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>>4688819
Then, it was just a matter of storing the remains of the homunculus. The vivacious, angry, and desperately trying to escape remains. Keeping it locked in a transmutated locker, you and Ken drove it back to FOODS headquarters, crammed it in a larger locker, and then proceeded to both burn basically the last of your energy reserves to weld it shut.

After that, Ken basically passed out after calling in FOODS's resident homunculus specialist for a late night call, and you took an Uber ride from hell.

It wasn't all bad, at first. Your driver, James, a doctoral student in bioinformatics, made nice light conversation, but something kept spiking your little spider sense. Eventually, you got a feeling that you had it figured out, considering that both you and James could see the Wyvern-type Dragon trailing you... and then the second one. Saint, a friendly (or as friendly as Dragons could be) Dragon you had met before was one of them, fighting off the other one, although you have no idea if it was in defense of you in particular or if there was some other motive behind the battle of beasts.

James swerved and sped trying to not get caught in any of the crossfire while you texted Hyde, who alerted FOODS central dispatch. Eventually, James made it to your house safely, and the two of you decided to pull ahead a couple of blocks to hide and wait it out in the alleyway, you with whatever little energy you had left in you, and James with a gun. The roaring eventually subsided, and FOODS's dispatched unit arrived.

For you, a saving grace, but for James, who is distrustful of cops, it seemed like something much more threatening. You parted ways there in an alleyway, letting the FOODS agents escort you back home, while James vanished into the night.

>>4688822
Your sleep is restless and fruitless, your muscles aching, your stomach feeling empty. You feel unfamiliar images flitting through your mind, thoughts that feel like they're not yours to think, clearly distinct from your own like oil and water. Your brain isn't sitting comfortably and the moonlight gazing through your window feels like a persecutor, prodding at your insides.

You sit up in bed, vaulting upwards slowly like someone from the cartoons waking up from a nightmare. You didn't have a nightmare, though, because you never fell asleep. Your skin feels sweaty and clammy, like how it does when you nap wrong and everything feels hazy and slow when you wake up.

>Get over it and go back to bed.
>Go for a walk outside.
>Text someone for advice, if anyone's even up at this hour. (Free Option)
>Skim the tome of human transmutation for answers - it's the closest thing to a guidebook you have.
>Listen to some ballroom jazz... quietly.
>Free Option.

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>>4688824
GLOSSARY OF TERMS
https://pastebin.com/ipHuwpgL

CHARACTER LISTING
https://pastebin.com/miWKveZU

LISTING ON SUPTG
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Dragon%20Slayer%20Quest

PREVIOUS THREAD
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/4645229/

If you're enjoying the quest, your upvotes are greatly appreciated

>>4688824
>Skim the tome of human transmutation for answers - it's the closest thing to a guidebook you have.
Maybe there's a recipe for the alchemy pills in there. It'd be a lead at least.

>>4688824
>>Free Option
Go raid the fridge for a snack, protein bars only go so far.

>>4688824
>Go check on mom. Write her a note or something

>>4688824
Support >>4689019.

Also, a weird thought occurs: Did we leave a review for James on Uber's app? What rating do you give for managing to avoid killer supernatural monsters?

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>>4689087
You did - Noah always leaves five stars as a matter of policy.
>>4689019

You decide to go downstairs and check on your mom, to make sure nothing odd has happened in the night. Your body aches like you've been hit by a truck once you start moving any more than light rolling-about in your sleep, almost certainly a reaction to just how much alchemy you performed... yesterday? Tonight? Last night? Chronology was never your strong suit and clock words are confusing. The clock says it's about 5 AM, so your mom might already be up and about, ambling around and getting breakfast ready for a long day on the job.

You're not sure if you're ready to actually have a conversation with her about your sudden and repeated need to stay outside for long periods of time at night, so instead you just peek your head down the stairs. As you expected, your mom is slowly rising to her feet off the couch, blearily rubbing sleep out of her eyes and yawning. Your arms feel sore, like they're about to fall off their sockets while you hold onto the bannister's little peg thingies that hold it into the stairs.

>Tell your mom "Good morning" and ask her if she has any Melatonin to help you go to sleep.
>Just slink back into your bedroom and try to figure something else out to do to burn the hours between now and daylight.
>Free Option.

>>4690089
>Tell your mom "Good morning" and ask her if she has any Melatonin to help you go to sleep.

>>4690089
>Tell your mom "Good morning" and ask her if she has any Melatonin to help you go to sleep.

>>4690089
actually wait change >>4690114
>slink back and skim the tome on human transmutation before asking her for meds.

If this was from the face healing, noah could be seriously fucked.

>>4690089
>Tell your mom "Good morning" and ask her if she has any Melatonin to help you go to sleep.
I know the feeling, Noah. Blerg, why can't I get to sleep? I'm tired, it's just not happening.

>>4690174
>>4690114
>>4690107
You knock on the bannister twice to get her attention and jump when she does, clearly startled by the fact that you're still awake, startlement that transfers itself easily to you just from the fact that she jumped. "Good morning."

"Shouldn't you be asleep, Noah?" She asks, arms folded in front of her chest. "If you're gonna get home late the least you can do is sleep the full night."

"Yeah, that's the problem, I'm trying. Do you have any sleeping medicine?" You ask.

She looks towards the kitchen and sighs quietly. "I'm not going to give you benedryl this early because it's going to make you sleep through school. I will allow you some melatonin. Take two capsules with water and then give it, like, twenty minutes to kick in. Relax. Listen to some music, maybe read a book." She tells you, raising her voice as she vanishes past your periphery into the kitchen and returns with a lunchbag for herself and a bottle of medication for you, with a red cap. She tosses it up the stairs and you barely manage to catch it. "Seriously, try to get some sleep. Going underslept is bad for your brain. Growing kid like you needs his beauty sleep."

"Yeah, I know, Mom." You respond, fumbling with the cap. "Have a good day at work."

She fumbles for the front door, unlocking the latch and pulling it open. She doesn't even notice the two FOODS officers guarding the stairs leading up into your rowhouse, her eyes looking straight through them. "You too. But school, and not work. Love you, kiddo."

"Love you too, mom." You say, and vanish up the stairs once she vanishes out the door. You pop two melatonin, chug some water out the sink like an animal, and then collapse back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. You've got twenty minutes to burn before it starts kicking in, apparently, so, what's the plan?

>Just shut your eyes and let the sleepiness come.
>Listen to some music like she said.
>Do some light reading on your phone.
>Do some light reading in your book of human transmutation.
>Free Option.

>>4691490
>Do some light reading on your phone.
Don't want to read a forbidden book when we can fall asleep and leave it out.

>>4691490
>Do some light reading on your phone.
Let's read some crappy e-book. You know the kind, the sort that are self-published on Amazon. Those are good to fall asleep to.

>>4691490
>>Listen to some music like she said.

>>4691527
you've got a point

>>4691490
>Listen to some music like she said.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>4691527
>>4691564
1
>>4691702
>>4691700
2

>>4691527
>>4691564
You feel like, given the circumstances, some light reading would probably be good for you, so you sift through the internet until you find something that looks moderately entertaining enough to draw your attention, but not too entertaining to actually be interesting. Some sort of cyberschlock about a boring middle manager who gets turned into a mechanical monstrosity inside a domed city and has to kill and eat other mechanical monstrosities to survive, or something like that - it's all quite droll, but the lurid descriptions are more than enough to pull your attention until your eyes are distracted enough to let themselves collapse inward.

And then you are asleep.

But not really.

Your mind swims. You're... fairly certain that you are asleep right now, and that you are dreaming, because part of you can feel the blanket over your body and the phone laying on your chest, but another part of you sits on a rooftop that extends infinitely outwards in all directions except upwards, somehow containing an oceanic horizon past that as well. An infinity beyond infinity.

You can feel the rough surface of the rooftop beneath you, and the cold air, just as real as the same thing. There's no stars in the sky above, but everything is lit like you're on a studio stage, without a single scrap of shadow to be found. Not even a moon or a sun to be seen.

"Where am I?" You hear from behind you, whirling around to face an uncomfortably familiar girl. You whirl around in all the ways that you can whirl in a dream, slowly, as if moving through molasses.

You know exactly who this girl is - after all, you healed her cuts a couple of hours ago. She looks at you, a lit cigarette wafting smoke from between her fingers. "What's going on?"

>Remain Silent.
>Free Option.
>Wake Up.

>>4692866
"I don't know either."

>>4692866
>mechanical monstrosity inside a domed city and has to kill and eat other mechanical monstrosities
dmcasual?

>"I'll tell you as soon as I figure it out"
So either we took some of her with us, or the process of KNOWING the target has a side effect of copying their being into you.

>>4692866
>"Isuppose this means you didn't invade my dream on purpose"

>>4692866
>Free Option.
>"That is a very good question. Are you sleeping, too?"
>Keep as alert of an awareness of our surroundings as is possible in this dreamscape, watch for any changes to it.

So this is probably a consequence of healing her, but it's possible there's a third party trying to contact both of us. Let's be ready for either.

>>4692866
backing
>>4693055

A response is coming tonight - the QM's curse and not my inherent clumsiness made me both burn the fuck out of my hand grabbing a pan under the broiler and then cut my finger open on my... laptop, somehow? Had to get that all squared away at the urgent care.

>>4695521
I think the takeaway from your recent experiences is that the universe has it out for your hands. Something is holding a grudge on your manipulator appendages.

>>4695521
Oh man. That's tough.

>>4695643
...Okay, post take two because apparently clicking the backspace button trying to erase text just takes you back a page. Anyway, to answer your joke - yes, it does, I have a degenerative genetic condition that will make my hands unusuable after age 50 or so.
>>4693055
>>4694476
"That's is a very good question. Are you sleeping, too?" You ask, watching her move about and think - or you think she thinks.

Her response is simple and summated. "No.", she says, before taking another drag of her cigarette, blowing rings of smoke out from her mouth until she runs out of smoke to blow. You feel, not quite hearing, some kind of creaking howl in the inside of your brain's brain - you know that your dream is on the inside of your mind and that the body you're in right now is some kind of mental projection in this mindscape, and you feel it in this brain, like a picture of a person in a poster holding up the poster, descending into rapidly narrowing infinities, a diminishing asymptotic echoic roar.

You don't know why it did this.

You watch as the girl walks stiffly, robotically over to a nearby air conditioner, sitting down on it silently. You can't tell if her lack of footfall sounds is because she isn't making any, or if they're just being covered up by the perpetual humming of an infinity of air conditioners. Her skin looks fuzzy at the edges, like you're looking at her through a window that is really just an old-timey television screen, falling apart into CRT pixel blocks the more you look at her and can discern the seams.

She brings the cigarette to her lips, takes a deep inhale, and lowers it. She blows smoke rings with her mouth until she runs out. She brings the cigarette to her lips, takes a deep inhale, and lowers it. She blows smoke rings with her mouth until she runs out. She brings the cigarette to her lips, takes a deep inhale, and lowers it. She blows smoke rings with her mouth until she runs out. She brings the cigarette to her lips, takes a deep inhale, and lowers it. She blows smoke rings with her mouth until she runs out. Your reverie is disrupted, rather suddenly, by the increase in frequency of the buzzing of the nearby air conditioners, accompanying a loud, airplane-like roar-rumble, the ground shaking beneath your feet. You look around, nervously, waiting for the shoe to drop for what feels like forever... but it never comes.

You look back at the girl, thinking to yourself. An infinite rooftop, really? That's your mindscape? Not exactly what you'd have picked.

>Remain Silent.
>Free Option.
>Wake Up.

>>4695793
>Ask the girl what's the last thing she remembers before ending up here.

>>4695793
Well, now I feel bad for making that joke. My condolences.

>>Free Option.
>"Okay, then, if this isn't some sort of shared dream, what's the last thing you remember before coming here?"

>>4696076
Oh, no worries, I'm in good humor about it, G-d thought I was too powerful and sexy and had to hit me with the nerf bat

>>4696076
>>4695828
"Okay..." You say, watching her mechanically draw smoke into her mouth and repeat the same smoke ring blowing, ad nauseum, infinitely forward. It's almost entrancing, in a way, the smoothness of her motion, how well-practiced and jerky it is, the way you are fairly certain every errant twitch is being replayed perfectly over each other. It's not like she's doing the same thing over and over again in a normal human way, it's like she's stuck in a loop, resetting when she brings the cigarette down to her knees. "What's the last thing you remember before ending up here?"

She turns her head to you, her routine interrupted. "Your friend cut me up and then you healed my face. I hate both of you. I hate him more." She says, and then locks herself back into her perfect repetition.

Hmm.

The landscape around you feels like it's slowly sharpening in definition the more time you spend around here. Long rods begin slowly extruding themselves out of the rough concrete-like material that rooftops are paved with, and it doesn't take a genius to recognize them - the tip of the honing steel you've been using, the sharpened tree limb you trained with as a makeshift spear. A mound of dirt begins chugging and dumping itself out of the nearest air conditioner, slowly pouring like liquid from its vents.

>Remain Silent.
>Free Option.
>Wake Up.

>>4696997
Okay, my suspicions were correct, she's not a real person. Or not entirely real, she might have something approximating personhood. But this is some sort of record of all the alchemy we've ever done, and since we healed her she counts. Why a rooftop, though? If this is our inner soul world or whatever, what does it say that we're on a roof? And why are we here now, and not any previous night? Odd.

>Free Option.
>Examine the air conditioners. They're the only feature here that isn't an alchemical echo, so let's take a look at the odd thing out.

>>4696997
Great, now we have a full brain emulation living in our head and stealing processing power.

>Examine the air conditioners.

>>4696997
>Examine the air conditioners
Seem to stand out.

>>4697477
>>4697062
>>4697047
You turn your attention away from the maybe-girl and instead to the only other thing of interest here, the rattling air conditioners in your brain. You approach one of them, reaching out to touch it, and as you do, it spits a jet of flame out at your fingers, searing you with an invisible dream-pain that quickly fades away into nothingness in short enough order. You recall the taste of the fire from the outside looking in, the searing tingles on your fingertips when you welded the air conditioner shut.

You try to get closer, and a wooden spike emerges from the metal, attempting to skewer you - you only barely avoid it, taking a rather nasty graze on the cheek for your trouble, but it doesn't seem to matter. The instant you stop paying attention to the new wound on your cheek, it sort of just stops being, lapsing back into fresh, undamaged skin.

The air conditioner continues to grumble angrily towards you... No, well, it grumbles neutrally, but considering its reaction, you can't help but anthropomorphize a little bit of anger back onto it anyway.

>Remain Silent.
>Free Option.
>Wake Up.

>>4698305
>Wake Up.
>Try to find anything about this phenonenon in our book.

>>4698305
>>Wake Up.
Does this have anything to do with the philosopher's stone? Is the stone just some unlimited battery for all the alchemy you've ever done?

>>4698305
Yeah, I'm fine with
>Wake Up.
. I've got a few more ideas for things to test, but looking up some reference material sounds good, too.

>>4698305
>>Wake Up.

No update tonight, sorry - I have a huge Aspirin-resistant tension headache and trying to write anything is like trying to extrude pasta dough through the head of a needle. Will try to update tomorrow afternoon.

>>4699289
>>4698623
>>4698587
>>4698419
You try to wake up.

It does not take.

You strain your eyes, knowing that you're in a dream, considering the way you move like you're swimming through molasses and it's steadily getting worse with every passing second, like the molasses is hardening into candy. You have the distinct feeling that if you threw a punch, no matter how much of your back you put into it, it wouldn't do more than push people away. Gravity feels like it's rapidly failing, as the world lurches out beneath you and you start to fall in slow motion.

Not sideways. You fall up. When you look behind you, any visions of a mysterious girl or alchemical objects disappearing, you see an immense, burning white sun, scorching your vision like something getting burnt into a television screen. And when you look back, the rooftop is gone, dissolving into dust, revealing a pair of curtains behind it. You struggle to move your arms and legs, pulled further and further into the gravitational well of the burning sun behind you.

You are afraid. You don't know why.

>Don't be afraid. It's a dream. Fall into the sun, see what happens.
>Wake up.
>Reach out for the curtains. Grab them. Open them with your brain - what's behind them?
>Be afraid.
>Shut your eyes and curl up into a ball.
>Free Option.
>Die.

>>4701073
>Reach out for the curtains. Grab them. Open them with your brain - what's behind them?

>>4701073
>Reach out for the curtains. Grab them. Open them with your brain - what's behind them?
Sorry, transcendent blaze of alchemical truth, a curtain invites opening with its mystery.

>>4701073
>Play music in your head. Imagine the sounds rolling around you, focusing on your body and the bits of you that are definitely you.
>Think about peeing
>Wake up

>>4701073
>>Wake up.
Yeah just try harder

>>4701164
>>4701189
You reach out for the curtains, and despite them being miles and miles away, you manage to grab a stray thread with your hand, and tugging aside makes the kilometer-long curtains begin to spread, wider, and wider, and wider, revealing a grand orchestra behind them. It feels like it takes days for them to finish opening up fully, and by now, the sun has begun licking your heels like an eager puppy. No matter how much you tell yourself it's only a dream, the heat feels real, sweltering, ashy, pulling all the moisture from your body until your ankles begin to char to quiet stumps.

There's a conductor at the orchestra, of course. A man you vaguely recognize, with a strong face, a square jaw, a powerful aura. You don't know if you've seen this man before in the waking world, but something tells you that some part of you knows exactly who he is.

He turns around to you, dressed for the occasion, and gestures his baton upwards. Behind him, strings and woodwinds and brasses and percussion all spring to life with a jazzy flourish, no need to tune.

You feel the precipice of wakefulness beginning to overtake this dream. You and the man can see each other clearly.

You have just enough time to say something, anything, quick. You don't know what your words will mean in the real world, but you have a gut feeling that they'll mean something.

>Free Option.
>Say Nothing.

>>4702868
Uhhh, I'll leave it to you anons. No ideas.

>>4702868
>>4702878
>Who are you?

>>4702868
>What's your favorite song?

>>4702910
Suppin'

>>4702868
Supporting >>4702903

>>4702868
Supporting >>4702910.
Almost tempted to shitpost with
>Ya like jazz?

>>4702910
"What's your favorite song?" You ask, feeling the increasing char of the sun consuming you traveling up your legs, grabbing you with hands and claws of thick gravity and dragging you backwards into the deep.

"I've got you under my skin." He replies, quietly, just loud enough to be heard, as the orchestra breaks into thumpy ballroom jazz, and you wake up. You feel dazed and aggravated at the ringing alarm clock, the lingering ghost of your dream already fading away into the sands of mentality while you swat at your phone.

You feel drained, and you can feel your heart beating into your forehead, and your eyes burn while you wipe out little eye boogers from them, even as you get up and out of bed and get ready for school.

---

School passes by you like a wave, drowning you in idle chatter that feels uncomfortably vapid, people talking about their parties and the their schoolwork like there isn't a dangerous monster roaming the halls. Your phone is blown up with messages but you obviously don't have time to check them all, at least, not until an assembly is called late in the day. Nothing today thus far has been interesting except for the occasional presence of FOODS officers watching your back, one of them tucked away onto the bus, one watching you leave your home, several in your school's cafeteria.

It looks like someone kicked a hornet's nest.

You did. You kicked a hornet's nest.

Your final class of the day (gym, curse your awful schedule) is cancelled, and instead, all of the students file down the crowded hallways towards the auditorium. The teachers line everything, looking grim, keeping things moving smoothly, no specific seating order just make sure you get seated. It's organized chaos, and you just let yourself and your backpack and the honing steel hidden inside of it get dragged along until your tired eyes are in a seat in the center of the auditorium.

It's large, organized into a more sloped upper seating and then a more gently declining lower seating, with each section of seats divided into thirds by walkways and external ramps helping people get into their seats. There's a small, clear space at the central, stage-closest seating area, where a small wooden bridge connects it and the stage, a place where many a mediocre theatre kid musical plays in the winter and then the spring.

Today, there is no musical. Just concerned looking teachers and the principal at a podium. As the murmuring calms down, he thumps his throat twice and speaks.

"As some of you may have noticed today, the eastern girl's locker room is currently undergoing repairs." He says, his old man voice stiff, uncomfortable, reading off a poorly prepared public statement. "Late last night, at approximately 8:00 AM... Excuse me, PM, several of our alarms went off. After investigation, we have discovered that the eastern girl's locker room has been vandalized, and a threatening letter towards a specific faculty member was found on the premises."

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>>4705574

As he speaks, you look over at the teachers, trying to spot one you recognize, all standing behind the principal. Your eyes narrow and the hair at the back of your neck stands up at the cluster of gym teachers mostly in tracksuits and athletic gear chumming it up quietly while the principal speaks. "We would like to remind you all today that such behavior will not be tolerated, and that we will be working with local law enforcement to ensure that all of last night's vandals are caught and proper justice meted out. That being said, for the rest of the week, we will be postponing gym classes-" He says to a rippling murmur, mostly of assent and good cheer, from the students, "while we repair the eastern girl's locker room. Thank you for your time. And now, a word from-.-.-.-..."

You tune out. Not because the principal's speaking voice is tremendously boring, which is true, but because you've got good eyes and you know when to look for suspicious things. Like when someone who was just in the midst of a conversation suddenly has the entire circle of talking teachers re-organize themselves to exclude him, and he walks out to the ramp on the side of the stage, seemingly to exit the auditorium. You notice even more that you're the only person in your immediate proximity that seems to care about tracking him with your eyes. Your instincts hum at the edges.

>Check to see if you have any spare dragon blood needles and just slip out.
>Who cares, just tell a teacher you have to piss and bounce to trail him.
>There's FOODS officers everywhere today - if anything funny is about to happen, it's their problem to deal with, not yours.
>Free Option.

>>4705578
>There's FOODS officers everywhere today - if anything funny is about to happen, it's their problem to deal with, not yours.
That guy is a high level Dragon if he can keep his human form, and FOODS already knows about him. What the hell can we do about him?
>Text Ken, report this development.

>>4705578
>There's FOODS officers everywhere today - if anything funny is about to happen, it's their problem to deal with, not yours.
Yeah the only thing we could be concerned about is the officers intentionally not doing anything about it, and walking up to ask them would be hella suspicious

>>4705578
>>There's FOODS officers everywhere today - if anything funny is about to happen, it's their problem to deal with, not yours.
Same reasoning. It's their job.

>>4705578
Supporting >>4705910. Leave it to the professionals, but make sure they know just for our peace of mind.

I'm sorry it's been kind of touch and go, and unfortunately today is going to also be one of those days, I had what the kids call an "epic freakout moment" over some stupid shit and I am so tense that my body is literally rebelling against me and locking up with pain as if to say "You're going to go to bed now". Will try to give you a big next update and/or an early one tomorrow.

One of these days I will have a thread go by with zero interruptions to service, I promise.

>>4707087
I know the feeling. I hope whatever the stressor was doesn't persist. Get some rest, Richard, and feel better in the morning.

>>4706059
>>4706032
>>4705955
>>4705910
Discretion is the better part of valor today, and you decide that you'd rather be discreet than dead. You sit there, not moving, but watching, as various FOODS operatives slip out of hiding. You can just imagine one of them, calling in on some kind of alchemical walkie-talkie... or maybe just the normal kind of walkie talkie - "Bogey spotted, moving in to intercept", or something equally silly like that. But you don't hear anything, because the principal is loud and droning and the steady murmur of students around you drones out the ambient noise, you just watch. Watching is all you can safely do.

They filter out like army ants, drawing blades in plain sight while everyone else's eyes glaze through them like they aren't even there. They all must already be dosed up on Dragon blood, judging by how quickly and carelessly they move, climbing over railings, hoisting themselves across chairs. You count at least fifteen agents, all toting some kind of sharp, pointy, or heavy weapon, and then a sixteenth agent with a fairly large compound bow and a quiver of long, narrow arrows.

It doesn't take long before the noise distracting you changes. Maybe a minute before you hear the first bone-rattling explosion going off, light peeking through the hallway windows in bright orange and white flashes. You keep your mouth shut and your head down, slightly lowered, feeling particularly insane as absolutely nobody else even appears to notice in the slightest. You've seen some absurd demonstrations of the perception-distorting abilities of Dragons, but nothing has topped this so far - a packed, crowded auditorium, an active speaker, crowds of teachers, and what sounds like a warzone in the hallway.

Silence. And then, the sound of doors, big, heavy doors designed to lock away any active shooter, are ripped off their hinges, and you have to simply play nice and stand still and not look behind you as the immense footfalls of an active, living, transformed Three-star Dragon fall behind you in loud, raucous steps. You hear the shouts of the chasing FOODS members, picking out only one word that gives you any sort of insight and cramming it into your ears - "Jabberwock". A shadow passes over you, and with a gust of wind, you feel someone two seats down from you get plucked out of their chair.

Your rational, planning part of your brain idly wonders what that must be like - to very suddenly be held hostage by a creature that actively interferes in your efforts to perceive it. The survival part of your brain is screaming, heartbeat thrumming so firm and hard in your chest you feel like you're about to explode. The Dragon's voice is distressingly melodious, and you hear the loud scrape of some kind of claw against whatever the hard material beneath the carpeting is - concrete? Who knows.

He stands in the row behind you, perched on the chairs.

>>4708570
"Now, listen here, you freaks. I don't know who you are or what you want with me, but I'm dangerous. See this girl?" You hear him growl and rasp through a no longer human throat. You see shadows shifting against you while the principal continues to rattle on, watching his distorted silhouette shake her limply like a ragdoll. "I'll rip her open, her and the rest of these fucking brats. They won't even see it coming. You're gonna drop the fucking medieval weaponry and back the fuck away."

You can hear it, even in his draconic form.

Panic. Sheer, ventricle-slamming panic.

A cornered animal.

"I said GET BACK! Put the weapons down! Do it!"

You pull your phone out and stare down at it, trying to angle it just right that you can catch even the slightest glimpse of what Coach White turned into. You can't make out any details clearly on such a narrow screen, but you can see that his head is past your right, the rest of his body is about at the same spot as your left shoulder, and he has talons. Sure, the other Dragons have all had sharp implements, but nothing like the curved raptor talons pressed to this poor hostage's heart.

You're at a loss. Is there anything you can even do?

"Weapons down!"

>You can heal anyone he hurts. You have a weapon that can elongate in your backpack. Any distraction will give FOODS the opening they need. It's time to get really, really brave. [Reckless]
>FOODS has this covered. They have people coming in that are ready to deal with Three-stars. They have a plan, and it's not unbelievable that he'd try to take hostages - really, it's the logical course of action. Stand down, Noah. Stand down. [Logical]
>Free Option.

>>4708571
>Play music really loudly on your phone and get caught.
This school isn't that strict about this sort of thing right?

Man, is that brother and sister duo here? They might go crazy and attack the dragon themselves.

>>4708571
>Keep quiet for now, but keep looking for an opening.
Not only are we in the Dragon's line of sight and so can't really do anything without endangering the hostage, we're also not venomed up. But the Dragon doesn't know that we know, so he might turn his back on us.

>>4708571
Supporting >>4708606. We don't want to mess up the hunter team's coordination by jumping the gun, but we should still be on watch for anything we can do to help that won't make things worse.

>>4708571
>>You can heal anyone he hurts. You have a weapon that can elongate in your backpack. Any distraction will give FOODS the opening they need. It's time to get really, really brave. [Reckless]
Way I read it, he is facing away from us. The big problem we have is that we aren't venom'd, so if we want to act we need to cause a distraction.

How about yelling at the principal something along the lines of "so are you actually investigating the rapey teacher, or just sweeping it under the rug?" Kick up a fuss in the hall, hopefully distract the dragon long enough for FOODS to act.

>>4708606
>>4708854
You hold your horses, even as ideas course through your head, just watching and waiting with your eyes down on your phone. The principal and his teachers and their monologuing isn't even registering to you as background noise now, just formless shapes cut in through the actual noise you're paying attention to, the sounds of a monster and the beating of your heart in your ears.

Is this a Mexican Standoff? Your knowledge of media only goes so far, popping off at the most inopportune time like Frank Sinatra music. The Dragon hisses quietly, seething behind you, snapping his jaw together and gnashing his teeth at, what you assume, is the closest FOODS agent. There's a hissing, wheezing sort of quiet breath that you don't recognize. "Yeah, look, you can see that real fresh blood, can't you, pig? She's not even gonna know what hit her. Back up, good doggy." He snarls, taking another two steps forward, distributing his weight along the bolted-in auditorium chairs. A foot passes by you, a narrow, slender tail gently swishing back and forth into your hair.

You resist the urge to react. It's so, so very hard, but you can hold on. Survival instinct overwhelms the need to itch or adjust - you are ramrod still.

>Remain still until he's out of grabbing range, and then shoot for his back or spine with your steel. You don't think he's expecting attacks from angles he can't see. [Calculating]
>Play music on your phone and get caught doing it. Causing a ruckus might distract him enough to give an opening to FOODS. [Brave]
>"So, are you guys going to investigate the coach sexually assaulting the track and field team, or are we just going to try and sweep that one under the rug with a fake bomb threat?". You know who this Dragon is. He still has human emotions. Provoking him will make it that much harder for him to keep track of the more dangerous FOODS agents, far better than a simple music distraction. [Clever]
>Stay still. Do nothing. [Fearful]
>Free Option.

>>4710345
>"So, are you guys going to investigate the coach sexually assaulting the track and field team, or are we just going to try and sweep that one under the rug with a fake bomb threat?". You know who this Dragon is. He still has human emotions. Provoking him will make it that much harder for him to keep track of the more dangerous FOODS agents, far better than a simple music distraction. [Clever]

>>4710345
>"So, are you guys going to investigate the coach sexually assaulting the track and field team, or are we just going to try and sweep that one under the rug with a fake bomb threat?". You know who this Dragon is. He still has human emotions. Provoking him will make it that much harder for him to keep track of the more dangerous FOODS agents, far better than a simple music distraction. [Clever]

Eheheheh

>>4710345
>>"So, are you guys going to investigate the coach sexually assaulting the track and field team, or are we just going to try and sweep that one under the rug with a fake bomb threat?". You know who this Dragon is. He still has human emotions. Provoking him will make it that much harder for him to keep track of the more dangerous FOODS agents, far better than a simple music distraction. [Clever]
time to be a madlad lol

>>4710345
>>"So, are you guys going to investigate the coach sexually assaulting the track and field team, or are we just going to try and sweep that one under the rug with a fake bomb threat?". You know who this Dragon is. He still has human emotions. Provoking him will make it that much harder for him to keep track of the more dangerous FOODS agents, far better than a simple music distraction. [Clever]

>>4710345
>Free Option.
>Cut our finger for blood first. If we're going to distract this guy we're going to want to have a defense if he comes after us. And hey, maybe the blood alone will distract him.
>THEN
>"So, are you guys going to investigate the coach sexually assaulting the track and field team, or are we just going to try and sweep that one under the rug with a fake bomb threat?". You know who this Dragon is. He still has human emotions. Provoking him will make it that much harder for him to keep track of the more dangerous FOODS agents, far better than a simple music distraction. [Clever]

>>4711140
>>4710447
>>4710400
>>4710396
>>4710347
You take a deep breath, cup your hands around your mouth, and shout.

"So, are you guys going to investigate the coach sexually assaulting the track and field team, or are we just going to try and sweep that one under the rug with a fake bomb threat?"

Your voice is loud and strikingly sonorous, accompanied by the acoustic artifacts of the auditorium for impressive amounts of amplification. It echoes, bouncing around for a moment, cutting off all sound, and you experience what to any normal teenager is probably the most pants-wetting thing possible - everyone in the auditorium turning to look at you, including, judging from the creaking sound behind you, Coach White in his draconic state.

It's dead silent. You could hear a coin drop, and then the murmuring starts, quiet at first, slowly growing into a dull roar. "Little brat." You hear growled behind you, right behind your ear, and you feel a hand wrapping around your head, each finger curling around your skull, five razor-sharp raptor talons curving around your face and taking up your field of vision.

"Um." The principal says, meekly, and then the most astonishing thing happens. You feel Coach White's claw digging into your cheek, and everyone's eyes glaze over in no more than ten seconds, staring at the empty void of perception where you used to be. Tossing his previous hostage aside, the Dragon hoists you up into the air by your skull, which is exceptionally painful, and before gravity can yank the rest of your body from the neck down off of you, you hear a low, airy whistling.

You can't see what happens - you put your phone away when you prepared to shout, but you can feel his body jerking with motion, neck whipping to the left, sinuous form leaning, no longer balanced. His claws dig deeper into your face, too startled to rip you apart but not startled enough to prevent him from squeezing like a vice grip. There's another low whistle, and then you hear it more clearly, a solid thunk - an arrow hitting flesh, puncturing through scales, the shadow of his head whipping back as he hurls you out onto the floor.

Your brain makes a snap realization. He never ended up cutting his previous hostage - she was never envenomed, which is probably why she didn't start screaming and freaking out like the first time you fought a Dragon. But he lost his cool and squeezed you a little too hard, and now you have fresh cuts on your face, and can look up and see the Jabberwock before you.

>>4711791

It's nothing like the Dragons you've seen before, all power and muscle and mass - it's slender, like a snake with slightly smaller snakes tied to where its arms and legs should be. Bony, too, but with visibly straining muscle, coiled and ready to jump or slink around, every part of it slinky and mobile. At the end of its feet were five claws arranged in a star pattern, clearly more for clinging to things than attacking, and at the end of its hands, massive, sickle-like claws, two of which were gleaming with your blood. His thick, powerful looking neck, almost like a giraffe's, was punctured in the middle with an arrow, and again right near the skull with a second arrow, dripping fresh blood onto the seats below. His eyes, wild, unfettered, bright green coloration marred only by a black flap of skin that probably used to be a tie and the morphic remnants of the teacher's beard, extended into a dark brownish-grey underbelly pattern.

He hisses and snarls, thrashing about and groaning in pain. He doesn't seem to notice your blood scent in any particular way, and then it occurs to you that he's probably been smelling FOODS blood all day anyway - no wonder he's been nervous and ready to do something drastic. He looks towards the FOODS agents and drops any attention he had pointed at you, presumably expecting you to not be a threat.

"You sit tight, you runt. Let me take care of these dogs and then I'm going to save you for last. Slowly and painfully." He rants, reaching up and yanking both arrows out of his body with a loud roar, the puncture wounds spraying blood onto an unseeing row of students. "If you try to run, I'll make it worse!"

He has not realized, in his haste, that he no longer has a hostage in direct access - but it still won't be hard to grab one. You can't even pay attention to the muttering chaos rippling through the rest of the auditorium. Words are being said, but blood is rushing through your ears while angry students attempt to jeer and question the principal.

>Loudly freak out to distract him. Pretend it's your first time. [Conniving]
>He's not paying a scrap of attention to you. You have fresh blood. Stab him in the back. [Sly]
>Put that architecture to use. There's a battlefield, turn it against him, give FOODS an opening. (Free Phrase).
>Free Option.
>Free Phrase

>>4711793
What's the flooring of the auditorium? Concrete, or that fake wood tile stuff?

>>4711803
Red carpet over black painted concrete. The stage itself is hardwood, but we are not very close to it.

>>4711793
>Put that architecture to use. There's a battlefield, turn it against him, give FOODS an opening. (Free Phrase).
The FOODS agents will surely try to lure him away from the civilians. Wait until he is, then command the carpet to "tangle"

>>4711811
I like the idea of "tangling" with TENSIONED carpet, but won't that interfere with getting him away from the civilians?

Maybe we're better off with a sweet and simple Concrete Spike jutting out from the ground.

>>4711828
That's why we wait until he's already away from the civilians, then tangle. A concrete spike doesn't solve the civilian problem.

>>4711793
eh, works for me.

support >>4711811
Trip up and tangle the legs once he's out of the way.

>>4711793
Supporting >>4711811. Let's tie him up. Probably won't last long given he's snakey, but should be enough to distract.

>>4711811
>>4711828
>>4711836
>>4712861
You put your hand up to your face, letting the searing pain of fresh cuts drip new fuel onto your fingertips, pooling in your palm. You're invisible to the outside world now, and you will be for a couple hours more. You smear blood into the carpet, apologizing silently to the janitors, and wait, digging your fingertips into the fibers.

The Dragon lets out a wordless battlecry, charging forward, ripping carpet with his claws as another arrow sails past him and into the floor, embedding with enough force that it sticks slightly into the concrete. Jesus. Someone barks something about "squads" and "move, move, move!" and the FOODS agents scatter, six of them vaulting over the railings, popping their thumbs open and spreading the railings like fencing throughout the air, snaking and crisscrossing to form a veritable jungle gym, branching off to create a grid of metal just too small for the Dragon to fit through. Another two grab another railing and begin forming it to the other side, a barrier of thick railings to cordon off the Dragon. He slithers to the left, attempting to escape into the crowd, only to smash his head into a growing section of rail, he slithers to the right, trying to leave through the back, and much the same happens. Another arrow sails through the air, shrieking past him, no longer effective now that he can see them coming.

You watch. Two FOODS agents with swords in one hand, small ballistic shields in the other, march down the death hallway, ramming their pommels rhythmically against their shields. Behind them, another two, with the same mass produced blades. It's nothing unlike any FOODS operation you've seen before, staggering levels of competency and uniformity from people you could've sworn you've never even seen at the local station. Are these agents from elsewhere? Is this a dedicated Three-star hunting team? Your questions go perilously unanswered as the Dragon scrabbles for a place to go.

You squeeze your hands. "Tangle." You murmur, thinking of knots of wool stuck in each other, the little balls of fuzz that form on any carpet when it goes untreated for too long, the way a thick carpet sucks up dirt, traps hair and insects, and you tug. You yank upwards and the carpet comes with you, thick masses of wool sprouting like vines and wrapping around the Dragon's feet.

He screams. He screams and writhes as you lock his legs and ankles up, reaching down to desperately shred fabric from around his skin. The death march comes. The FOODS agents, all just slightly out of striking distance, stop.

>>4713501
They point their swords like aiming a rifle, and the Dragon shrieks. It reaches for its own stomach with both hands, grabs tightly, and rips itself in half just as all four blades shoot out like bullets, skewering the empty air where the Dragon's upper body was a moment ago. He grabs onto the railing tightly and starts scrabbling upwards, weaving left and right while the FOODS agents aim and fire again. This time, their aim is true, catching it by the shoulder and pinning its left arm.

The Dragon bites down on the railings, dislocates its other shoulder, and rips its other arm off. You pull back on the carpet, only able to watch as it uses its mouth like another arm with practiced skill, grabbing the top of the cage and straining itself just enough to pry it open, white hot droplets of molten metal narrowly missing the heads of the FOODS personnel below. You can barely see the Dragon anymore as it swings into the rafters, its abandoned arm and lower body twitching and shuddering, beginning to dissolve into some kind of disgusting meat slime.

Slowly, the railings retract to normal. One of the FOODS agents points to you and starts approaching, the rest visibly relax, wounds and scorch marks becoming more apparent when their bodies are not full of tension and duty.

What do you even say?

>Say nothing, wait for them to say something to you first.
>"Hey! What the fuck? You're letting him get away!" [Angry]
>"Sorry. I think... that wasn't supposed to happen?" [Anxious]
>"Bet he'll be feeling that one tomorrow morning." [Cocky]
>"Any of you guys got a bandaid?" [Casual]
>Free Option.

>>4713502
>"You're just....letting him go?" [Anxious]

>>4713502
>"You're just....letting him go?" [Anxious]

>>4713502
>Say nothing, wait for them to say something to you first.

Oh, right, forgot to mention - tonight is Passover festivities so I will likely not be able to update because I will be sloshed. Chag Sameach.

>>4713879
Oh god, I keep forgetting that it's Passover. I am a bad Jew. It's one of those consequences of the Covid time abyss, I guess, no ability to go celebrate with extended family means that it keeps slipping my mind. Well, have fun with the Passover festivities, less-bad Jew. Enjoy that sweet Passover wine and it's always-surprising high proof. It's always stronger than I remember it is.

Very hungover. Regular updates will continue Monday! Thank you all for reading, I love and cherish every one of you.

>>4713879
Chag sameach. I hope your fast is an easy one, if you're participating.

>>4713503
>>4713504
"You're just... letting him go?" You ask, shaking anxiously, staring upwards at the catwalk as it shakes and rattles before stopping its motion. You furl your arms in front of your chest, hugging yourself, letting a little shudder run through you. "Aren't you going to chase him? Or finish him off, or something? Isn't that your job?"

The FOODS agent reaches out to pat you on the shoulder a couple of times. It does not feel particularly comforting. "No need to worry, rookie. With injuries like that, the bogey's going to be out of commission for two weeks, bare minimum."

"And how's that gonna help me when he comes back looking for me?" You ask, getting a little angry, furrowing your brow.

"Oh, right, we put a couple of trackers on him. We'll be keeping a close eye on him and you for the next couple of weeks." He reassures you, kneeling down slightly in a very transparent attempt to get closer to eye level with you. It is not very effective, considering the height difference, and you feel more condescended to than anything else.

>"What about everyone else, did any of the other students get harmed?" [Worried]
>"So is this like magical Witness Protection?" [Jokey]
>"...God, that is so fucking reckless of you guys. You better not let me get assassinated by a pissed off Dragon or... I don't know, I'll haunt the shit out of you." [Angry]
>Stay silent.
>Free Option.

>>4718042
>"And what happens once those two weeks pass?"

>>4718042
>"What about everyone else, did any of the other students get harmed?" [Worried]

>>4718042
>"Can't you starve it or something? Does it need blood in those 2 weeks to heal up?"

>>4718042
>"What about everyone else, did any of the other students get harmed?" [Worried]
>Free Option.
>"Why fight him here, anyway? There wasn't any opportunity to do it somewhere with less bystanders?"

>>4718050
>>4718360
"What about everyone else, did anyone else get harmed? Why fight him here, anyway?" You ask, glancing over onto the crowd, feeling another shudder roll through your spine, from your tailbone all the way to your neck. "There wasn't any opportunity to do it somewhere with less bystanders?" You ask, wanting so bad to tell the FOODS agent to his face "that was reckless" but keeping your tongue to yourself.

He looks at you a little funny, but you can tell behind his hat he's trying to look as understanding and empathetic as possible. He does not do a very good job at it. "We received a tip-off from a senior officer of imminent Dragon activity that has already lead to several baseline human casualties as of last night. With the information received and forces available, we began investigating. Unfortunately, the bogey was hidden for most of the day, and we had reason to believe that he would've caused a mass casualty event at this... assembly if given the opportunity to slip away."

You look at him with an eyebrow raised, trying to look even slightly intimidating. You can tell he doesn't buy it from the way he sighs and stands up to his full height, letting you more easily read the name off the nametag - Gerald Gregor. "...My personal apologies for the behavior of the squadron. It's, frankly, a miracle that went as smoothly as it did. If the operation was under my control I... may not have performed it this close to the civilian crowd, but we were working with the best information we had available."

Your head stirs a bit. There was certainly no indication from last night that you could see that Coach White was planning on mass murdering a bunch of students, and the only person who could've made a tip-off is you, Ken, or Jimmy - at least to your knowledge. Your head spins like clicking cogs in a clockwork mechanism, trying to fit the useful information into place.

>"...Alright, well, what now?"
>"Are you guys going to be staying here for a while to keep watch?"
>"...Am I free to go?"
>"Well... if that information is correct, then, thank you for stopping something really bad from happening today."
>Stay silent.
>Free Option.

>>4719279
>"Well.....thanks, then."
>"Wait, could he go for my mom?"

>>4719279
>"Well... if that information is correct, then, thank you for stopping something really bad from happening today."
>"Are you guys going to be staying here for a while to keep watch?"

>>4719279
That's worrying. Doesn't necessarily mean someone was lying, but it would be some suspicious timing. Best case scenario, there was already an investigation into Coach White and Ken and Jimmy's report urged them to move up the timetable. Worst case, somebody made the intel up to force a confrontation here and now for some nefarious purpose. Troubling. Definitely something to ask Ken about next time we see her.

>"Well... if that information is correct, then, thank you for stopping something really bad from happening today."
>"Are you guys going to be staying here for a while to keep watch?"

No energy to write tonight, put my face against the sanding belt at work metaphorically speaking. Will try for a big update and/or double update tomorrow.

>>4719279
>>"Well.....thanks, then."

>>4719295
>>4721512
>>4719882
>>4719402
"Well, uh, thanks, then. If that information is correct, you guys stopped something really bad from happening today. So. Thanks." You say, sort of awkwardly shuffling back and forth. "Are you guys going to be staying here for a while to keep watch?"

He nods politely and professionally. "This place is a high priority area now that there's a confirmed Three-star in the area. We'll likely be calling in backup from l'Ordine so we can get more coverage around the city, and since, uh, you got yourself a little more involved we'll try to keep people posted around your neighborhood."

You raise your eyebrow a little bit, and he nervously rubs the back of his head. "You called us in last night?"

"Oh. Yeah. I just... figured there would be more officers? Like, it'd be separate groups." You say, chuckling right back. He laughs right with you.

"Nah, there's not nearly that many of us, which is why we're calling in backup. So if you see any, uh, spooky looking priests in battle armor or whatever just... don't pay them any mind?" He asks - sort of requests, by the tone of it.

"Yeah, I'll try not to... You think you could keep a couple guys posted in case he decides to go for my mom?" You ask. He nods with a little more vigor.

"We'll make a note of it, yeah. And keep you abreast of the situation as it, erm, develops." He finishes.

>"Is a Three-star really that big a deal that it requires backup from the Vatican?" [Inquisitive]
>"...What's l'Ordine? Is that, like, a special group of officers?" Pretend to not know what he's talking about so you can see if you can get more info. [Prying]
>"Alright, well. Thanks again for your work today, I guess. I'm probably going to go get ready for my bus?" [Nonchalant]
>Stay silent.
>Free Option.

>>4722579
>"...What's l'Ordine? Is that, like, a special group of officers?" Pretend to not know what he's talking about so you can see if you can get more info. [Prying]

>>4722579
>"...What's l'Ordine? Is that, like, a special group of officers?" Pretend to not know what he's talking about so you can see if you can get more info. [Prying]

>>4722579
>"Is a Three-star really that big a deal that it requires backup from the Vatican?" [Inquisitive]

>>4722579
>>"...What's l'Ordine? Is that, like, a special group of officers?" Pretend to not know what he's talking about so you can see if you can get more info. [Prying]
Follow up with
>>"Is a Three-star really that big a deal that it requires backup from the Vatican?" [Inquisitive]
I guess.

>>4722579
>So do I need to get treated? He only cut me a little.

Sorry again, everyone - I forgot about my own schedule, and yesterday was my deadline for my manuscript that I am sending off to my editor. Hopefully this will be the first step towards becoming a published author! Update later tonight probably but I'm also very exhausted so it's a 50/50 shot.

>>4725702
Hey, that's great to hear, Richard! Good luck with your publisher, man, and get some rest.

>>4725702
Get your strength back, and good luck!

>>4725702
Good luck and I hope you’re feeling better later.

>>4724159
>>4722587
>>4722586
You pretend not to know what he's talking about to see if you can get any more information beyond what you already know. "...What's l'Ordine? Is that, like, a special group of officers?" You ask, gently rubbing at the stinging cuts on your face. The officer notices and reaches into the inner lining of his clothes to pull out some alcohol wipes.

"Uh, use disinfect." He instructs you, with the same sort of slightly forceful, odd sort of tone of voice that you know means he's talking alchemy talk. You graciously accept the wet wipes, tear it open, unfurl it, and dab it with your blood before thinking about the stinging sort of pain of an effective rubbing alcohol disinfection. You mutter the magic words and wipe your face, wincing at the intense discomforting pain compared to normal rubbing alcohol, feeling your skin slowly pull itself together a little bit. The sting lingers, unlike normal rubbing alcohol, which you suppose means that those cuts are gonna stay disinfected for a bit while you finish up here.

"Basically, they're these kinda batfuck crazy Dragon slayers from Italy. They work for, uh, the Vatican, I think? We don't really like each other, but our organizations have a good enough working relationship that we can call for them if we need them. Which we do." He explains, wiping sweat off his brow with his sleeve.

"Why don't you guys like each other?" You ask. The man sighs quietly.

"Jeez, 'course you're a school kid, fulla questions..." He mumbles quietly, clearly joking. "Basically, they think Dragons are evil demons from Satan, while we know it's just some genetic hoo-hickey. So we're a little at odds with each other. Nothing more complicated than that."

You raise an eyebrow. "Right."

"Yeah." He chuckles nervously. "Mmhmm."

"Mmhmm." You respond. You both look at each other for a little bit, before deciding to mercy kill the conversation, giving your face another dab with the alcohol wipe of pain. "Well, uh, thanks again. I think I'm gonna just... go sit and wait for the bus outside?"

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." He says, sheepishly. He throws a thumb over his shoulder. "I'm gonna... go, uh... with the boys."

You give him a polite wave, he gives you a nod of acknowledgment, and you both split off your separate ways.

>>4728791
Apologies for the delay, and thank you for sticking with me, readers! I'll be archiving the thread and moving on to #8 tomorrow. I appreciate your readership greatly. Sleep well.

>>4728792
Thanks for running!

Quest archived:

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/4688819/

New thread coming in an hour or two.

New thread:
>>4732266