File: You've got company....jpg (85 KB, 600x872)

85 KB JPG

Where injuries that threaten the structure of their bodies are visible, chunks of dark wood seem to be grafted to hold them together, making some of them look like macabre amalgamations of man and tree. Half of them seem to be fallen soldiers of some kind, being armored in rusty, broken mail and rotten gambeson with appropriately deteriorated metal helmets. The other half, disturbingly, seem to be normal, untouched townspeople wielding tools of various industry with glazed over, sightless eyes.
”I’ve decided to let you off with a parting gift! Don’t worry, I’ll be seeing you again later,” cackles the Voice who seems to be fading in intensity by the second, “Ah, I forgot to mention, my friend has decided to return your hand despite my own misgivings. Don’t forget to say thank you!”

With that, the Voice fades out and the forest around you slowly loses its shadowy, shifting quality, making you blink and stagger backwards. Were you actually in a dream this whole time? Looking at your missing hand, you begin to furiously feel it over with your remaining hand, putting your fingers all over the torn flesh and missing bone. You’re definitely still missing your entire hand, and the nerves are completely removed along with a significant portion of your arm near the wound.

From a nearby bush, the wolf-creature returns, your mangled hand still held tightly between it’s enormous jaws. The band of shambling, terrifying humanoids begin to hobble toward you, but at a raised paw of the wolf beast, they freeze in their tracks.

Dropping your hand onto the ground, the beast begins to shake uncontrollably, erupting in an explosion of black colored light that blinds you for a moment. When you look back, a smaller version of the wolf-creature without tentacles stands patiently alongside an elegant Witch in black, her clothes adorned with skull-ornaments and other trophies of bone.

Wordlessly, she takes out a large vial of glass containing some flesh floating in a kind of blood-red mixture from her coat. “You need help with your hand?” she asks you in a low, raspy whisper.

>”Sure, kind of hard to reattach things missing one hand you know.”

>”I’ve got it. You’ll have to excuse me for not trusting someone who removed it a few minutes ago.”

>”Accepting charity isn’t my thing. Just leave the hand there, I’ll get back to it later.”

(2/2)

(Running only on saturdays and sometimes sundays because I actually have time to! Thanks for sticking around if anyones reading this!)

>>2475651
>>”I’ve got it. You’ll have to excuse me for not trusting someone who removed it a few minutes ago.”

>>2475651
>>”I’ve got it. You’ll have to excuse me for not trusting someone who removed it a few minutes ago.”

Should I extend the vote or call it right here guys?

Seems like a slow day or something. Maybe I started too late again.

>>2475651
>”I’ve got it. You’ll have to excuse me for not trusting someone who removed it a few minutes ago.”

Works for me! Called and writing now!

>>2475675
>>2475720
>>2475771

”I’ve got it. You’ll have to excuse me for not trusting someone who removed it a few minutes ago.”

The Witch in Black just shrugs her shoulders before picking up your bloody, mangled hand with her other hand.
“Suit yourself, I suppose.”

You gratefully accept the vial, which you eye carefully as you bring it high and into the afternoon sun. Peering through the blood around it, you attempt to discern the previous owner of the flesh inside but find the task too difficult. Some nefarious magic is keeping the meat within preserved enough to be usable for first-aid, encased in enough blood to revive function in ruined appendages.

Dropping to one knee and removing the cork in the vial with a tentative finger, you decide to bring the vial up to your nose and take a sniff just to see what the potion smells like. To your relief and disappointment, no smell greets your nostrils and you glance at the now amused face of the Wolf Witch at your side.

Nodding at your knee, you wordlessly ask the Witch to place your disembodied hand on your knee, which she does silently. Placing your stump near the hand, you overturn the vial and catch the blood and flesh together atop your knee. Despite staining yourself with a good amount of blood, you focus in on the wound and will the flesh together, focusing on reattaching the meat on two ends from your stump to your hand.

Combining the blood and forcing it in between the wounds, a minute of careful work returns your hand to your stump though the process isn’t yet complete. With the leftover blood, you grit your teeth as you begin whispering in the Witch
tongue to reset your broken bones, which forces a flash of agony through your body as the skin and bone are forced back into place. Another minute of focus amidst the pain rewards you with a working hand, and you joyfully flex the appendage in the air, taking care to stretch your fingers and ensuring you haven’t made any mistakes that would impede your motor function.

Getting back to your feet, the Witch in Black gives you a warm smile before taking out an ornate steel dagger with various mysterious runes inscribed into the hilt. Handing the weapon to you grip-first, you gratefully accept the weapon but raise your eyebrows in puzzlement as you heft the dagger with your newly-fixed hand.

(1/2)

>>2476130
“Why are you helping me anyway? You don’t feel anything like your friend at all.”

Chuckling, the Witch gives you a wan smile before answering, “She’s got a wicked sadistic streak now, but she wasn’t always this bad.” As her smile dies on her lips, a deeply melancholic mood overtakes her, and the Witch frowns sadly. “The world is a cold, cold place and unfortunately it's left it’s mark on her. As for helping you, I’m doing it because you remind me a lot of myself when I was younger. It’s easy to feel like you can take on the world when you don’t have any responsibilities.”

Turning to the group of zombies standing frozen in place near the two of you, the Witch steps forwards and examines the pieces of wood keeping some of them upright before shaking her head. “Poor handiwork. Needs practice, maybe could use a different kind of wood…” she trails off before her abomination of a wolf barks her back to attention.

Facing you, she gives you a grin that reveals a mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth, reminding you of a wolf herself. “They shouldn’t pose too much of a threat, but you ought to be careful for their speed. They’re a little quicker than you’d expect, but get them in the head and it's lights out."

Frowning, you’re still filled with questions but you don’t seem to be able to think of a great many at the moment. “I feel like we could’ve been friends if things had gone differently,” you say earnestly, “I haven’t met many other predator Witches but I'm thinking you're a little special.”

“What, because I ripped your hand off?” she laughs as she walks over to you and offers a gloved hand.

As you reach out and shake her hand firmly, the two of you share a friendly smile.

“Solana Portula, pleased to meet you.”

Revealing her sharp canines once more, the Witch shakes your hand vigorously.

“Lucille Isengrinn, likewise.”

Releasing hands, Lucille turns to leave into the woods alongside her undead wolf.

“Hey!” you shout causing her to turn back and face you, “Will I be seeing you again?”

Nodding, she turns around walks off before answering with a yell, “Sooner than you know!”

As she disappears into the foliage, your attention instantly turns to the group of humanoids, who begin to suddenly shamble towards you with quickening speed. Assuming a combat stance, you clench your knife tight, determined to dispatch your foes with ease.

However, a stray thought reaches you as the seven-strong group stumbles towards you as your eyes glance at one of the zombies who seems to still be alive. Should you use lethal force against the entire group? What if those individuals are still alive, would you be able to handle it if they were and you killed them?

>Use lethal force to dispatch the group as fast as possible

>Expose yourself when it comes to incapacitate the seemingly-alive zombies

>Run off into the woods to try and find more advantageous ground to fight on

(2/2)

>>2476144
>Run off into the woods to try and find more advantageous ground to fight on

>>2476144
>Run off into the woods to try and find more advantageous ground to fight on
A puzzling situation.

The Voice said this was a 'parting gift'. That would imply that their influence is no longer directly affecting us as we sleep. What, then, is compelling these bodies into motion?

By all rights, if we are indeed dreaming normally now, we are the master of our own mind again, and should surely be able to simply /imagine/ away these enemies. Perhaps it's at least worth a try?

And if we /aren't/ dreaming... well, then we have far more important concerns than wasting our time and energy beating down a few corpses, haven't we?

>>2476144
>>Run off into the woods to try and find more advantageous ground to fight on

Apologies, going to hold to extend this vote for now (Even though it looks like we have a consensus) so I can get dinner real quick. Will announce when writing will begin! Stay posted!

(I really need to increase my writing speed, but at least I've got a rhythm and some ideas going!)

>>2476144
>>Run off into the woods to try and find more advantageous ground to fight on

Okay, writing now!

File: The moon is bright....jpg (24 KB, 860x573)

24 KB JPG

As the group of creatures continue to advance towards you, brandishing their weapons and tools in anticipation of combat. Glancing around at the circle of trees surrounding you, an idea pops into your head as you carefully watch the shambling horde step forward. Seemingly devoid of intelligence, the creatures would be the prime victims of a proper choice of battleground.
Turning around and dashing into the woods, you sprint through the underbrush, batting away at the brambles and branches that pick at your skin and snag onto your clothing. Panting, you run without stopping while behind you as your ears pickup on your foes crashing through the foliage without stopping, driving you to push onwards.

Eventually, you come onto an outcropping of large rocks surrounded by the enormous black trees that makeup the entirety of the forest. Hopping onto the tallest one, you gather several of the longest and sturdiest branches and stockpile them at your chosen rock.

After a few tenuous moments of waiting and catching your breath, a question surfaces in your head that makes you blink.

Are you still in a dream? Looking at the small cuts made by your mad dash through the underbrush, some doubt about that forms as your skin stings and bleeds tiny drops. But evaluating the facts, the doubt disappears after a moment of quiet contemplation about the events of the past few minutes.The Voice is gone, without question, and this particular dream has demonstrated so far that pain and blood are not sure signs of being awake. Even if the trees have lost their shadowy and, for lack of a better word, evil quality after the Voice left it doesn’t really prove that you’ve left your dream.

Thinking of a way to test whether or not you’re dreaming, you think hard about the moon shining through the trees. Within moments, the light of the sun disappears and is replaced by the silver gleam of pure moonlight as a beautiful, round full moon rests in a cloudless sky above you.

That certainly seems to answer the question.

Next, you think hard about the forest around you being on fire, and without a stray moment passing the woods become engulfed in a blazing conflagration that hurls a terrifying wave of heat and light before your eyes.To your amazement, however, you see the group of zombies stumbling through the inferno, waving their weapons about and carrying their trademark rictus grins on their faces. Despite the flame consuming everything beside them, they continue to march forwards, soon reaching the rock and throwing themselves at the stone in an attempt to reach you. Stepping back from the edge and avoiding a few weapons swinging and stabbing at you, you think carefully about what to do next.

Why can’t you just wake up out of this dream?

(1/2)

>>2476836
It stands to reason that if you are in full control of your own dream that you ought to be able to exit whenever you want after being aware but despite your best efforts, nothing changes. Looking at the zombies, you imagine them disappearing but to your frustration, they remain mindlessly attacking the air around you. Perhaps the “parting gift” the Voice talked about meant that these creatures were the things keeping you dreaming?
Thinking about your broomstick, it appears in your hands and you make a frustrated smack at the two nearest zombies, cracking the skull of an undead soldier and knocking one of the living ones to the ground with an overhand strike.

Suddenly, your eyes widen as you notice something strange.

Looking at the living zombie, you note blood dripping from the skull of the zombies skull where it had landed headfirst onto a rock. What could that blood mean? Are those particular zombies still alive despite this taking place in your own dream? Frowning, you tighten your grip on your broomstick and spread your feet.
Regardless, it seems that you’re going to have to get rid of these creatures one way or another, whether that will help you exit your own dreams or to grant you some quiet time to think. Being in control of your own dream, a smile blooms on your face as the options for dispatching these foes multiply as you contemplate the possibilities.

>Take no prisoners. Dispatch each zombie without prejudice.

>Only take out the clearly undead foes. Attempt to incapacitate the seemingly alive ones.

And.

>Dream for the best broomstick you can imagine and take them out yourself

>Dream about a squadron of heroic knights to take them out

>Dream about the elements themselves subduing your foes

(2/2)

>>2476841
>Only take out the clearly undead foes. Attempt to incapacitate the seemingly alive ones.
>Dream about the elements themselves subduing your foes

>>2476841
>Only take out the clearly undead foes. Attempt to incapacitate the seemingly alive ones.

>Dream about the elements themselves subduing your foes
With the dream now at our command, we have the luxury of mercy, as long as we do not forget the necessity of caution. We could float indefinitely upon the air, always out of the zombies' reach, as we probe their true nature by conjuring anything and everything our mind can imagine and seeing how they react.

Well, at least until it comes time to awaken.

I, for one, would like to see what happens when the wood is un-grafted from the relevant zombies.

Called! Writing now!
>>2476852
>>2476888

>>2476852
>>2476888

Peering over the edge for a moment, a rusty longsword flies through the air in a wicked arc and forces you to pull your head back to avoid being struck. Grabbing one of the branches at your feet, you stand up straight and toss it like a javelin, impacting against the skull of the walking corpse with a dull thud and knocking it down. Thinking about a way to disable your foes, your vision settles on a nearby pebble which you promptly hurl downwards, striking another zombie in the head.

Glancing at the pebble falling to the ground, an idea comes to mind that makes you grin like a madwoman. Now that you’re in control of this dream, you’ll use the elements themselves to destroy the undead and incapacitate those who look close enough to being alive.

Raising your hands, pillars of stone rise from the soil an earth-shattering eruption and surrounding the outcrop of rocks that you and the zombies share.
Imagining yourself levitating, the air whistles as it bends to our command and lifts you far above your foes. Looking hard at the undead clamoring below, you twist your hands, forcing the pillars to shatter into several pieces. Bringing your hands together, you force the stone pieces to slam together on the undead, crushing them to pieces between the slabs of hardened rock.

Looking at your remaining enemies, you merely use the leftovers of rock to encase them in immobilizing coffins of stone.
Bringing yourself down to the ground, you pull apart the slabs of rock and examine the remains of the slain undead. Poking around the corpses, you find nothing of importance between the flattened corpses as your assault seems to have left very little intact. However, you do note that the black wood holding some of the bodies together seems to have survived the attack without any obvious damage.
Staring closer at the wood, you notice some etched runes in the surface and struggle to remember why they seem so familiar. As the realization hits, you hop back onto the tallest rock and retrieve the dagger that Lucille had given you.

Returning to the bodies, you compare the runes etched into the hilt with the mysterious wood and note the similarity between the two. At least half the runes on both are the same, giving you the impression that an association between the two might be somewhat important.


(1/2)

File: Surgery.jpg (23 KB, 626x626)

23 KB JPG

>>2477324
Putting the bare blade against the wood, you reel with shock as you notice the metal begin to vibrate with growing intensity. Scraping the tip into the wood, you leap back as the body begins to move uncontrollably, like the legs of a dead fly swiping at the air after being crushed. Kneeling carefully, you tentatively dig into the wood with the dagger and find it pierce through without resistance.
Excavating the wood, you pry it away from the body and after a few seconds of violent shaking the corpse stills. With a sudden ripping sound, a black light erupts from the slate of wood that blinds you for a moment before a flash of energy consumes the corpse, leaving nothing but air where once had been a body. Did Lucille know about this? you think to yourself as your mind races with the implications of this development.

Narrowing your eyebrows, you stand up and walk over to one of your newly made stone coffins and slowly forcing off sections of stone off the lively zombie to examine for the mysterious black wood who continues to move in place. With growing horror, you realize the only spot you can find any black wood is a tiny fragment embedded in the back of the skull. Using your dream powers, you slowly place the stone coffin on the ground, forcing the zombie face down with the wooden implant exposed. If your guess is right, you’ll need to remove the wooden implants of every zombie here to get home. Raising your knife to the pink flesh, you take a series of deep breaths before looking down nervously.

First-aid is one thing, but impromptu surgery?

“Well, here goes nothing.” You whisper quietly to yourself.

>Roll d100, taking best of 3 rolls for surgery on the living

(2/2)

Taking rolls overnight! Next session will be tomorrow whenever I wake up and eat something!

Rolled 10 (1d100)

>>2477328

Rolled 64 (1d100)

>>2477328

Rolled 38 (1d100)

>>2477328

Rolled 35 (1d100)

>>2477328

>>2477373
>>2477560
>64
>38
Try as you might, your lack of general knowledge about surgery really begins to show during the procedure as you make several grave mistakes attempting to precisely excise the wooden implant. With a frown and no short amount of blood, you finally separate the black wood from the man’s neck with your knife. Peering at the incision, a widening frown emerges on your face as you stare bleakly at your handiwork with a little disappointment in your eyes. He won’t die, but there will definitely be lasting damage from your work putting him under the knife.

Just as with the walking corpse, a sudden spasm of movement reinvigorates the body and forces the body against the restraints of the stone coffin. Unlike with the corpse, however, you hear a desperate wheezing that makes inspires enough panic in you to flip the entire coffin over. Removing the slab of stone covering the head, you freeze up as the face of your patient reveals a panicked middle-aged man gasping for air with crazed eyes.

As the explosive flash of the implant erupts once more and forces you to cover your eyes, a little ash is all that remains of the man and the wood when you finally look back. Wiping the sweat from your brow, you whisper a silent prayer that the man will be alright before turning your attention to the remaining coffins. Conjuring up some gloves and a metal table for surgery, you bury your own thoughts about the process and your first patient in order to get back to work.

Using the knowledge gained from your earlier mistakes you remove the remaining implants in short order without incident.
When the last implant explodes, you notice a strange flickering in the light around you, which you assume to be a sign that the dream is finally ending. Flipping the bloody dagger in your hand, you swear to yourself that when you see Lucille next you’ll remember to say thank you. As darkness, clean and pure, unlike the kind produced by the Voice envelopes the world, you pray that you’ll never have to return to this nonsense again.

But that would mean being lucky, and so far, you haven’t proven a very lucky girl.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(1/2)

File: Looks comfy enough, you s(...).jpg (94 KB, 1096x728)

94 KB JPG

>>2478985

Blinking furiously, your eyes open to see the dim firelight of a dimming candle illuminating the inside of a rustic wooden bedroom. A tavern room perhaps? Looking down, you find yourself covered in heavy fur sheets that nearly threaten to drown you. Groaning slightly as your head aches, you pull yourself up off of the group of pillows holding your head up and notice something weighting your right hand down.
Removing the sheets, you find that strange black dagger sitting in your hand, exactly as it had been in your dream. Raising your eyebrow, you decide not to ignore it for the moment and scan your surroundings with careful eyes. To your surprise, you find Robert Holton fast asleep in a chair snoring loudly with eyebags and a desperate need of a shave. At his feet is your mastiff familiar, Terror, who is out like a light and probably dreaming about hunting game in the woods based on his drooling.

Crawling quietly out of bed, you sneak over to the nearby window and peek outside into the night, spotting Scourge happily nesting in a nearby tree, also fast asleep. Underneath however, is the enormous frame of Stomper, your new tree golem, who instantly turns to you and waves with a large, wooden hand. Putting a finger to your lips, he nods and returns to his eternal watch, ready to follow your every command.

Creeping around on your tip-toes, you notice suddenly that you’re missing your pointy hat and feel immediate panic. A Witch is nothing without her pointy hat! Looking around, you find it resting on a clothing rack near the door alongside your regular travel clothes. Wait, you think suddenly, if your clothes are right there then what are you wearing?

Looking down at your body, you find yourself wrapped in a layer of bandages wrapped tightly around your chest, legs, and arms leaving your midsection and neck exposed. Examining some crimson spots near your right hand, you find evidence of significant bleeding from the area that marked your hand being torn off. So, does getting hurt in a dream polluted by the Voice mean that you’re hurt in the real world?

Brushing that aside for the moment, you need your clothes but it doesn’t look like you’ll be able to reach it without waking somebody up. On the other hand, you could slip out through the door without a sound if you really wanted to and head downstairs to figure out where you are in peace, or you could also get Stomper to lift you to the ground from the window. Either way, your first priority is figuring out exactly where you are, what happened is a question that can wait for later.

>Gently get everyone awake

>Sneak out the door, figure out where you are without waking everyone up

>Get Stomper to help you to the ground, he’ll be able to help you back up whenever you want

(2/2)

>>2478987
>>Gently get everyone awake

>>2478987
>Gently get everyone awake
Must obtain hat.

>>2478987
>Gently get everyone awake

>>2478996
>>2479008
>>2479009
Called for waking everyone up!

>>2478996
>>2479008
>>2479009
Your hat comes first! Everything else can wait!

Strolling over to the clothing rack, you hurriedly start stripping bandages off and putting your travelling clothes on. By the time you’re finished with your leggings, Robert and Terror are both tilting their heads back and forth murmuring unintelligible words as they slowly drift back to wakefulness. Hooking your foot under the Broomstick lying at your feet, you flick it upwards and catch it with your free hand. Stepping back, you flip the stick and slam one end into the wall, causing your pointy hat to fall off the top of the rack and back onto your head where it rightfully belongs.

At that, Terror glances in your direction with glassy eyes before shaking his head and opening his wide jaws with an ecstatic smile. ”Boss! is all he thinks out to you before he tackles you in the stomach, knocking you down and proceeding to lick your face as you attempt to pry him off. “How long have I been out, anyway big guy?” you shout as you try to minimize the amount of slobber hitting your face with your hands.

Robert looks down at the two of you with a tired smile, “A few days, we actually didn’t know if you were ever waking up.”
Flapping into the room, Scourge roosts on one of the wooden bedposts and nods, dipping her beak. ”It is good to see you up and about, master. You have been sorely missed.” Laughing, you kick Terror off of you and stumble back to your feet.

“I’m assuming you guys have a better idea of why I couldn’t wake up?” you ask with a laugh that makes Robert visibly wince.
Rubbing the back of his head, he gives you an awkward smile and nervously taps his feet. “Sort of,” he admits quietly, “But you should head downstairs, someone who can explain better is dying to meet you.” Watching him shrug his shoulders, you can tell that whoever is waiting must be important enough for him to hold his tongue and not tell you outright.

As you head to the door, you turn and ask him a question that’s been bugging you since you woke up. “Hey Robert,” you ask with an air of nonchalance that disguises your growing concern, “You took care of Konrad and the mercenaries, right?” Looking somewhat offended, he flashes an indignant grin and waves his hand back and forth. “Like I’d forget Witch. I’ll hand you your cut later, but don’t keep our guest waiting, would you?”

Scoffing playfully, you quickly barge out the door and descend down a lengthy staircase that brings you to the ground floor of a higher-class inn than you're accustomed to. Running your eyes over the polished furniture and cases of fine wine stocked behind the bar where a single patron sits on a red-cushioned stool, a smile creeps onto your face. You’ve woken up in seedier establishments before, and chances are that you’ll likely still have money leftover from your cut to get your farming operation started after you put all this behind you.

(1/2)

File: Mostly empty too....jpg (144 KB, 1000x624)

144 KB JPG

>>2480355

Pulling up to the bar, you hop down next to the cloaked stranger and put a hand on their shoulder to get their attention.

“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long, friend. Just had a little trouble gettin’ out of bed. You know how it is, yeah?”

Lowering a half-empty glass of alcohol, the oddly-dressed figure turns to you, presenting an imposing, bearded figure. After a quick evaluation of graying, trimmed hair, various facial scarring, and two crystal-blue piercing eyes later, you freeze in place as your mind achieves a horrifying realization.

“Indeed. These days, it takes everything I have to drag this old body around.”

Smiling tiredly at you with a stiff drink in one hand is nobility of some kind, though you can’t exactly put your finger on how high up they must be. Retracting your hand, you put on a cheerful, lively mask on while your mind races to figure out what to do next.

As you think of an approach, the nobleman seems to take your silence as a result of an awkward shyness on your part and he diligently raps his knuckles on the counter two times. Moments later, a rustling noise draws your attention as a pair of wooden half-doors are pushed open by a well-dressed, mustache-toting bartender who wordlessly takes up residence behind the bar.

“Would you like a drink?” he asks, kindly attempting to break the silence that he genuinely believes is holding your tongue rather than the furious panicking actually occurring in your mind as you struggle to come up with a way to address a noble.

You can’t fault the man for having a heart, you suppose. Maybe a little alcohol will help you figure out how to talk to a blue-blood the right way. Or maybe not?

>”I could do with a stiff drink.”

>”Some water would be nice.”

>”No thanks, I’m not thirsty.”

(2/2)

(After a debilitating session of writer's block and insomnia, I've decided to run an update or two a day to make up for lost time!)

>>2480357
>>”I could do with a stiff drink.”

>>2480357
>”I could do with a stiff drink.”

After the day we've had we need it

>>2480357
>>”I could do with a stiff drink.”

>>2480357
>”I could do with a stiff drink.”
How old are we?

>>2480447
Mid-twenties because Solana, for lack of a better description, managed to forget her own birthday after years on the road. But she can attempt to guess with average accuracy that it's within 21+.

Also I've been attempting to finish an update while sick and thats been so detrimental to my focus that I've spent more than half a day trying. I think I'll finish my activities today and attempt to get it out, aiming for two updates at least before I go out like a light.

>>2483120
Blegh. Of course my ID gets reset by the shitty wifi again.

>>2483120
>21+
Too old

File: Waht.jpg (27 KB, 178x563)

27 KB JPG

>>2483269
>too old

[concern]

>>2483269
It's not like we are forty or fifty

File: 1477694125076.jpg (35 KB, 500x333)

35 KB JPG

I had an almost completed update in word, and then my laptop bluescreened and it got wiped without autosave or anything.

I'm going to just grind it back up and hopefully not feel even guiltier for taking so long to post.

“I’ll have a stiff drink.”

The bartender nods and quickly places a polished drinking glass on the counter with practiced precision before waiting perfectly still. The Noble turns to you and looks at you expectantly, offering you a moment to order your own specific drink. Without any actual knowledge of alcohol upstream of watered-down, murky tavern brew you freeze up for a moment in fear of betraying your inexperience in front of this stranger.

Catching a quick glance at his drink, you peek at the golden liquid within and decide to continue doing what has kept you alive in this world so far.

You gamble for all the marbles with everything you have.

“I’ll have what he’s having.”

Earning a look of earnest concern from the nobleman, you cut him off before he speaks by raising your hand to wave him off.
“I can handle it, don’t worry. Stronger spirits have tried, believe me.”

Smiling at your display of confidence, he rests against the counter as the two of you watch the bartender perform his magical display of brewery, shaking and mixing various measurements of drinks back and forth until finally the ambrosial liquid rests before you in the cleanest glass you’ve ever seen.
Placing your fingers around the sparkling cup, the Noble turns to you and offers both a friendly smile and a gloved hand. Accepting it firmly, the two of you exchange firm handshakes with drinks at the ready.

“I’m Solana Portula, pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise. My friends call me Frederick.”

After releasing your handshake, the two of you cheerfully clink glasses together and throw back a quick swig of golden alcohol.

As the spirit goes down you quickly realize that, as luck would once again have it, you have clearly lost this gamble.

Hell’s Fire! You’ve experienced battlefield medicine less excruciating than the infernal bitterness infecting your taste buds. The liquid feels like it’s burning your insides and you have to forcibly contain a surprised yelp as the concentrated alcohol goes on a murderous rampage directly to your liver.

Another sip of this stuff and you’ll be gone for good.

Blinking your eyes to avoid tearing up, you simply take a deep breath and exhale with your head tilted to the side, as if savoring the “flavor” of this devil’s piss.

Flashing an ecstatic grin at seemingly having found another alcohol connoisseur, the Frederick presents such a friendly figure that you almost feel bad cursing out his drink of choice.

Almost.

“Good stuff ain’t it? A bit of an acquired taste, I admit, but it does things no other drink can.”

(1/2)

>>2485396
”Calling it an acquired taste is the understatement of the century,” you think somewhat irritably as the constant burning sensation remains throughout your body, “A glass of this stuff could poison a damned bear!”
Terror jumps in, seemingly just to bug you in a moment of pure annoyance. ”Boss, you should keep some of that stuff! It might come in usefu-” ”The Mutt has a point, master” interjects Scourge precisely to cut the mastiff off, ”Perhaps it would serve useful as a poison?” A heated conversation between the two then takes place about the correct use for potent poisoned spirits that actually begins making it hard to form your own thoughts, such is the intensity of the childish bickering.

Wordlessly, you send violent threat after violent threat through your mental link until the connection between the three of you is completely quiet and you can think properly again. Blinking suddenly, you are made then made acutely aware of Frederick's patient gaze, realizing that you must have left him sitting there for an awkward minute.

Turning to Frederick, you gesture politely that you are finally ready to listen and he nods before reaching into his coat and placing some folded papers onto the bar counter. “I’m sure you’ve got some burning questions on your mind,” Frederick says slowly as he shuffles through them, “Luckily since you were out so long, I’ve taken the liberty of compiling them together to help get you back to speed as fast as possible.”

Sliding them over to you in one slick motion, a few moments of dutiful skimming earns you the general gist of their contents. A field report comprising of two sections, one specifically mentioning you, and the other noting an increase in bounty hunters trespassing on Blackwood land and a string of disappearances in the night within several frontier villages. The next paper is a detailed map of the Blackwood territories with a number of X marks placed in what seems like an incomprehensible pattern. Finally, the last document is a combination of a government declaration alongside an official employment notice with a distinctly pointy-hat drawing placed alongside some other details.

What document would you like to discuss first?

>The Field Report

>The Map of the Territory

>The Government Decree + Employment notice

(2/2)

----------------------------------------------------------------

(I nearly died trying to get this fucking update out. Expect the next to be faster.)

>>2485403
>>The Field Report

>>2485403
>The Field Report

>>2485403
>The Field Report

>>2485403
>The Field Report

File: Fairly Detailed Documents.jpg (74 KB, 510x529)

74 KB JPG

>>2485406
>>2485541
>>2485575
>>2486107
Picking up the report, you begin carefully reading the first section that has your name mentioned multiple times. Narrowing your eyes, an overview of the situation forces a gasp out of you as the implications of the report get your mind racing.

”As of several nights ago, our agents have discovered the identity of the Witch currently hiding out in the Royal Hunting Grounds. Corroborating witnesses from Narrowater have stated that a “Solana Portula” has been seen involved conversing with various townspeople in matters relating to farming and other matters of agriculture. Further attempts at establishing contact on the Grounds thus far proven unsuccessful. It appears that our Witch is currently in the process of building a homestead on the reserve, inspiring a fear of discovery.

Contact should be established upon completion of the structure, as it is unlikely that she will run after having invested so much time into it. Maintain further surveillance with R. and inform other gamekeepers to continue avoiding the area. Of note is that R. has determined the two familiars of the Witch to be a large black mastiff and falcon, although no distinguishing features can be seen otherwise. If either are found, the other and the Witch herself will not be far behind.

To conclude, instruct R. to continue operation but inform other gamekeepers to remain wary of “bounty hunters”. Instruct Narrowater residents that any mention of “bounty hunters”, and especially any mention of hunting “witches” must be reported to the nearest official. For more details on that situation, refer to the second attached report.”

Placing the document on the desk, you take a deep breath as you come to terms with the details of what you’d just read. Staring at Frederick's lean, grizzled face with increasing intensity, you hold onto the glass of awful tasting alcohol tight enough to turn your knuckles white. Noticing instantly, Frederick raises his eyebrows and fixes you a calm, relaxed smile.

“Surprised?” he asks quietly, disarming you of the bite of your anger with his serene expression. “Don’t be. There’s a reason Father War hasn't paid a visit around here in decades you know.”

Biting your lip, you imagine countless faceless bureaucrats writing about you like an asset on some register, like you’re some kind of priceless, exotic animal to be coerced into an iron cage. At the thought, your free hand balls into a fist and a small part of you begins thinking about telling taking the glass of foul-tasting liquor in your hand and smashing it over Frederick's face. The horrific violence of the suggestion coupled with his willingness to take any abuse promptly stays your hand and quickly burns through your reserve of anger in seconds.

(1/3)

>>2488549
Shutting your eyes, you loosen your grip on the glass and just breathe. Opening your eyes, you see a silent Frederick still expecting a torrent of verbal, maybe even physical abuse. Instead, you simply meet his gaze and contemplate drinking until you black out after this conversation.

“How long?” you whisper with a grimace plain on your face.

“Come again?” inquires Frederick, though you can tell he can already guess what your question really is.

“How long have I been important to King Blackwood and his people?”
Beaming that you’ve caught on, Frederick takes another sip of his drink before answering back. “Before you even crossed the border into the Blackwood Territories. We’ve been watching since you for nigh on two years, and without your name or what you looked like for half of it.”

Letting the shock show on your face as you remember the miserable, agonizing year-long road to the Blackwood, the implications of having such a wide-reaching spy network astound you. If they can track you on the road and in a completely different nation for a whole year, then what under the sun can’t they track? Your next obvious question is seen forming on your lips and caught wordlessly by Frederick who continues to explain without a pause.

“Witches are respected here, that’s no secret,” he begins with nonchalantly, “Something most foreigners don’t get is that the same philosophy is shared by the Blackwood family line.”

Spurring him on with your silence, Frederick goes on. “The Blackwood Territories and the people that live in it have always been welcoming to Witches but the royal family has deeper obligations to your kind than ancient oaths and declarations, yeah? Way I hear it, they’ve got witch-blood running through their veins and every so often their daughters tend to be quite good at that whole deal.”

Witches marrying into the royal bloodline? You’d never in a million years guessed such a thing were possible but here an example is to prove you wrong.

“I’m sure you can see how Witches being any less than revered would pose an issue, yet at the moment we’re dealing with an issue that’s bigger than respect.”
Putting his fingers by the various Xs on the map, you quickly get his meaning and gasp audibly. “You mean to tell me twelve Witches…moved on in the safest place for Witches around!?”

“Aye, though not from a lack of effort on our part,” Frederick states with clear frustration, “We’ve caught more mercenaries and bounty hunters with contracts on Witches than you can even imagine, and more are still sneaking in through the border. The King has declared both occupations punishable by death, but whoever is paying for the contracts is offering enough for these scalawags to risk the consequences.”

(2/3)

>>2488551
“Worse yet, there’ve been a series of disappearances involving both normal citizens and some of our dead Witches along some of the border villages in the night. All of the eyewitnesses, the few there are, have described the victims as having been drawn from their sleep and forced to walk deep into the outer forests. We have reason to believe the same happened to you as you slept, not three days ago although we cannot verify independently since the only eyewitnesses were your own familiars.”

Nodding, you tuck your head to the side and ask Terror, ”Is that what happened that afternoon, T?”

”About right, Boss. I tried to pull you back, but you were out of it, Boss. Couldn’t talk to you because you were snoozing. After a little while you started running and I couldn’t keep up forever, and you even shook Scourge for most of the day when she came back and made her fly all over to find you.”

You shudder, knowing that the hellish nightmare you’d just experienced was a planned attack that has already claimed prior victims. Suddenly that “Friends in high places” line that the Voice said after stating that it’d cease tormenting you comes up vividly.

“Your people have anything to do with me coming back alive?”

Frederick nods sagely, “It shouldn’t surprise you that we have Witches among our ranks. But I hear what they did for you wasn’t easy, apparently a couple of them fainted from the effort but since you’re still breathing I think they’d say it was a raging success. That being said, you ought to send them thank-you letter when you’re able to at some point in the future since you do owe them your life.”

“Either way, we’ve since put everyone we have on contacting every Witch in the Territories and putting them under protection. What seemed like a string of murders has revealed itself to be something a little more sinister, and the King himself has begun consulting all of his ministers to deal with this. You’ll likely see a mobilization of troops that the Territories haven’t seen for decades.”

Sensing the conversation shifting to the third document, you pick your brain for an adequate question to ask Frederick before he gets back to explaining. You think of the identity of R., the agent undercover as the gamekeeper watching you and chuckle mentally. It’s pretty clear to everyone who R. is, but still you kind of want Frederick to admit it with his own words, just to clear the record. On the other hand, you could ask about the organization he belongs to since he doesn’t seem likely to divulge the information without prodding. Finally, you might ask about the general state of the Territories since he seems knowledgeable to tell you anything you might need to know.

>Ask who R. is just to confirm

>Ask about his organization

>Ask about the state of the realm (Can specify about what)

(3/3)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(I don't know what to be more frustrated by, my slow writing speed, being sick, or having to maybe cancel this weeks weekend sessions because of classes but either way I'm feeling the curse 100%

Well, at least I feel overjoyed that any people are still around to deal with my BS)

>>2488559
>Ask about his organization

Also would like to ask about that notice.

>>2488559
>Ask who R. is just to confirm

>Ask about his organization

>>2488559
>Ask who R. is just to confirm

>Ask about his organization

>>2488559
>Ask about his organization

Don't want to waste breath confirming something we already know.

File: 0f2d28bc4159f9edeb6b154ee(...).png (572 KB, 948x1250)

572 KB PNG

>>2488635
>>2488672
>>2488740
>>2489299
Called, but I'm going to have to archive and hold for next week so I won't feel as bad being completely unable to write. (where I'll be free or at least more free than where I am now)

Have a good one guys.

Session Paused

Don't forget to check twitter when I go live again!

https://twitter.com/Leave_QM