with her in this case. She's our friend, and if we do callously toss her failures at her, it will breed resentment and may cause interparty problems.

>>1036617
She may be our friend but she's sure not acting like one.

>>1036672
Well, she may be genuinely well meaning in this case. She doesn't want us to be bad or go down a bad path. It's just that these sorts of things are subjective to a point.

>>1036682
She was also well-meaning when she used a half-translated necromantic ritual on Paul, and we all remember how that went (except Quissonce it seems), don't we?

>>1037085
Wasn't that a case of her being overconfident in her abilities rather than a case of believing herself to be morally superior?

>>1037133
Overconfident in her abilities, believing herself right and Azdor's warnings about the dangers of necromancy to be hogwash.
She believed that she knew better than everyone else.
Just like right now she believes she knows what's best for Gabby and Rowe better than Alan or the two women in question.

>>1037169
I fear that she will try to turn it around on us, saying that she's the one in Azdor's place warning us of the dangers of our relationship.

As a counterpoint, perhaps we should have her talk to gabby and rowe to assuage her concerns?

>>1037185
I think this is the only way that helps. Everything Alan says will be discarded as selfish and sexist/patriarchic. If Rowe and Gabby are fine with it it defeats all of Quissonces's points.

for analysis, here are the old threads discussing Quissonce and necromancy:

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/46569230/

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/46906637/

>>1037227
>>1037169
>>1036672
I'm just concerned about using Paul's death, because it may still be a sore point for her and mentioning it could drive a wedge further between us.

Let's just stick with leaving her to talk to Gabby and Rowe as Plan A.

>>1037260
and this one, too

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/86032/

File: Irontide.jpg (136 KB, 900x758)

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You need some distance from . . . everything unrelated to your work right now. Pushing that uncalled for argument about the nature of your relationships to the back of your mind you finish your journey to the 1st floor of the Circle and walk out the door, using that burgeoning, unvented anger to give purpose to your movements as you pound across the city streets towards the Overseer's Complex.

You quickly go through the motions of what it takes to speak with Blackburn and find yourself sitting across from the unassuming leader of Seaside explaining the intricate details of everything that happened during your reconnaissance and information retrieval assignment.

And while the eternally level-headed figure manages to maintain a veneer of calm as you describe Irontide's team bursting onto the scene, you can quite clearly sense a twinge of anger coursing through him as he endures the retelling of your exploits.

As you conclude the events surrounding your return to Seaside you personally hand the container of naval charts across Blackburn's desk to the man. He thanks you for your efforts and slips the maps into a drawer.

“I apologize for the . . . disruption you endured,” he begins after listening to your every word with care. “Unfortunately, I must take some level of responsibility for their actions. I thought it best to speak with Irontide about the mission I was sending you on specifically to prevent coincidental mishaps like the one you have just described. I didn't wish for him to get in your way and it seems he abused the foreknowledge I gave him to interfere with our goals. I assure you I will not be making that mistake again. From here on out your movements will be privy only to you, myself and those you trust enough to bring with you. I'm sorry things didn't go according to plan.”

“I was trying to end this peacefully,” you admit, slumping back in your chair as you go over the loss of life you witnessed happening earlier in the night. “As peacefully as possible, anyway.”

“I know,” the bald man consolingly comments, steepling his hands together atop his desk as he does so. “I believe your plan could have worked.”

“Do you think it still might? Can we prevent any further ships from getting to the Island?”

The thin line across Blackburn's face that constitutes his pursed lips seems to shrink even thinner. “If the destruction you have described is as absolute as you witnessed it – I believe Irontide was . . . successful at ceasing and quite possibly souring the Roscoli-Kardas relations. I'll utilize the charts you've given me as best I can but if I can avoid the political ramifications, well . . . no use letting those already slaughtered to have died in vain.”

You grimace, eyeing Blackburn as thoughts you would like to dismiss as pure paranoia run through your brain at that last little comment of his.

>You really didn't suspect Irontide was going to pull the shit he pulled?
>Say nothing
>Something else? (write-in)

>>1039908
>You really didn't suspect Irontide was going to pull the shit he pulled?

>>1039908
>>You really didn't suspect Irontide was going to pull the shit he pulled?

Wait, do we still have the ability to tell if people are lying or not?

>>1040048
i don't think we assimilated that from desden.

>>1040048
I don't think you've ever had that ability.

>>1040064
My apologies, I thought we had assimilated that from Desden at some point as Wren pointed out.

>>1040072

Well you see you were going to when you were speaking with Gaea's Warden but then do to things happening you never got around to it. You still can sometime soon if you wish.

>>1040083
>>1040072
I'm also not sure it's a good idea to get that power. It might make us more judgemental about people. I think it's a factor as to why Desden can be kind of a prick.

>>1039908
>>Something else? (write-in)
also, show him the firearm we got.

>>1039908
>Say nothing
Look, it does us no good to be suspecting of Blackburn, because let's face it: he's right.
Roscoli sailors were going to die either way, and while Irontide probably killed more than the privateers would have, this doesn't blow back on us as badly as the privateering would have.

We just didn't want to make the hard choice that he did to have Irontide attack the docks.

>Something else:
"So, what should be our next goal? The Acidspit Clutch has been petitioning for military aid for a while now, but Burn might attack Seaside with Irontide taking that loot."

>>1040850
true, perhaps we should leave it well enough alone.

File: Doppelganger.png (203 KB, 320x654)

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“You really didn't suspect Irontide was going to pull the shit he ended up pulling?” you can't help but ask.

Blackburn leans back in his chair, regarding you curiously, but seriously. “Of course I suspected.”

You scoff, flabbergasted. “Then why did you tell him about what we were going to do?!” you demand.

“I had to ascertain how far I could trust his group,” Blackburn informs you simply. “Better to know the limits of the information they are allowed access to now when the stakes are so low.”

“Stakes are so . . . he almost killed me!” you point out. “They slaughtered most of the sailors – would have killed them all if I hadn't spoken up.”

“A pity to be sure, about the Roscoli,” Blackburn comments, mulling over their deaths in his mind like they were a spilt bottle of wine. “But there may . . . there will come a day when I have a choice to make that may result in Seaside surviving another day or crumbling into the sea. I have a much more informed perspective on who to trust upon that day and what to trust them with now. I will admit, I didn't consider the possibility of any member of your respective teams perishing from a potential altercation. I guess I just have an unwavering faith in your survivability at this point.” He chuckles to himself.

You shake your head. “Look, even if everything you're saying is true . . . why didn't you tell me they knew about our plan? Give me a heads up or something so I could have been prepared.”

Blackburn shrugs. “Well I thought it would be unnecessary to inform more than one of you.”

You look at the Overseer, puzzled. “What?”

“I informed Kyra to be on the lookout when she checked in to restock on supplies . . . eight days ago, I believe,” Blackburn tells you after staring up at the ceiling in intense recollection for a moment. He looks back to you afterwards. “Judging by your surprise, she didn't inform you of that possibility, I assume. Curious.”

You gulp. Really leaving you out of the loop she is.

“She has been acting rather strangely as of late,” Blackburn notes to himself more than to you. He pulls out a piece of parchment and scribbles down on it with a quill.

“Do you really find all this subterfuge is helpful towards keeping Seaside afloat?” you inquire seriously. From where you're sitting it seems detrimental.

“Doppelgangers that can steal a man's face, a large chunk of the magical community secretly inducted into demon worship and stranger occurrences besides. Who knows the capabilities of the various things lurking out there in the dark. By the accounts of our very own Dolah Ornatheon there was an angel hiding in the flesh of a priest. Anyone could be compromised and I'm a cautious man by nature, Alan.” Blackburn rolls up the scroll he was writing upon and stashed it below with all his other things as he finishes his ominous explanation, steepling his hands again and leaning sitting up straight in his chair.

>What stranger occurrences?
>Kyra fed the Imperials information
>I'm ready for a new mission
>Do we have a contingency plan to deal with Burn?
>Something else? (write-in)

>>1041521
>What stranger occurrences?
>Do we have a contingency plan to deal with Burn?
We assured Kyra that we'd keep her secret, and these stranger occurrences may need to be investigated.

>>1041526
>>What stranger occurrences?
>>Do we have a contingency plan to deal with Burn?

>>1041526
>>What stranger occurrences?
>Do we have a contingency plan to deal with Burn?

Another thing I think Quissonce may have misconceptions about in our relationship is that we've simply tacked gabby on due to lust and baser urges.

Admittedly, it was kind of part of the equation, but considering how close we are, I'd argue it's just as well love.

File: Burn.png (209 KB, 344x211)

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“Do we have a contingency plan to deal with Burn?” you ask.

Blackburn shakes his head in the negatory. “Our contingency plan was precisely what happened – eliminate any potential benefit the dragon might have from aiding the Kardassians. Without the influx of gold from off the island Burn has no reason to associate with them. The best case scenario results in Burn returning peacefully to his volcano and forgetting we exist.”

You quirk an eyebrow skeptically. “It all goes down that swimmingly?”

“I said best. Not most probable. I assume the dragon will take offense at being denied a rightful addition to his hoard.”

“And then?” you attempt to coax your superior into expanding upon that scenario so he gets it all out in the open.

“We've survived a dragon attack before. Although it was a much smaller specimen. Rest assured, I'm not letting Irontide bring his ill-gotten gains within the city's walls. I'll have a few men meet them at the gates when they return and demand he leave whatever riches were meant to bolster Burn's hoard outside. If Burn flies here looking to collect what he considers rightfully belongs to him I would like the least amount of fuss. Perhaps – if the Kardassians managed to negotiate with him – we can work out some sort of agreement.”

“And if we can't? Or if that agreement is impossible to maintain?”

Blackburn sighs. “Well . . . there is one ace up my sleeve I can pull. But it is only to be utilized if the very existence of Seaside itself is at stake. Even at the worst and most hopeless moments of the Master's assault I didn't think of employing it. Although . . . another alternative solution to our potential dragon surfaced not long ago. This . . . Warden individual that Miss Roy can call upon.”

You narrow your eyes in a compulsory display of distaste. “Rowe is still recuperating.”

The Overseer gives a cursory nod. “I understand that. But I do believe that Goddess trumps dragon. At least I would hope it does. A weapon in our arsenal we should consider if Burn is uncooperative.”

You grimace and nod your head absentmindedly. “Yeah yeah, if we need to do it.” You get up from your chair and make your way to the exit, planning on heading somewhere else – most likely the bar.

It's only once you reach the doorway out of Blackburn's office that you stop and reflect on the earlier part of his speech. You look back over your shoulder wearing a quizzical expression.

“What do you mean by stranger occurrences?” you inquire, curiosity peaked by the vagueness of the way he said it.

File: Garlic.jpg (16 KB, 400x278)

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Blackburn looks up at you and takes a moment to clear his throat. “Three nights ago we found a man lying dead in a back alley. He had been drained of all his blood via a weapon that left two puncture marks in his throat.”

Your eyes grow wide as you think of the nature of those wounds. “Do you think it's a . . .”

Blackburn reaches down below his desk and pulls out a clove of garlic which he shakes in his hand before tossing it underhand towards you. You catch the seasoning in one hand and quickly begin to smell its odor as you hold it.

The Overseer shrugs as you give him a slightly incredulous look at the ridiculous of the situation. “Maybe it works, maybe it doesn't. We're due for a much larger shipment of the stuff regardless. Have a safe night Alan.”

>Head to the Sword and Shield
>Head to the Fighter's Guild
>Head to the Church of Calloway
>Head to the gates to wait for Irontide
>Something else? (write-in)

>>1044311
>>Head to the Sword and Shield

>>1044311
>Head to the Fighter's Guild
>write-in: Find and bring along our squire to introduce him to the Fighter's Guild
Whenever we can't bring him along, he should either be here or in the Circle, to either strengthen his body or expand his mind.

>>1044766
hm, yeah, we've neglected him for a while. Let's get Dukhov some lessons.

>>1044766
+1

File: Fighter's Guild.jpg (1.32 MB, 1600x1200)

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As you take your leave from the Overseer's Complex, one of Blackburn's assistants approaches you and hands you a small sack full of coins. “Five hundred platinum for your recent hard work,” the young man explains. He heads off through the city as you accept your payment, off to perform a variety of tasks this late into the night most like. You hope the boy stays safe. Reminds you of your own apprentice. Slipping the payday into your backpack you decide on your next destination.

Making your way towards the Fighter's Guild, you decide to check up on how Du'kov is doing. While you spent much of your time these past two weeks serving as little more than his swimming instructor, you ensured the boy had access to the CENTER FOR MARTIAL MASTERY's various opportunities for practice by paying his entrance fee and giving him free reign to drill on his own time while you were either busy with your own training or focused on some other task that required your attention.

Reaching the eastern part of Seaside, you step in through the doors to take in the scenery. Considering it is fast approaching midnight, it makes sense that the place is lacking many occupants. Most of the small-time adventurers are probably asleep, resting up in preparation for a new day. Still, there are a few people reading manuals, polishing their weapons or hacking away at training dummies.

In the center in fact you see Gale himself wailing upon some poor schmuck in full plate, trying their hardest to withstand a rain of blows from the Fighter's Guild president. Despite managing to raise the shield they use quickly enough to block the attacks, there is just too much power behind Gale's swings to effectively counter. It takes but a few moments for the rookie to get knocked on his ass.

Ever the friendly sportsman, Gale extends a hand and lifts the man to his feet. You are actually surprised when the man removes his helm and reveals himself to be Du'kov. He speaks earnestly and excitedly to Gale after putting down the loaner sword and shield he was using.

Du'kov catches sight of you near the entrance and respectfully ends his conversation with the barbarian before approaching you.

“Alan!” he calls jovially, rushing to your side. “Were you successful in your mission?”

“Relatively,” you answer. “I see you seem to be experimenting with a different style.”

Your student shrugs. “Searching for what works. This armor is very heavy. I don't think I like it.”

File: Shotgun.jpg (24 KB, 800x181)

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Gale approaches a few moments later, having overheard your student's review. “I've never liked the heavier stuff myself. I've known a few people who use it to surprisingly masterful effect. You get used to it." His eyes flit to you. "Doing good, Alan?”

“Could be better,” you admit. “Lot of shit is going down.”

Gale laughs. “As always. Nice gun,” he says, pointing at the weapon slung over your shoulder beside your efficient quiver. At having him point out your new acquisition, you unsling the weapon and bring it to bear, examining it.

Du'kov makes a face of disgust. “Unreliable,” he comments, reflecting on his prior experience with firearms.

Gale nods. “Most of the time. That piece looks pretty high quality though. Is that Roscoli?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. "It's meant for close ranges too, Du'kov. So the inaccuracy isn't as big of an issue,” you addend. “Although I don't have much experience with firearms myself. Unless I'm on the receiving end of them,” you note dryly.

Your greatsword-wielding friend snorts. “As if that's a major problem for you. Give it a week. There's a musketeer around here somewhere that would be willing to brag about helping out Alan Rodain learn a new technique. Or you could sell the thing. Would probably make a nice profit off hawking that thing.”
>Sell the gun
>Keep the gun
>Something else, more specific? (write-in)

AND

>Any suggestions for Du'kov's style of combat training (write-in)

>>1047929
>>Keep the gun
When we have the time we should train with it. I.e. never.

>>Any suggestions for Du'kov's style of combat training (write-in)
He should try various styles and the chose the one that fits him best.

>>1047929
>Keep the gun
Train and ASSIMILATE.

>Any suggestions for Du'kov's style of combat training
Since he's already experimenting, and considering his background, perhaps he should try a saber and main gauche style.
Perhaps if full plate isn't to his liking, maybe chainmail would be a better fit.
Archery, of course, is what he knows. Perhaps we can hook him up with a compound bow and he can learn to fire while on foot and on the run.

>>1047929
>>Something else, more specific? (write-in)
have the gun be analyzed and reverse engineered if possible.

We retain nominal ownership of it, of course.

>>1047969
we can also train ourselves on how to use it, too.

>Any suggestions for Du'kov's style of combat training (write-in)
hey, what if we got him a horse and taught him how to shoot arrows while on the move?

>>1048269
wait, how would you assimilate the gun?

>>1048356
>have the gun be analyzed and reverse engineered if possible.
Why reverse-engineer the gun. It's just a well-made gun, something that the Republic could make if it wanted to sacrifice ease of logistics for quality.

>>1048366
Assimilate the musketeer's gun skills.

>>1048373
I was under the impression that it was of a design we didn't have.

and if we were to assimilate a musketeer's skills, wouldn't we need him to be alive and around us for that?

>>1048377
>I was under the impression that it was of a design we didn't have.
It's a shotgun, a well-made one but not anything technologically more advanced than what the Republic could make.

>and if we were to assimilate a musketeer's skills, wouldn't we need him to be alive and around us for that?
No, why would we?

>>1048380
from memory, every time we've assimilated something, it's from someone in front of us.

>>1048384
Uh, yeah, and Gale said that the musketeer is around and probably willing to train us.
What, exactly, are you not understanding about keeping the gun and looking for the musketeer in the morning?

>>1048391
sorry, i thought you were referring to assimilating from the gun directly.

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“I'll keep the gun,” you decide, examining the fine workmanship and deciding it would be a shame to discard such an excellent piece. “Hopefully I'll find the time to train with it. Are there any particularly talented marksmen you could recommend, Guildmaster?”

Gale folds his arms across his chest as he ponders, staring up at the ceiling. “There was a halfling rifleman who I've heard good things about. Fresh off the boat. But . . . that might have been a month or two ago. Anyways, he was more recent an arrival than you and your group. Goes by the name 'Peacemaker'.”

“Peacemaker?” you ask, thoroughly unimpressed.

Gale chortles. “I know, I know. People find themselves changed so drastically physically they sometimes let it go to their heads and make a new identity. But when it comes to this kid . . . I'm pretty sure the nickname is earned. From what I've seen and heard he's rather laidback. Mellow and good-natured, sorta like most halflings. He's been on a few excursions into the forest and those who've worked with him said they practically forget he's there. Until they hear the loud BANG and something drops dead with a chunk of metal lodged firmly in its brain. I think you'll get along. Hell, I doubt he couldn't get along with anyone in town.”

“Sounds good,” you say.

“I'll introduce you two tomorrow, if you've got some free time.”

You shrug. “Nothing planned. But who knows?” An irate dragon might raze the town tonight for all you know. You shift your focus to your apprentice and ponder on what potential avenue of training you should advise him to pursue. “Du'kov, you're already skilled at horse archery, right?”

He nods. “All the warriors of the Mountain Riders are trained in it.”

“Could I see that weapon of yours? The one you brought with you from your tribe.”

The orcish teenager draws his sword, a curved blade designed similarly to that of certain Elvish weaponry you've seen before on the mainland.

“Hmmm,” you vocalize as you examine the steel. “It's not exactly a saber, but it's similar enough in proportion to one and if that's what you have experience in already, no reason to force you to begin anew. You might profit greatly from attempting a sword and main gauche style.”

Du'kov cocks his head. “I didn't understand that.”

“Uhhh, a parrying dagger,” you dumb your speech down a little. “It's a combat technique much more suited to a lightly armored combatant. You might want to consider chainmail as a good middleground between your furs and the heavier plate.”

Du'kov nods, drinking in your every word like it was the secret to life.

“And if none of that works out, remember to keep switching it up. See what fits you best.”

“Yes, Alan,” he answers dutifully.

>Meet Irontide at the gates of Seaside in the early morning
>Meet Peacemaker here at the Fighter's Guild in early afternoon
>Meet Dolah at the Sword and Shield tonight
>Something else? (write-in)

>>1048525
>Meet Peacemaker here at the Fighter's Guild in early afternoon

>>1048525
>Something else?
Spend some time with our animals. See how Sif is doing and taking his owner being confined to bed.

>>1048525
>>1048558
actually, on top of that, how about we go see Rowe?

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With your business finished and a feeling of satisfaction at guiding your mentee washing over you, you take your leave. Deciding to check up on your furry friends, you make your way to the nearby stable where your trusty steed Tornado resides. You cast a quick Speak with Animals upon yourself so as to ease and provide clarity to the nature of your bonding with the horse.

Letting him chow down on a midnight snack of extra oats that a growing boy like Tornado requires, the two of you have a rather civil and pleasant chat following a brief period of small talk. You even let Muffin out of the familiar satchel so he can join the conversation as well.

“So you really think Quissonce was in the wrong?” you ask the midnight-coated warhorse for his honest opinion.

“She was overreacting completely,” Tornado confirms with a whinny and a shake of his mane. “I've had to breed with dozens of mares over my lifetime – sometimes more than one a day – and it gets exhausting. But there's nothing gross about it.”

“Eh,” Muffin chitters in dissent. “I think the issue stems from the fact that at the end of the day this arrangement maximizes your happiness as opposed to Rowe's or Gabby's and no amount of excuses will convince her you weren't motivated by purely seflish desires.”

“Muffin,” Tornado starts, rounding on the squirrel. “Do you know how much work two women are?”

“Listen here asshole,” Muffin argues. “I was there. I know exactly how much work was involved in the process.”

You grimace, feeling a tad regretful. “Sorry buddy.”

He shakes his head. “It's alright. You were understandably distracted.”

“Still,” Tornado butts in. “Happiness is not maximized nor found in rutting. It is made by exploring the world. By being free and running through its beauty. The more women you tie yourself to the more you will offer yourself up for domestication. Enjoy life more and don't encourage them to foal for some time yet at the very least.”

You sigh out as the spell fades, leaving you with that little nugget of wisdom. You spend a few long minutes brushing his coat and afterwards part ways with the horse.

Finally you decide return to the Circle for your nightly meditation, sneaking your way up carefully past the fourth floor hoping that you won't run into Quissonce again and restart some sort of argument.

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Coming to the room you and Rowe share, you open the door to find your lover sitting up in bed, laughing as she plays with Pascala, tugging on a squeaky dog toy in a mock game of tug-of-war. Sif sits curled up at the foot of the bed, a large ball of fur and fluff that would plague your room with his shedding if there wasn't a convenient spell designed specifically to deal with loose dog hairs. What can you say? Sometimes the wizards of the Circle are smart. But sometimes they prove they can be downright genius!

. . .

Holy shit is he big!

Taking a good look at his massive bulk depressing the edge of your mattress, you realize he's been undergoing a steady growth spurt for some time now. It has been an incremental process, but now, able to easily compare him to the surroundings of your rather spacious room, you dread the prospect of him getting much larger.

Best to hope he's reached his full size or else you might start dreading when he jumps on you from time to time.

(Hey Alan) Rowe greets you, letting Pascala win the game. The Muller Shepherd jumps off the bed with her victory prize secured tightly in her jaws.

“Hey Rowe,” you respond, inspecting your lover's face. She looks a lot less haggard than in previous days. “Are you feeling better?”

(Feeling cooped up) she admits, placing her hands in her lap. (But yeah. Every day I have more energy than before. Tomorrow I think I'll go for a walk. Maybe ride outside the city if I'm feeling up to it.)

“Good,” you comment.

>Could you go tell Quissonce I'm not being a sexist abuser
>Play with Pascala
>I think Sif is outgrowing this room
>Something else? (write-in)

>>1053436
>I think Sif is outgrowing this room
>Play with Pascala
We should think about getting a bigger room, maybe even consider one outside the Circle.

>>1053438
second

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You walk into the room and bend down before your dog, lightly grabbing the rat-shaped chew toy and pulling on it, causing her to raise up her hind quarters and fight you for it. As the fake rat squeaks, the result of air passing through a hole in the collapsible material, you turn your gaze up to your girlfriend, the thought of Sif's unusual size stirring up thoughts and opinions that may be far more reaching than simply proper wolf-rearing.

You look over to Rowe who wears a soft smile on her face as she watches your playful interactions with Pascala.

“So . . . Sif's gotten pretty big,” you point out to her.

(Yeah he has.) she thinks to you.

“Is he going to keep getting bigger?”

(Uhhhhh, don't know. Maybe?)

“Well . . . if he does, this place is going to get pretty cramped.”

Suddenly Rowe gasps and she fixes you with an indignant stare. (I AM NOT PUTTING SIF OUTSIDE!)

You recoil at the intensity of that thought, dropping your guard long enough for Pascala to snatch the toy out of your loosened grip.

“That . . . uh, wasn't what I was thinking of suggesting,” you tell her deadpan.

(Oh. . . Well what were you thinking?)

“Maybe we need a bigger room.”

(There aren't any bigger rooms in the tower. Circle Magister's quarters are the creme of the crop. I guess, since we both are, we could combine two rooms. It would only be fair. Although that would be a serious architectural effort.)

You shrug. “It wouldn't be difficult if we got Ms. Helbot to help out. Might only take an afternoon or so, in fact. But . . . uh, I was also pondering on whether or not we should consider getting a room outside the Circle.”

( . . . Like a house?)

“Yeah,” you say. “There are a few abandoned properties around Seaside. And if push came to shove – again this would most likely require help from The Sculptor – we could make a house.”

( . . . Did you want to do that?)

“Make a house?” you ask, partially confused.

(No. Live together.)

“I mean we already are,” you point out.

(In someone else's place. If we go get our own place it will be our place.)

“Did you not want to do that?”

(I'm not against the idea. It would take a lot more effort though.)

>Let's just knock down a wall and combine rooms
>Let's get our own place
>Something else? (write-in)

>>1053739
>Something else?
"While I like it, should we talk to Gabby as well, about this?"
We are in a three-way now, and Gabby should be included on whether she likes staying at her own place or if she wants to join in a bigger house.

Oh, and a guest room for Dukov; he's our squire and we should take the responsibility seriously, since he takes it so seriously.

>>1053775
second

>Let's just knock down a wall and combine rooms

File: The Hostel Interior.jpg (1.97 MB, 2272x1704)

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“While I like the idea of getting our own place,” you begin, “should we talk to Gabby about it as well?”

Rowe snorts before laughing. (What? Why would we talk to her about it?)

“Uhhhhh,” you sound out, thinking of what to follow up with. “Maybe she should be included in the considerations for us getting a new place? See if she wants to join in on the idea of a bigger house.”

Rowe cocks an eyebrow. (Look, I admit the sex was good but it's not worth dealing with Gabby as a roommate. If we want her to join in again I think she can deal with making the walk to wherever we move. Can you actually imagine living in the same house as Gabby for . . . well any period of time, really.)

“Well –”

(I've found a total of three empty beer bottles in our room since I've been practically stuck in here. Three, Alan. As far as I could tell she entered here with zero so I'm baffled about how she managed to litter three around the place in one night.)

“ . . . Could we have a guestroom for Du'kov?” you ask more hopefully.

(Oh sure. Letting him continue to live in one of those hostels in Seaside should qualify as child endangerment.)

>On second thought, let's just knock down a wall
>Alright let's get our own place
>Something else? (write-in)

>>1055326
>Alright let's get our own place
>>Something else? (write-in)
(half jokingly and half seriously) What if we housebroke Gabby?

>>1055326
>>1055375
on second thought, let's just hold off on choosing a new place, mull on it for a bit.

check in with dolah to see how she's doing.

See if Irontide's brought in the dragon's horde

>On second thought, let's just knock down a wall