>>4296316
>>4296316
First off, it's made up of little hexagons. That's so its' easier to tell how far apart everything is. With the help of some binoculars, they've made a rudimentary map of the surrounding area. You have yet to name the catgirl town and the forest.

A while ago, the D&D club explained that in these kinds of worlds you get stronger by killing things. You accumulate experience points that make you more powerful in terms of levels. So the closest analogy you can make is that it's like working out combined with earning money.

There is the distant threat of the Motaurs in the plains to the south. But you trust the boy scouts if they ever come back. You scratch your chin, deciding on where to go next.

> The city (Kialanystra comes from here)

> The mountains

> The plains (Supposedly where the "Rolling City" is, lots of Motaurs)

> The desert

> The forest

> Write-In

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>>4296326
(The map in question)

>>4296326
>The forest

>>4296326
>> The forest

>>4296330
>>4296414
(Also, forgot to mention, there is a cast of characters you can choose to accompany you in the Chadforce)

> Stacy, has astral projection and scrying abilities. Your girlfriend.

> Shane, a stolid basketballer who knows how to levitate and use geomancy.

> Becky, can communicate with animals. Sole female member of the D&D club, and the treasurer of whatever magical items that come into the school's possession.

> Cory, The DM of the D&D club. Has bottomless charisma and outstanding oratory abilities, doubtlessly passed down from his father, who is a Southern Baptist preacher.

> Justin, member of the Japanimation club. Possesses no magical abilities but is incredibly savvy. He is the school's embassy to the catfolk village.

> Nuku the Catgirl, native to this world. Possesses an insatiable curiosity about Earth.

> Concussion Miller. He's been in 12th grade since you were in 6th grade. He is the only man alive who has beaten you in a fight.

Select any number of them to go along with you.

>>4296511
(Dammit! I made a mistake. Justin is actually a member of the D&D club. The person I mis-named as him is actually called Jamie.)

>>4296511
>> Stacy, has astral projection and scrying abilities. Your girlfriend.
call it a date

We gotta bring along Concussion Miller, really like how that ties back into last thread. Basketball guy didn't get much development, get the orator and our gf, too.

>>4296330
>>4296414
>>4296530
>>4296940
Writing...

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>>4297282
You bring Stacy along, as per usual. You dread to think how she would react if you didn't. Shane, your resident geomancer, is a must-have in the forest. And should you encounter anyone in need of convincing, you summon up Cory for his first foray into the great unknown. He tremors a bit. Last but not least you venture over to the den of the beast. The Special Needs room. The acrid smell of spilled orange juice and chicken nuggets assaults your nose. You signal the Chadforce to stay back, and they peek fearfully past the doorframe.

Concussion Miller is fiddling with some blocks. With the softest voice you can muster, you ask him if he would like to join. "KAY. WAN' GO." Even from behind, his monstrous bulk towers over you. For everything that is wrong with his mind, there is something horribly right with his body. You've heard that the blind have an impeccable sense of hearing and smell. The same must go for every aspect of Miller that doesn't have anything to do with his brain. His every step sends a ripple through the soft carpet. He could tear you in half if he wanted to. You're lucky you're on his good side.

You remind him to pack up anything he needs and help him find his things, which he stuffs in his carebears backpack. You tell him "We need you to help us. We're on an adventure to get stronger, because someone is out to steal our soda cans. If this is what it takes to keep our heads up in this world, you're the right man for the job."

He thrusts two flabby arms above his weirdly misshapen head. If you look closely you can notice a cone at the top, like a gorilla's. "YAY." You once underestimated them. It was a mistake you'll never make ever again. You lead him out into the hallway. The rest of the Chadforce cringes back in fear. "Come on." You say. "Let's get moving."
(cont. in next post)

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>>4297304
After eating rationed milk and cornflakes at the cafeteria, you walk out past the palisades and ditches surrounding your school. Behind them, they've set aside open yards for combat training. Meanwhile, a series of vegetable patches surround a tributary that flows from underground. With a healthy dose of manure, they have recently begun to germinate. You ask Francis, who is in charge of them, to list off what he planted. Pumpkins, potatoes, and last but not least, corn. If this turns out well, the surrounding plains will be indistinguishable from Kansas.

You equip everybody with sports gear. Then go to Becky to assign everybody some magical items. You have the Idol of Izochark which heats up in the presence of evil, the Dexterity Potion, the Dryad Periapt which heals you in the presence of plant life, and the Slipperiness Potion.

Two hours of walking later, you can see the distant treeline, and the Detroit mountains peek over them. There are no pines or sycamores, no oaks or hickories. All the branches are perpendicular to the trunks, and the leaves are trapezoid shaped. Shane says "Hold on. I barely got to practice this. Watch."

"Sure. Let's see what you've got." you say. But then Cory just has to come in and interject. "No, no no. You'll wear yourself out. You have to save your mana for when you really need it."

He focuses really hard. Right now his feet are three inches off the ground. He is gradually drifting upwards. Floating really slowly. Then he opens his eyes and flails around. "Whoa... whoa!" then he grabs a tree branch and hangs on for dear life. Then he starts to fall upside down. In just the nick of time he sits on top of the underside of a branch. "Dude. Holy shit." you gasp.

In a move that in another timeline would have cost you your life, you ask Miller for his Tonka truck. Surprisingly, he obliges. With Cory and Becky's help you weave a really long rope from some grass and fasten him to the Tonka truck. The rope is heavy enough for him to not fall into the skies. "God damnit. This sucks." Shane says. "Lemme try." he tries to upside-down levitate but he only manages to bring himself a meter or two closer to the ground.

So instead, he climbs up the rope. Now he's eye-to-eye with you. That's good. So you keep going until you find yourself in a clearing where four things can be distantly sighted.

> A road heading to the southwest

> A barrow mound to the south

> A deep hollow beneath a dead tree to the west

> A stone tower that widens out vertically.

>A stone tower that widens out vertically.

>>4297350
>A stone tower that widens out vertically.

I'm glad this quest is stilling going.

>>4297512
>>4297625
(Yeah, me too! But i'm a bit unlucky now, given how the last thread had about eight replies to each post and thirteen posters. I wonder why. Maybe it's because the first thread of any series gets more attention, or it was lockdown when I posted the last)

(If you're one of them, glad to see you back. And if you're not, then read last thread if you want to get a feel for what's at stake right now. By the way - if I haven't named something, then feel free to make a nickname for it. They're high-schoolers, after all)

Writing...

>>4297718
I intend on sticking with this for a while, really liked the first thread. Hopefully you keep a word doc with all of the random characters you named, every one of them will get something eventually hopefully. Francis is the leader of the agricultural club or something?

>>4297727
Same. The first thread was a lot of fun. Looking forward to see where it's going.

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>>4297718
Cory points at the tower. "They've always got the best loot. Barrow-mounds are tombs, and I'd rather not face the undead today. Besides, that would imply this place has some deep history, and we've enough sidequests as there are." he explains. Like anything his ilk says, you understand little of it other than the underlying message that it will hopefully ensure your potential. "We also need some roofs overhead to make sure Shane doesn't fall into the sky."

It's very tall and smooth. Cory runs his fingers along the side, only to find no brickwork. It was as though it was carved out of a single outcrop, then smoothed to the point that it feels like plastic. Concussion Miller pushes the door wide open. The room inside is tall and dark. Finally Shane has a place to put his feet. "Thanks, guys. I was, like, shitting myself back there."

After you get inside the tower, you can feel a sting in your pocket. You pull out the Idol of Izochark. It's as hot the hood of your dad's car in the summer heat. "Everyone!" you shout. "We've got company!"

Everybody pulls out their weapons. The idol becomes so hot, black smoke seeps out from between the cracks. But to your uttermost surprise, the threat that assails you doesn't come from the tower. It's from the trees. A whoosh heralds the coming of a silvery projectile that dents the wall and swings back towards Shane. He narrowly dodges it and his rope is almost severed. "A shuriken! Eyes out for ninjas!" Cory yells. Stacy holds Shane closer to the ground. Then another one whirls by and grazes your thigh. "Show yourself, you pussy!" you bellow.

Then it occurs to you that won't be any help. "Get Shane inside!" you command, and Stacy drags him in so he can stand on the ceiling. Now it's just Cory and Miller with you. "Everybody, formations. We don't want whatever's attacking us to catch us off-guard."

They nod. Cory's pupils dilate as they see his attacker's silhouette in the distance. "Oh god- Giant spider at three o' clock!" he mutters a prayer from The Message Bible under his breath. The next is from the King James one.

"You two, get in there! Stacy, freeze the fucker!" you roar. Stacy rushes after you and chants something she learned in the trance. Suddenly a ray of frost blasts the trees, whose branches now drip with icicles. Then you hear the noise of crackling echoing here and there. You look back. Cory is whimpering behind the door. But a certain someone hasn't listened to your orders!

"RAAAAH!!! ITSY BITSY SPIDER-" Miller thunders at the top of his voice. Several icicles drop to the ground and shatter upon hearing it. Astounded by his bravery/stupidity, you have no choice but to follow him.

"CLIMBS UP THE WATERSPOUT-" And then you see it. Holy shit. It's three dozen well-muscled human arms radiating from a central point, each wielding a different kind of weapon. Like if some demented serial killer tried to make a sea anemone out of human arms.

(cont. in next post)

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>>4297823
"DOWN CAME THE RAIN" And before you know it, you're within throwing distance as the many-armed assemblage climbs down like a mutant chimpanzee. You don't have any metal with you. But you ready your baseball bat. Perhaps Miller will get the message and allow you to execute your plan?

"AND WASHED THE SPIDER OUT!" ...or maybe not. He hugs the trunk and shakes it as hard as he can. The dumb fuck actually sends it over your head, and now it's headed for the tower! How... how can you fight something like that? It's like fighting eighteen men at once. Stacy, thinking quick, blows extremely hard and it freezes the ground, creating a ramp over the door.

The arm-monster slips up, dropping several of its weapons so it can use more of them to stabilize itself, but that's futile as it comes swerving back towards you. Mustering all your strength you jump up to it and stamp on its hands, while striking at every wrist you see. Stacy is worn out by now. Her hands are on her thighs as she takes deep breaths, tossing rocks at it which it only hurls back.

Six wrists have been broken. And there are still thirty more. Sweat rolls down your forehead. What manner of monstrosity is this? Your eyes dart to and fro. Good. Ten of them by now. Then it gets dangerously closer and tries to strangle you, but you bite that hand in half before it can. And suddenly, it rears back. Miller has grabbed it. "BAD SPIDER!" Somehow, through some miracle, he has suplexed it so hard its weapons come flying everywhere. Yet it keeps shambling back. Fuck... You pick up the largest thing it dropped, a broad axe. "Step up, you goddamn freak."

Then it lurches back. No. It can't be!

A rope lifts it into the sky. Shane has tied a lasso midway along the rope and thrown it out of the tower. Now he's at the other end. He lets go and falls upwards, and lands on the top of a tree, which he latches on to in fetal position. Somehow the rope is falling upwards... and so is the arm-monster. "Cut the fucking rope!" Shane yells as it crawls closer towards the ground.

Just as it takes a handful of grass, it flies up, up and away, along with the rope. "Wow..." Stacy gasps as she carries him back in. "Great thinking, Shane."

"Nah. I bet you were hoping you missed, now that you can't play basketball anymore." you remark.

He takes this lightly. "Now that I can spread my curse to other people and objects," he says, wiggling his fingers with his palms outstretched "What's to say I can't make another basketball court on the gym ceiling?"

"You do have a point." you say as you get into the tower. The square floor tiles are clean. So is the ceiling, as Shane would tell you. This room is dominated by a massive steel capsule. Around the walls is a network of churning pipes lining them, and a ladder leading up to a trapdoor that undoubtedly brings you to the next room.

> Open the capsule

> Pry open the pipes

> Smash the damn thing!

> Climb up through the trapdoor

> Write-In

>>4297727
> Hopefully you keep a word doc with all of the random characters you named

Duly noted!
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Tn_irR-yaF5myxi2Q2c5ODiUopo1dQO-K4iO8Nhu2hA/edit?usp=sharing

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>>4297846
> Smash the damn thing!

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>>4297906
this op

>>4297906
>>4297962
Writing...

>>4299025
Ouch! You like the art?

>>4299030
>Ouch! You like the art?
(It's an honour to see it. The fact that someone would be interested enough in my quest to draw something about it is sincerely uplifting.)

>>4299025
> Smash the damn thing!
Again, you call for Miller's help. With the force of a stampeding bull, he rams his head against the capsule and it splits wide open. Eight gooey masses spill out, each with a fruit-sized shadow wriggling inside. They're small enough to put inside everyone else's backpack. You carry two and Miller carries three. Unfortunately, your little racket has roused the attention of another freak upstairs.

A hatch bursts open and a slobbering, bloated monstrosity covered with pulsing black veins shambles into the room. Stacy wails and everybody keeps their distance. You don't blame them. It stinks like a clogged drain mixed with rotten meat. Immediately you kick the empty capsule at it, and it flattens one of its emaciated appendages. An unholy scream shakes the tower. You call everybody towards you and you start fending off its attacks.

When you at last see an opening, you charge forward and swing the axe you got from the arm-monster at a vulnerable patch of toady flesh. Then its guts spill forth, and a tsunami of god-knows-what gushes out over your lower half. "Ew! Ick! Disgusting!" groans Stacy. She can only muster another wheeze of ice, freezing part of it solid.

And suddenly the intestines start wriggling again. You claw at your throat as they start strangling you. With the other hand you keep swinging but it isn't as effective with one hand. So you get an idea. Signalling to Shane, he rushes over to the other side of the ceiling, then starts to taunt the monster. "Look over here, you overgrown xenomorph!"

Then two clusters of its arms attack in opposite directions. As predicted, Concussion Miller charges forward and plunges his fist into its pulsating flesh. To say the least, it bloats, distorts, and ruptures in several weak points. Then a horrific miasma billows through the room as it putrefies unnaturally fast. You hear fizzing, bubbling, and churning.

Shane leads you through the hatch. You emerge into a laboratory of sorts. It is filled with early cold war equipment that you recognize from the history books. But you don't remember anything about the commies making monsters in their labs.

(cont. in next post)

>>4299044
There are three scientists. If Nuku's people were a little inhuman, a little peculiar in the way they not only looked and moved, these are straight-up monsters. They look like the misbegotten progeny of a goblin shark and a cane toad, along with a dozen other more unpleasant animals, which was then given a long and arduous Soviet education in Chernobyl. You always thought of Nuku as a regular human, just quicker and with a pair of cat ears and a fluffy tail. But the only thing these shared in common with you were two legs. The very sight of them makes your stomach churn.

The Vat-Men fumble over several metal disks, and prod at esoteric controls, at which machinery whirs and hisses. One of them turns around and made a loud gurgling noise. He belches a spray of acid at you. Trouble is, there's a lot of metal here. Calling up your ferromancy, you drag a table and flip over a dissected animal corpse and block the acid as sharp implements clatter to the ground. Then you hurl it back at them. A squelching and shrieking resounds. You take several long strides up to them. "What's this about the Rolling City, huh? Tell us all about Arikzastan. The Motaurs! Fess up and we'll let you live."

When that doesn't get the message through, one laughs. It's the coarsest voice you've ever heard. No cold nor constipation can produce a noise like that. "Ha ha ha! As you speak he will flatten your puny schoolhouse! But as you flap your lips in futility, we won't say a word!"

You don't want to touch them. So you pull out your idol and wrap your palm in your sleeve. Then you hold it centimeters from their ugly faces as second-degree burns boil their slime. Now is a time to be a bit more emphatic. "Tell me right now! Or i'll shove this down your throat!" The Vat-Man pinned down next to him pulls a harpoon from the wall by his head. Then before you can intervene, he blows both of their brains out. "God damn it!" you yell. "Shake this place down! We can't miss a thing!"

In your frantic search you find:

> Twelve metal disks (way too thick or heavy to be laserdisks)
> Three cat-girls from the suspended animation tanks, and a male member of another race
> Nine plastic casks of earthblood
> Several specimens of animals
> An orrery
> Some kind of bus without wheels, just slides along the ground by itself, weird
> A very long device that looks like a van de graaf generator attached to a tottering engine

You accidentally activate the latter by bumping into it and it spews out a beam of energy that looks like television static. It strikes Shane and he tumbles to the ground. You catch him. "Bruce," Cory says. "Don't you think you should wash them down?"

There's an open tiled space with a hose. You spray them and the catgirls are woken from their stupor. They wail, jumping ten meters high. "You know the way home?" you ask.

"Y-yes!" the tallest one says. "They said they were gonna exile us!" you look through a drawer and find photos.

(cont. in next post)

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>>4299098
Some of them you give to them as evidence, others you keep. You bid them farewell as they leave the tower and make their way home.

You look through other drawers. Then you find a shelf filled with jars of...

> Creme de la Nya Nya (pic related)

Is this some kind of condiment? And why is it written in English? This laboratory is completely packed with stuff. You'd need a truck to wheel them all out. So you and the gang pick up everything you can reasonably carry, leaving the earthblood, bus, and device in the lab. Finally, you turn to the dude you saved. "You there, what's your name?"

"Ulmon." he croaks. "I am a travelling musician, and I also carry news from the Satrapy's capital. They kidnapped me on the way here, and hurled me into a tank. I doubt it is safe to travel back that far on foot. Do you know of any traffic there?"

You look back at the weird bus. There's a button on the wall which opens up a ramp to the forest floor, and then to the road.

> Go back to school with what you have. You're encumbered enough. Besides, you need to check on what's going on with them.

> Loot the place bare, and return to school in the bus. Nothing is wrong with extra equipment. Besides, there could be some new things to study about the Rolling City.

> Head to the Satrapy capital in the bus with what you have. Perhaps you can learn more about the Empire. Lounging around in the backwoods is not a good way to learn about the world.

> Write-In

>>4299119
>> Loot the place bare, and return to school in the bus. Nothing is wrong with extra equipment. Besides, there could be some new things to study about the Rolling City.

>>4299119
> Loot the place bare, and return to school in the bus. Nothing is wrong with extra equipment. Besides, there could be some new things to study about the Rolling City.

>>4299119
>> Loot the place bare, and return to school in the bus. Nothing is wrong with extra equipment. Besides, there could be some new things to study about the Rolling City.

>>4299566
>>4299629
>>4299768
Writing...

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>>4300087
Time to shake this place down! Every single scientific and magical item is taken and loaded into the bus's disturbingly familiar interiors. Thank God and Jesus that the trees are spaced widely apart enough for the massive bus to drive through. You are greeted with wide-eyed stares by the scouts outdoors, who are practicing fighting techniques on the thoroughly shorn grass.

Behind them, the school kids have been getting used to the log cabins, which have been refined in the past few days. Everybody is doing their part. The camaraderie has came to the point where people no longer miss using their game boy advances, although the thought of that makes you longingly remember the boon of electricity.

"What?" Francis muses in disbelief. "Are we going back home now?"

"Nah!" You say. "Much better! Check out our haul!"

> Lots of metal implements (About three kilograms of very sharp stainless steel)
> Six shelves and cabinets
> Surgical equipment
> A ring-bound folder filled with diagrams and instructions on how to make various monsters, including Motaurs
> A folder filled with photographs
> A box-shaped camera
> A cube of flesh in an iron box
> An assortment of rubber molds
> A long-range telescope
> Enough suspended animation gel to hold five people in a single vat
> Six-foot long stun blaster
> Lots of glass equipment
> Various scarily-named chemicals
> Wand of Softening
> A gynecologist's chair fitted with restraints and a piston at the end facing the middle
> A generator

Upon hearing the last, he jumps up and down. "Good lord! We're saved! Hallelujah!" then Justin looks at it. "It's primitive. Really primitive. "I suppose this can turn some lights back on, maybe even the stove if we're lucky. But even then, it has to be set up by the tributary."

You register all this stuff to Becky's treasury. She thanks you for the new stuff, although she eyes the modified gynecologist's chair with a complicated expression which you're pretty sure is disgust. You don't know where to put the jars of Creme de la Nya Nya so you stick them in the cafeteria kitchen's pantry. Yeah. From the looks of it, it must taste like mayo. You haven't opened it because that might spoil it for everybody else.

Then you scamper back to the treasury. "Looks like this Rolling City is a few centuries ahead of everyone else!" Cory says. "We'd better be careful. Fighting bronze agers is one thing, but your average rust belt school ain't gonna hold up so good against the Third Reich."

"Fah! If only we had some guns with us!" you scoff. If only you knew the implications of what you said. But it was the nineties when you were transported here.

Later on, you call for a meeting in the D&D room, where the walls are plastered with tactical maps and notes on things they discovered. You slap down some photographs that you discovered from the tower. The first of which is of an oil rig in the plains from a distance, probably taken from the back of a Motaur.

(Cont. in next post)

>>4300116
"Look at the size of that thing!" Cory enthuses. "More oil than (George Herbert Walker) Bush could ever dream of!"

You nod in agreement as everybody leans over the table. Then you flip over to the next. It's the Rolling City itself. It's gargantuan, like a mobile mountain with turrets sticking here and there, and chimneys spilling smoke into the skies. There's even a wide open platform jutting out from its right. That could be an airplane runway. The Rolling City. Surrounded by roving gangs of Motaurs armed with harpoons.

The next is of a buffalo-sized beastie on the receiving end of said harpoons. After that comes a village of hairless, disproportionate, and naked humans labouring around several ceramic cauldrons. They are fishing body parts from them in nets, and reluctantly giving them to leering Vat-Man scientists.

"So those are the... dudes that Hytra talked about." you say. "Imagine living like that."

"Yeah," Stacy adds. "This is just another day for Mr. Potato Head."

You chuckle at the mental image. Then you keep flipping through more pictures. Becky is drawing, and by the end of it all she has compiled a bestiary of sorts.

> Vat-Man (Goblin-shark, Mole-rat looking freaks, probably the most intelligent)
> Motaur (Motorcycle centaurs)
> Long-Armed Bloater (Fat thing that attacked you in the tower)
> Man-o-War (Many-armed monster)
> Assemblage (Various body parts strung together, lesser cousin of the Man-o-War)
> Stiltman (Foreshadows an urban legend that will sweep the zeitgeist of the internet two decades hence)
> Mr. Bones (Hairless with many bony protrusions serving as bladed weapons)
> Hamlock (Disturbing swinish weed that is present in all photos)

"Gross!" Stacy says as she withdraws in disgust, hiding behind you. "We really gonna be fighting all that, babe?"

"Leave it to me." you assure. "You won't be seeing them ever again."

In the last photograph you see what you assume is Arikzastan's throne room. It's extremely dim and austere and there are pipes running down the wall. His cloaked silhouette is the most human thing in the picture, a staggering and albeit terrible contrast. You cannot make out his face, only his outline.

"On second thoughts... Maybe one more time." you say remorsefully.

"Don't worry. I won't let my power go to waste." Stacy says with resignation.

With the memories of Kialanystra and the photos burning in her head, she pours water into a metal dish in the chemistry lab again, and channels the full extent of her power. "Uggghhh... Fuuuck!" she moans in exertion.

Then all of a sudden your idol burns in your pocket. You snatch it out and toss it to the ground, where it begins to shake by itself. So you fill a beaker with water and pour it on, only for it to evaporate immediately. "Stay back!" An aura of evil roars through the lab like a hurricane, shaking beakers and bunsens as people duck for cover.

(cont in next post)

>>4300129
Then the scrying disk settles down. A distorted voice bellows through the room. You hear bored kids outside stacking chairs so they can spy on you. It's either that, or they're looking at the mysterious embryos you captured from the tower. "WHAT?" it roars in a crude approximation of Nuku's language. "IT APPEARS OUR DEAL IS CONCLUDED! I TAKE IT THAT YOU HAVE BEEN WONDERING HOW WE WOULD PUT YOU BACK IN THE SKIES."

Kialanystra nods as low as she can for someone who is kowtowing to Arikzastan."Yes... That has been an object of intrigue, H-hur... Raiss..."

Arikzastan stomps her head into the ground. She cringes in fear, yet the older man next to her doesn't help her. You can't blame him. He yells a word you don't understand. "How many times must I tell you this? For your failures, I shall give you a glimpse of what you have failed to bring me!"

He orders two Vat-Men to escort them to the runway. It is empty... save for a single plane. They look on in disappointment. You can see nothing but the despair of one who has been totally duped. "What, did you think I was going to make you wings, you superstitious savages?" he mocks them, before kicking the man next to Kiala in the shin. "You're too heavy to fly! You people will never fly again! The curse made your bones heavy as a human's!"

As the Vat-Men drag them closer to the edge, Arikzastan continues. "But at least I shall know the kind of gullibility the people of this realm are given to. Farewell, Wiryeko and Anzyne!" he shouts dismissively as they are cast overboard.

"I'm sorry, Wiryeko!" the man shouts.

That was a real trip.

> Infiltrate the Rolling City

> Fortify the school to prepare to launch an invasion

> Go to the Satrapy Capital to get stronger

> Go to Cat Town

> Write-In

>>4300116
>>4300116

>"Fah! If only we had some guns with us!" you scoff. If only you knew the implications of what you said. But it was the nineties when you were transported here.

Speaking as someone who was in high school in the '90s....during hunting season, every...single...truck/jeep/suv had at least one rifle and one shotgun in a rack inside the vehicle, in the school parking lot. This was throughout the South and the mid-west, where hunting was common. So yeah, guns were actually pretty common on school grounds in the '90s (and the '80s, '70s, '60s, and '50s) with very little firearm violence even counting Columbine. Just sayin'.

So if we were transported during the fall, yeah, there probably would've been quite a few guns if the parking lot was transported with us.

>>4300180
(Now that I've learned this, let's assume that it was some other season. Bruce doesn't know the implications because what he said would probably sound weird during the 2020s, but in the context that he's currently in, is perfectly normal. I should have worded it as "If only you knew the implications of what you just said would entail thirty years hence." As a zoomer who lives across the pacific, thanks for your input. I can hardly find an online guide as to how a schoolboy's life was like in that time and location aside from personal anecdotes, and I have not consumed any media about American schools beyond Archie Comics, so I apologize for any inaccuracies.)

(FYI, the parking lot was not transported. If it was, the kids would have already tried fueling them with earthblood, with disastrous results.)

>>4300213
(Oh, and the dude we rescued from the tower has feathers for hair and has been hanging out by the road for a short while.)

>>4300139
> Fortify the school to prepare to launch an invasion

>>4301243
Sorry for the delay. Writing...

>>4302170
(Some of my keys are not working

To ensure that nobody forgets the urgency of the situation, you call a meeting to the auditorium. With one of the principal's notebooks, you do a roll call to make sure everyone is there.

"Alright," You begin. "Long story short, we're in deep, deep shit!"

Chattering begins to rise from your audience, most of it frightened. So you wait for it to die down. That doesn't take long, because nobody ignores a son of the Thundercock line. Then you can feel the aura of fear rise as you give a rundown on what you know about the Rolling City. As tensions approach their breaking point, you hand it over to Cory. He knows how to handle situations like this. And boy, does he do it well. Cory delivers hope to the hopeless like a lifesaver to a drowning man. Morale shoots up like a firework, and explodes into a display of courage and perseverance.

Hours later, you walk past the woodworks room where lots of students are bending bits of metal into makeshift... ninja stars? "Hey Justin! What've you got them making here?"

"These are to deal with the Motaurs. They're called caltrops." Justin says.

"Cow crops! Looks downright lethal to me." you respond.

"My point exactly, Bruce." Justin explains. "Punctures tyres easier than sparks puncture the Hindenburg."

Then once you're out you look over beyond the south of the school, further away from the tennis court, beyond the slipshod log cabins and palisades. Under Samuel's orders they're digging a trench like you've never seen before. Sweating crews wheel away tons of dirt from a trench so deep and so wide you can hear your voice echoing from it. Okay, maybe not that deep, but you get the idea.

The dirt is used to build earth walls in addition to the existing palisades. Spikes are being driven into the ground, by Jamie who is leading a relay of wagons repurposed from the equipment pallets from the gym. You decide to pay him a visit. "Hey man."

"What's up, Bruce. I'm still bummed about not seeing any hot elf chicks in the forest, but hey, cats are enough." Jamie pants in exertion.

Back at the plains, a group of scouts are scattering the caltrops as widely as they can from some shopping bags in grass that's not too short that they become obvious but not too long that the grass cushions out the spikes.

(cont. in next post

>>4302184
(I'd like to say that things were pretty slow for this particular thread. Should I archive it and call it a day, or should I carry on with the invasion arc?)

> Yes

> No

>>4302195
>No
As in continue on. Slow is fine. Things aren't going to get faster soon.

>>4302195
>No
Keep going, this is getting interesting

>>4302195
> No
Keep it rolling

>>4302633
>>4303470
>>4303479
Yeah sure...

File: tank city.jpg (109 KB, 700x495)

109 KB JPG

>>4304306
When the fortifications are done you rally the Chadforce, accompanied by twenty of the most combat-capable kids, all of whom are in sophomores through seniors. They are armed with terrible weapons forged from sports equipment fitted with sharpened kitchen knives. Every single one has been chosen for their reputations: half of them have been to military school. These are not nice people.

But in the new world they have felt an odd sense of fellowship, of shared humanity. Perhaps it is cultural isolation, or perhaps the new social cohesion has drained away their will to exert their will upon their fellow classmates. But now they have waited for an opportunity to unleash their delinquent fury in these lands beyond their school. Today, their wait is over.

They wear armour made from repurposed sports gear and salvaged leather. You, on the other hand, are wearing an American Football helmet as the U.S. flag flaps behind you. And as for your armour? Well, if this Arikzastan wants the aluminium that much, you should off that dickhead while you wear it. In this world, your Dr. Pepper armour is worth a king's ransom.

Rounding along a twin-crested sward you, Stacy, Shane and Becky gaze up at the towering mass of the Rolling City. The air thrums with an orotund boom thick with the stink of burning petroleum and corpses as it rumbles across the plains. In its wake it leaves tank tread tracks in the ground so deep you could swim in them if it rained too hard. In the sky, a dense black smog wafts behind it. The treads themselves have mud and animal corpses clogged between the gaps in the rubber.

It is surrounded by patrolling bands of Motaurs, vrooming in huge circles like sharks. There is nothing else accompanying the Rolling City. Now it's time.

(cont. in next post)

>>4304357
(Dammit! Becky is in the school, not with the Chadforce right now. I'll retcon that.)

A brief rundown on the magics that the Chadforce has access to:

> Bruce: Spiritual Affinity, Ferromancy, Invocation
> Stacy: Scrying, Cryomancy, Invisibility, Astral Projection
> Becky: Illusions, Healing, Divination, Communication with Animals
> Shane: Levitation, Abjuration, Limited Weather Control, Geomancy

Now for the distraction. You and your pals come out and taunt the Motaurs, so they come revving after you. But you've set up a series of stepping stones so the caltrops don't impale your feet. Then the Motaurs scream as their tyres pop and they are thrown upside down. The ones that don't are partially demoralized by the sight of their bleeding, maimed comrades. Justin told you that caltrops were invented by the Romans to deter cavalry and elephants. You've seen the catpeople use neither - as advanced as the Rolling City is, they were probably expecting to be assailed by barefoot bronze agers!

Stacy freezes the ground with a focused blast, and more Motaurs slip and crash into each other as you knock them over like bowling pins with each swing of your axe. Other bands get the message and a ramp lowers from the Rolling City's deck. They begin to garrison themselves in there, where archers are at the ready. You look back at the school, every roof-terrace equipped with a flame-cannon and a catapult. Now they're in range.

Becky is in a corridor somewhere, concentrating as hard as possible. She might not have the chutzpah to come and fight alongside you, but earlier on she came up with an idea on how to do her part. For as keen as the Rolling City's observation towers are, not a single telescope can see past the illusion she laid over the trench. And by golly, her effort shows. It looks as though those three hours had been undone, and the dirt mounds, to boot. The illusion is weaker the closer you get to it, but tell that to the lookouts stationed fifty meters above decks!

The earth tremors as the Rolling City jams into the trench. As soon as Becky collapses, she is carried away in a stretcher, eyes wide open. With a signal the cannons blast away at the tank treads, melting rubber, yet the wheels themselves aren't compromised. You bring your group to the edge of the ramp and cling to it as they withdraw it. So you use ferromancy to force the ramp to curl upwards. It's no longer a ramp, but a slide.

(cont. in next post)

File: trench.jpg (17 KB, 326x300)

17 KB JPG

>>4304394
The next thirty minutes are spent hacking and slashing the vile and slimy flesh of Arikzastan's monsters, yet despite this you don't tire. And amid the chaos you hatch a mighty fine idea: "Everybody! To the plane!"

> Roll 1d100. If you roll above 75, you board the plane successfully. If not, a Vat-Man pilot claims it.

Rolled 18 (1d100)

>>4304397

Rolled 17 (1d100)

>>4304397

Rolled 61 (1d100)

>>4304397

Rolled 81 (1d100)

>>4304397
No-one can beat a Thundercock

>>4305773
(Just in the nick of time! Two minutes since the post I replied to was posted, I had just returned from buying a sundae at Burger King.)

Writing...

>>4305780
As you kick aside an Assemblage and slash apart its stitches, causing the veiny monstrosity to fall apart into a wriggling pile of organs, you press onwards through the stinking, shrieking horde. You're virtually covered in blood. But it's black, sticky and smells like crude oil, so it probably isn't. In due time you lose track of the monsters you kill as you descend into a martial trance where the roaring of cannons, the whirling of arrows, the screams and grunts of your enemies and the gouging of flesh meld into perfect harmony.

Even as far as you are from America, in this ferocious state you are closer to your ancestors than you were ever before. The Vietnam war... the World Wars... The Civil War... In every single one of these wars, a Thundercock prevailed. And it matters not in which universe he brawls!

Emaciated, distended hands wrap around you and lift you high up in the air. Stacy hacks its bony leg clean off and you tumble down, only to bounce off a Long-Armed Bloater's corpulent stomach. Bones and bile erupt from its malformed maw as you soar over the horde. Doing a perfect somersault, you drive your axe into the robust skulls of three Mr. Boneses. But you spin around and see a hundred arms crawling towards you. A Man-o-War! You tug at the plane door. It's no use! It's locked.

So pulsing your ferromancy you undo the locks and pull the door open while ensuring that none of it breaks. And as the Man-o-War's many hands claw at the glass, you boot up the plane and the propellers slash it to shreds, sending bones, flesh, and fingers everywhere. With multiple flicks the plane charges forth, making mincemeat out of every monster it plows through. With automated mercilessness it tears them asunder. Good thing there's windscreen wipers. So upon seeing the Chadforce you angle one wing towards them.

Shane holds both of the girls' hands and levitates upwards to join you. You kick the cockpit open and drag them in as several Bloaters reach after them, to no avail. As you leave the Rolling City behind, the cockpit fills up with sweat and mist. You are ankle-deep in gore and oil. You can see the school ahead. Becky is standing on a tower on which a flagpole stands, waving her arms. By her side stands Concussion Miller. "I WANNA PLANE RIDE!"

(cont. in next post)

>>4305806
You land and look over the school. Weeks of military-style discipline is a frayed rope preventing them from going full lord of the flies on each other. Dozens of kids are being dragged to the library on stretchers, now that the sickbay is full. Becky pants "I taught a bunch of people my healing spells. Come here, Burce"

She waves her hands and mumbles incantations. Then she waves the Dryad Periapt in your face while her other hand touches an apple tree. All your bruises and wounds suddenly vanish, and your exhaustion vanishes instantly. "My crew has got everything sorted." she says.

Samuel runs up to you to give a rundown on the situation. "Fuck fuck fuck, they're sending ramps and now we've barricaded some of the corridors and even they're about to burst through. We've set up some choke points but I don't think they're gonna hold off the Motaurs!"

With confidence and certainty you tell Samuel "Don't worry about that. Abandon the barricades and blow 'em up with the bangarangs you have left, then retreat. When they've made it to the stairwell, cover all of them with the caltrops you have left. Godspeed."

"Gotcha, Bruce. On it." Samuel nods and dashes off to inform the troops. You gesture to Becky, then she follows you on the plane, and Concussion Miller boards right after. The whole plane lurches as his fat ass sinks the frame. For a moment, you worry if he will affect the speed, but as you take off, it doesn't really matter as the Idol of Izochark starts to burn your leg. Before it becomes third-degree, you throw it to the ground. You figure since it gets hotter the higher you are going, Arikzastan should be in the tallest tower seeing as he's probably got the most cred with this Dark Lord.

"BUUUTCH! YOU'RE GONNA CRAAASH!!!" Shane wails. Oh shit, he's right! You make a swift vertical lurch and soar up, up, up, and oh god the underside is exposed to the balconies! Arrowheads tear through the perpendicular floor, leaving whistling holes that the Chadforce darts away from. So the only option is to go faster! Everyone screams as they're thrown to the back of the plane. Your face is almost squashed flat by Stacy's ass.

Now you see it. At the very top of the monstrous Ziggurat which crowns the Rolling City stands the citadel of Arikzastan himself. The citadel is wrought from black and green metal and covered with spikes. It reminds you of a cartoon you once watched as a kid.. You don't remember the name, but the heroes lived in a castle called... what was it... Castle Grayskull! That was it!

(cont. in next post)

>>4305860
Like any sensible hero does, you'd never miss this opportunity for a dramatic entrance. So you crash right through the window into his dining hall. As he peacefully sips his wine you take it upon yourself to fly the plane centimeters above the table just to ruin his lunch as elegantly as possible. The nose of the plane doesn't even touch his. It's not the Thundercock way to kill your enemy at the first opportunity. Your family has always settled matters through honourable combat, and this is no time to dishonor them. "Arikzastan!" you yell as you jump out of the cockpit. "You wanted aluminium, did you! Here! Have it!"

He stands up and backs away towards his throne. To your uttermost surprise he is the very first human you've encountered in this world. Or at least you think he is. But what he says next erases all doubts of him being anything else. "Greetings! I had never thought the first human to find me in my humble abode would be an American." in perfect English. "First I would like to correct you that the pronounciation of my name is not Arikzastan as these savages have mangled it, but it is Arik Astankov."

Your rage suddenly comes to a grinding halt as it is replaced by curiosity. Is this man... is this dude Russian? "So you're from Earth, am I right?"

"Right you are. I am just as surprised as you." Astankov replies. "I have been aiding the one you call the Dark Lord with my scientific prowess, and it truly shows how backward the natives of these lands are when a second-rate scientist who knows very little about this place can teach them more about their world than they can find out themselves."

"So what's your whole deal with the Aluminum, Eric? I heard that you can make another airplane with enough paper." You reason.

"No, no, not that. You are mistaken. I was just putting it in a way that the bird-brained Wiryeko and Anzyne could understand. See, comrade, if you've spent any time listening to their superstitions the natives believe that the most powerful gods reside in a palace situated where the rings intersect. Upon close inspection, I found those myths to be true. There is a mechanism holding unfathomable cosmic power between the rings, fancy that. So what is your name?" Astankov asks.

"Bruce Thundercock." you answer.

"Da. See, Bruce, this was not the first time that somebody tried to attain it. In fact, the last man who did rallied a kingdom's worth of slave labourers, priests, and astrologers towards building a tower like that which was made in Babel. Whatever happened to him up there granted him enough power to be granted the title of Dark Lord." Astankov explains. "It seems reasonable enough that that much divine power would allow one to create a door back to one's home universe."

And finally Astankov makes his proposal. "So Bruce, how would you like to go home. Will you join me on my quest?"

> "Yes. I'll go home no matter what it takes."

> "No. I don't parley with reds."

>>4305893
> "No. I don't parley with reds."
FULL CHAD

>>4306087
You said it!
Writing...

>>4306182
In your head, the national anthem blares at full blast as you make your rebuttal, brief as can be: "No. I don't parley with reds."

Any pretense of civilty falls away as Astankov shows his true colours. "Well, Bruce..." he says, shivering as he holds back rage like a dam holds back water. "Know that today you have made a grave enemy. I dearly hope you will reconsider this decision in the future as we come to an understanding."

"I doubt it." you say as casually possible. "Enough exposition, man. Do you want the aluminium? We can fight right now if you like."

"Why..." Astankov says as the rest of the Chadforce crawls out of the plane, moaning about why you had to land in such a debilitating manner. "I was about to say the same myself!" Astankov lunges towards you, but you dodge his muscled frame and deliver a swift elbow to his back. He responds with a painful strike to your floating ribs, so you step back into another stand and double up a good punch. But you are interrupted with a beam of ice from Stacy's direction. "Bruce!" she shouts. "Kick his ass right now!"

Astankov flaps his coat, flinging snow away in an arc. Then he steps back, doing some kind of backwards hopscotch across the room. "Come back, you pussy!" you jeer. "Come and get a piece of me!" But he ignores you.

You raise an arm to signal back the rest, but before you do, Astankov flips open a drawer and flings multiple syringes towards your friends. You didn't even know it was there! With ferromancy, you... no! Nothing in this room is made from metal. Luckily everyone dodges the syringes as they embed themselves in the wall behind you. Everyone, except for Becky.

Astankov cackles as the rest of the group rushes back to aid her as she passes out. You take mighty steps towards him. Then you notice a bulge underfoot. It gets bigger as a hissing noise enters earshot. Then it explodes. You slam into the side of your plane as he laughs at you.

And when you shake off the dizziness, he is boarding what appears to be a rocket ship. "I'll get you next time, Thundercock!" he yells as he shakes his fist at you like a Golden Age supervillain. The roof opens up, banishing darkness into the corners of the room. Scalding smoke surges past your knees. "Get back in the plane!" you shout as you heft Becky overhead and drag her in. Then you get your hands on the controls.

(cont. in next post)

>>4306200
As Astankov's rocket takes off the ensuing shockwave re-defenestrates your plane. You have a split second to re-ignite the engine as the plane is propelled by the shockwave before you start to plummet. Just in time, you lurch back up as the uppermost echelon of the Rolling City explodes. Shrapnel rains everywhere, pitter-pattering the Pridelands with debris, some even busting holes into the walls of your school. He'll pay for that.

But below you see a more hopeful sight. The monstrous hordes look up towards his rocket. Gaping bloodshot, pus-filled eyes home in on it. Then with their morale destroyed, they swarm towards it like rats to meat. Soon enough, the plains are blackened with their retreating numbers as they follow the rocket. You whoop at their surrender, beating your chest with primal triumph.

You land in the football field and kick open the doors to hear the cheering masses. It is all too well that Cory is standing before them, addressing them in the most awe-inspiring victory speech to date. "And let this be our first triumph over the perils of this new world. For we, as Americans, since our first days in what the Europeans called the New World, have persevered every danger, every blight this world has thrown at us! For today, we thrive! And tomorrow, we conquer!"

As the sun sets the corpses, among whom none of your citizens can be counted, are piled in a ditch far away from the school and burned in a great bonfire. They decompose unnaturally fast. It has been hours since they died, yet their flesh and skin is putrefying, bubbling and melting into toxic sludge. "What a shame!" Samuel laments. "I was planning to host tonight's dance around the bonfire. If only it didn't stink too much. It's probably toxic anyways."

Nonetheless, you have a bonfire feast that night, dancing under the new world's twin rings as they bask the Pridelands in their intermingling radiance. Francis is playing the ukelele and singing Marty Robbins' "Ain't I Right" as everyone else celebrates the victory. And what's this? A procession of dozens of men and women from the cat town have come to join you! Led by none other than Nuku. Jamie runs over to meet her.

"Isn't it kinda creepy how their eyes glow like that?" Stacy comments. You nod in agreement. "But still, they're our friends. As weird as they are, we can count on them if something happens on the other side of the plains." you walk over to Nuku, where a group of people have lined up to pat her head and rub her ears as she purrs with delight. Jamie is not too happy about this. So you tell 'em to disperse.

They get along just well with the cat-people. Sure, there's a language barrier, but in the heat of the party in the wake of war there's a mutual understanding that transcends species between them. Your friends giggle as some of the cat-people try to approximate the lyrics of "Ain't I Right" in broken English.

(cont. in next post)

>>4306218
You are reminded of something. You reach into your pocket and pull out the Idol of Izochark. Now, it's stone cold. The Dark Lord's influence has been well and truly banished from this far satrapy thanks to the might of the 20th Century and the potency of the youth.

Amid the thick of interspecies revelry stumbles Cory, who comes to congratulate you. "Dammit, man! You did a real number on them! Holy shit, we had to take one hell of a shower after that battle. Ah well, it looks like we've levelled up. Speaking of which, you think those catpeople are scared of water?"

"Nonsense!" you tell him. "Without your wisdom i'd be as clueless as you are on a baseball field. Thanks for your help, Cory. We couldn't have done it without you."

From his response you can tell that Cory is someone who doesn't get much praise or approval. And so what little he gets is like a rush of dope to him. You can tell, because you in part contributed to his lack of social cred. But now those days are over. The party looks like it's spread across all of the school grounds.

Groups of catpeople are being toured around, and gasping at the majesty of the 20th century. They have probably never seen a building with more than two storeys before. Some of them are dashing across the rooftops on all fours. To them, your school is an overwhelming labyrinth. The still-steaming, half-exploded wreckage of the Rolling City tilting diagonally twenty degrees in the air more so.

There is also the issue of several catgirls accompanying members of the Japanimation Club. Jamie has retreated to his cabin with four of them, including Nuku. You shrug. It's about time he learns what it means to be a real man, now that he's proven his worth alongside you. As he swings open his door, he gives you a look that says "I owe you one, man!" as one of them licks him across the cheek. In a new courtyard people are going "Awww!" as a catgirl laps milk from a dish. "Just look at her!"

You also bang Stacy that night. Who would have guessed. Jamie's virginity probably isn't the only one that was lost that night.

Next morning you and the gang, under Samuel's supervision, clean up the garbage. Then when you're done Francis shows you an exciting new development. "Come, Bruce. You gotta see this!" and he gestures over to a herd of eight eyeless swine-hound beasts. No doubt they are the embryos you stole from the tower! "These ate some of my corn. So I lashed the devil out of them, and boom! Look what happened."

Their backs are thick with corn. "Tastes just fine, and grows back when I pluck 'em off. Does the same for every other vegetable." Francis adds. "Whaddya think we should call them?"

> Corn dogs

> Tatertots

> Schweinhunds

> Write-In

>>4306235
Corn dogs is good. See if Francis can try to breed more of them, so we have more renewable food sources

>>4306235
>> Corn dogs

>>4306241
>>4306412
Writing...

>>4307312
"Let's call 'em Corndogs. Because it'll be a long time 'til we see an actual one again." you tell him. "Now that we have our own mobile planters, go ahead and breed as many of them as you can."

You go back to the front of the school where people are repairing the damage to the walls and washing off the blood with a relay of hose extensions. Then head out past the flat area where a bunch of dudes are sawing logs apart to make planks to repair some caved-in cabins. Where on the horizon you see two figures become evident as they approach the school.

So you go to the Treasury to ask Becky to come along. She seems to be pulling up her shorts looking at her own ass in the mirror, which she abruptly hides. You wave it off as her having a bad mole. This morning she reported no negative symptoms from being hit with that syringe. Besides, if Becky won't tell you her problem directly, there's no point in helping her. "Sure, i'll come... This is an invader, is it?"

"Doesn't look like a catgirl to me." you say. "Then it's not an ally. Be on your guard"

Becky gathers some of her magic items just in case. With Jamie the diplomat accompanying you, the two strangers are not apprehensive. Upon close inspection they have feathery plumages instead of hair. The same goes for their eyebrows. One of them is an older man wearing a false bronze beak over his nose, tied on with a pink ribbon. The other is... Holy cow! "Kialanystra!" you shout. "That you? Think you could come after our aluminium again? Think i'm so dumb I can't see past a dumb wig?"

You draw back a fist, but put it down once you realize their disheveled state. Then you remember what Arikzastan did to them. "It's Wiryeko," Kialanystra says. "We figured they wouldn't like being ruled over by our kind. I failed my quest, even after I tried to deceive you time and time again. It's just... it's just our life's journey to learn how to fly again."

You look behind her. All the fabric on her back have been torn away, and there's nothing but a pair of dinky vestigial wings. They probably couldn't hold anything larger than a seagull in the skies. Her partner, Anzyne says "Through some grave misdeed our ancestors were cursed to never fly again, thus they were exiled from our floating city. The heirs of my bloodline have spent their lives trying to undo it."

Wiryeko adds "Even after I earned the favour of the Emperor, he gave me a single satrapy and did nothing except give me an education in the best wizard's university, which still could not answer my questions. So we resorted to betraying the Empire to work as the Dark Lord's double agents. We don't expect you to forgive us. I might as well give you my Satrap's Seal, and teach you magic. But if it suits you, cast me out. That would be a fitting punishment for I who have betrayed my people."

> Allow them to stay and teach magic

> Banish 'em!

> Write-In

>>4307318
> Allow them to stay and teach magic
A chance to learn more magic? Hell yeah, just keep an eye out for any signs of treachery

>>4307318
(...You know, I think this should be a pretty good time to drop it off here. Do you guys think so

>>4308389
(Dammit, it's been twelve days or summink, let's leave it here then

Writing...

>>4307318
> Allow them to stay and teach magic

>>4308396
You reconsider everything that has happened to them. They took the only way they could to fulfill a lifelong quest. They dropped their morals, their convictions in pursuit of that one goal, and yet they in turn were betrayed. As karmic as this may seem you cannot feel as though this was justified. They had never brought harm to you, as unscrupulous as they were. So now they're left with pretty much nothing. Which leaves you to accept their deal. You tell Samuel to assign them a small cabin, which you are tempted to fit with the bird feeder from Mrs. Robinson's homeroom or anything resembling a cage, where every single eye will be on them.

Your doubts are dispelled as you notice that they are conducting them with no ingratiation. That's a sign of loyalty. They accept what has been given to them, don't gush about it, and quietly go on with their lives. Wiryeko is wearing an entirely different face now, so she doesn't have to worry as being outed as Kialanystra. Soon after, you bring them to the audiotorum and introduce them to the whole school as "The first teachers we'll see since we got here, guys! And they won't give us any homework! How's that for a start!" Cory enthuses to the assembled crowd. School morale is looking better than ever.

Meanwhile, Justin has started publishing a series of comics drawn in his personal idea of what constitutes the "manga style" from the translations he's read.

Thirty years later, his art would have been laughed at, deemed obsolete, and parodied. Although his syncretic stylizations are incredibly flat, amateur and disproportionate, the majority of the school can agree it's exotic, dynamic, and unlike anything they've ever read in an issue of Marvel or DC Comics. Better yet, it details your adventures as chronicled by Cory. Again, good for morale.

Paper is precious, so there's only one copy being passed around like a hot potato. Eventually, Wiryeko got her hands it. As amused as she is by her introduction to comics, she is visibly guilty when it comes to the point where you meet her in the guise of Kialanystra the Sorceress.

Becky has become more and more withdrawn. Despite the temperature of the Pridelands, she is wearing a scarf over her mouth and a longer set of pants. She is becoming more reluctant towards going outside. Instead, she prefers to pore over the magic items in her treasury, and obsessively catalogue everything new to her. Even her friends at the D&D club have noticed she's become more of a loner than she usually is, now that she asked to drop out of the campaign, but is alright working on the NPCs for Cory.

What shall the future bring?

>>4308410
(Thank you very much for playing! However, I have two very significant internal assessments due this weekend, so I regret to inform you that the next thread of American Highschool Isekai will have to wait. ChadQM, signing off!)

Sorry for not posting anon, will try to be in next thread.

>>4311932
That'll be friday next week!

>>4327021
July 10th?