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First thread: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2907129/

>>3591517
>You’ve been cooped up in bed for a while. If you’re going to be heading out to parts unknown you might as well get yourself in shape--hit up the gymnasium and see what’s what.
Exercise is good for the brain too. Plus it can really make a good drink great afterward.

>>3591517
>All that time spent holed up in the infirmary has given you a weird craving for a stiff drink. Arnold mentioned there was a bar about? See if you can’t find it.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

Tie-break time.

1: Gym
2: Bar

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>>3591517
You consider seeing what’s up at the gymnasium but decide against it. Tomorrow, perhaps, but right now you’d really like a drink. The beer Arnold snuck in occasionally for you was nice, but all it did in the long run was make you crave something a little stronger.

With that decided, you head out in search of the bar. Fortunately a few queries to some of the passing staff informs you that it’s on the same level as the residential block. Makes sense, you suppose, and one elevator ride with a short walk on the side, there you stand.

Your first thought is that you’re impressed. Neither the cooks, nor your assigned room, were any kind of quirk. You feel certain now that the old man--or whoever his backers might be--splurged big time to make this place as comfortable as possible. Considering what they expect people like you to do, this seems like a smart thing to have done. The polished wood (mahogany, you think) of the bar surface gleams in the light, which shines just bright enough to give the place an uplifting mood without irritating the senses. A neat row of pool tables sit off to the side, six in all, arranged three by three.

It’s big, too. You could imagine the place quite easily accommodating upwards of a couple hundred individuals comfortably, with plush, leather settees occupying spaces around exceptionally well-varnished coffee tables, all made of the same, presumably expensive, material in addition to the stools at the foot of the bar itself.

The place is already occupied despite it being mid-afternoon, at least going by the clock just behind the bar counter. Surprising you, though, is the sight of familiar faces sitting pretty.

>Diedrich looks like he’s going to burn a hole through his glass if he keeps staring like that. Best go and see what’s up.
>Naru looks… wow, that’s a lot of empty glasses. Maybe go head that off before she makes an idiot of herself.
>Hey, that’s that Nathaniel guy. He looks pretty deep in thought, wonder what about.

>>3593716
>Naru looks… wow, that’s a lot of empty glasses. Maybe go head that off before she makes an idiot of herself.

>Diedrich looks like he’s going to burn a hole through his glass if he keeps staring like that. Best go and see what’s up.

>>3593716
>Naru looks… wow, that’s a lot of empty glasses. Maybe go head that off before she makes an idiot of herself.

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>>3593716
Diedrich sits off to one side looking grim. Your first thought is to wander on over and inquire once you’ve sorted out your own beverage…

...at least until your gaze rests upon Naru and the considerable number of empty glasses dotting the table she sits before. You’d have to be a special kind of shitty to just let that go, so after requesting a whiskey, which is served in quite remarkable time, you make your way towards the woozy looking Japanese woman.

“Howdy,” you greet cautiously.

“Hhhheeeey,” Naru slurs, noticing you, “I recognise you, youuu…”

“Yeah, been a while,” you nod, “How’s it going?”

“S’goin’… goin’...” she mumbles, reaching up to her forehead with a hand as if to steady herself, “Hmmnn, feels like...” she waves a hand about and promptly loses her trail of thought.

“That’s nice, Naru,” you say, and she giggles, lounging back in her seat.

“You know my name. That’s so nice!”

“Yes, I do.”

“You know my last name, too?”

“Sure I do,” you inform her, “You told it to me, after all. Takumi.”

“Ta-ku-miiiiiii,” she sing-songs, before repeating her surname out loud again, and again, like she’s tasting the way each syllable rolls off of her tongue. She giggles again, “Y’know what I like about you, Marc? You don’t… you don’t judge or… or any’ve’at shid.”

...Marc?

Hold the phone…

>My name’s not Marc. It’s Adam, and you’re unbelievably drunk.
>She thinks you’re someone else. Let’s just see where this is going, maybe you’ll learn something about her?

>>3595193
>My name’s not Marc. It’s Adam, and you’re unbelievably drunk.

>>3595193
>>My name’s not Marc. It’s Adam, and you’re unbelievably drunk.

>>3595193
>She thinks you’re someone else. Let’s just see where this is going, maybe you’ll learn something about her?

>>3595193
>She thinks you’re someone else. Let’s just see where this is going, maybe you’ll learn something about her?

>>3595193
>My name’s not Marc. It’s Adam, and you’re unbelievably drunk.

>>3595193
For a moment, you’re sorely tempted to let this play out. Clearly the girl’s got issues if she’s getting this wasted at this time of day. At the same time, though, you’re not really about taking advantage of drunk girls. You’ve never needed to, and you’ve thought precious little of those who did. Maybe doing so now might let you learn a few things, but, at the same time, it’d feel pretty wrong.

Good thing you’re oh so principled.

“I’m not Marc, Naru. I’m Adam, and you’re pretty drunk.”

She blinks up at you, squinting, like she’s really seeing you.

“But… you’ve got blond hair.”

“So do a lot of guys, Naru,” you suppress the urge to sigh. You’re really starting to feel like some kind of guidance counsellor or therapist now. Maybe you really were one in a past life, “I’m not him.”

She stares for a few moments longer before her face falls, lingering on the table and all her empty glasses. Blinking in bemusement, she looks at them all like she’s going to start counting them all of a sudden.

“Oh, wowww uh… that’s a lotta glasses, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

“I got into it, didn’t I?”

“Looks like,” you agree.

“I uhhh...” her eyelids flutter, and for a moment, you think she’s about to pass out on you, but she fights and just about manages to hold onto consciousness, “Woah, eh-hmm” she clears her throat.

“You okay there?”

“I uh… I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“This… I think? Also thinking you were--that you were someone else. ‘M sorrrrry.”

You shrug, though she can’t see it, “It’s fine. People do daft stuff when they’ve tried punching above their weight.”

“‘Zzat a short joke?” she snaps her head up, eyes locking onto you with an indignant expression that’s halfway between frown and pout. It’s actually pretty funny to look at.

“Whassso funny? You laughin’?”

“No, no. Never,” you assure her, quickly bottling up your amusement and clearing your own throat, “So, this? What was the occasion? Someone die a year ago or something?” That would be a weird little coincidence.

“What? No, no, it’s--” she chews on the inside of her lip, her inebriated mind struggling for an answer, “...maybe, yeah.”

“What, really?”

“Well not a year ago, it was… fuuuuck, that thing that happened. The big thing.”

“There’s a war on, Naru. There are a lot of ‘big things’ that have happened,” you regret getting snarky almost immediately--it feels pretty damn stupid doing it to a drunk person.

“The fffuggin’--Pearl! Thassit!”

(Cont.)

>>3596990
Ah. That one. Even one as relatively ignorant to the affairs of the world beyond your home city had heard of the treacherous sneak attack. You doubt there was a single man or woman in the nation who didn’t know about it.

“Shit,” you grimace, “I’m sorry to hear that, Naru. Really, I am.”

“Ffffuckin’ Japs,” she grinds, and you almost take a step back when you hear the venom in her voice. There’s hatred there. Real, genuine hatred; low and guttural, like merely speaking the word is akin to giving voice to the vilest of curses, “Like fuckin’ cowards. No warning orrr… or nothing! Jus’...”

>That’s why you joined the Navy, isn’t it?
>Sorry, but I’m confused. Why try to hit the Japs if you’re, uh, you know…?
>Your buddy died there, didn’t he? Marc?

>>3596991
>Your buddy died there, didn’t he? Marc?
Makes the most sense from the little info she gave us

>>3596991
>That’s why you joined the Navy, isn’t it?
The implication may be enough as is.

>>3596991
>That’s why you joined the Navy, isn’t it?

>>3596991
>That’s why you joined the Navy, isn’t it?

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>>3596991
“That’s why you joined the Navy,” you deduce. Honestly, it wasn’t hard to figure out she had deeply personal reasons to do so. She went as far as glamouring herself up to disguise the fact that she’s a woman--a Japanese woman, more to the point, irrespective of how she may not consider herself one. You have half a mind to ask why she went for the Navy and not, say, the Army, or the Marines, but decide that, tough as she seems, even she’d probably have a difficult time keeping up the masquerade in that kind of environment.

“He was on the…” Naru hesitates, eyes crossing as she tries to think through her severely intoxicated state, “hhhellwiddit, he was on a big ship. Wouldn’t shuddup bouddit in the letters he’d send. Nevv’r found out if he died’r not but--” she slams her head down on the table with enough force that the impact makes you wince. Naru, however, seems to care not, “But I never got another letter, and his mom...” she trails off once more, though you’re pretty sure you can guess what she’s getting at.

“Sorry to hear,” you tell her. You didn’t know the guy, but he must have meant something special to the tiny young woman for his presumed demise to have kicked off… well, all of this.

“So, what was he like?” you ask, trying to steer her onto maybe happier memories.

She sniffs, doing a pretty great impression of a buzzsaw, which draws a few quizzical looks from the other patrons. You give them your best sheepish ‘friend-of-drunk-person’ grin and return your attention to Naru, who has picked her face up from the table. Progress.

“He was...” she blinks rapidly, her onyx hair messy and covering much of her face, “He was a dumb idiot is what he was!” she huffs, “I mean, he comes up to me and asks what’s wrong with my face when we were six years old! Can you believe that?! And when I tell him I’m J--foreign, he looks at me like I’m some kind of goddamned weirdo! And then--”

This… goes on for a while, and you’re starting to get flashbacks of a particular kind. Namely of a particular kind of woman who perhaps ventures into a hotel with a gentleman for a particular kind of entertainment while her partner is maaaybe out of town for a few days who winds up moaning about their other half.

You don’t know if you find this awkward or funny as all get out.

“--and the guy had this girl hanging off his damn arm all the time! Like she was glued there or something! I think it was his stupid, sexy voice. His parents were French, I think so--”

Mhm. Yeah. No, this is just funny.

>Sounds like you were in luuuurve.
>He sounds like he was a good guy. I’m sorry I never got to know him.

>>3598029
>He sounds like he was a good guy. I’m sorry I never got to know him.

>>3598029
>Sounds like you were in luuuurve.
>He sounds like he was a good guy. I’m sorry I never got to know him.

>>3598029
>He sounds like he was a good guy, and you cared about him. I’m sorry I never got to know him.

>>3598029
>He sounds like he was a good guy, and you cared about him. I’m sorry I never got to know him.
MWAHAHA THE FRENCH.

>>3598029
>>He sounds like he was a good guy. I’m sorry I never got to know him.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>3598029
“Sorry I never got to know him,” you say, “It sounds like he was a good guy, and that you cared about him a whole lot.”

“No one said anything about love!” she snaps up at you, and you’re pretty sure her face wouldn’t look that red even with all the alcohol she’s ingested.

“Woah there,” you soothe, although there’s no concealing the smug grin that splits your face, “I never said it was.”

Even in her current state, Naru seems aware enough of what she’s admitted to. Scrunching her face up in adorably childish fashion, she lashes out with one of her tiny fists and slugs your thigh.

“Ow,” you say, more for effect than out of any real agony caused.

“Asshole,” she mumbles, “Catchin’ me off guarrrrd like that. Jus’ the same way he used to.”

You decide that the effort of telling her she did that to herself would be entirely wasted, so you opt for a shrug instead.

“Yeah. He was a good guy. The--” she pauses to belch, which draws a few more odd looks from the other folks about, “Ahh, the--the--the best kind’ve guy, y’know? He nnnever cared I looked diffr’nt’re nothing. Always checked up t’make sure I was doing all right an’... he had this dumb little grin he’d wear when we were talkin’...”

You listen to Naru vent for another five minutes. Apparently the guy took up smoking a few months before he joined the Navy; a habit she wasn’t personally too keen on. So, what did she do but steal the man’s cigarettes and hide them away? Kind of reminds you of the way a few boys you used to know would pull and tug at the hair of girls they liked when they were young. It’s kind of cute, in a way. Kind of dickish, too. Finally, though, she seems to run out of steam, looking a little more sober at least.

“You good?” you ask, after a moment spent in silence.

“No,” she responds, sounding miserable, “But that--that ain’t nothing new. I’ll...” she stares down at the empty glasses she’s amassed and hisses, “Shit, I’m a wreck. I’m just gonna--gonna go back to my room and sleep this off.”

“You sure you’ll be all right making your way back?”

She makes a very unladylike snort of derision, “Please! I’m offa my tiny ass, but I was still trained by the best daaaamn navy on the planet, I can take care’ve myself!”

“If you’re sure,” you say, unsure as to how that might serve her if she can’t find her way. At the same time, you feel pretty sure nothing will happen to her either way. Hell, maybe she’ll pass out and some poor soul will drop her off at the Infirmary.

“Hey,” she says, looking up at you unsteadily.

“Hm?”

“Thanks,” she tells you, “Fer listening to all’ve my bullshit. It was… hell it’s pretty swell of ya.”

(Cont.)

>>3599196
"No problem," you shrug.

She chuckles to herself--some private drunk joke, most likely, and picks herself up from the settee before stumbling out of the bar. You note that no one seems to bat so much as an eyelash at the sight; clearly it’s not an uncommon one. You’re not sure how that makes you feel.

Well, now you’re left to your own devices with an as yet untouched glass of whiskey. You wonder if someone might trot into the bar in half an hour’s time and listen to your problems for a change. That would make a nice change.

No?

Figures.

>Diedrich still looks like he’s brooding something fierce. Maybe some light harassment will make him (you) feel better.
>Nathaniel’s not gone anywhere. Might make for more interesting conversation than your glass.
>Actually, you think you’ve had your fill of listening to other people for one day. You’ll just finish your drink in peace (Timeskip to next operation)

>>3599198
>Actually, you think you’ve had your fill of listening to other people for one day. You’ll just finish your drink in peace (Timeskip to next operation)

>>3599198
>Diedrich still looks like he’s brooding something fierce. Maybe some light harassment will make him (you) feel better.

>>3599198
>Nathaniel’s not gone anywhere. Might make for more interesting conversation than your glass.

>>3599198
>Nathaniel’s not gone anywhere. Might make for more interesting conversation than your glass.
Give Diedrich a bit more time to brood.

>>3599198
>>Nathaniel’s not gone anywhere. Might make for more interesting conversation than your glass.

Hey folks, afraid there's not going to be an update this evening or tomorrow morning. I had to get a lot done and I kind of underestimated how long it'd all take. I'm also moving out of my current place tomorrow and the truck shows up early and that's it's own festival of fun. Hopefully I should be all set up by mid-afternoon at the latest so I'll continue as normal around then or the usual evening time.

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>>3599198
Nathaniel doesn’t look up as you approach him. In fact he doesn’t realise you’re even there until you plop yourself down on the seat opposite, causing him to start.

“Oh! Sorry, old man, you quite took me by surprise.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” you observe, keenly, “You looked pretty wrapped up inside your own head there. What’s that saying you Brits have, uh, ahhh, dime for your thoughts?”

“Penny,” he corrects you with an amused twinge at the corner of his mouth.

“Close enough,” you shrug, “And the question stands.”

“Does it, now?” he leans back, and you allow yourself to get a good look at the man. He’s certainly got the aristocrat look and feel to him, though what on earth an English gentleman would be doing here of all places…

You stop that train of thought before it goes much further. They’ve really got all sorts here: men, women, foreigners, kids. What’s really so strange about this particular man’s background with that in mind?

One thing you do find strange is that hair of his, though. Silvery it might look, but it packs the lustre of youth. It isn’t thinning and he definitely isn’t balding, so what’s with the colour? He can’t have been born that way, surely--he’d have been driven to a hermitage by his peers at whatever school posh old boys like him go.

“Something interest you, perchance?” he asks, and you feel a little embarrassed when you realise you’ve been staring.

“Sorry, sorry,” you say, “Didn’t mean to get all weird, it’s just--”

“It’s an unusual shade, I know. Don’t worry, I’ve long become used to the quizzical looks,”

Yeah, you don’t doubt.

You half-expect him to carry on, but instead, he sits in place and waits patiently. As ever, it looks like it’s up to you to carry on the conversation.

>So, what IS up with the hair, if it’s not too personal a question?
>How’d you come to be here, anyway?
>Not seeing that sword of yours anywhere. Had a little bet going on with Arnold to see if the thing was glued to you.

>>3602636
>Not seeing that sword of yours anywhere. Had a little bet going on with Arnold to see if the thing was glued to you.

>>3602636
>Not seeing that sword of yours anywhere. Had a little bet going on with Arnold to see if the thing was glued to you.

>>3602636
>Not seeing that sword of yours anywhere. Had a little bet going on with Arnold to see if the thing was glued to you.

>>3602636
“Leave that sword of yours behind?” you query.

“Say again?” Nathaniel’s brow furrows in puzzlement.

“You’ve not got your sword at your side,” you note, motioning vaguely to his waist, from which it would usually hang from.

“Ah. Well, no. It’s not as if I need it everywhere I go.”

“Damn,” you curse softly, “I had a little bet going with Arnold. I thought you’d carry that thing everywhere with you, and he bet that you didn’t.”

“Oh. Apologies for disappointing.”

You shrug, “It’s only a few bucks. Or whatever six of these ‘shillings’ are that you Brits use. I’ll probably just buy him a drink or two at the bar instead.”

He chuckles in response, “I see. That might work.”

“Man likes his drink,” you say, “Can pack it away better than most people I know, too.”

“He does seem like that sort of individual,” Nathaniel agrees.

“Are you?”

“Hm?”

You wave a hand at the table, which is bare, save for your own glass, “Not seeing a drink here.”

“Ah, no. I’m afraid alcohol and I scarce get along. A long time ago it was different, but now?” he shakes his head, “No, I’ve come to find I rather like having my wits about me.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” you incline your head. Lord knows some of the toughest marks of yours back home have been made almost insultingly easy when enough drink has been imbibed. Not that you were complaining at the time.

“So, what do you do here then, if you don’t come to enjoy a pleasant drink or some pleasant company?”

“I’ve found that I've taken an interest in watching people,” he responds easily.

“Watching people?”

“Perhaps people watching sounds better, but yes. Not in a voyeuristic sense, I’ll hasten to add.”

“Uh huh,” you say, not a hundred percent convinced, but you guess it’s not like he’s harming anyone. “So, what, you just… watch people?”

“Obviously,” he nods with a wry grin, “I like to guess what they do, what they’ve done with themselves. Sometimes I’ll catch snippets of what they talk about and sometimes these will confirm my thoughts but it tends to be that this isn’t the case. Less and less of late, though,” he adds, “I’ve gotten rather good at it in recent years.”

“So, eavesdropping and peeping,” you note, “I’ve heard of worse hobbies.”

He lets your jab slide and turns his gaze away from you to observe a cluster of people waiting, conversing and drinking at the bar.

“All right, let’s see what this is all about,” you decide, “How about…”

>That thin guy and the Mexican-looking broad at the end of the bar. What about them?
>The gaggle of whitecoats surrounding the nervous-looking younger whitecoat. That look like some kind of initiation ritual to you?
>The grizzled looking guy in the leather jacket sitting on his own who seems like he’s been run through the wringer. He as interesting as he looks?

>>3604166
>The gaggle of whitecoats surrounding the nervous-looking younger whitecoat. That look like some kind of initiation ritual to you?

>>3604166
>That thin guy and the Mexican-looking broad at the end of the bar. What about them?

>>3604166
>The grizzled looking guy in the leather jacket sitting on his own who seems like he’s been run through the wringer. He as interesting as he looks?

>>3604166
>The gaggle of whitecoats surrounding the nervous-looking younger whitecoat. That look like some kind of initiation ritual to you?

>>3604166
You nod to a group of people in white coats, all clustered around another younger member of who you assume are from R&D or something like. The younger guy looks pretty nervous while the others cloister around jabbering excitably. A new recruit, you’d assume. You jerk your head in their direction.

“So, what about them? What do you think the story is there?”

Nathaniel chuckles, “Well, that’s quite an easy one. Mr Centre of Attention there has gotten engaged to a fine young lady on site. I haven’t discovered which department she works in just yet, but her name is Annabelle. His coworkers have figured this out, and they’re giving him a celebratory round. As you can see, this particular old chap isn’t too used to being in the spotlight.”

“You know all this off the top of your head?” you ask, dubious.

He inclines his head, “It’s taken practice, to be sure. I was the very definition of an inattentive youth, so learning to focus my attention was...” he half-grins in self-deprecated amusement, “difficult.”

“Uh huh,” you nod, still not entirely convinced, “So, really, was any of what you just said just now actually true or not?”

“Why don’t we find out?” he asks, and, with a twinkle in his amber eyes before raising his voice to actually call out to the group, “Hello there! Pardon my asking, but how is Annabelle?”

The group turns around, brief confusion at having been called out too soon replaced by joviality as the apparently familiar name crops up. Huh. Looks like the guy was right on the money.

“She’s doing great!” says a dumpy looking middle aged guy with a wide, grandfatherly smile.

“Doing much better now Nick’s finally put a ring on her!” another one, slightly younger, chimes in, gently nudging a blushing Nick with his elbow.

“Can you believe they’ve been dating for almost two years, now?”

Two years? You’re almost curious as to how they ended up here together--that itself might turn out to be some kind of story.

“Well, give the lucky man a drink on me. Come to think of it, take a whole round, let the gentleman behind the bar know it’s on Nathaniel,” the silver-haired Brit says with a warm grin. As the group cheers and salutes with their glasses, he turns to face you with a cocked eyebrow and a subtle hint of smugness about him.

“All right,” you concede, “Wasn’t trying to bite your arm off or anything, just curious is all.”

He shrugs, “To be fair, the crowd present at the moment have been quite regular these past few days so I’ve gotten to know most of them through rather indirect means. There’ll be other days, however, where I’d be completely guessing.”

(Cont.)

>>3605494
You hum and take a sip of your drink. The liquid burn at the back of your throat is reassuringly familiar, and while you’re far from a connoisseur, you’re pretty certain that this is a pretty good brand. Clearly there was little in the way of expense with regard to supplying the bar, at least where quality is concerned. Indeed, now you actually scan the rest of the bar, you can see hardly any full or half-full glasses. Everything’s been drained almost to the last drop. Encouraging, you suppose.

“So, you’ve asked me a question, I think it’s only fair that I ask you one in return,” Nathaniel states.

“Sure,” you agree with a shrug, silently pleased that you don’t have to put in the work for once.

“Zafi informed me that you were making a living through, well, let’s just say less than savoury methods. I hesitate to inquire as to what pushed you towards such a path, but at the same time I must confess I’m curious.”

“Awful personal, don’t you think? Considering all I asked you about was your hobby here.”

He grimaces, “Apologies. I understand if you’re hesitant to talk to a stranger about it.”

>...I tried other options. I really did. None of them panned out and eventually, well, I fell in with a bad crowd. It just kind of grew from there.
>It sounds pretty bad, but I never really considered anything else with my skillset and background. I didn’t go to school and no one in any kind of honest work looks too fondly at urchins like me. Met a mobster, though, who taught me a few things...
>Actually, yeah, it’s kind of personal. I’d rather not get into it.

>>3605498
>...I tried other options. I really did. None of them panned out and eventually, well, I fell in with a bad crowd. It just kind of grew from there.
No friends or family to help me, not many choices.

>>3605498
>Actually, yeah, it’s kind of personal. I’d rather not get into it.

>>3605498
>It sounds pretty bad, but I never really considered anything else with my skillset and background. I didn’t go to school and no one in any kind of honest work looks too fondly at urchins like me. Met a mobster, though, who taught me a few things...

Rolled 1 (1d3)

WELL THEN.

1 - I tried...
2 - It sounds pretty bad
3 - Actually it's personal

>>3605498
To answer, or not to answer is a question you mull over for what feels like an inordinate amount of time. Finally, you decide that the man’s not particularly likely to blab about it to everyone and their mothers.

“I tried other things,” you say, slowly, “I did. But growing up in the neighbourhood I did, without any real friends or family?” You shake your head, “That doesn’t lend itself well to an honest upbringing. I was young when my dad… died. I had to learn of a way to get by and learn it fast and I wasn’t about to run myself into the local orphanage; no way, no how.”

Nathaniel nods along, listening intently. His eyes are fixed on you, but they hold no judgement that you can discern. You feel your respect for the man grow just a little for that.

“So I did what I had to. I looked, I learned, and I adapted. Slow, painful going at first, but after the first...” you tilt your head, recalling, “Year and half? Two years? I managed to get the hang of it, and another few months later I was good enough that going into something more legitimate would have been less comfortable.”

“Less comfortable than skirting the outward boundaries of the law every day?”

You shrug, “I never hurt no one. Not on purpose. Violence was always in self-defence and I damn sure never went out with the intention of picking any fights. No, I stole cash, the odd valuable, and once in a while I’d pay a visit to some upper-class apartment in the ritzier parts of town, but I made it a policy not to take anything that looked like it might have sentimental value or couldn’t be replaced easily enough.”

“And how exactly did you know whether or not the things you took weren’t or were either of those things, respectively?” he asks with an arched eyebrow. Again, though, you don’t feel any judgement. The man appears genuinely curious.

“I… I didn’t,” you admit, “I went with my gut. Tried my best to stick to my rules as best I could, you know?”

“You might very well be the first thief I’ve ever met with a code of honour,” Nathaniel remarks, a wry smirk of amusement upon his face.

You shrug, “Code, rules, whatever. I’m no thug--my pap raised me better than that, at least.”

“And yet on the other hand, you’d quite comfortably have removed Zafi’s memories following a night of, ahem, fun.”

You bristle at the memory of that infamous night, though you manage to rein your temper in.

“Not always ‘comfortably’,” you manage, “And whether you believe me or not, sometimes it was actually for the best. Some dames got too attached or asked questions and I wasn’t in any kind of position to allow for that. A little memory alteration lets everyone believe it was all just a bit of harmless fun and walk away happy.”

(Cont.)

>>3608341
“Why couldn’t you have allowed it?” Nathaniel probes.

“Look, just drop it,” you insist, feeling more than a little uncomfortable with the prodding, “I wasn’t looking for a relationship.”

“Wasn’t? So you are, now?”

“I said drop it!” you snap, blinking as you realise you’re actually feeling pretty heated. Nathaniel leans back in his chair, hands up and gesturing in a placating manner.

“I do apologise, my good man,” he says, sounding genuine enough, for whatever that’s really worth, “I get a little carried away at times. You’re not the first person I’ve ticked off in such fashion and I’m quite sure you’ll not be the last. Please, take another drink--let the staff know that it’s on me, again.”

That mollifies you a little; though you’d be lying if you said you’re not still a little ticked off. Sucking in a breath, you finish your whiskey before raising the glass to Nathaniel, “Thanks for the free drink,” you say, finding your voice clipped with still smouldering irritation.

“It’s not quite free,” he muses aloud, “Though you are welcome. Once again, I am sorry for any offence caused.”

You offer him a grunt by way of a response. The British gentleman says nothing to that, simply nodding before turning his attention to some of the other patrons. You remember seeing Diedrich and glance around to look for the German, but he must have made his exit, as he’s no longer present. Getting your drink from the bar, you drain the contents in two gulps and leave, trying to recall if the bed in your assigned quarters was softer than the infirmary mattress.

It was.
***

>>3608346
A few more blissfully uneventful days pass, but you knew it was coming eventually. The old man sends for you and, sighing, you roll yourself out of bed and put the book you’d taken from the library down. Making your way down to the Command Centre, you meet up with the rest of your team in various states of dishevelment. Grim stands before you with a grizzled, brown-haired man perhaps a few years older than you are in a leather jacket standing just behind him. Looks like a flunky if ever you’ve seen one, though you’d be a fool to discount him as harmless. There’s an aura about him that makes you wary as anything.

“Good afternoon,” Grim begins, “We have an urgent situation and I’m afraid you’re the only full-strength team available on hand to send.”

Joy.

>Three battalions worth of Allied and Japanese troops have vanished in a remote region within the nation of Burma.
>An archaeologist pal of Grim’s has unearthed something in occupied Poland. He sounded pretty shook up about it, too.
>A holiday resort in the Great Lakes region has gone dark. Last intel reports a lot of screaming.

>>3608350
>A holiday resort in the Great Lakes region has gone dark. Last intel reports a lot of screaming.

I'm feeling Silent Hill-y for this one.

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>>3608350
>A holiday resort in the Great Lakes region has gone dark. Last intel reports a lot of screaming.
I'm thinking Wendigo. Or Skinwalkers.
>>3608365
Mah nigga.

>>3608350
>A holiday resort in the Great Lakes region has gone dark. Last intel reports a lot of screaming.
>>3608433
Bring fire, get something for inside and something for outside. We aren't sure if the fighting is inside or outside, so maybe get a rifle and Sawed Off Shotgun if that's a sidearm option.

>>3608350
>Three battalions worth of Allied and Japanese troops have vanished in a remote region within the nation of Burma.
Time to burn lots of trees.

>>3608350
>>A holiday resort in the Great Lakes region has gone dark. Last intel reports a lot of screaming.

>>3608350
>A holiday resort in the Great Lakes region has gone dark. Last intel reports a lot of screaming.
Bring flamethrowers

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>>3608433
That's a pretty nice image. Yoink!

>>3608350
“You’ll be headed to the Great Lakes region. A resort in northernmost Michigan has gone dark. Last reports were of screaming and our scryers inform us that there is a mist shrouding the area which is entirely unnatural.”

Wonderful.

“Any idea what’s causing it?” Iszolda asks, thankfully not wearing that creepy little half-smile of hers.

“Suspicions abound, but no, I’m afraid we don’t know,” Grim shakes his head, “It could well be any number of things, so go in prepared for anything.”

“Can the bloodsuckers work this kind’ve thing?” Arnold queries, and you note there’s a feral light blazing in his eyes when he brings up the possibility of a vampire attack.

“The lesser breed are utterly incapable of magecraft whatsoever. If it were, it would be a High Vampire. These are rare, though, and unless driven by some truly dire circumstances, they’d have no interest in such an overt display.”

Arnold deflates, like he’s disappointed, “Y’did say t’be prepped fer anything,” he mumbles.

“We could indulge in the process of elimination and still be here by tomorrow morning,” Grim says, the lines on his face deepening as he frowns, “which would avail no one. I need to find out what happened up there and why. We know the resort is surrounded by thick woodland, so I’d advise against bringing anything with a long barrel.”

“So we’re not there to kill everything trying to murder us?” wonders Naru as she scratches at her arm.

“I’m not so callous as to send you on a Search and Destroy operation when we’ve no idea what you’d be up against. This is strictly reconnaissance and, when you’ve located either the source of the disturbance or found out what’s causing the mist, you’re to pull back and await reinforcements so the area can be cleared fully.”

“Wait,” you mutter, “Wait, I thought you said we were the only team you had available.”

“The only full-strength team, if you’ll recall,” Grim corrects, “Once you’ve accomplished your objective and called back, I’ll be sending a strike force of mixed teams under Mister Dawson here,” he gestures with an arm to the guy at his back, who nods curtly, “You will then assist in rooting out whatever has taken hold.”

It’s a little less than comforting knowing that you’ll be headed right back into an area filled with presumably horrible beasties, but you take some small consolation in knowing you’ll at least have considerably more backup when you do.

>Questions? Also seeing a few of you suggest fire. Want to lock in balefire special ammunition now?

>>3609840
>"Are there any maps of the resort/immediate surrounding area available?"

>>3609840
>"If you got a large bag or backpack in storage, I'd like to borrow it for this mission."
Just so we can REALLY stock up.

>>3609840
>Take balefire

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>>3609840
“So, do we have any maps of the resort available, then? A few of those would probably come in handy,” you query.

“You’ll all be issued with one just before you leave,” the old man confirms with a nod, “Anything else?”

“Just that if there’s a big backpack or something around that no one’s using, I’d like to have it.”

“Why?” Diedrich wonders.

“If I’m going back out into a danger zone, I’m bringing all the firepower I can,” you respond and, already, you’ve got a pretty good idea of which particular toy from the Armoury you’ll be snagging.

“...can I second that?” the German asks a moment later.

***
As it happens, there is a backpack. It’s not a big one, but it’s extra space, and you’ll be dumping as much extra crap in there as you can feasibly carry. Not least a whole heap of balefire for whatever you end up picking out. The Armourer greets you all with a typical gruff nod and grunt that you feel pretty sure will become a mainstay of your visits here.

Glancing over the selection, you have to admit, there is an awful lot of firepower here. Enough to start and finish a small war, you imagine. Carbines, rifles, shotguns, handguns, guns, guns, guns, all sorts of guns!

Well, thankfully, you can narrow down your options thanks to what Grim suggested earlier. Thick woodland won’t be any place for a sniper, not that you’ve any experience with such precise arms to begin with, mind. Close quarters is the order of the day, it seems.

>Pick a primary:
>Carbine
>Submachine gun
>Shotgun

>Also I saw one anon suggested a sawn-off as a sidearm selection so I thought I might as well put this up for a vote as well.
>Handgun
>Sawn-off

>>3610996
>Shotgun
>Handgun
Are there any revolvers? Those are classy guns.
...I just really like revolvers, okay?

>>3610996
>Submachine gun
>Sawn-off
>>3611082
The main reason for selecting a Revolver are Simplicity making jamming almost a non-issue. There is a slight increase in power for the bullet used as well. Unless the gun itself is magic, semi-auto would be more practical I think.

>>3610996

>Carbine
>Sawn-off

I don't think acquiring mundane equipment/supplies should be a problem given our location.

>>3610996
>Submachine gun
>Handgun

>>3610996
>Carbine
Solid mix of power and speedy fire.

>Handgun
We can get a high caliber if we really want, but mostly I'm voting this in case we need to keep a hand free but still want some defensive capability.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

Aight, seeing a tie between carbine/smg.

1 - Carbine
2 - SMG

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Sorry for the two hour-ish delay. Got pulled away.

>>3610996
You decide to go for something perhaps a little lighter, and maybe capable of spitting out more bullets. Even someone like you could probably hit something if they fill the air with enough rounds, and if this is going to be the close-quarters nightmare it’s been made out to be, it’s not like you’ll have much room to miss in the first place.

For this reason, your eyes are drawn to a familiar sight even to you. The weapon was the poster-child of organised crime, and still is to some extent, judging by some of the movies being made featuring the infamous firearm. You pick the Tommy Gun (or Thompson, you think its actual name is), noting the weight. It’s lighter than you’d imagined it would be, though to be fair, the thing isn’t loaded yet. You snag a fistful of box magazines--no drums, to your slight disappointment--and as much balefire ammunition as you can fit into your backpack

“You don’t think you’re going a little overboard with all that?” Naru asks, looking pointedly up at you. She’s picked out the same sleek-looking carbine that she did in France. No doubt, then, that she’s likely familiar with the gun. Fair enough, you suppose.

“Not at all,” you reply, “I’d rather lug all this crap around and not need it than be in a real tight spot and find myself wishing I’d brought more.”

She ponders on what you tell her for a moment before shrugging her shoulders, “All right, I guess. Just make sure you leave some space for anything else we might need.”

“That’s the plan,” you return.

Glancing over to the others, you find that Iszolda has picked out what you assume is also of the submachine gun family, an almost amusingly thin-looking piece with a crescent magazine. The thing looks like it might fall apart if she shakes it too hard. Likely Russian-made. Arnold, meanwhile has grabbed another shotgun, this one a pump-action as opposed to the double-barrel he brought along in France. Diedrich, once again, has opted for the machinery of his homeland, bringing along a squat but almost assuredly lethal armament. Thus kitted up, you make your way to the summoning chamber in the depths of the facility--or the teleportarium, as some among the staff are referring to it.

The old man and the stiff-necked grunt in the jacket are there waiting for you, along with Nathaniel, before any of them utter so much as a word, you hear Des’ bubbly voice echo in your head.

Testing, testing! All systems green on my end; your team mind-link is good to go! You all be safe out there, now!

(Cont.)

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>>3612387
Were it not for your imminent travels taking you to parts unknown and almost assuredly occupied by dangerous beasts of some kind, you’d probably feel some kind of warmth at the sound of the eminently chipper young woman’s voice, and her well wishes. The moment is further soured as Grim hands each of you a map of the resort, cementing the knowledge that this is all actually happening once again. The area is fairly sizeable, with a main lodge lying at the centre, and small clusters of cabins spreading out almost like a spider’s web around it. Most, however, sit along the edge of Lake Huron, no doubt so the occupants can wake up or relax with no doubt a splendid view of this little slice of America.

“Remember, you are not there to start a fight,” Grim reminds you, “You are there primarily to investigate the source of this occurrence. Once you have, use the telepathic link we have set up to notify Mister Dawson and he will bring in the cavalry to assist in cleanup.”

Somehow you doubt it will be that easy, but you nod along anyway. Dawson gives you a casual wave that you aren’t sure what to make of, so you return it with a simple nod. With nothing else left to say or do, you and the others stand in the centre of the great summoning circle and squeeze your eyes shut…

***
When you next open your eyes, you find yourselves standing on a dirt road in a brisk, chilly forested area. The woodland isn’t especially thick, allowing you to see a fair distance ahead. The sight, however, is far from a comforting one. There’s a wall of mist roughly a hundred metres away, swirling gently in the cool breeze, but neither advancing nor retreating.

Yeah, that’s magic if ever you’ve seen it.

“So…” Arnold shifts in place, rapping his fingers on the frame of his firearm, “What’s the plan, boss?”

You fish out the map and ponder…

>You’ll head straight to the main lodge. If anything serious occurred, that’s the most likely place people would have gathered and thus the most likely place you’d find clues.
>The cabins by the lake are fairly out of the way. Assuming whatever hit this place didn’t come from the waters, that would be the most likely area you could find survivors who could tell you what happened themselves.
>You’ll make your way in and start from the outer perimeter, searching cabin by cabin and moving steadily inwards. It’ll be slow going, but it’ll be methodical and precise and hopefully yield less chance of getting ambushed and eaten.

>>3612388
>You’ll make your way in and start from the outer perimeter, searching cabin by cabin and moving steadily inwards. It’ll be slow going, but it’ll be methodical and precise and hopefully yield less chance of getting ambushed and eaten.
>"Everyone stick reasonably close to each other, let's not get separated in this mist."

>>3612388
>You’ll make your way in and start from the outer perimeter, searching cabin by cabin and moving steadily inwards. It’ll be slow going, but it’ll be methodical and precise and hopefully yield less chance of getting ambushed and eaten.
>"Everyone stick reasonably close to each other, let's not get separated in this mist."
It's times like these that we should have brought rope.

>>3612387
I wish to note that in actuality Thompson is heavy AF.

>>3612388
>You’ll make your way in and start from the outer perimeter, searching cabin by cabin and moving steadily inwards. It’ll be slow going, but it’ll be methodical and precise and hopefully yield less chance of getting ambushed and eaten.

>>3612388
>You’ll make your way in and start from the outer perimeter, searching cabin by cabin and moving steadily inwards. It’ll be slow going, but it’ll be methodical and precise and hopefully yield less chance of getting ambushed and eaten.
>"Everyone stick reasonably close to each other, let's not get separated in this mist."

>>3612388

>>3612388
>You’ll make your way in and start from the outer perimeter, searching cabin by cabin and moving steadily inwards. It’ll be slow going, but it’ll be methodical and precise and hopefully yield less chance of getting ambushed and eaten.
>"Everyone stick reasonably close to each other, let's not get separated in this mist."

Once again, I am sorry for the lack of an update last night. Family were around and alcohol was consumed in perhaps excessive quantities.

>>3612733
Ah, when I looked it up it read around 4kg. Quite honestly I've only really got the L85A2 and my dad's old air rifle to go off of with regards to weapon weight and the former was a heavy pos. Muh bad.

“We’ll start from the top, so to speak,” you decide, “head in and search in a circular pattern, moving clockwise, cabin by cabin.”

“Won’t that be a mite slow?” Arnold queries.

“Yeah,” you nod, “But it means, hopefully, that we’ll be precise, and avoid a potential ambush by whatever is lurking in there.”

“I can get behind that,” Naru murmurs, giving the wall of mist a wary squint. Diedrich grunts in assent.

“This sounds logical,” Iszolda also chips in.

Well, now that you have a majority, time to enact the plan, such as it is. As you step forward, a thought comes to mind.

“Stay close together as well,” you tell the others, “Bad enough getting lost in regular mist, but I reaaally don’t think that any of us wants to be found on our own out here.”

No one replies, but you notice that your formation tightens a fair deal out the corners of your eyes. Satisfied, you lead the others in, in painful opposition to your instincts which even now scream at you to turn tail and get out of dodge.

Passing through the wall of mist is a weird little experience. A chill shoots through your veins, like all the blood inside has suddenly become ice water, one that passes as soon as you’re through. The hair stands up on your everywhere and you feel a dread certainty that something somewhere has its eyes on you.

“Anyone else feel that?” asks Naru.

“Yes,” Iszolda replies.

“Think I’m gonna tap me gift on’n off every few moments,” Arnold mutters, still rapping his fingers against his gun. Ah, yes, Arnold’s a precog. A few seconds’ warning of danger doesn’t sound like a lot of time, but you’ll take it quite happily.

Somewhat mollified that you’ve got at least some kind of early warning in place if anything nasty should approach, you lead on. The mist is so thick you can hardly see more than a few feet past your arms, and the ground is uneven enough to force you to take your time so you don’t snap something vital. Exacerbating the already pretty dismal circumstances is that you still can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched.

>1d100 (TN?)

Rolled 78 (1d100)

>>3615243
Rolling

Rolled 46 (1d100)

>>3615243

Rolled 34 (1d100)

>>3615243

>>3615243
Progress, as expected, is slow, but you finally reach the nearest of the cabins. The door is wide open, and one of the windows has been smashed in. Something occurred here beyond the shadow of a doubt, and you glance about you to make sure that your fellows are still close by. They are.

Quietly now, you murmur through the mind-link, Doesn’t look like anything’s around, but all the same, I’d rather not draw attention.

No one replies, though you catch at least a few nods out of your peripheral vision, so you take that as a sign that stealth mode has been engaged, so to speak. Putting all the knowledge you gained whilst growing up to use, your approach is almost completely silent.

The interior of the cabin is a mess. The bed is a wreck, wooden furniture lies smashed and the detritus strewn about. Most worryingly, however, is the still wet spatter of blood on the varnished, wooden floor. It looks almost like someone took a can of paint and tossed it without a care in the world.

You raise a hand to your nose to try and stifle the awful coppery tang and glance around. If it wasn’t obvious before, it certainly is now: a fight of some kind took here--a distinctly one-sided affair if the blood is any indication.

Shit, what happened here? wonders Naru in a low, horrified voice.

A struggle occurred, likely with whatever started or assisted in perpetrating this entire affair, comes Iszolda with a sterling statement of the obvious.

Diedrich remains quiet, scanning the rest of the cabin before scrunching up his face in bemusement.

Where are the claw marks?

Yer whot?

Diedrich ignores Arnold and motions to the cabin as a whole. The man’s got the right of it. The claw marks that would give an indication of which horrific beastie roaming about are not, in fact, present. This is both reassuring and bone-chilling. What on earth could have done all of this? You try to keep the image out of your head, but the idea of the luckless occupant finding themselves subject to a pulverising sticks uncomfortably.

Swallowing, you suggest that you all move onto the next cabin, which, fortunately, is a literal stone’s throw away from the one you currently occupy. Creeping forward, you enter without being ambushed and find a scene much akin to the previous. Wrecked interior, bloody smear, no real indication of what caused any of it.

It’s as you work your way forward that Diedrich calls for you all to halt in place.

There’s something in the mist, he informs you, and even through the telepathic link, he sounds tense and afraid.

Where? you ask, after swallowing again. Your finger wraps softly around the trigger of the gun in your hands and you just really hope the thing burns.

(Cont.)

>>3616447
Eleven O’clock.

It takes you a moment to parse his meaning but you comply and turn your attention in roughly the indicated direction…

...and there you see it.

It’s a figure, unmistakably humanoid, but you can’t make out any of its features with the mist as thick as it is. Curiously, it doesn’t seem to be moving. Unless, of course, it’s paused to listen…

>If it’s not attacked us, it probably hasn’t noticed us. Leave it be and we’ll carry on.
>Leave this thing to potentially stab you in the back? No thank you. Light it up!
>Hold and observe. If it can see through the mist, you’d rather know now.

>>3616450
>Hold and observe. If it can see through the mist, you’d rather know now.
No way to tell if it has friends in earshot.
If it hasn't moved at all after a minute or two, carefully approach for better visibility.

>>3616450
>Hold and observe. If it can see through the mist, you’d rather know now.

>>3616450
>Hold and observe. If it can see through the mist, you’d rather know now.

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>>3616450
>Hold and observe. If it can see through the mist, you’d rather know now.
OBSERVATION MODE ENGAGED

>>3616450
>>Hold and observe. If it can see through the mist, you’d rather know now.

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>>3616450
Keep still and keep your guns on that thing, you relay to the others.

We would need to move to achieve the latter of tho-- Iszolda starts.

I know, just do it slowly and carefully, you correct. The others comply with varying skill, but the thing in the mist--whatever it is--makes no move to attack you.

Arnold? you probe.

It ain’t goin’ t’spring t’life an’ attack us in the next few seconds, boss, the big Brit confirms, I’m keepin’ me eyes on it.

That’s a relief.

But also strange.

Whatever has taken root here has either killed or transported the holidaymakers and the resort staff. Presumably, the entity or entities responsible wouldn’t take too kindly to sightseers. You also find it pretty safe to assume that the mist would have been conjured by one or more of these same creatures, and can deduce quite easily from this that they must possess some way of seeing clearly through the gently swirling murk.

Why give up an advantage like that and just… stand just in sight of you all? It makes no sense at all.

Quickly glancing about, you find that there are no other figures looming close by. So far, it’s just the one.

Weird. Definitely weird.

A minute passes you by, the five of you keeping at least three pairs of eyes on the statue-still shadow at all times while the others check--again, carefully and slowly--to make sure you aren’t being encircled. Still nothing happens. An itch develops on the back of your neck and you have to fight the near irrepressible urge to scratch away at it as sweat begins to bead and trick down your forehead.

What the hell is this thing waiting for?

>Form up into a defensive circle just in case this is some kind of trick.
>Send someone up to take a closer look while Arnold keeps his precog on it just in case it decides it’s tired of standing there.
>Unsettling as this is, you can’t stay here forever. Continue moving on, albeit with extreme caution, and keeping an eye on the thing all the while.

>>3617965
>Send someone up to take a closer look while Arnold keeps his precog on it just in case it decides it’s tired of standing there.

>>3617965
>>Send someone up to take a closer look while Arnold keeps his precog on it just in case it decides it’s tired of standing there.

>>3617965
>Unsettling as this is, you can’t stay here forever. Continue moving on, albeit with extreme caution, and keeping an eye on the thing all the while.

...We should have someone scan the treetops and branches. I don't trust this figure NOT to be a corpse propped up like some fucked scarescrow, set up to be bait.

>>3617965
The freaky stand-off carries on another minute before you can take it no longer.

Diedrich, move up and check it out.

The German turns to you with his eyes so wide you could probably pluck them from their sockets.

Me?! Why? What for? he asks.

Because you’ve got a destiny, or so Grim seems to think, and if that is indeed the case then that will keep you alive. Unless, of course, said destiny involves getting munched on by a creature from the mist on this very day.

You tell him none of this, of course.

Because you, unlike the rest of us, were actually a professional soldier. If anyone’s got the reflexes to pull themselves out the way of an attack, it’s you. Plus, Arnold’ll be keeping an eye on the thing with that oh so nifty precog of his to warn you if it does decide it wants to try for your neck.

Sure, Arnold says, after a pause, I’ll keep an eye out fer the scraggly Hun.

Diedrich looks--understandably--unconvinced by all of this. Surprisingly, though, he takes a long, slow breath and creeps forward, keeping his gun trained on the thing all the while, along with those of you not keeping an eye out for other things. You watch as the blond former soldier draws ever, nail-bitingly closer, convinced that, at any moment, something will snatch out and…

Diedrich stands up, and you can see confusion in the way he stands and leans in towards the figure.

It’s... he begins but trails off, Erm, I think you might want to look for yourselves. I don’t think it’s harmful, at least. Though, obviously, I’d not touch it if you can help it.

Now thoroughly puzzled, the rest of you draw yourselves up to stand before the mysterious being.

It’s the shape of a person, no doubt about it. Same height and width of a man, you think, of average build. Not especially tall, standing almost a head shorter than you. Looking at him… her? It is… strange, though. You’re standing close enough to reach out and bop him (or her) on the nose and all you can make out is a shade in the mist, like someone’s taken a shadow from a living person, inflated it and glued it to the earth in a standing position.

This is some weird, weird shit, Naru observes, casting a quick look behind your little group. She freezes in place.

Uh… Adam?

You don’t think you like the way she’s asking for you. Or the way she suddenly just tensed up.

What is it? you ask, wincing in preparation for the no doubt bad news she’s about to give.

...there are more of these, uh... she glances back towards the shadowy figure, fuck, shades? Shades, she settles.

Uh huh? you wait for her to finish, because you know she isn’t done yet.

They definitely weren’t there before.

…

(Cont.)

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>>3619300
Affecting calm in that moment is one of the harder fights in your life. Turning, you find that, in the direction you approached the first shade from, four more have appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Stuck in a variety of poses, you quickly notice, even through the fear that grips your heart in a squeezing, icy hand, they all have one thing in common.

All of them look as though they are trying to run away.

>Now might be a good time to adopt that defensive circle.
>Something is playing a nasty fucking game and it’s not on. Maybe setting fire to a cabin or two will get it to panic and cut this shit out.
>Yeah, nah, time for you and the crew to skedaddle on out of here.
>Okay, okay. As disturbing as this is, it doesn’t actually look as though these things will attack you. Maybe if you carry on, you can find out what the fuck did this to the poor bastards staying here.

>>3619308
>Okay, okay. As disturbing as this is, it doesn’t actually look as though these things will attack you. Maybe if you carry on, you can find out what the fuck did this to the poor bastards staying here.

>>3619308
>>Okay, okay. As disturbing as this is, it doesn’t actually look as though these things will attack you. Maybe if you carry on, you can find out what the fuck did this to the poor bastards staying here.

Submitting scenario music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NHpJAQeY3-g

>>3619308
>>Okay, okay. As disturbing as this is, it doesn’t actually look as though these things will attack you. Maybe if you carry on, you can find out what the fuck did this to the poor bastards staying here.

>>3619308
>Okay, okay. As disturbing as this is, it doesn’t actually look as though these things will attack you. Maybe if you carry on, you can find out what the fuck did this to the poor bastards staying here.

>>3619308
>Okay, okay. As disturbing as this is, it doesn’t actually look as though these things will attack you. Maybe if you carry on, you can find out what the fuck did this to the poor bastards staying here.
Keep your heads on a swivel, and give a quick test to make sure these aren't like weeping angels maybe.

Sorry about the complete silence yesterday. My wifi just straight up died and we actually had to go out and get a new modem after a technician confirmed it was kaput. Good news is that, hopefully, I shouldn't have any more such issues in future.

>>3619308
Thoughts race through your mind as your gaze switches from shade to shade. Your first instinct is to flee. You do not. More accurately, you cannot, not unless you want to find yourself potentially lost and alone in a magic fog. So, with an effort none will ever truly know, you clamp down on your fear. Sweat now streams down your face and you’ll need a fresh change of clothes and a really long shower or bath when you get back, but you keep yourself from bottling.

Okay, you think, more to stabilise yourself than anything, Oookay. This looks creepy as all hell, but it doesn’t actually look like these things will try and kill us.

Diedrich leans in towards the shade he first approached, lips pressed together in a thin, tight line. He appears to consider jabbing the thing with the barrel of his gun, but thinks better of it and leaves well enough alone when he notices you watching.

We’ll carry on, you command, Keep an eye out for more of these shades and maybe whatever the hell did this to these poor folks.

Really looking forward to that, Naru muses, glancing at the four shades who appeared behind you.

Keep your eyes open, you suggest, Maybe there’s some kind of trigger for these shades appearing. Let’s see if we can’t maybe figure out what it is, what good exactly that will do you, you aren’t sure, but it makes it sound like you’re doing something, and that instantly improves your mood, if only a fraction.

You only get roughly a few metres away before you get an answer, though.

They’re gettin’ closer, Arnold points out, having turned around, An’ there’s more.

Sure enough, he’s right. Three more shades have appeared in roughly the same area the last four materialised. They have also definitely drawn closer, though you note that they still appear to be at roughly the same distance from your party as when they first spawned. Again, they appear to be trapped in a fixed pose, fleeing from some past terror.

You suggest the others keep their heads on swivels to keep watch for more of these unnerving apparitions and carry on through the mist-cloaked resort.

>1d100 bo3, no strict TN but higher would be better for you guys.

Rolled 75 (1d100)

>>3623308
This is the part where a critfail kills us.

Rolled 12 (1d100)

>>3623308

Rolled 11 (1d100)

>>3623308

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>>3623308
As you press on through the cabins, each one so far in almost the exact same state as every other you’ve combed through--smashed furniture, blood splatter--you begin to feel a suffocating chill descend. It’s a small, subtle thing at first, but by the time you reach the lake, your very breath mists with each exhalation, and Arnold, criminally underdressed in a thin jacket and a large, white vest, is actually starting to shiver.

“S-something’s up,” Naru observes. You clamp down on a biting response at her statement of the excessively obvious, noting the icy windows and layer of frost that has frozen the grass into a crisp, white carpet beneath your treading feet. You know of a few beasts local to the States that might be capable of this kind of feat, though not on this kind of scale.

It comes then, as a shock, though not a total surprise, when a much larger shape materialises out of the mist. No shade this one, the creature shrieks with a wail that speaks of a bottomless, ravaging hunger. You duck, barely avoiding the attack, and catch a half-glimpse of two large, gangly, distended arms that end in wicked claws and a grossly long, gaping maw of awful teeth that hang from a vaguely human skull.

The blood chills in your veins as the wendigo sails over your head, half-rotted entrails trailing from its open gut behind it like a grisly cloak. The stink is atrocious and you hear someone lose the battle to hold their last meal beside you. Grey, mottled flesh hangs slack from its bones, rippling like parchment in the wind as it whirls about, deceptively swift for such a large, awkward looking creature. Two eyes, dark as the blackest night, regard your party with no true intelligence; but somehow blaze with a hunger that you know will never be sated for as long as the disgusting beast lives.

You only vaguely detect that the shades are drawing closer with each blink of your eye--and that there are more of them all the time, so focused are you on the wendigo, but you feel your panic rising in response.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell!” Arnold barks at the sight, bringing his shotgun to bear on the monster that already coils back to pounce.

Sometimes, you wish you just never got out of bed...

>And here's where we'll call the thread. I was hoping to do a little more and get a little further but events over the last few days have conspired against me, and I'm going to be working up north until the next weekend from tomorrow. Once again, I'm sorry we couldn't get more done.

None of that, however, makes me any less grateful to all of you who drop by, whether to read or post. Knowing that there are folks out there who enjoy the crap that spews from my mind makes this worth doing. So, thanks again, folks, and I'll hopefully see you all again next Saturday!

>>3626826
Good thread, Zippo. Thanks for running!

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>>3626826
>The blood chills in your veins as the wendigo sails over your head
> as the wendigo sails over your head
> as the wendigo
>wendigo
FUCKING CALLED IT!