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>>1189562

“Right, I’ve met the witch lass. So?”

“I’m looking for her. Do you know where she is?”

The old man switches eyes, closing his left and looking at you with his right. The white pigeon on his head shifts restlessly. “I ain’t keeping track of her, no.”

Oh.

“Yer looking for her?” The grouchy man shakes his head. “That one’s trouble, Bapsy.”

“Baphy.”

“Boppy.”

Nnn.


> Questions? Max two.

[ ] Ask about his meeting with the Witch.
[ ] Ask about the state of the city, and what’s been happening.
[ ] Ask about the Baroness, and why people are angry with her.
[ ] (Write-in?)


Archives: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=GFQ
Announcements: https://twitter.com/boxofmithril

>>1189568
>Ask about learning how to hide like he has. Can it be done with a few less pigeons?
>Ask about his meeting with the Witch.

Really, the other offered questions can be asked of any other citizen of the town, but the details of his meeting have to come from him or the witch herself.

>>1189568
>[x] Ask about his meeting with the Witch.

>>1189568
>Ask about his meeting with the Witch.
>Ask about the Baroness, and why people are angry with her.

>>1189568
>Ask about his meeting with the Witch.
> Ask about the Baroness, and why people are angry with her.

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('Kay. Going with Witch meeting and Baroness.

The topic of hiding will come up as a choice next, too.)

>>1189674
yay! you're back! And yay cute pictures!

>>1189674
We need to meet a cute fluffy sheep who will let us ride them!

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A nearby pigeon flaps up and perches on the edge of your bucket. There are already three pigeons in the bucket. The bird seems confused.

“Haven’t introduced myself, huh. Call me Grimey.” He gestures to the white and black birds. “That’s Hugie, that’s Mugie.”

You wave at the man and his companions. He’s not paying attention because the pigeon perched on his head is cooing.

Grimey raises an eyebrow. “What, really? Right.” He points at the white bird, then the black one. “That one’s Mugie. That one’s Hugie.”

...Huh.

Anyway. “Can you tell me what happened when you met the witch?” You point at the branch thing again. Your eyes stray on the faint orange colours drifting around it. “Why did she give you a totem?”

“Fixed on that, are ya.”

Nod.

The gray-haired grouch walks to one side of the space, almost kicking the pigeons out of his way, and settles onto pillows stacked on a big rocking chair.

“Haven’t got much to tell,” he starts in his gruff tone. “She popped outta nowhere and just left it there.” He points to that small gnome statue you saw earlier, mostly hidden by the birds shuffling about. “Gave me that in exchange fer not taking it down. Nice, huh?”

You look at the gnome statue. You like the pointy red hat.

>>1189800

“I don’t got anything to do with her business,” Grimey continues. “Her and the city’s boss lady got something out for each other. Ol’ Hugie can’t fly without getting shot at anymore.”

The black-feathered pigeon attached to his shoulder squawks.

Grimey scowls at his companion. “The ‘ell are you talking about? Can’t you remember how much I went through to get that black paint?”

Another squawk. You did not know pigeons could do that.

“‘Course it’s important! They’re your defining feature! Wash it off and you lose your identity!”

Maybe you should say something. Boss lady means the baroness, right?

“Do you know why the witch and the baroness are fighting?”

The old man looks up from his argument with the black bird and shakes his head. “Nope. Didn’t ask.”

Oh. Mm.

“The boss lady’s been doin’ all sorts of crap for about a year and a half now,” Grimey continues. “Raising taxes, overworking the guard, even hiring them finger-wigglers from the capital. Hear she’s startin’ to pressure other towns to lend their guards-people as well. All for catching your witch friend.”

The old grouch shrugs. “Got loads of people pissed at her for it, but it ain’t my problem. Don’t see how it’s that crow lass’ problem either.”

Hm. Apparently there’s a rebellion thing happening because of this stuff. You guess it’s important? But as Grimey says, you don’t see why the Witch Of Crows is involved in the first place.


> Before you overstay your welcome,

[ ] Ask him about hiding your mark.
[ ] Ask for advice on tracking the witch.

>>1189803
>[x] Ask him about hiding your mark.

this should prevent further sad goat jailings

>>1189803
>Ask him about hiding your mark.

Say hello to Woden, goatkids.

>>1189803
>ask him about hiding your mark

>>1189803
>[x] Ask him about hiding your mark.

Cute goat quest is here!
We should try our best to keep from being seen by the probable dozens of mystics patrolling the city.

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You should keep looking. You wonder about asking the old grouch for help but you don’t think he’d provide. ‘It ain’t my problem,’ he said.

Still, it’s hard for you to walk around the city. Maybe he could give you some advice.

“Can you help me hide?”

“Hide?”

“Umm.” What was it called again? “My Veil-mark?”

Grimey closes his right eye and uses his left. “Figured with more than a few hundred years you’d know already,” he says with a crooked grin. “It’ll be real hard to cover that up if you’re new to this. If you don't have a hoard of flying rats anyway.”

Frown.

The old man makes a noise between a cough and a laugh. "Just try. It’s like... putting a blanket over yourself. Staying still, trying not to touch the border of our little world.”

You don’t get it, but you try.


> Mark Hiding: Roll 1d100. DC 70 and 90. Best of 3.
> Bonus +10 due the choice for a bit of practice in the last thread.

Rolled 7 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>1189902

Rolled 91 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>1189902
nat 1 incoming

Rolled 4, 3 = 7 (2d10)

>>1189902

Dice Gods! To ME!

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Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NSf99lc3LKM

You close your eyes.

Ashtia is by your feet, having placed herself on the ground. Her fur brushes against your thigh.

You’re still holding your shovel, resting on your right shoulder next to Lulette’s leg. Other than the clay pot flattening your hair you barely notice the fairy’s weight.

There’s the cooing as well. The light scratching of tiny talons against the stone ground.

And deep thrumming pulses, disturbing the stillness in a way somehow different.

Elsewhere, you think. Something that isn’t quite sight or sound. Not in the same way.

You were doing this a few hours ago, when it was dark. Out in the fields, sitting on the grass.

This time, though, your reverie is disturbed by a rough tapping on your forehead.

You see Grimey in front of you. He’s speaking.

“Not much use if ya gotta concentrate that hard, is it?”

The sound is muffled.

“Move a little, Bappy.”

A step. Your breathing is deep, slow.

Another step. A rhythm your heart seems to match.

The world feels slower.

>>1190079

A gnarled hand shakes you from your trance. You hear Lulette cry out before the fairy vanishes off your shoulders.

It’s the grouchy old man, of course. He doesn’t smell very good from this close.

“Do that fer too long and you’ll fall asleep,” he says with a short, barking laugh. “You got the hang of it, at least.”

Hmm. You shake the drowsiness from your head.

Yay.

“Now you can look like a monster that eats people instead of one that eats villages.”

Mu.

The old man cackles again. You ignore him and walk back to pick up your bucket.

Then you think, and offer the bucket and its winged inhabitants to the grouch.

Still grinning, Grimey switches eyes again and raises his brows. Then he waves his hand and gives a dismissive snort. “Keep ‘em. I’ve got,” he glances around at the birds covering every spare spot in the alleyway corner. “This many already.”

You look into your bucket and the three pigeons quirk their heads at you simultaneously. You think they’ll go back to the old man eventually, but for now you’re glad they’re helping you.


>

Baphy now has:
Mark Hiding (Active)
While concentrating, Baphy can suppress her Veil-mark to make it more difficult to detect and track by others with 'See The Veil'.
Great Success! She can move and act while doing this, but maintaining it is not simple.

[ ] Look around the city. Check out the fort/castle in the middle.
[ ] Continue alley lurking. Maybe the witch left something else somewhere.
[ ] Head to the inn Tobias mentioned.

>>1190089
>[x] Continue alley lurking. Maybe the witch left something else somewhere.

Skulking time.

>>1190089
>Head to the inn Tobias mentioned.

>>1190089
>Head to the inn Tobias mentioned.
I would rather be saving the swamp but whatever.

>>1190089

>Head to the inn Tobias mentioned.

An Owl is watching you.

>>1190089
>[ ] Look around the city. Check out the fort/castle in the middle.

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Right, I'm going to have to stop here. I've run into a bit of a block, and I hear smacking my head against a wall isn't a healthy way to get through it.

Sorry for cutting the session short. I'll be showing up again tomorrow, same time, to continue. So in 20 hours?

Thanks for participating!

>>1190470
Thanks for the comfy.

>>1190470
Thank you for running Mitts!!

>>1190470
O-okay. Good night... I love you.

>>1190470
>I hear smacking my head against a wall isn't a healthy way to get through it.
that's wussy talk.
It works for me just fine.

am hype, glad I didn't miss too much.

>>1190089
>Continue alley lurking. Maybe the witch left something else somewhere.

Baphy is a cute!

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You wave at Rue, who caws and clumsily waves back with a wing. You’re not sure what she’s doing here, but it’s probably important.

That makes you think of something, and you point to the crow’s perch.

“What does that thing do?” You ask the old grouch.

“I ain’t a witch Boofy.” Grimey traces your finger to the totem. “I’d think they help her draw juice though.”

He guesses that the witch puts down a bunch of totems to mark out an area, and they... do something you definitely don’t understand that makes it easier for the witch to channel power through her links with the spirits helping her.

“She’s young, that lass. Didn’t look like she’s made too many contracts, so she’s doing a lot of preparation to make up for it. Inherited her mother’s brains, I reckon.”

Blink.

For a moment, you only hear the ambient cooing. “Well, that’s up to her to talk about.”

You thank him before leaving.

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>>1192972

Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VMUzqKy3Xec

It’s difficult to remember which direction you’re heading in after pushing through the violent wall of feathers that surrounds the old man. Picking what you think is north, you move through the narrow alleys on a snaking path until you reach one of the city’s streets.

The three pigeons with you have jumped out of your bucket to flank you. You notice people are staring at you.

You make your way through the city, ducking into quieter streets and trying your best to not attract attention. It takes a while, but at the end of one narrow passage you can see the north gate out of the city.

Hmm.

... Mmmm.

You half-jump when Ashtia prods you in the side with her nose. She plods on forward, beckoning you to follow.

The wolf guides you quickly and unerringly. You wonder at her tracking skills. Or maybe Tobias actually told you directions. You forgot.

You’re lead through a sort of market, a cramped street with stalls and signs crowding its sides. The sun is still rising - you did start your day early - but somehow you think the city is quieter than it should be. The stores you pass are mostly closed shut, and there isn’t many people moving around the place.

It takes a bit to reach the inn, a not-particularly-big building with a hanging sign by its door that illustrates a lion pouring a mug of something into its mouth.

Conversations hush when you enter. The quiet is uncomfortable.

>>1192975

“Baphy?”

You perk up and recognise the person peeking up from stairs behind the counter.

The young man wears a wry grin. “Guess it couldn’t have been anyone else.”

It’s Macarius. The guard you met when you were traveling to Wervik.

It didn’t take you long to remember that. Not long at all.

Macarius drags you to a room below the inn where you find his younger, messier-haired version called Tobias, who apologises the moment he sees you.

“I had no idea everything was happening today,” the youth says quickly. “I mean, I was locked up for a while- well, anyway, I’m sorry.”

You tilt your head, and the two brothers tell you that the resistance or rebellion thing is going to act in a few hours.

“There’s more people that came in from other towns in the fiefdom; places vulnerable to bandits and highwaymen after the baroness took their guards,” Mac shakes his head. “Their pleas are just getting turned away. Heck, I don’t think anyone’s even seen Lady Ephon in months.”

“We - er, the resistance - talked the captain of the guard into helping,” Toby adds. “So everyone’s gathering in front of the city’s fort for a protest. At first, anyway.”

Hm. That’s a lot of... stuff.

Mac scratches the back of his neck. “Look, uh, I can take you back to my father’s shop. Just somewhere to wait until all of this stuff blows over.”

An alchemist’s shop sounds like it’d be fun, but this doesn’t sound like something you want to be left out of. Because at this point, you think it would be weirder if she wasn’t involved.

You shake your head. “I want to be there.”

The young man frowns. “You sure?”

Nod. You’re sure.


>

[ ] You could travel with them. You’re afraid you might miss something otherwise.
[ ] You should find your own way, or trail behind. It wouldn’t be good for others if you were found with them.

(You can also ask questions here, if something comes to mind)

>>1192985
> travel with them
The revolution starts now

>>1192985
>[ ] You should find your own way, or trail behind. It wouldn’t be good for others if you were found with them.
I thought about the other, but decided that ducking through alleyways and observing from a concealed position would be better.
Plus with everyone distracted by the protesters, we can hide better.

File: 3.jpg (56 KB, 625x748)

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Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>1193022
>>1193034

(I think I'm waiting too long. How about some dice.)

>>1193102
fluffy baby!
(how roll?)

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>>1193141

(Ah, sorry. I meant I was rolling to tie-break.

Currently writing update. Maybe.. 15 or 20 minutes ETA?)

He sighs in response. “Well, I guess I won’t stop you. Hopefully Lady Ephon will be reasonable, and this ends without coming to blows.”

“We’re all ready if it does, though,” Toby adds quietly.

Macarius leaves, telling his brother to stay put. The room you were lead to has only a bed against one wall and a table and chair in one corner. You’re sitting at the side of the small bed and Lulette and Ashtia are on the floor, the former watering her Bushjack, while Tobias is seated at the table.

Mac said it would be a few hours before they gathered. You don’t know what you should do in that time, but for now Toby fills the void.

“The Baroness was a hero, you know,” the youth says quietly. “Silvercrest was at the border of the war, and she pushed the southern clans back to their deserts.”

“Aletta Ephon. Straight from the storybooks, complete with her enchanted sword. I think it’s been four years since she became Baroness. Then she started this stupid witch hunt, and... well, here we are.”

A hero, he said. You wonder what can change a person’s nature.

>>1193240

The rest of the morning whittles away slowly. When Macarius comes back, you decide you shouldn’t go with them. There could still be people looking for you after all, and even though the gray-haired grouchy man helped you practise you aren’t sure how well you can hide.

So you leave a bit early, back into the cramped market street with your friends by your side. There’s more noise, more activity now. The people you see carry an air of impatience.

The fort is big, a straight, squarish shape jutting out into the sky. That gives you your direction.

You’re using the alleys of the city a lot more than its streets. It feels weird.

The sun climbs above the clouds, and you find yourself peeking around a corner at the fort’s entrance.

“Looks boring,” Lulette says.

It’s not what you would normally expect from a city’s center. Plain, drab, with a few banners hanging at the sides of the huge metal gate providing colour against its tall gray walls.

There’s a lot of people already here; your path through the city was slow. That’s why you left early, of course. You’re a smart goat.

More are joining the crowd. Workers, labourers, merchants, discontented voices all contributing to a chorus of shouts. It looks like there’s some people at the front, standing closest to the fort’s entrance, but it’s hard to tell at this distance.

You’re thinking about getting closer, but then the gate opens and reveals a scowling, tough-looking man. The crowd gets quieter. He says something, then beckons them to follow him past the gate.

That’s the guard captain Toby talked about, right?


>

[ ] Slip through the gate after the protesters. Find a quiet entrance.
[ ] Join the crowd now. Look innocent.
[ ] Find a separate way past the fort’s walls.

>>1193256
>[ ] Slip through the gate after the protesters. Find a quiet entrance.
Path of least resistance. We get in and we have the anonymity of being with a crowd until we sneak off on our own.

>>1193256
Supporting >>1193291
But I don't really care. We could go get something to eat instead. We should have asked them how the baroness and the witch knew each other.

>[ ] Separate way
>You're a smart goat.
aww

>>1193256
>[x] Join the crowd now. Look innocent.

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You walk up and join the end of the crowd as everyone starts to move through the fort’s courtyard. They’re being lead through the main entrance, and you decide to break off halfway.

Ashtia has jumped into your bucket in her weasel-like form, and Lulette is invisible. The trio of pigeons still make you conspicuous, but everyone’s attentions, including those of the few nervous guardsmen near the gate, are elsewhere.

You’re concerned about your Veil-mark though, so you think back to your practice earlier in the day.

A breath. A slow rhythm.

Muffled, sleepy. You walk through the courtyard, away from the noises. A hand against the stone of the fort, feet along a narrow stone footpath.

You’re looking for another entrance. The thought lets you focus through the haze.

A place where the courtyard widens. Your footpath ends at a wooden door; a small servant’s entrance. You hear a key click, and a young servant-boy opens the door. He looks very surprised to see you.

Crap.

Lulette appears, carrying her pot through the air in a circular motion while Bob sways hypnotically. “This is not the goat you are looking for,” the fairy intones.

A moment of silence.

“Oh,” says the servant.

Then he thuds flat on the ground.

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>>1193565

You enter the fort, stepping over and apologising to the unconscious servant. You’re in a kitchen, and after quietly tiptoeing past a servant lady you end up in a stone corridor, where you can start to hear the echoing voices of the resistance.

You follow the sound with care, paying attention to the sounds your bucket makes when you move. An open arch marks the threshold to the fort’s main hall, and you peek past it.

The crowd of protesters, relatively quiet now, is to your left behind the captain of the guard, that big man wearing leather armour, a breastplate, and a permanent scowl. There’s a mace hanging at his hip, but he looks carefully relaxed.

Immediately to your right is a fair-haired, dark-skinned boy. He’s in the kind of outfit you think nobles wear, and colours trace sharp angles in the space around him. His intense gaze is fixed on the guard captain.

Further away, standing alone in the oddly empty hall, is the Baroness.

She’s fairly young. You think she should be pretty as well, but the woman’s features are haggard as if sick. Her eyes are sunken behind dark bags, her faded brown hair a tangled mess. Thin arms hang at her sides, brushing against the hilt of a sword at her hip.

She’s smiling. It makes her look tired.

“This is unexpected, Captain Tathem.”


>

[ ] Focus on the baroness.
[ ] Focus on the hall.
[ ] Focus on the dark-skinned boy.

> Mark Hiding:
Veil Affinity 1
> Roll 1d100 + 5. Best of 3, DC 70

Rolled 57 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>1193568
>[ ] Focus on the hall.

>>1193582
Damn, not quite enough.

Rolled 32 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>1193582
shaved

how roll?

>>1193609
dice+1d100+5 in the options box when posting

Rolled 60 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

goat say pls

I think we've been made.

Rolled 41 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>1193568
>Focus on the baroness.
Rolling for fun

I'm sure it'll be fine! After all, how noticeable can a wolf, a fairy, a potted plant, three pigeons, and a mildly autistic goat banging a bucket and shovel together be?

>>1193689
This isn't the theatre is it? That must be next door, excuse me.

There’s something in the air. A sparking trail, more erratic than the flowing colours you’re used to, tracing the edges of the hall. The dark-skinned boy is seething, knuckles white on clenched fists.

He, along with everyone else, seems surprised when the baroness laughs.

She sounds defeated. Resigned. Even as she gives her response.

“I’m sorry, Durga, but I can’t possibly do that. You’re asking me to give up my life.”

The captain doesn’t know how to react. There’s a shout, an angry voice; the protest is turning into a revolt.

The baroness isn’t paying attention. You pull yourself away from the arch when she turns, her words are directed at the dark-skinned boy close-by.

“Vale. The ritual we talked about. Can you do it?”

The boy’s response is stuttered, almost fearful. A stark contrast to his anger a moment ago.

“Mistress, are you sure?”

“I am.”

“Then.” A pause. The shouting is louder. “Then I will do as you say.”

>>1193765
A ritual? That doesn't sound so good.

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>>1193765

You peek out again to see the youth raise his hand and make a straight, sharp gesture through the air.

Crackling power dances through the hall, revealing a circle in ink across the stone. The arcane markings radiate a dark, terrifying light.

“I’m sorry, my friend,” the baroness says. “I’m sorry, citizens of my city.”

The anger of the revolt gives way to shock and fear, many turning to run from the magic beneath their feet as its menacing glow turns brighter and brighter.

And somewhere close to the ceiling of the hall, as if completely removed from the growing chaos, a black feather drifts sedately down.

It’s all surreal. Like starting a play halfway through, when everyone’s already met the characters, and when lots of important things have already happened. There’s so many gaps in what you know, because this isn’t your story.

Are you going to stay in the audience?

You don’t do metaphors much. Your approach is with shovel and song.


>

Baphy saw the spell in the hall early. She herself has been noticed, as well.

[ ] The magician is close. Bonk him on the head.
[ ] You can leave the magician to your friends. The baroness is going to act.
[ ] Interrupt the spell. Somehow. You can try.

>>1193780
>Interrupt the spell. Somehow. You can try.
Is this the same as bonking the guy or is it on autopilot?

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That’s where we end for today. The third session for this thread will be tomorrow, somewhere between 19 to 20 hours from now!

I’m going to go ahead and explain something. I don’t know how noticeable it is, but I’ve kind of written myself into a corner - to close the loose threads and follow on the foreshadowing of earlier threads, I’ve had to make updates longer and more railroady.

Being not terribly good this whole writing thing, my choices seemed to be to either take more days off and try to figure something else out, or Just Do It. I went with the latter, obviously.

If you’re invested, I hope you find the ride fun! If you’re not, you can take solace because the end is pretty close.

Thanks for participating! And please vote, so I know where to start off next time.

>>1193792

Interrupting the spell involves trying to shovel the circle. However that works.

>>1193797
Thanks for running!

>the end is pretty close
Noo!

>>1193568

She looks sick and tired. Was she cursed? You don't know, you are just a goat.

The owl can't watch you inside the castle

>>1193780

[ ] The magician is close. Bonk him on the head.

Let's do it the easy way.

>>1193797
I'm enjoying this. Its got conflict and challenge and all that, but its still very gentle and comfy. I a nice contrast to most quests.

See you tomorrow. Sadly I'll miss it live, most likely

>>1193797
As far as the railroady concern...

As long is the ride is fun, who cares about the rails.

>>1193780
>[ ] Interrupt the spell. Somehow. You can try.

>>1193797
The ride's been wild from the very beginning, regardless of whatever rails may or may not be there. So, does that mean our story is reaching it's conclusion? That makes me sad ;_;

>>1193797
Noo!
Go ahead and take as many days off as you like.
People are still patiently waiting for "Prequel" to resume after 14+ months hiatus, and its not much longer or better written than this.

Or I guess you could do a semi-wrap and leave room for a sequel whenever you figure one out.
but that's usually how writers disappear forever.

>>1193780
>Interrupt the spell. Somehow. You can try.

>>1193816
>>1193936
>>1194023

Ah, crap. This is awkward. I just meant the end of the Silvercrest arc.

Ha ha.

I mean, I'll probably take a break, but I don't plan on disappearing.

>>1194074
[relieved goat noises]

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>>1194074
Oh. Okay then!

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The trio of pigeons take flight when you abandon your hiding place. The arcane ink of the circle is very close to the edges of the hall, but you only manage to run for a moment before you duck on desperate instinct.

Searing heat passes where you were a moment ago, your shovel and bucket crashing to the ground with echoing clatters.

The dark-skinned youth glares at you. “Stay down, or I will have your life.”

Then it’s his turn to dodge, a swung clay pot materialising as it grazes the boy’s head.

“No bully!” Lulette shouts, sticking her tongue out before diving away from a hastily-evoked bolt of magic. The youth can barely curse before a weasel scampering across the ground reshapes into a massive wolf, growling and leaping at him with fangs bared.

Chance given, you grab your shovel and dash to the magic circle. Wreathed in ghostly flame without a thought, you reverse your grip to stab it into the glowing ink at your feet.

There’s a continuous, horrible screech, the kind of painful noise that claws its way into your head as your shovel chips too easily into the stone. You shield your eyes as the darkened energy flares, blinding, then fades as the circle grows inert.

Which gives you a moment to see what’s happening around you.

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>>1196999

Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R1Jr1r9zmDc

The rebellion is ruined. Much of the crowd has fled. The people remaining are almost all on the ground, some seemingly fainted and others struggling, crawling with unnatural weakness.

Somewhere behind you, where you cannot see, your friends fight the dark-skinned magician.

And closer to the center of the hall is the body of the captain of the guard.

Body. The word strikes you.

He’s face-down on the ground, unmoving. Blood pools around him from a slash wound at his back, the metal of his breastplate split.

The Baroness holds her bloodied weapon loosely.

The enchanted blade, Silver’s Claw. A broadsword of gleaming metal.

The gaunt lady is looking at you.

“Who.” Her voice is frail. “What are you doing.”

“Excuse the goat. She’s a bit of an idiot.”

A staff of ebony drops down from above, standing perfectly upright when it hits the ground.

A shadows and black feathers follow, swirling about the totem, parting to reveal the red-haired, black-robed Witch Of Crows.

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>>1197003

Her eyes flick to a spot further back, where the guard captain’s prone form lies.

“It would be a welcome change if my warnings were heeded, for once,” she mutters, before turning her glare back to the baroness.

The gaunt lady’s eyes are widened in shock.

“Miranda? Have you grown younger?” Her tone is careless, despite her expression. As if speaking to an old friend.

A moment.

“No, no. Her- Her daughter?”

A flash of realisation. The baroness’ voice quickens, growing frantic.

“The wound was fatal? But then, why?”

Desperation.

“Why does the curse stay? Why am I still cursed?!”

The witch’s speech is clipped.

“A blood pact is not a curse.”

Silence.

The black-robed girl continues. “I don’t know how you’re not dead from breaking it, and frankly I no longer care.”

A palm outstretched. “Honor your words, and the promise you made to the Witch Of Crows. Return Silver’s Claw.”

A pained grin stretches the gaunt lady’s lips. The second time she’s faced that demand in the hour.

“No, no. I mustn’t part with it.”

“That wasn’t a question,” the witch replies. “Return the blade, or I’ll finish the pact’s punishment myself.”

“We can’t talk about this?”

“You ask after having placed that bounty? The time for talk is two years passed.”

The baroness laughs weakly.

“You’re right. I’m being foolish.”

She brandishes the sword and lunges for the black-robed girl. The witch’s response is a harsh gesture with a clawed hand.

A thick, curved spear of ebony bursts out of the stone floor, stabbing straight through the baroness’ stomach. You hear a cry, the dark-skinned youth shouting after his liege.

Another gesture and it disappears, retreating as if it were never there.

The baroness collapses to the floor, lying still. Her blood is dark, viscous.

The witch pauses.

“What did you do to yourself, Ephon?”

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>>1197030

Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-laiCZ2fr14

Baroness Ephon shifts her hands, pushing against the ground. Rising to her knees, then staggering upright, each movement stiff and isolated. Unsteady, and dripping black.

“What do you see, Miranda’s daughter?”

The black-robed girl’s expression is fixed in a grimace. She spits her words more than she says them. “Lich. Calling you beyond saving would be an understatement.”

You’re barely listening. Your attention is fixed on the baroness, and her mark.

Strange colours and arcing paths. Twisted, fragmented. The fabric of the world cracked around her form and her sword. Unnatural. Wrong.

When you see something like this, you always want to fix it. Does that still make sense for a person that is so completely, utterly broken?

The witch brushes a hand against the totem, and her magic thrums. Her piercing gaze never left the baroness. “Accept your death, Aletta Ephon. Before you become more of a monster.”

“I’m sorry,” the thin, hollow-eyed woman returns, raising her sword again. “I want to live.”


>

[ ] You should support the witch against the baroness.
[ ] You should help Ashtia and Lulette with the magician first.
[ ] Is this the only way? Do you have to fight?

>>1197040
>[x] You should help Ashtia and Lulette with the magician first.

>>1197040
>[ ] You should help Ashtia and Lulette with the magician first.
>[ ] Is this the only way? Do you have to fight?

I'm curious... Are the Baroness and the Sword separate sources of 'wrongness'?

>>1197040
>[ ] You should support the witch against the baroness.
Fix what's wrong

>>1197040
>[ ] You should help Ashtia and Lulette with the magician first.
deal with the source first, the baroness has no where to run anyways

>>1197040
>[x] You should help Ashtia and Lulette with the magician first.
>[x] Is this the only way? Do you have to fight?

>>1197040
>[ ] Is this the only way? Do you have to fight?

The witch and the baroness clash, black talons against gleaming steel. Your desires tug you in different directions; you want to help, but your friends are still fighting the magician.

Worry clouds your thoughts when you see Lulette fallen against the far wall, still hugging her clay pot as its teethy plant tugs at the fairy’s hair. Closer to your position the dark-skinned youth dives away from Ashtia’s pounce, the great wolf immediately preparing to strike again when she lands. The boy chants in a mystic tongue and magic crackles, then the space around the wolf erupts into a flurry of chains.

Ashtia jumps, changing mid-air into her half-human, wildblooded form to escape the bind, tumbling against the ground before bounding towards the magician again.

You’ve started running as well, rushing to the wolf’s aid.

> Combat
Wild Empathy
> Roll 1d100 + 10 (best of 3). DCs 70, 90.

Baphy can use her Oakbark Wild Infusion once to toughen her body or weapon for a very short duration.

Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>1197040

"Please stop."

Rolled 33 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>1197166
nat 1 incoming

>>1197166

Rolled 57 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>1197175
Whoops fucked up the roll

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>>1197169
>>1197171
>>1197176

(Huh. Right then.)

>>1197181
[Nervous bleeting]

Why must the dice gods be so fickle? ;_;

>>1197181

Can we toughen the wolf instead of us?

Also a DC of 70 is a tad high when is 3 vs one.

I think we need some time back in the forests, to power up and be in our natural habitat. We got most of our bonuses in the wild.

>>1197247

Everyone underestimates the goat, shouldn't that count as a bonus?

>>1197271
everyone will always underestimate the goat, are you saying that Baphy's cuteness cannot pull wool over their eyes? Heresy!

cute bonus? who could fight a cute goat?

>>1197282

Everyone things the goat is an idiot but she is just a kid that view things in a different way.

File: most useless form.png (1.41 MB, 1059x1500)

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The youth almost falls to avoid Ashtia’s swiping claws, barely managing to keep his footing. He reaches behind his back, drawing a small knife and slashing at the wolf.

You shout, but Ashtia is in no position to dodge. The blade cuts through her collarbone and the base of her neck with a splash of red.

It’s here that you reach the magician, swinging your shovel down overhead. The metal smashes into the dark-skinned youth’s skull, knocking him out and crumbling him to the ground.

Ashtia falls, one clawed hand held to her chest, her breathing stilted. You drop your shovel, kneeling to try and inspect her wound.

The wolf brushes the corner of her lips with her other hand, taking a trail of blood out of sight. A marking that seems to stretch from her chest to her midriff is glowing, the spirit within working vigorously.

“I’m okay,” she says. She looks behind her, at the spot where Lulette lies unconscious, then jerks her head towards where the witch and baroness fight. “You don’t want her to lose, right?”

There’s strength in her crimson eyes. She reaches up and taps your forehead with a knuckle.

“Stupid goat. We’ll be fine.”

>

Ashtia and Lulette can no longer help.

(Sorry, this is taking a bit. Posting first half for now.)

>>1197295
Well at least they are fine even if they can't help.

Rolled 52 (1d100)

>>1197295

"Please stop fighting."

I am speculating that we were a deity or spirit of some sort before our autism. Waking up in a ruined temple, inexplicable powers, connections to weird beings (that thing we helped from the way back in the beginning)

>>1197329

The goat has the third eye so is not like she is dumb, she literally sees the world in a different way.

File: bonk.jpg (66 KB, 896x1200)

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Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7w3XqP9gO8

The Witch Of Crows steps away from the enchanted sword parting the air. Her hand releases a ceramic flask that breaks when it falls, a thick cloud of dark smoke bursting up from the spilled liquid. The gaunt lady is engulfed for a moment before she can back off, coming away with charred armor and burnt skin.

The damage doesn’t seem to faze Baroness Ephon, but before she can charge anew you force her into a dodge with a horizontal swing of your shovel. The witch calls another ebony talon thundering forth from the ground in front of her, and Ephon slashes with her blade to cut away its point before a stumbling sidestep takes her out of the talon’s trajectory.

The hollow-eyed lady smiles in self-pity. “This doesn’t seem fair, does it?”


>

[ ] Focus on guarding the witch.
[ ] Attack. Even if you miss, you can distract the baroness.
[ ] Other?

>>1197354
>[ ] Attack. Even if you miss, you can distract the baroness.
Apply BOP directly to the forehead

Rolled 73 (1d100)

>>1197354

"You are already dead, why don't you give back the sword?"

>>1197363

Yay! Over 70 finally! Do we get a bonus?

>>1197363

I vote this, I wanna see what happens.

>>1197363
>>1197368

(Hahah. I don't want to count rolls that aren't called for, or that are just included with votes. It sets a weird precedent, since people end up supporting whichever vote gets lucky.)

>>1197377

I still want to see the goat asking that.

>>1197354
> Attack
Focus on separating her from the sword. I don't think we can help her while she still has it

>>1197354
>[ ] Attack. Even if you miss, you can distract the baroness.
Shovel Combat

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(Okay.

Looking through the session's votes, I've made a decision.

I think I might get a bit of hate for this, but, well,

Strap in. We're taking the train all the way.)

>>1197354
"Why do you want the sword so much? Pointy metal is for hurting people."

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>>1197429
Good luck.

>>1197429
[Extremely worried bleating]

[oblivious goat joy noises]

You adjust the grip on your shovel. The baroness is close. You should fight, you should help the Witch Of Crows. But...

The gaunt, hollow-eyed lady in your eyes is an aberration, her mark something that shouldn’t be. Tainted colours and twisted shapes, a cracked silhouette with her blade.

You realise the sword and her mark are more than connected. She’s tied to it, stitched by a needle that left fractured fabric wherever it pierced.

‘I can’t possibly do that. You’re asking me to give up my life.’

That instinct. The feeling of wanting to fix things. To return things to the way they should be.

The same question from before bubbles to the surface. The one you couldn’t find an answer for.

How can you help something, someone this broken?

With thoughts like these, you do maybe the most foolish thing someone can do in combat.

You hesitate.

You raise your shovel too late, and Silver’s Claw splits the wooden shaft in two anyway. The strike left you off-balance, and the baroness lashes out.

The sword runs you through.

>>1197493
>The sword runs you through.
[Paniced bleeting]

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit...

>>1197493
>mitts wakes up on wrong side of bed
> kills shovel
>ded goat too

File: flame.jpg (26 KB, 600x436)

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Your awareness is dim.

There’s a despairing yell. Rushed steps, running, interrupted by another clash of metal.

Somewhere, nearby and away, a wolf-girl struggles to her feet, her markings blazing with feverish light. Barely standing, a fairy flaps her translucent wings, her childlike face stricken with horror.

You have a hole in your chest. That’s not supposed to be there.

Blood gushes out from it. More than you thought you had.

Are you going to die?

Of course not. Our duties don’t go away that easily.


> Your important things

[ ] Duties? You might have had something like that.
[ ] But when you woke up, you saw the sun in the sky. The vast world stretching out.
[ ] You wandered. You found others, and they became precious to you.
[ ] You listened to the melody of life. You found your own voice.
[ ] You’ve received so many things. So many things that you want to hold on to.

>>1197503

[ ] You wandered. You found others, and they became precious to you.

>>1197503
>[ ] But when you woke up, you saw the sun in the sky. The vast world stretching out.
>[ ] You wandered. You found others, and they became precious to you.
>[ ] You listened to the melody of life. You found your own voice.

Whatever we were before we woke up, that old us is dead. We're a goat now.

>>1197503
[x] You wandered. You found others, and they became precious to you.

Stay with us Baphy!

>>1197503
>[ ] Duties? You might have had something like that.
>[ ] But when you woke up, you saw the sun in the sky. The vast world stretching out.
>[ ] You listened to the melody of life. You found your own voice.
>[ ] You wandered. You found others, and they became precious to you.

Why not all these? They aren't mutually exclusive right?

>>1197561
Literally our life so far

>>1197561

Because the duties sound boring.

>>1197503
> it was a good shovel

>>1197503

[x] You wandered. You found others, and they became precious to you.

>>1197571
We might be able to fix it? Our clothes are magical and self repairing, and that shovel came out of the ruins we woke up in, so it might also have some sort of repair enchantment.

>>1197503

[ ] You wandered. You found others, and they became precious to you.

Let's have the witch give us a better showel, is her fault after all

File: the pale keeper.jpg (224 KB, 1920x1080)

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Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IaUMDxYtBpw

But that doesn’t mean that’s all we have. There’s more than just those responsibilities.

Believe me, you’ll find them someday. The things in this world that you can cherish.

You have found them. You’ve found people that you would stay with, that you would sing with, that you would see the world with. You’ve found precious friends.

And you will hold onto them. Because this time, you like being awake.

Flames engulf your form, casting their ghostly hue. They spread, grow, burning without heat, fires whose shadows dance and shiver on every surface of the hall.

A searing crown above your brow. Your pulse surges through the Veil, bright and powerful, a thundering that forces out everything else.

You move towards the baroness, walking with echoing steps.

She’s stunned. Frozen. You reach out with a hand.

She asks you something. You don’t hear it, but you still know your answer.

You’re a goat.

‘To Ashes.’

Your fingers brush her cheek, and fire consumes her.

The hollow lady screams, pain and fear in equal measure. She clings to her blade, her soul.

You can’t help her. You can’t save her.

But you can give her rest. You can free her from the prison she’s made.

Your shovel is in your hands. It’s broken, but you don’t pay that any heed.

‘To Dust.’

>>1197635

You open your eyes.

The hall is less burning now. The baroness is gone, too.

You can’t really see though, because your friends are covering everything.

The wolf. The fairy. The witch.

There’s tears and words. It’s hard to hear them. You think they’re asking if you’re okay.

You are. You’re just really tired.

But there’s something important you have to do.

“Um,”

You look at the witch, trying to focus. Her eyes are a nice amber colour.

“What’s your name?”

Everyone seems to stop for some reason. You’re confused.

The Witch Of Crows laughs. Something small that grows in mirth, almost taking away dark bags under her eyes and the weariness in her cheeks.

You don’t get it, but you don’t mind.

“Elena. My name is Elena.”

A nice name. You nod, satisfied.

Now you can pass out.

Goat OP plz nerf

>>1197646

Now that you are asleep, the Owl is watching your dreams.

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That’s the end of this session and this thread!

The usual stuff out of the way first -
Archives of previous threads: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=GFQ
And new session alerts: https://twitter.com/boxofmithril

Thread #11 will be the last episode of The Silvercrest Rebellion And The Witch Of Crows. There will be explaining, swamp-fixing, and epilogue-y stuff - I’ll run it at some point next week, though the exact time will go up as an announcement on twitter. And probably this thread if I remember to do so.

Thanks a tonne to all of you who joined me on this ride!

>>1197661

And the Witch Elena owns us a showel.

>>1197661
Thanks for the comfy.

>>1197669
Enchanted shovel!
Yay!

>>1197661
You beautiful bastard mitts, I loved the shit out of this.

>>1197661

The Witch of Owls is watching the goat dreams

>>1197661
good night, sleepy goat!

>>1197661
Damn, that was good. Thanks for running!
>>1194074
You scared the life out of me when I read that, mitts.