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As far as first uses of a new and surprising ability go, teleporting a few inches further than you expected into a lovely soft faceful of cleavage is far from the worst this could go. The dreamworld of Honamurei seems so oppressive from inside the glass prison, but despite a creeping sense of dread you’re able to focus purely on the small individual you bowled over in your rather comedic display of excited enthusiasm. Seeing Dream Hona’s two blue eyes blinking in confusion beneath you, you do your best to sound heroic and not an emotionless killing machine while declaring - “I’m here to rescue you!”

For a second she looks into your eyes and just says “Vhat?” While looking a little amazed at your existence, but it’s a mere moment before some self preservation and self defence kicks in. The world spins as you’re tossed bodily across the little pyramid of a prison when Hona enters a flailing panic, “Vait! Vhat the hell? Who ze hell are you? Vhat are- Vhy- How did you get in here?!” The brush you had seen her using previously is held in her hand and pointed at you like a dagger, “Vhy are you in my home?” She demands.

At her question you look around from the position you’ve found yourself on the floor. Instead of the wonderfully serene and picturesque nature surrounding you; the glass pyramid now shows nothing but scorched wastelands dotted by occasional tents. Each one is lined in fur and at least thirteen feet high, with huge bonfires dotted in the middle of areas where the tens have been erected close together.

It’s like you’re looking at another world from within this prison. The beauty you know lies in Honamurei’s dreamworld has been replaced by this dismal landscape; at least in the areas where the light has not turned the glass walls into angled and warped mirrors. Your study of the landscape leaves you silent just long enough for Honamurei’s voice to change; her Giant heritage comes to the fore as a booming voice strikes you with it’s disgust. “ANSWER ME!”

> [WORRY] This isn’t your home, it’s a prison.
> [CURIOSITY] What is all that out there?

> [PRIDE] You looked lonely. I wanted to get you out of here.

> [FRUSTRATION] If you’d just listen already you’d know I came here to rescue you!

> Write-In

>>3084718
>> [PRIDE] You looked lonely. I wanted to get you out of here.

>>3084718
>> [PRIDE] You looked lonely. I wanted to get you out of here.

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>>3084727
>>3084842

“You just looked so lonely. Like, it hurt looking at you.” You admit, raising both hands in a sign of peace, “I just wanted to get you out of here.”

Hona pulls the brush close to her chest, as if taking some comfort from the small bone handled possession. While the troll gathers her words you try to look around at the inside of the prison rather than the desolate surroundings. A few items are familiar enough to jump out at you, mostly furniture. It seems like she has surrounded herself with items of comfort from Grinnsmon, perhaps as some sort of coping mechanism to being stuck.

“Vhy vould you care about me?” She chirps, “I’m nobody to you. I’m just a Pernachk.” The word requires her vocal chords to shift, the already alien word almost unintelligible to you. “And… you should go! Because overwise the Chieftain and her Glar vill kill you for your trespass. How did you even get passed the Pass?” She goes from annoyed, to worried, to puzzled in less than a second. It seems like she’s at least worrying for your safety instead of your intentions.

“Okay, I just want to help. It seems like you’re not happy here.” You take a seat on her bed, “It’s just that, even if you don’t remember it, there was a time when you took me in and helped me.”

She blinks as if stunned by your words, “Vhat?”

“I was hurt. Stumbled into your office, you took care of me. Gave me your be-” Something bothers you mid word and you wince, feeling faint in the head. It’s enough to force you into gripping the bed sheets to steady yourself. The feeling does not pass, instead waves of constant dizzying nausea run through your head while an unceasing distant noise makes it difficult to parse what Honamurei is telling you.

Her lips move, her face is concerned and her arm reaches out to you.

> [DETERMINATION] grit your teeth and bare this

> [FRUSTRATION] Curse

> [WORRY] Don’t worry about me I’ll be fine

> [FEAR] Panic

> Write-In

>>3087447
>> [WORRY] Don’t worry about me I’ll be fine

>>3087447
>> [DETERMINATION] grit your teeth and bare this

>>3087447
>> [DETERMINATION] grit your teeth and bare this

>>3088709
>>3088598
>>3087454

Called.

Give me a 1d20-2 please.

Rolled 12 - 2 (1d20 - 2)

>>3088720
Check em

Rolled 2 + 2 (1d20 + 2)

>>3088720

Rolled 3 + 2 (1d20 + 2)

>>3088720

Rolled 6 + 2 (1d20 + 2)

>>3088720
Here's hoping.

Rolled 10 - 2 (1d20 - 2)

>>3088720

File: 10.gif (2.57 MB, 320x180)

2.57 MB GIF

>>3088728
>>3088727
>>3088724
>>3088723
>>3088732

10. That ain't gonna cut it.

We're waking up.

Who to?

> The School Nurse

> A friend

> Someone surprising

> Maria of Darna

> Write-In

>>3088737
>> Write-In
>Someone from the group Lex was having a discussion about.

>>3088737
> The School Nurse

>>3088741
I'll throw in support for this.

>>3088758
>>3088757
>>3088741

Okay, trying to think the best way for this to go without being spoilers for certain people is hard. But I'm going to write for this write in in 5 minutes unless something changes.

File: Dream Hona 2.png (1.13 MB, 850x1133)

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>>3088758
>>3088757
>>3088741

As the noise and nausea continue swelling to fever pitch, Honamurei’s dream world begins to overlap in your vision. Her hand passes right through your shoulder and onto the bed sheets to her horror and the scene of some kind of comfortable medical ward begins to bleed into sight over it. You feel like vomiting as your consciousness being split into two locations at once overwhelms your senses, a sickening sensation that you can only manage to ward off enough to give the dream world’s Hona a last sentiment. “Don’t worry about me okay? I’ll be okay.”

[Part 1/2]

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>>3089042

She’s about to protest when you sit up suddenly, the world all too real as you feel a thin sheen of sweat across your flesh and a whole heap of hurting across your entire body. Something gives from the speed and violence of your awakening and a half heard conversation is silenced by the sudden movements.

A woman close to your height stands in plate armour, looking towards you with surprise. Her gloved hands have went to a pair of strange swords on what looks to be a firmly entrenched instinctual response. The grey haired woman by her side however, rushes over to place a hand on your chest and forces you onto your back with surprising strength. Her simple robes marking her as some kind of nurse or medical professional, though the look of annoyance manages to instill the same kind of instinct within you that you caused on the black haired warrior she was meeting with.

“Stay in bed or you’ll tear all of your wounds back open!” She orders with the voice of someone used to being obeyed, “I swear everyone’s so eager to head to the silver lake.” She complains as you have to bite back the urge to resist.

You open your mouth to speak when another wave of nausea hits you, one that you can’t just shrug off. Thankfully for your dignity, the lady’s uncountable years of experience shine through. A pot is pulled from beneath your bed and with surprising ease your head is directed to it. Vomiting is not an activity you have many memories of, but this one feels disturbingly similar to the occasions where you have bled to death; the feeling of emptiness and the sheer draining nature of it.

At the very least the gentle rubbing of your back from your nurse makes it bearable. In fact you’d wonder if there wasn’t any magic in that touch were it not for the sheer [SHAME] running through your mind at that moment. After all, you just jolted awake hard enough to leave a red streak on your medical bed before vomiting up the last meal you had in front of two absolute strangers. Aside from you spitting in a vain attempt to clear the taste of acid from your mouth and a cough or two, all is silent until the raven haired warrior asks, “Is she alright Karhea?” In a thick Cadalonian accent.

“She will be.” Karhea’s hand squeezes your shoulder for a second, her other hand rolling back the loose gown to examine your hip. “She wouldn’t be in one piece if a little sickness could slow her down after all.”

> [SHAME] I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to ruin your work

> [CURIOSITY] Who are you? Where am I? What happened?

> [[FRUSTRATION] Minerva’s light I almost had it!

> Just nausea. I’ve had worse.

> Write-In

>>3089043
>> Just nausea. I’ve had worse.
>> Write-In
>"So far"

>>3089043
> [CURIOSITY] Who are you? Where am I? What happened?

>>3089043

> [CURIOSITY] Who are you? Where am I? What happened?

>>3089168
>>3089050
>>3089046

Gonna write soon. Called for curiosity.

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>>3089168
>>3089050
>>3089046

“Who are you two?” You breathlessly ask, looking at the muscle standing awkwardly to the side of Karhea’s desk. Settling into your bed again you look at the surprisingly homely walls and the hammock hung in the corner, “Where even am I?”

The larger woman seems surprised by your first question, breaking her icy facade. Karhea on the other hand places the back of her hand on your forehead to check your temperature, “You’re still in the Academy; just in my ward.” Her voice is soothing, enough to slow your heartbeat from it’s fight or flight response. “And we can talk about who we are later alright? I gotta stitch the damn hole you just tore in your side from waking up.”

The drawer by your bed is opened and Karhea rummages through them as the woman speaks up, “I’m Freya. Old friend of Karhea’s. I heard there’d been trouble and came to check up on her.” Despite her stony expression her eyes looks confused, almost suspicious of you, as if your very presence is either disturbing something or out of the ordinary.

In an effort at being polite and also to try and figure Freyja out more you add.“Oh my name is Purps Lexington,” The introduction again causes a slight flare of her nostrils and a quick glance to Karhea, but she recovers swiftly as you continue. “I didn’t mean to intrude but-”

She waves you off, “Giant monster. Fight to the death. Needed the best healer in the world. Trust me, been there done that. I’ll be impressed when your fight explodes an ancient Minervan watchtower.”

Karhea reappears and gently pushes you onto the side of your body that isn’t bleeding profusely, a shining thread dripping medicine and what looks like some kind of animal’s spine ready to work. “Divine magic is still a little fucked, so I’ll have to rely on what I picked up from my husband.”

As she gets to work patching you up, you’re left in silence. Everyone else seemingly focused on the annoying sensation and sight of someone knitting you back together like a frayed or worn rug.

> [PRIDE] A watchtower? That’s nothing.

> [CURIOSITY] How did you collapse a suntower?

> [CURIOSITY] You’re married Karhea?

> [LUST] You’re only the second woman to see this much of me Karhea

> Write-In

>>3089454
>> [CURIOSITY] You’re married Karhea?

>>3089461
Seconding.

Star, let's force a flashback

File: Lets do this.gif (219 KB, 500x203)

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>>3089520

Force Flashback Requires 3 votes.

Y = 1
N = 0

>>3089530
>1
Fuck it.

>>3089454
> [CURIOSITY] How did you collapse a suntower?

>>3089530
N

>>3089530

Y =2

N = 1

IF N wins

Marriage = 2
Collapse = 1

>>3089454
>N

Don't want to try a flashback right now.

> [CURIOSITY] You’re married Karhea?

>>3089679
>>3089536
>>3089535
>>3089520
>>3089473
>>3089461

No Flashback. We're gonna ask about Karhea's husbando. I'll try and write tonight, but we'll see. I am tired.

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>>3089679
>>3089536
>>3089535
>>3089520
>>3089473
>>3089461

“I wasn’t aware that you were married Karhea.” You state simply, leaving the follow up question unasked for her or Freya do jump on.

“I’m full of surprises.” She states gruffly, slapping away your hand as you make to scratch an itch near the wound she’s closing, “Believe it or not I’m also a mother.” As subtly as you can you sneak a second and more in depth look at Karhea, her face in concentration as she makes sure every little concern stitching someone up could raise is dealt with. The woman’s hair is grey with only the faintest hint of red, the skin around her eyes and forehead both bear a handful of wrinkles and her green eyes are seem almost muted in their colour from time and exhaustion.

“I don’t find that hard to believe at all.” You answer, “You seem dedicated and responsible. With the appearance of someone who has spent a lot of time worrying.”

Freya whistles low before chuckling, “I suppose there’s worse ways to be called an old bitch. Certainly got a pair of balls on ‘er.”

Karhea sighs, “I think she was trying to say is that I’m very maternal and look my age.”

“Neither of us look our age and you know it Karhea.” Freya counters, “In fact I think N-”

Karhea cuts in oddly sharply, “We are not talking about him now. I am fine with sharing surface levels of my life but we’re not talking about that with someone else here.”
The tension in the room seems to increase suddenly, “Why not? We already know she can be trusted. After all-”

“She’s a stranger. She’s not getting told shit about my family business and-” Karheas finishes stitching you up and stands up switching into Cadalonian to continue berating Freya. The two woman are firing quips back and forth with such speed that it’s obvious old ground is being tread and that this is an issue that’s lay between them for some time.

>[FRUSTRATION] Speak Ghenrisian or Munisian Minerva’s sake. I’m right here.

> [CURIOSITY] Why do you think I’m trustworthy?

> [WORRY] Both of you, calm down. Is this really worth fighting over?

> I suppose you were about to mention her husband. I think Karhea just wants to keep things professional.

> Write-In

>>3090427
I don't see any reason to stop the [CURIOSITY] train, let's dig a little and figure out what's going on.
>Why do you think I'm trustworthy?

>>3090427
>> [WORRY] Both of you, calm down. Is this really worth fighting over?

>>3090427
>[FRUSTRATION] Speak Ghenrisian or Munisian Minerva’s sake. I’m right here.

>>3090427
>> [CURIOSITY] Why do you think I’m trustworthy?

>>3090427
>worry or curiosity

Rolled 8 + 1 (1d20 + 1)

>>3090569
>>3090442
>>3090434
>>3090429
>>3090428

Writing after a roll.

Give me a 1d20 Flat best of 3 please.

Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>3090807

Rolled 8 (1d20)

>>3090807

Rolled 13 (1d20)

>>3090807
Don't mind me rolling a 1

>>3090811
>>3090810
>>3090808

Writing.

Rolled 13 (1d20)

>>3090807

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>>3090815
>>3090811
>>3090810
>>3090808
>>3090569
>>3090442
>>3090434
>>3090429
>>3090428
>>3090428

“Wait wait wait. Let’s back up a second.” The duo look to you in confusion as the pieces slowly begin to click together, you’re trusted for a reason. They wouldn’t be so readily discussing Karhea’s husband in front of you if they weren’t a hundred percent sure you were on the level, honest or at least not an outright enemy.

But why?

Freya responds looking rather frustrated at everything, “Look, don’t worry about it. Karhea’s right we shouldn’t ha-”

“No.” You silence her with a dead stare before leveling it at Karhea, “Why do you both trust me?” That seems to stun the room so you continue, “Freya said so and not only have I never seen her; she looks as if she’d have trouble trusting her own reflection.” The comment draws a slight bearing of the raven haired Cadalonian, the brute squaring her pale shoulders while leaving the situation to Karhea who chooses her words very carefully.

She begins slowly, “Well, I’ve known about you for a while. Rumours, your father-”

Only to be cut off by your usual flat monotone, “You don’t trust Vernon, try again.”

“Well my daughter is a big fan of the sirens and she-” She tries different tactic, only to be shut off again.

“What’s her name?” You ask, again in that brisk lifeless way.

“Jul Dyn.” She answers, the fiery redheaded second year who went against the matriarch alongside you, Hona, Maria and Chiron. The same Jul Dyn who didn’t know your name or treat you with anything but annoyance and thinly veiled hostility until you fought alongside her against the goblins.

Your annoyance starts to surface slightly, some items being knocked from a shelf hidden behind a screen. Freya’s eyes go to it and she looks somehow more reassured or certain of something. “Okay. Stop lying to me Karhea. Jul Dyn was far from a fan of mine when we first met.”

“I don’t suppose you’d believe that we’re huge fans of Minerva and that you’re to be our new cult leader?” Freya says drily. You only shake your head at that, causing the two to share a long look. Wordlessly, something is decided; Freya seeming to disappear for a second. Without anything more being said the door to the infirmary is locked and your erstwhile hostess is producing what can only be described as a huge Gods Damned jug of alcohol that smells like something that would be used to clean a factory.

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>>3090969

“So.” Karhea says as she pops open the top of the jug in the same way you would flick a coin, “The reason that we trust you is…”

At that moment Freya decides to walk through a nearby wall. She addresses both of you, “Nobody’s coming to visit. Think she’s out of blondes.” She remarks snarkily, “And her “Papa’s” probably with the Inquisition right now.” You can hear the air quotes around Papa.

Karhea solidifies herself with some liquid courage, “Right, anyway. We trust you because we used to work together. About Forty years ago. But, despite me finding nothing wrong with your brain...”

Freya picks up as Karhea loses steam, sitting on the edge of your bed and trying not to look too intimidating, “There wasn't even a flash of recognition. Which kinda hurts when we were all so close back then Suzie.”

“I don’t recognise that name.” You respond, somewhat warily.

“I know. But there’s no physical reason for you having amnesia. Nor is there an obvious way for you to be not dead.” She sounds frustrated, “We were pretty sure Meridas had taken you.”

You take a while to let this sink in, pondering how you should react to the news that another one of your past lives had found its way to your doorstep. Vernon was right it seems; Starborn always seem to bring trouble.

> I can explain why I’m not dead. And why I don’t remember anything.

> (lie) I’m sorry. But I think you have the wrong person.

> [WORRY] The measures for privacy do not fill me with confidence.

> [PRIDE] I’m going to need proof. You don’t even have the right name after all.

> Write-In

>>3090971
>> [PRIDE] I’m going to need proof. You don’t even have the right name after all.

>>3090971

> I can explain why I’m not dead. And why I don’t remember anything.

>>3090971
>> [PRIDE] I’m going to need proof. You don’t even have the right name after all.
>
>> Write-In
"Hell, for all I know it might of been my mother."

>>3090988
Support

>>3090971
>> [PRIDE] I’m going to need proof. You don’t even have the right name after all.

>>3090971
> (lie) I’m sorry. But I think you have the wrong person.
More to dig for them to explain how there right

>>3091165
>>3091077
>>3090997
>>3090988
>>3090984
>>3090981

Called for PRIDE. Will write after errands.

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>>3091165
>>3091077
>>3090997
>>3090988
>>3090984
>>3090981

For a second you just take in the hopeful and somewhat happy expressions on the two women's faces, it doesn’t exactly feel like they’re hostile to you per say or even want anything but the woman they knew back for that matter.

But you have no idea what their motives are, what Suzie did, or even if you could look Hona in her eye once you know what you did as their companion. Even if Purps and Violet had done some horrible things, why would you willingly take one more burden on?

But that look causes you to falter. They could have answers, Freya seems to be a starborn so who knows how old she is. She might be able to point you to where you actually came from, Suzie might even be your birth name if fortune smiled on you.

That would be nice and it would be nice if you knew you weren’t being manipulated or open to blackmail from Karhea and Freya through whatever knowledge they have about you. So in a rare and welcome bout of caution, you square your shoulders and decide that they deserve a little bit of hope and compliance, even if they haven’t earned your total trust. “Well, you’re going to need to give me something more for proof.” It hurts them a little. No matter how much they try to hide it, you can see the slight tightening of Freya’s grip on the medical bed, “I mean, you don’t even have the right name. For all I know, you’re talking about my mother.”

“I mean, maybe…” Karhea says, looking massively unconvinced.

“Just because it was nearly forty years ago doesn’t mean shit. We’re both Starborn and Karhea is-”

“Old.” She finishes simply. Looking stunned at Freya.

“You really trust who you think I am don’t you? That’s twice you almost said something.” You point out with deadpan humour.

“Well, you were.” She corrects herself, “Are? Someone we both confided in a bunch. It’s weird thinking that you don’t know us anymore.”

You cagily steer the conversation back where you’d prefer with an excuse, “Karhea said herself there’s no physical reason for me to have amnesia. Means it really could have been my mother. I never did meet her.”

“A secret child would make a lot of sense.” Karhea grumbles loud enough to just be audible. The grey haired nurse takes another long swing of her booze jug.

> [CURIOSITY] So, how long until I can leave?

> [PRIDE] On a scale of 1-10 how impressive was my fight?

> [WORRY] Wait. You said I had blondes visit. As in multiple?

> [FRUSTRATION] Don’t suppose my father’s coming by to explain what I missed.

> Write-In

>>3092036
>> [WORRY] Wait. You said I had blondes visit. As in multiple?

>>3092036
> [FRUSTRATION] Don’t suppose my father’s coming by to explain what I missed.

>>3092036
> [FRUSTRATION] Don’t suppose my father’s coming by to explain what I missed.

>>3092036

> [FRUSTRATION] Don’t suppose my father’s coming by to explain what I missed.

>>3092376
>>3092276
>>3092055
>>3092496

Called for frustration. Gonna finish off my comission, walk doggo then write. Definently sometime tonight, just not sure how long.

File: Purps annoyed gif.gif (441 KB, 1280x720)

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>>3092376
>>3092276
>>3092055
>>3092496

Leaving that bombshell behind you try to focus more on the present, “So is my father going to actually grace me with his presence and explain what the hells happened while I was unconscious?”

Freya looks to Karhea who is less capable at hiding her grimace now that she’s drank half your bodyweight in alcohol strong enough to fistfight an ogre, “He’s teaching for another hour. Second year magic class tends to involve some crazy stuff when Vernon’s at the helm.”

“Vernon?” Freya says with a raised eyebrow.

“Professor Lexington,” Karhea corrects with over exaggerated pronunciation and a posh scholarly accent. “Will be teaching his wizards for another hour. Then he might show, he might not. Who knows with him?”

“Really not his biggest fan, are you Karhea?” You note rather calmly, perhaps too calmly for someone claiming to be his daughter. If you could fake outrage convincingly you might have attempted it.

“Well, he’s too arrogant, manipulative and just all around mysterious for his own good. Just because he’s been offered the headmaster position twice, the stupid sonova-”

She’s cut off by a hand about four times the size of her’s prying the alcohol from her and trying to grapple with her, “That’s enough Kar. E’s her dad after all.”

“What, give me back the Red trickle! I fuckin’ paid for that!” She protests furiously, aiming a light slap at Freya who wisely activates whatever their enigma is. Anything that isn’t held down is instantly blown flying throughout the room as the shockwaves of Karhea’s drunken attempt at a slap tear through the ward like Hona just ran through full speed while on a sugar rush.

Oddly enough, the blow seems to go right through both Freya and the jug she holds above her head in the aftermath of Karhea’s attack. Barely keeping a laugh inside as the nurse overbalanced and almost falls on her face. “Clean your liver. Play nice.” Freya chides Karhea before heading to the door. “I gave you your answers, checked out some stores… I should be going before the Sheep gets all worried.” She pauses, then adds, “I’ll leave some flowers at George’s grave alright?”

> [CURIOSITY] What was that enigma? Who’s George? Why’s she a lightweight? How can she clean her liver? Why does she hate Lex? What answers? Seriously, what’s going on?

> [GRATITUDE] Try to help Karhea

> [FRUSTRATION] What the fuck! Don’t throw that much power around when there’s scalpels around! I have a knife in my hand Fuck!

> [DETERMINATION] Soooo…. About my discharge.

> Write-In

>>3093010

> [CURIOSITY] What was that enigma? Who’s George? Why’s she a lightweight? How can she clean her liver? Why does she hate Lex? What answers? Seriously, what’s going on?

>>3093010
>> [CURIOSITY] What was that enigma? Who’s George? Why’s she a lightweight? How can she clean her liver? Why does she hate Lex? What answers? Seriously, what’s going on?

>>3093010
> [FRUSTRATION] What the fuck! Don’t throw that much power around when there’s scalpels around! I have a knife in my hand Fuck!
Like come on

>>3093010
>[DETERMINATION] Soooo…. About my discharge.

>>3093010
>[CURIOSITY] What was that enigma? Who’s George? Why’s she a lightweight? How can she clean her liver? Why does she hate Lex? What answers? Seriously, what’s going on?
Classic

>>3093153
>>3093037
>>3093024
>>3093023
>>3093018

Asking all the questions wins.

Gimme 1d20+1 best of 3 please.

Rolled 20 + 1 (1d20 + 1)

>>3093619

>>3093623
We know everything
Mahha

Rolled 13 + 1 (1d20 + 1)

>>3093619
lets see if I can't break it with a nat 1

Rolled 3 + 1 (1d20 + 1)

>>3093619

>>3093640
>>3093636
>>3093629
>>3093623

Well. Guess there goes Karhea. Answering all the questions and giving away her backstory.

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>>3093640
>>3093636
>>3093629
>>3093623

“So wait wait wait.” You make sure that you have Karhea to yourself before you begin firing off a rapid series of questions far quicker than you think her drunk brain can really process out a desire to know what the hells is going on around here, “What was that enigma? Who’s George? Why’re you a lightweight? How can you clean her liver? Why do you hate my dad? What answers did she give you? Seriously Karhea, what’s going on?” The torrent of questions means that you need a second to catch you breath while Karhea picks at the sleeve of her medical robe.

“I mean… That’s a lot of questions.” She says, slurring her words slightly and taking a seat opposite you. The chair she plants herself on scrapes along the floor as she puts just a tad too much force behind her flop.

“I just want to know what’s going on. Is that so bad?” Something in you, a cold and scheming voice that you’ve only given any credence to once or twice before whispers a suggestion in your ear. A strategy that you think will play to her vulnerabilities as a woman and as a mother. With a hint of shame you blink twice, making sure you protrude your lower lip and tilt your head as you maintain eye contact.

You pout at Karhea, making sure to employ the biggest and most sympathetic eyes you can. While not your usual forte, this social manipulation does make some sense. After all, she seems very maternal and possessive of all thing - so another girl she considers to be a similar age to her daughter should be a precise method to tug on her heartstrings. “I just want to know, that way I won’t get hurt or make mistakes.” The pleading tone in your voice would make you gag any other time. But something tells you that swallowing your pride here could be important.

“Okay so… in order. It was. Freya’s enigma, George’s identity, my intolerance to alcohol, my relationship with Vernon and then wat Freya told me.” Her words are still slurred and she rubs her eye with one of the many wet rags that are kept inside a little box at the foot of each medical bed, “Freya’s enigma is none of your business. But it’s incredibly powerful.” She cracks her knuckles, looking less and less under the influence of rum as she speaks, “George… George was one of the top level operatives of the organisation Freya works for, the organisation I used to work for.” Leaning forward on the chair she adds, “You’ve probably heard of STARS. They Operate out of Ghenris an are thieves or merc for hire.”

The urge to snort is hard to pass up, “You were a thief? I know you threw a powerful slap but-”

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>>3093884

She cuts you off, playing with her amulet, a thick gold band dotted with a grey diamond and a red ruby. “Well, they sort of, kind of, rescued me. My husband and one of the ex members dug up the coffin I was trapped in and-”

You can’t help yourself butting in because, well you’re getting let in on a big secret. One that is so juicy you can practically taste all the drama, “You’re a vampire! Oh my Gods that’s so…” Minerva absolutely despises the undead, enough so that little sparks of golden fire covered your fingers at the utterance of the word vampire itself.

A wet towel is tossed into your face with a wet SMACK, the heavy cloth wrapping around your face and effectively gagging you, “NO! Of course I’m not a vampire. Don’t butt in while I’m telling you that I’m a flesh golem! Meridas help me, you’re as irritating as your father.” She seethes while you try to free your face from its comfortable and relaxing prison, a noise of utter contempt at a stupid statement. “And as part of my artificial biology.” She seems to be completely sober now, “I have to use my skills as the world’s foremost healer constantly; else I would have degraded and released the soul stored in this artificial vessel ages ago.”
“You’re saying that someone made you?” You ask in disbelief running an eye over her and wondering what your perfectly constructed woman would look like with far less than an innocent mind.

“Several someones actually.” She sounds rather distant despite the joke. Like she’s remembering things, “Turns out my sisters and I were created to oppose another God’s whims. A group of perfect holy agents ordered by the archpriest of Ghenris, a healer who couldn’t get sick. A Bodyguard who didn’t sleep. An apostate hunter that never stopped hunting. Meridas’ would look upon us with pride.” She sighs, “At least, the information I gathered had me believe as such.”

File: Purps Giggle.gif (833 KB, 268x268)

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>>3093888

The only Archpriest you ever knew of was Vernon and even then he spoke as if he was the last. After all, he served in the war against the Kingdom of Munis in its pre-republic state; battling The Senator when he was nothing but a distinguished general among many. “So? You’re still real, you still have feelings. Right?”

“Oh I know so now. But for a long time? Before I was trapped beneath the crossroads I didn’t see it that way. I’ve had a long time to think things over, including the fact the magics that created me are abhorrent in the eyes of Mother Meridas.” She looks to you, looking for something, “It’s something that we talked about a lot when I was younger. At least, if you really are Suzie. Especially when I was pregnant, you or Suzie took some of my crazier moments in stride.” She strokes the amulet, “One day I smacked you through three walls when you got mad at me for calling my daughter an abomination in an undead womb.”

You can’t help but smile wryly, “Good luck doing that to me now Karhea.” She gives you a smile in return, chuckling lightly, “It sounds like Suzie meant a lot to you.”

“To Freya as well. The three of us were like a bunch of mother hens some days, drinking smuggled tea, trying to keep George from breaking down from overwork.” She snorts, “I’m also pretty sure Freya is the reason my husband actually made it back to me in one piece most days.”

“It sounds like we got a little off track.” You say, not sounding too regretful or annoyed at the fact. In fact, for once you sound happy at this. Little strands of your hair flow slightly at the warm sensation of Contentment that is spreading through your broken body, “Though I think you needed to say all that.”

“Maybe.” She lingers tapping her chin to think, “I guess I wanted to explain why Freya and I wanted you to be Suzie so much. Who knows?”

“Well if you don’t, nobody does.” You montone.

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>>3093891

“Right.” She says simply, “The reason I don’t like your father? He’s an asshole. Thinks he can up and disappear whenever, come back whenever, manipulate everyone around him into his little schemes with no consequence whatsoever just because of his unbridled magical power.”

Despite yourself, you find yourself defending the man. “I mean.. So far the world’s proven he can.”

“And that’s the problem! He’s succeeded for so long that he can’t accept anything less than his own perfection. His arrogance is going to get people killed or let devils infest the academy or-”

“Karhea.” You stop her as she seems to be getting angrier and angrier, hysterical enough that her grip on the chair is tight enough to crack the old wood. “He does what he does for good reasons. Even the bullshit has a point.” A pause, “And I don’t think you realise just how much it’s cost him throughout his life.”

She clears her throat, “Okay. I probably should have been kinder with my words. After all, he’s your father.” It’s clear she doesn’t buy your cover story whatsoever.

“Yes. That’s Papa.” You respond evenly, making sure she doesn’t get any inkling of the lie from your end at least. Hopefully your steadfast refusal to give anything up will partially convince her of your ruse.

“Finally, you wanted to know what Freya was here for?” She asks, clearly in two minds on whether she should tell you anything at all. “Well, your father seems to think STARS were the ones who managed to use his portal device remotely. So he outed my past to the rest of the staff.”

You frown, “Wait he told them you’re a golem? That’s pretty shit.”

As much as she derided him earlier she does begrudgingly admit to the truth, “No. Just the STARS part. Though he did frame it in a way that makes me look like a freelance healer they frequented.”

“It sounds like he did what he to do. Papa needed you to investigate, even though he knew you’d disagree. So he got everyone on his side by revealing what you could do; without revealing your actual past. If anything it sounds like he gave you a plausible cover story that’d help you out if anyone did decide to pry.”

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>>3093894

Your comments hang in the air with a solid weight, the importance of your points seemingly not lost on Karhea as she visibly lets it all sink in like an anvil on a swamp. “I guess.” Is all she responds with. The Golem Nurse stands upright, looking at the windows that lie beyond the partition for your medical bed. “I’m afraid you’ve held me up long enough.” Her tone is curt, but there’s warmth underneath. It seems like she’s going back to her professional appearance and mannerisms, “My daughter is about to be called to the Headmistress’ office and I’ll need to be there to forcefully heal her.”

As she flicks the chair with the back of her hand; it spins into the air. Without even glancing away from you she plucks the back of the now upside down chair and places it back near her desk, “Forcefully hea- What?” You manage to sputter as her steps echo throughout the infirmary. It seems she’s leaving.

“Yes. Turns out she’s refusing to heal her wounds because she wants a sick scar like her Aunt Freya’s.” She says to the room rather than you, “Please continue resting. I’ll be back when it’s time for your discharge.” The footsteps begins to get further away. “Goodbye Purps.”

“Goodbye Karhea!” You call back, a door opening and closing with such speed it hurts your ears to hear the crack of wood sliding into its frame. And just like that, you’re alone to process what you just learned.

> [PRIDE] Escape. You’re not staying in bed.

> Timeskip to Discharge

> Timeskip to first class (Survival)

> [WORRY] Has Lex been manipulating you all along?

> Write-In

>>3093888
>Minerva absolutely despises the undead
Why does she like is then?
>>3093896
>Timeskip to first class (Survival)
As much as getting out of here right now would be totally in character we already reopened a wound just by vigorously sitting.

>>3093896
>> Timeskip to Discharge

>>3093896
Timeskip to first class (Survival)
Or we go into thr pov of dancer fox boy?

>>3093896
Timeskip to first class (Survival)
Or we go into thr pov of dancer fox boy?

>>3093896
> Timeskip to first class (Survival)

>>3093896

> [WORRY] Has Lex been manipulating you all along?

>>3093896
>[PRIDE] Escape. You’re not staying in bed.

>>3093894
Let’s do a POV transition, boys

>>3093913
>>3093934
>>3093936
>>3093944
>>3093959
>>3093983
>>3094101
>>3095232

Writing for Survival when I feel like I can manage it. I'm kinda tired.

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>>3093913
>>3093934
>>3093936
>>3093944
>>3093959
>>3093983
>>3094101
>>3095232

What feels like years later you emerge from the infirmary with the supplies Bella brought by to ensure you would be able to seamlessly and flawlessly return to your busy schedule of education and socialisation. At least, that’s what Karhea said. Bella just dragged herself into the infirmary. The sheep woman sluggishly handed over your uniform, equipment locker key and a small bag pack while mumbling some words.

A hangover that deadly must have felt like a titan was curb stomping the poor thing, so you weren’t too bitter at the lack of information as she dragged herself out of the infirmary clutching a bottle of what Karhea called her “Usual.” morning prescription. Y’know, you may not be an expert, but Bella’s crippling alcoholism certainly feels like something that someone should do something about to you.

Instead of throwing yourself into someone’s personal business you have no right to get involved in like some kind of stupid goody two shoes hero in a children’s tale; you shrugged. Got dressed and dragged yourself to the edge of the school grounds for your morning class… Survivalism.

Unfortunately, you had been indisposed for the day 1 evaluation session after dying at the hands of Honamurei. So now you had been assigned with the elites until such a time as Zar Tan had worked out just how competent or incompetent you actually were. Which meant you had both of the pale orc’s eyes upon you from the moment you arrived. This class seems to be populated by mostly green cloaked second years; though you do pick out a cluster of red cloaks like yours all huddling around near one another.

Fortunately, amongst them you were able to pick out a pair of friendly faces. Cellahad seems to be clutching a huge tome to her chest and talking about something to Stellavarnious the harpy. Something about Stella’s glossed over eyes tell you it might be a tad too dense or highbrow for her to follow, but you could always stand with them, otherwise you could stand front and centre to pay as much attention as possible to Zar Tan.

Hells there was the option of picking a random place, you’re supposed to be meeting new people after all.

> Front and Centre, you need to catch up after all

> Randomly find somewhere

> Stand by Stella and Cellahad

> Write-In

>>3096578
>> Randomly find somewhere

>>3096578
>Randomly find somewhere
Let's make Star write us some new friends that we will forget about next session.

>>3096578
Randomly find somewhere

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>>3096681
>>3096638
>>3096592

While you think that standing up front would bring a whole lot more attention than you’d really welcome from the orc who’s going to be evaluating your ability, standing next to the two friends you’ve already would probably send the wrong message to him. So, you tread the middle ground and immerse yourself in the group a heartbeat before the orc decided that enough time had passed for mustering and socialising.

All he had to do grab everyone’s attention was stand up from his seat on the cold grass, silence falling as he rose up to his impressive full height. Wordlessly, you and the other students all produced the books which he had requested you all keep on hand and the simple diaries he had distributed to each of you. Their purpose was mysterious, but your Cellahad had told you that most students had been using it to keep track of what they believed to be the most important pieces of information from the book and his lectures.

On your right you hear muttered frustration underlying the furious opening of books. A hulking monstrosity of hide encased in a school uniform struggling to balance the undersized notebook on the jagged fins that adorned his arms. Your left side had the opposite; a second year wizard with purplish-blue skin’s objects were simply floating in front of him. Quill, notebook, book, he’d even brought himself a snack that floated by his side waiting to be called over.

For some reason he looks vaguely familiar, but you can’t place him. Not having the bulk of the Sea creature on one side, nor the magical prowess of the devilish looking boy on the other - you simply take a step forward and sit on the ground. Now you’re ready to write whatever you think is relevant, despite the looks from those who have devised elaborate methods for note taking upright.

It’s also hard not to notice that some people are looking at you with approval and mimicking your ingenious strategy of sitting on your ass. Even with your uniforms stupid skirt, you manage to maintain your modesty and look to Zar Tan to begin his lecture.

Despite his usual stilted and halting manner of speaking, his lecture if flawless and flows well. There’s a grand total of three seconds that you ponder this strange disconnect until you realise you’re falling behind; “Today we will be discussing the habits of Mihal. Creatures who usually make their home in the mountains of the Munis region. Should we have the time I’ll also be taking you into the academy Copses to try and track a male Mihal.” There’s the scribbling of quills around you as everyone seems to be taking notes. Far away in your equipment locker, you’re sure that your saw just turned into shields.

> Furious note taking (Roll to learn)

> You’re totally left behind (Will change to Advanced instead of elite class)

> [CURIOSITY] Ask Questions.

> [PRIDE] Just ay attention, you don’t need notes. (Roll to learn)

> Write-In

Dunno why the letter p in pay got dropped, but it did.

Rolled 6 (1d20)

>>3098585
> [PRIDE] Just ay attention, you don’t need notes. (Roll to learn)

Rolled 4 (1d20)

>>3098585
>> Furious note taking (Roll to learn)

Rolled 13 (1d20)

>>3098585
NOTESSSS

Rolled 20 (1d20)

>>3098585
> [PRIDE] Just ay attention, you don’t need notes. (Roll to learn)
Yeah we can survive. If dying then coming back counts...
I can't remember if we are supposed to roll with or after so I'll just copy the others.

Gonna switch to Pay attention. Mostly cause Star asked me to call it once we get enough rolls via discord. And with that it is called

>>3099474
>>3099325
>>3098736
>>3098685
>>3098681

Confirming that I did ask someone to call it while trapped by sleeping fiancee.

Will write for Paying attention when I have time.

In future remember rolls come AFTER the vote is decided. I'll allow it this time because crit.

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>>3099474
>>3099325
>>3098736
>>3098685
>>3098681

For around thirty minutes you pay rapt attention to Zar Tan as he describes the Mihal, “Mihal are commonly found preparing to nest at this time of year. So you’ll find them exploring passes for caves suitable for habitation. The three things that a female will look for in her nest; deepwater for aquatic exit and entrance, easy access from peaks and extremely high elevations and solid stone to prevent tunnelling predators ambushing them.”

All around you people continue taking notes and you find yourself ignoring your own notebook, trying to envision the creature. “The Mihal we will be tracking however, is a sterilised male and will not be looking for a mate like most of his kin would at this time. Who here knows the differences between a male and female Mihal?”

Cellahad raises her hand a bit too quickly, almost dropping her books before being called upon, “Female Matriarchs have red colouring and spines. These spines send a unique venom that inhibits and paralyses people with intense pain. But male Mihal are amphibious and have such a powerful jaw that there is little that will not be grievously wounded by one bite.” By way of reward for her perfect answer, she simply gets a nod and a grunt. However the shark monster by your side blinks twice at this answer. Horribly, each eye is individually audible when it closes.

“The telltale signs of Mihal in the wild is that you will find patches of ground unusually well trodden, almost like a man made game trail. This is because the male Mihal; despite their size, are designed for speed both on land and water. So when they claim territory they will claim it in two ways, the first is flattening any long foliage. Bearing in mind their canine nature, what is the second Purps?” He asks you out of the blue catching you by surprise for a second.

“Well… Canines usually mark territory by scent.” You answer, not too confidently considering your monotone.

“Is that an answer or a question?” Zar asks.

“They use piss to scent mark.” You say a little more surely.

“Wrong. They use urine. Vocabulary matters in this class Purps. Don’t let your street slang happen again.” His voice is just as growly and flat as it is whenever he speaks outside of his lecture, but the titters of a couple classmate and the knowledge that you slipped up despite knowing the answer burns your cheeks.

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>>3101545

“Scent via urine. Visually via trampling. You’ll notice that despite this behaviour they have a pair of scythe like claws instead of more suited feet like hooves or large paws. Not many know that this is because all eight of the talon like claws are retractable. At extreme heights you’ll see Mihal digging in their claws to prevent gale force winds from carrying them off ledges or sending them careening off of peaks. Having that extra stability is essential at the top of the world….”

The lecture ends there, Zar gesturing at everyone to follow him through the underbrush. Since you don’t have anything to stow, you take off after him straight away, staring at the hide covered green skin as you trample across the campus toward a copse of trees that had been under both barrier and heavy guard.

Zar flashes a strange tablet, pressing it into the white dome that covers the entirety of the park so it recedes enough for his posse of students to enter. As the rest of the class catches up, he tosses his axes into the cold Earth where they sink deep. Without comment, he closes the barrier behind you, the students all chittering with excitement.

Several produce small hunting knives or alchemist pouches, the magically inclined students even summoning wands or staves. Those of you who favour melee are looking for somewhere to change into their equipment; they’d have to make do with daggers for offense - but at least they have some of their clothes.

Except you. Because of course Karhea and Bella didn’t think to tell you survival classes could involve a hunt. “Shit.” You say aloud, unfortunately within earshot of Zar Tan.

“Preparation.” He says, “Saves lives out there. Remember that. In. All things. Not just my class.”

“Thanks.” You say, your monotone tinged with bitterness. Now you need to come up with a plan to find this thing without any gear equipment or-.

Zar Tan explains the lesson, “You have one hundred and forty five minutes, I’ll be checking your notebooks for what you’ve learned. Go.”

Fortunately, you’re among those who are ready to go… you just need a plan.

> Group up (Pick 2, Cella, Stella, Shark Guy, Devil Boi, Random)

> [CURIOSITY] Use your speed, cover as much ground as possible

> [PRIDE] Pick a direction, set out

> Write-In

>>3101547
>> Group up (Pick 2, Cella, Stella, Shark Guy, Devil Boi, Random)
Cella, Shark guy

>>3101547
I'll support >>3101615 I guess, teaming up must count like preparation. I hope shark guy isn't to damn noisy though.

>>3101547
> [CURIOSITY] Use your speed, cover as much ground as possible

>>3101547

> [CURIOSITY] Use your speed, cover as much ground as possible

>>3101547
Backing >>3101615

>>3101990
>>3101977
>>3101948
>>3101828
>>3101615

CALLED FOR TEAM UP.

Gonna try and write.

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>>3101990
>>3101977
>>3101948
>>3101828
>>3101615

“Hey, big guy.” You punch the shark thing on the arm playfully, “Youuuu wanna team up?” He lumbers over top of you. Quite an unsettling sensation being the second or third tallest human woman that you’ve ever heard of. Not only does he tower over you in height, he’s probably as broad as a half dozen orc. The amphibious creature blinks at you, each eye closing separately and audibly, his mouth opens and you see more teeth than a dragon’s mouth.

“You. Swim two?” He asks, his neckless head looking down at you like an old man without his glasses.

All you can do is try to gesture, holding a finger on each hand up. “Yeah. Team up. Work together.” You bring both fingers together and nod, before pointing at both of you, “Yes?”

“Not scared? That is new.” He grins and you now know what everyone else must see when they stare at an emotionless killing machine like you, “Yes. Prince Xanadar. Swim Two with you.”

In response you offer a handshake to the giant, “Purps, Purps Lexington.Nice to meet you.” This results in an awkward moment where he just stands staring at your hand, so tiny and weak looking in front of this behemoth from the depths. He wraps a hand around yours as if you were handing him something, gripping you so tight that you’re suddenly worried you’re about to have your wrist snapped clean. Instead he just kind of holds your hand, more so in confusion than sentiment.

“You are my best friend.” He says, which makes you surprisingly grateful at having met him. You stare into the completely alien and blank eyes, feeling a strange kinship as you both emotionally stare into each other.

Unfortunately, this odd bonding moment is interrupted. Your roomate Cellahad, with her short red hair and glasses lingers next to you. “Hi there! I uh, couldn’t help but notice there’s a little team being put together and-” She makes the mistake of looking up at Xanadar, with an audible blink she goes completely pale and hides behind you.

File: Cellahad.png (1.49 MB, 900x900)

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>>3105072

With a sigh you ask, “Xanadar. Cellahad is the smartest person here. Swim three?”

“Swim Three.” He confirms.

“Alright Cella. You’re in. Where’s your freaky armour?” You ask somewhat brusquely as you note all she’s armed with is a book that could serve as a shield on a halfling or hobbit.

She just says something into the cloak of your uniform, balling her fist into it.

“Okay, louder this time Cella.” You demand, already guessing at the answer.

“I didn’t bring the chest since it’s really heavy and I figured he wouldn’t have two field exercises in a row.” She admits, looking so upset she might cry. “I need someone who can do the musclestuffsoIdon’tfailpleaseletmestayontheteam.”

You and Xanadar silently judge her, even if you’re pretending you aren’t. With a roll of your eyes you simply say, “C’mon. Most of the others have left, let’s go.” Marching off toward what the suns tell you is the North East.

Between the two you have brains and brawn you suppose, making you the speed and slash or skill. The only problem with that is…

“What’s the plan Purps?” Cellahad asks with a sniffle. You find her holding the huge book to her chest and walking between you and Xanadar, the giant creature bringing up the rear and looking like her summoned devil or familiar.

> You tell me genius

> We’re hunting a male right? They like water. Xanadar, do you have like; a water sense?

> We look for flattened grass

> Write-In

>>3105074
>> We look for flattened grass

>>3105074
>> We look for flattened grass, broken branches, oddly moved leaves- anything that indicates a pathway and that something's been along it.

>>3105074
>> We look for flattened grass

>>3105074
> We’re hunting a male right? They like water. Xanadar, do you have like; a water sense?
Fishboy, I choose you!

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>>3105725
>>3105280
>>3105152
>>3105085

Give me 3d10 best of 3. DC is 45.

Rolled 2, 5, 2 = 9 (3d10)

>>3106096

Rolled 2, 8, 7 = 17 (3d10)

>>3106096

Rolled 3, 2, 2 = 7 (3d10)

>>3106096

>>3106096
>DC is 45.
:/

Rolled 8, 1, 10 = 19 (3d10)

>>3106096

>>3106703
>>3106270
>>3106268
>>3106194
>>3106181

A DC of 45 would be silly!

OBVIOUSLY that says 25.

And the Crit is 28.

Duh.

Also we got 17.

Unless I count the 1 &10 Crit overriding 19.

I never thought how party mechanics would work with my dice. Will ponder.

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>>3106703
>>3106270
>>3106268
>>3106194
>>3106181

The three of you wander through the woods for some time, Cellahad having brokered some kind of deal to perch comically on the shoulder of Xanadar for a better vantage point. She’s got some kind of little tube for the panes of glass she had on her glasses. Were you not so focused on looking for trampled grass or listening for the sounds of wildlife, you’d have asked her about it. But instead, you seem to be the leader of this outfit, a position that put a little spring in your step and made your passage through the darkened groves of Academy Wood much more pleasant.

However, it also meant that the fall when you spotted the same shattered stump that you passed five minutes ago and ten minutes ago was all the more annoying. “We’re going in circles.” You say flatly, hands on your hips.

“That’s… not possible.” Cellahad states, looking at the suns that manage to peek through the boughs of a nearby Halroc tree. “Our navigation pattern should be taking us to the Northwest corner via sun navigation. You were using your Minervan senses perfectly.”

Internally you run the words Minervan senses through the huge infodump Minerva implanted into your brain when anointing you and find nothing. “That’s… not a thing.” You inform the scholar.

“What do you mean? The book of Minerva states-” She puts a solitary finger up as if the scripture written by the Arch Lector was some kind of amazing counterpoint.

In the interest of not arguing with her all day, you simply cut off the timid girl, “I literally have a link to Minerva in my head. It’s not a thing.”

She pouts, seemingly recalculating and opening her mouth before Xanadar speaks. “Watching us.” He says, pivoting his head. “No treesong.”

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>>3107461

Ordinarily you would ask if he was referring to birds or actual druidic magic. But instead you simply step close to him, making sure to avoid the long strands of hair and the almost barbed rough skin that adorns his tail. Standing back to back with some kind of sea person was not how you expected your second class to go, “Cellahad, what could we be dealing with?”

“This forest is totally artificial I have no idea wha-.” She yelps as Xanadar kneels and touches the earth, seemingly learning something.

“Magic.” He simply states. “Druidic.”

“Okay. That narrows things let me just-” It is when Cellahad reaches into her pack that she starts to scream, only to freeze in silence. Mid posture the girl seems to have been completely immobilized, leaving just you and Xanadar to defend her.

“Put her down. Keep your guard up.” You order, cracking your knuckles as Xanadar complies. “She’s paralysed but not petrified, so this isn’t a basilisk.

“No spell. Not know what do Red girl.” Xanadar says, now bearing his teeth and growling in a way that reminded you of your absent saw. You would give anything for it to be on your hip right now.

> [DETERMINATION] Stand your ground and be wary. Get a sight on whatever this is.

> [CURIOSITY] Magic might mean it’s sentient, call out to parley

> [FRUSTRATION] Grab Cella and climb a tree. Keep her safe while Xan holds out.

> [CRUELTY] Use Cellahad as bait to ambush it

> Write-In

>>3107464
>> [DETERMINATION] Stand your ground and be wary. Get a sight on whatever this is.

>>3107464
>> [DETERMINATION] Stand your ground and be wary. Get a sight on whatever this is.

>>3107464
>[DETERMINATION] Stand your ground and be wary. Get a sight on whatever this is.
Will Hona be disappointed when we fail?

>>3107464
[DETERMINATION] Stand your ground and be wary. Get a sight on whatever this is.

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>>3107725
>>3107550
>>3107533
>>3107474

Both of you simply remain vigilant and ready, trying to zero in on the location of whatever beast has you in its sights. The tension drags every second into what feels like an hour long experience, but eventually Xanadar breaks the silence, “It circles. Your right, moving to left.” His voice somehow sounds even more rough now, as if every word is painful to utter. You wish you had some way to help whatever was bothering him, but instead you’re going to have to keep him talking.

No matter how you look at the area in front of you, there is nothing there. So you hiss out the question, “Are you sure? There’s nothing there.”

Xanadar’s response sounds not unlike the croaking of a frog, it seems he’s trying to match your whisper. Unfortunately his biology just doesn’t seem to allow him anything but that painful sounding boom, “I see heartbeat. It paces to me now. Four leg. Poison tail. Wyvern.”

You absorb the information, trying to come up with a plan as best as you can. Wyverns were not physically tough; but incredibly tricky. They could shoot paralysing poison spines from their tail, were sentient and intelligent enough to communicate too. So you’d walked into it’s territory and been ambushed, either it didn’t appreciate your intrusion or its hungry or angry enough to go after tough prey.

As useful as that information is, you don’t really have much in the way of options. After all, it’s not like you’ve fought a wyvern before or even had much time to do studying up on them. If Cellahad wasn’t taken out you would have had a nice little ace up your sleeve, she’d probably have found some kind of weakness or- “It doesn’t know you can see it.” You realise quietly. Trying to factor in the element of surprise to your hasty strategies.

> [PRIDE] Get Xanadar to throw you at it

> [FEAR] We need to retreat, I’ll take Cella and go high; you force your way through low

> [DETERMINATION] I’ll bait a hit. You hurt it enough that you can escape with us

> [CURIOSITY] You got a plan Xanadar?

> Write-In

>>3110122
>> [FEAR] We need to retreat, I’ll take Cella and go high; you force your way through low

>>3110122
>[PRIDE] Get Xanadar to throw you at it
Ahahaha

>>3110122

> [CURIOSITY] You got a plan Xanadar?

>>3110122
>> [CURIOSITY] You got a plan Xanadar?