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>>5174490
LEVEL UP!

You have become better than ever at politesse and mercantilism.

When facing a matter where success is not guaranteed or terribly likely, failure has notable consequences, or I’d feel railroady making you fail or cheap forcing a success, I will roll dice: one d20 for each star next to that aptitude. If a couple apply, you will get a bonus d20 as well.

You also have an inherent bonus to disguise attempts when relevant, can use human magic items without your Reptilian race’s usual penalty, and you have a decreased difficulty to rolls wherein you fight an untrained opponent hand-to-hand due to martial arts training.

Having formed a symbiotic pact with the succubus Irinnile, you can also shapeshift (including to create wings or natural weapons), sense and influence emotions and even read surface-level thoughts or enter dreams, puppeteer a limited number of mortals by depositing a fragment of Irinnile into them—right now, you have inflicted this fate upon four agents of the Mages’ tower and a certain dangerous human noble’s chef. You are also seemingly immune to permanent injury as a result of fire and mundane weapons. Your demonic powers are not without a price: Irinnile has a powerful sense of <WANT> at her core. Every time you use her powers or deny her something she desires, the <WANT> grows stronger, increasing the DC of rolls to control her impulses. Thanks to you maintaining your soulbond in spite of romantic difficulties, this isn't as risky as it once was... But could still result in complications. Your current level of <WANT> is DC 16.

In general, DCs are 15, but disguise, magic item use, and favourable melees as discussed have DC 10. Thanks to Irinnile’s powers, you also currently have this reduced DC of 10 for nighttime or shadowy stealth checks, seduction rolls, and single-target illusion or mentalism checks.

Irinnile was not your only love, though. Your ill-fated romance with Edwin of Engel, a bookish human male, has left you with lasting HEARTBREAK that weakens your resolve to live and struggle against the odds. Luckily, Irinnile’s support helps to buoy you up, more than negating this penalty… For now.

You have also gained a one-time invocation of your Dark Gods’ <DIVINE FAVOUR>, and access to their <AKASHIC RECORD> of their mortal agents’ past activities; the DC to access it varies depending upon how long ago the event took place, how far away it occurred, and whether you have a relevant focus.

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>>5174498
You have acquired a number of items in your inventory, though you may not always have access to all of them: a suit of leafweave armour and the materials to maintain it, a magical diadem granting clarity and control when your perceptions are affected by outside sources, a hidden charm which suppresses your succubus partner’s demonic aura inside you, an enchanted dagger both frosty and fierce, a coin which can buy the safe transit of your soul, a serpent-priest staff with unknown properties, a magic scroll-case containing a hellhound, a very small amount of shirin stimulant… And suicide poison.

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>>5174506
“Kamunu?” the human behind the brothel’s front desk says, referring to you by one of your many pseudonyms. “Hey, that is you! What’s with the, um, new cloak, hun? What happened to that nice blue on of yours?”

“It’ss at the cleaner’ss,” you lie.

Your enchanted blue cloak is in fact being watched over by your sometime-patsy/sometimes-lover Zi the Goblin, in the aforementioned shanty-town where she lives. You can’t risk wearing it openly around town, since just earlier today, you wore the rather distinctive garment during a violent altercation with two of the city’s elite Paladin knights. You’d hoped to be able to retrieve it soon, but considering the prevalence of guards, and even a Paladin on (shudder to think!) GRYPHON-back who you skillfully evaded by means of shapeshifting and subterfuge on your way back from Goblintown, you sincerely doubt you’ll be donning it openly anytime in the near future. A shame, that—you actually quite liked that cloak, custom-fabricated as it was by your bullyable human pawn/friend/personal tailor Agatha Johan.

“Well, we HAVE to get you a nicer back-up one, hun!” Felia teases lightly. “We can’t have The Desert Princess wearing anything less than the best, can we?”

You smile a little at that. You have to admit: fashion is one of the things you’ve come to enjoy about your infiltration mission in the human Metropolis of Hawksong.

“Oh! And by the way, Mina said to tell you that you were right!” Felia says, with great enthusiasm, speaking of her employer, the brothel’s feline proprietress. “A couple of GORGEOUS girls came over from that rival lounge, Goldenrod, to apply for jobs! A tall blonde and a couple others, also VERY pretty.”

Your smile expands into a smirk at that. It’s always nice to see your schemes and machinations bear fruit, even if it’s in the form of sabotaging a rival pleasure-parlour to bolster the economic position of your cover-identity’s workplace.

“I had ssome more sssucccesss in that regard, actually,” you say.

“Oh?”

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>>5174514
You tell Felia that you have a lead on a hobgoblin who may be interested in some part-time work as a dancer. You do so without telling her SPECIFICS of how you encountered her, for you can hardly tell Felia that you did so while wearing the false-face of a half-orc. The Pretty Kitty middle-manager is skeptical at first, which you suppose makes sense, since goblinoids aren’t usually considered ‘conventionally attractive’ by human standards. Even when you describe her spectacular figure and mention that she might have a ‘sexy nurse’ gimmick—the hobgoblin, Yandorse, was serving as a quasi-medic at a ‘salvage’ operation for her cousin—Felia looks non-plussed.

“Goblins have a bit of a… Reputation,” she intimates. “You know, for… Being less-than-clean. There’s already a bit of wariness going around about that, too: some john caught an itch at Goldenrod, so Mina is waiting a few days to allow any wetwork by the new hires—after a personal inspection.”

“Then Mina can insspect thiss one, too,” you assert. “It will be worth it.”

“…For a hobgoblin, hun?” Felia asks after a moment. “You’re SURE about that? That there’s enough demand for… That kind of fun, to put her on payroll?”

“Felia, our bossss hass a cat’sss face,” you point out. “Exxxotic isss our BRAND. Compared to THAT, sharp teeth and big earsss are barely even worth mentioning, don’t you think?”

Felia sigh and laughs quietly. “Alright, you got me there. Mina trusts you, Kamunu, and I really ought to by now, too.”

You just smile in thanks, and go to get ready to take the stage in your usual, coin-festooned silken dancing attire. The show, after all, is about to start.

What is your plan for the evening?
>Put on a perfunctory performance, get paid, and get out of here early to go hunt down a demon or two
>Stay in tonight, pulling some extra coin in with some prostitution while you stay out of the way of the Paladins’ patrols
>Get to know the new Goldenrod recruits a little better
>Talk business with Mina and Felia
>Write-in

>>5174521
>Put on a perfunctory performance, get paid, and get out of here early to go hunt down a demon or two

later virgins

>>5174521
>Stay in tonight, pulling some extra coin in with some prostitution while you stay out of the way of the Paladins’ patrols

>>5174521
>Get to know the new Goldenrod recruits a little better
Dat WANT is pretty high, two birds with one stone.

>>5174521
>Get to know the new Goldenrod recruits a little better
>Finish up early and go demon hunting

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>>5174544
>>5174760
>>5174844
>>5175149
You can’t stay long—tonight is too critical to your real mission. Still, it behooves you to at least get to know your newest coworkers while you’re here anyway, earning some coin and maintaining your cover identity. In the last two months, you have become a dominant force in the brothel’s internal politics, and a ruler must know something of her subjects!

As you ready yourself to meet the latest recruits, you discover that you have run out of the body oil which helps to hide your scaly patches of skin from public discovery. They haven’t started to rise into pronounces scutes, or to revert to the darker shade they tend to assume when you neglect to oil them, but if not attended to by some means, they will be obvious tomorrow. Some might assume them a skin condition but… Well, perhaps it’s best not to chance it. You suppress your self-consciousness, reminding yourself that at the moment they look only like slightly-dry skin, or a small patch of rash, and you finish changing and go to meet the girls.

“Didiane,” you greet the golden-blonde beauty, formerly of Goldenrod fame, “I ssee you took my offer sseriously! And you brought friends…”

Didiane returns your greeting, and she introduces you to two other female humans she has brought with her: Aubrey and Luna. Aubrey is brown of hair, fair of skin, and both thin and fit of body; Luna is another blonde, tanned and freckled as if from field-work at some point in her not-so-distant past, and has a sort of neoteny to her features which some human males seem to gravitate towards—it’s enough so that you feel compelled to ask her what her age is.

“Old enough,” Luna says defensively. “Not that we’re going to be doing any, uh, ‘wetwork’ anytime soon, I guess.”

“Which is fine,” Didiane says breezily. “If you wanted to do regular whoring, we could have stayed where we were. I’m here for the ART!”

Didiane looks excitedly to you, as does her other companion. Your pitch to this woman was, after all, one which heavily emphasized the exotic dancing done at The Pretty Kitty. It makes sense that this would be her main interest!

“Well, maybe you’ll get your chanccce tonight,” you say.

“Maybe,” Mina agrees, the feline madam having crept with characteristic cat-like grace into the room while you weren’t looking. “Kamunu, good to see you. Can I trust you with introducing the new girls to the team, and getting them up to speed?”

“Of courssse,” you say.

“Appraise them honestly,” she tells you, more quietly while the ex-Goldenroddites are chattering amongst themselves. “If we’re removing the cream from the rest of the mix, I need to know who among them are worth keeping, and in what roles.”

You nod, and over the course of the evening, you learn a little about each of these three new females.

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>>5175200
Luna is inexperienced, and has a bit of a temper, but she is deferential to harsh corrections and acts and speaks like someone with something to prove; she can be shaped, with a firm enough hand, and while she cannot dance especially well, she has a strong sense of rhythm.

Aubrey is insecure, but covers it with good humour; she is not an especially good dance, nor does she have much inherent rhythm, which leads to a fairly lacklustre response to her debut on stage.

Didiane, as might be expected of your previous observations, has great poise socially and kinaesthetically, proving the best at working her body and working the crowd; however, back-stage you observe her to be somewhat condescending and standoffish with the non-human (or part-human) girls of The Pretty Kitty’s staff, while being almost obsequious in how she ingratiates herself to the humans. You sense her racial discomfort, especially with the quarter-orc Grendelia, and you recognize the beginnings of an attempt to consolidate a clique even on her first night.

All three of the Goldenrod Girls seem eager to foist ‘lesser’ responsibilities onto serving girls or those prostitutes who do not dance, and each seems prone to gossip (though Luna is least so). You note all this and, before you make your escape, you report to Mina your recommendations:

>The new girls should be given dance lessons, to make sure they are up-to-speed with the existing staff, but they will be fine members of the team
>These girls are not going to be natural fits for the exotic dancers of your existing team, and are probably better suited to serving and sex-work
>These female are of lower quality than you had hoped—once Goldenrod has been bested, they should be let go
>Write-in

[Feel free to specify a different answer for each of the three as well]

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>>5175201
With matters at TPK thus attended to, and related obligations met, you request an early leave. Madam Mina grants it readily enough, be it because of the favourable impression you’ve left with her via magic or by your hard work seeking revenue streams and recruiting dancers. That or, perhaps, the Gala Attack and your breakup with Edwin have bought you some sympathy? Regardless, she puts up little fight and only admonishes you gently:

“Be careful, Kamunu. Stay close to the lights, and to crowds.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to stay in tonight, sweetie?” Felia asks, with maternal concern. “You know what’s been going on out there… First rat-monsters, now demons and cultists…”

You reassure them both that you’ll be fine, but neither seems altogether at ease. Mina, at least, knows something of your own abilities—even if you’ve scrubbed some of it from her mind. Felia thinks you merely a dancer and sexpot with minor aptitude for illusion magic. You smirk at the notion of yourself as an endangered innocent. If only she knew that you ARE the danger!

You depart The Pretty Kitty for the Hawksong night, donning…
>Something practical and inconspicuous from your wardrobe
>Your leafweave armour, for maximum protection

Once dressed properly for the occasion, you set about…
>Summoning your captured hellhound from its container, to have it help track down the other demonic escapees as swiftly as possible
>Scouring the graveyards of the city for the wraith’s new hiding place
>Tracking and monitoring the Paladin activity around the city, ready to intercept any demonic capture attempt
>Coordinating with Inquisitor Felman and Tower Guardian Lithobathius, your mage thralls, to divide and conquer
>Write-in

>>5175201
>These female are of lower quality than you had hoped—once Goldenrod has been bested, they should be let go

I guess the draw of the goldenrod was the place and not the people
Didiane would be good if she wasn't racist.

>Something practical and inconspicuous from your wardrobe

>Scouring the graveyards of the city for the wraith’s new hiding place

>>5175201
>>These female are of lower quality than you had hoped—once Goldenrod has been bested, they should be let go

>>5175202
>Something practical and inconspicuous from your wardrobe
>Scouring the graveyards of the city for the wraith’s new hiding place

>>5175201
>The new girls should be given dance lessons, to make sure they are up-to-speed with the existing staff, but they will be fine members of the team
Maybe Aubrey would be more comfortable serving than dancing, but otherwise these ladies will be good additions. We're need to break them of their bad habits first, Didiane's racism especially. Nothing a bit of glamour and mentalism can't solve, it'll be fun breaking them in personally.

>>5175202
>Your leafweave armour, for maximum protection

>Summoning your captured hellhound from its container, to have it help track down the other demonic escapees as swiftly as possible

>>5175201
>These female are of lower quality than you had hoped—once Goldenrod has been bested, they should be let go

>>5175202
>Your leafweave armour, for maximum protection
>Scouring the graveyards of the city for the wraith’s new hiding place

>>5175213
>>5175268
>>5175300
>>5175406

[Rolling for attire, since we're tied.]

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Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>5175756
You strip down and don your armour—the nature of the elven leafweave leather is such that it can be worn over nearly-bare skin, and is even a better fit that way. A you do so, you consider the matter of the Goldenrod recruits.

They are… Disappointing, to say the least. Each is beautiful, admittedly, in her way. Each has some strengths and weaknesses. Aubrey, for instance, might make a good serving-girl, but then you have no NEED of more serving-girls, and the wage Mina would offer for such would be far less than she was making as an attendant at Goldenrod. And Didiane… Well, she’s good. But her obvious discomfort with demihumans makes her a liability in a business that will be emphasizing a roster of ‘exotics’.

You suppose you’ll have to let them all go, once Goldenrod has fallen. Oh well.

You finish getting changed, admiring your reflection in a changeroom water basin. It’s been a while since you wore this armour. It is attention-getting, after all, which isn’t always ideal in your line of work… But damn do you look good in it. You’re silhouette is sleek, even sensual, save the spikes of green plant-life that jut out like a layer of armoured scales. More importantly, it’s practical for the current threats. Irinnile’s abilities cannot protect you against magical weapons, after all.

You sally forth into the darkness of another Hawksong night, your frost dagger at the ready. You know of two demons who yet lurk in this darkness, somewhere, and to buy safe passage from this place and back to your masters, you have promised to deliver both of them to a powerful incubus in mid-town—the same incubus currently ‘looking after’ your fellow infiltrator Alhazred, the enthralled Head Chimericist Henzler,, several invaluable relics stolen from the Mages’ Tower, and the mutated chimeric descendant of the Great Green Dragon of legend. You don’t want to consider the complications which might arise if you can’t meet your end of that particular bargain…

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>>5175765
>43

…But Hawksong is a big city, with a long history, and you are on foot. You spend hours visiting one gravestone-filled-field or weathered crypt after another, but to no avail. Granted, time is limited. The Pretty Kitty took up much of the early evening, and walking everywhere takes so damned LONG!

‘We could fly?’ Irinnile suggests

‘And attract Paladin attention,’ you reply.

‘Hahaha, oooh yeeah. Oops.’

You sigh. The succubus within you can be… Something of a ditz at times.

<WANT: 16>

You suppose she may be a bit distracted, in all fairness.

“What about summoning… You know…”

“The hellhound?”

‘Oh! I mean, yeah, that could work. Need to feed that sucker or do a ritual to bind him to your will nice ‘n tight like what you did with me, BUT they’re good at sniffin’ around for shit, right?’

“Or we could use Yemrep,” you reply.

Irinnile shudders at the thought of summoning to grotesque, degraded little filth-imp.

‘Ye-yeeeaah, we could,’ she admits. ‘But! If he gets caught by Paladins, he’s as good at done for. They’ll wreck him like a minotaur riding a halfling’s asshole.’

You sigh, tapping your boot-clad foot impatiently. Something has to be done, if you’re to make any progress tonight.

>Summon the hellhound, to sniff our demons
>Summon the imp, you help scour the graveyards
>Grow wings and fly to your remaining destinations, albeit at greater risk of being spotted
>Pay a visit to the occultist, Lord Bianchi, to see if you can dig up more info on the OTHER demon, since the wraith is being difficult
>Track down and attack a Paladin—whittle away your competition, lest they make progress faster than you
>Give up for tonight and attend to other matters [specify if you have something in mind]
>Write-in

>>5175772
>Track down and attack a Paladin—whittle away your competition, lest they make progress faster than you

In the same form we used with Chase and Innes, naturally

>>5175772
>Track down and attack a Paladin—whittle away your competition, lest they make progress faster than you
We could use hellhound for this, but it woukd probably get detected in some way.

>>5175772
>Summon the hellhound, to sniff our demons
>Summon the savage but loyal demon from the Akashic Record, to protect us against the Paladins

We clearly need some muscle to help deal with the Paladins.

>>5176271
>We clearly need some muscle to help deal with the Paladins.
despite easily escaping from 2 at once right outside their own HQ?

>>5176295
True and also it's a quest, so that d20 will fuck us in the ass or be a fully-loaded epic win whether we have demons or not.

Unrelated, but I like our frost dagger a lot.

>>5176295
If you're planning on picking a fight with them after you poked the beehive, yea.

>>5176330
I'm expecting a bigger d20 pool than Chika here, at least when it comes to combat.

And yea, our frost dagger has been low key kino. I wish we could take our drake with us sometimes too.

>>5175927
>>5176153
>>5176271

You reason that, if you cannot hunt down the demons before Hawksong’s human Paladins get a chance to do so, you can do the next best thing: hunt down one of the PALADINS, and thus eliminate some of the competition! After all, you just bested two of them at once the other day. Despite you anxieties at he time, it was actually quite a simple thing—even in the very heart of their territory, close to their barracks, they could neither capture nor kill you!

Finding a Paladin is, compared to hunting down a demon, quite a simple enterprise. After all, these armoured apes hardly seek to HIDE. They are symbols of Paladin king Archos’ authority, and their prominent presence is probably meant to reassure an increasingly-skittish populace as much as it is meant to deter or detain a demon.

No, the real problem is that you never seem to find them alone.

One after another, you successfully locate one duo of Paladins and then another. Each of them seems to consist of a seasoned veteran—or, at least, someone more ornately-armoured—and a squire or junior member. Worse of all, these teams are not in truth a duo… But a trio, for the senior partner is inevitably astride a great, wingless gryphon. Even gazing upon those razor-beaked terrors fills you with an instinctive fear that is only matched by the frayed nerves of the succubus inside you; as you fear the gryphon, so too does Irinnile fear the blessed blades these humans carry.

‘C-come on, Lispy,’ she says, suppressing her psychic stammer in an attempt to play the cool-headed paragmatist instead, ‘let’s forget this. A direct confrontation ain’t very “infiltrate-y”, ya know?’

‘Assassinating an elite agent of human authority is quite within the purview of my role,’ you counter her, stiffly formal to hide your own uncertainty.

Irinnile sighs, resigning herself to this just as you have.

‘Alright,’ she says. ‘Alright…. Okay. So, fine. We’re doin’ this. What’s the play, then, babe?’

What IS your play?
>Manifest wings and descend from above, taking out a senior operative before he can react and flying away before the gryphon or junior can retaliate
>Direct confrontation, using your glamour to intimidate and illusions to evade their attacks—you will teach these daylight-denizens to fear the dark!
>Summon Yemrep the imp, and use him as a diversion to draw the junior member of a team away from his senior—then, kill him!
>Approach as a helpless waif, fleeing a terrible demon… Then lure them into a trap, feeding them to your hellhound!
>Write-in

>>5176801
>Direct confrontation, using your glamour to intimidate and illusions to evade their attacks—you will teach these daylight-denizens to fear the dark!

>>5176801
>Approach as a helpless waif, fleeing a terrible demon… Then lure them into a trap, feeding them to your hellhound!
>Summon the savage but loyal demon from the Akashic Record to assist

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>>5176801
>Direct confrontation, using your glamour to intimidate and illusions to evade their attacks—you will teach these daylight-denizens to fear the dark
We killin' nao.

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Rolled 12, 13, 18, 13, 5, 4, 3, 12, 3, 6, 11, 12 = 112 (12d20)

>>5176819
>>5176848
>>5177067
You let bloodlust temper your terror, and bolster the burgeoning confidence which ahs resulted from your earlier battel with the paladins Innes and Chase. They were no match for you—why should these men and their…. Their GRYPHON be any different? No, the same techniques which served you so well in your last surprise attack will best these barbarian buffoons as well!

You begin to shift your form as you step out of the side-street and into their path. They slow their approach, though with annoyance at an interruption and acre for a civilian—not with fear, nor trepidation.

That will change.

“Hey, girl,” the Paladin astride the gryphon grunts, “out of the road. What are you even doing out here? Don’t you know what’s been going on?”

“Sir,” the younger one says, stepping forward and narrowing his eyes, “I think there’s something… Wrong with her.”

You look up, your mouth an interlocked lattice of fang-like projections, your features shifted into demonic horror.

“By the gods above!” the younger Paladin cries, stumbling back and drawing his blade.

With a flourish of your wrist and some quick footwork to help channel the magic, you snuff the light of a nearby lantern with conjured darkness. You leap forward, counting on terror, darkness, and disorientation to do much of your work for you…

[2d20 Intimidation, 4d20 Illusion, 4d20 Melee, 2d20 Mystery Dice]

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>>5177199
>12

The younger human grits his teeth. He does not fall back, steeling himself against terror. He is out here tonight to guard against the forces of darkness, after all—a demonic visage will not cow a demon-hunter.

>18
Still, darkness IS your ally, and so is a bright flash of light in his eyes. He cries out, a responding thrust of his sword missing you. The wide slash which follows keeps you at bay, but this ALSO fails to inflict any injury.

“Foolish, lad!” the older Paladin bellows. “Remember what Sir Innes said: the occultists use illusions to blind and disorient!”

‘Fuck, they actually, like… Use TEAMWORK.’ Irinnile’s laments echo your own. ‘Gross.’

>12
Despite the much-critiqued lapse of your more junior opponent, you ARE held at bay. The younger paladin keeps up a defensive stance in the centre of the street, losing no ground. Worse, each time you attempt to slip around or through his defenses, he makes a bold, sweeping slash at a different angle. He is fighting blind, forming a barrier of blades to prevent you flanking him or reaching his older ally.

‘Hey, Lispy…’

>12
Belatedly, you think to look towards the old male in question. He is still mounted astride his gryphon, still has not advanced further towards you t lend martial aid… But that, in and of itself, raises an alarm. You take a step back, peering past your more immediate opponent, and see…

‘What is that?’ Irinnile asks.

You don’t know, either. The older Paladin is holding some sort of… Glowing, crystalline object. With a silver metal handle. At first you take it for a weapon, or a means to ward your darkness, but… No, he is just holding it above his head, like a…

‘Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuuuuuu—’

Like a beacon. He is summoning reinforcements by some magical means!

What do you do?
>Tactical retreat—you misjudged their readiness, and perhaps your own
>Forget the young fool, and leap ahead to target the old one with the beacon
>Focus on your current fight—you can at least take out this young man, and attempting to charge past him could get you flanked and backstabbed
>Unleash the hellhound to leap past the younger man and attack the older, while you continue to focus on your current combat
>Throw your dagger at the beacon—it’s a long-shot, but you can’t allow them to summon aid!
>Write-in

>>5177221
>Unleash the hellhound to leap past the younger man and attack the older, while you continue to focus on your current combat
>Use Irinnile's shapeshifting to manifest a non-magical dagger and throw it at the beacon—it’s a long-shot, but you can’t allow them to summon aid!
May Dark Gods bring us nat 20s.

>>5177221
>Forget the young fool, and leap ahead to target the old one with the beacon

make sure to keep the young one distracted with a nice illusion

Can't wait to fail this and have Ismena's identity revealed to these tincans.

[Awaiting a tiebreaker to write. Failing that, I'll try to combine prompts.]

>>5177251
Supporting

>>5177221
>Forget the young fool, and leap ahead to target the old one with the beacon

Can't leave the elder to his own devices, let the lad fight illusions. Also, I do think we've bitten off more than we can chew.

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Rolled 6, 16, 10, 10, 19, 2, 15, 12, 2, 2 = 94 (10d20)

>>5177251
>>5177258
>>5177918

You MAY, in retrospect, have underestimated the difficulty of simultaneously engaging two trained holy knights in their home territory. If they’re calling in reinforcements, though… Well, there’s no reason You cannot do so as well!

You take a step back from your immediate opponent and uncap the magical scroll-case in which you have conseuntually entrapped the hellhound Brezzog. As soon as it is uncorked, you are blasted back by the force with which the unholy entity’s ectoplasm ejects, pouring forth onto the cobblestones in great sloughs of ooze. The spectacle draws the horrified and furious attention of the older paladin, while the younger takes to rubbing his recovering eyes in disbelief at what he’s seeing.

“Don’t just stand there!” the older one bellows. “Slay the demon before it manifests!”

The younger man lunges forth to do so, which is… less than ideal. Bezzog is taking shape, but not fast enough to protect itself. You briefly consider lending the vaguely dog-shaped demon some sort of aid…

But on the other hand, it serves as a perfect distraction to take attention away from you!

The beacon is priority one, and you have no idea how it functions or how much time you have already wasted. Closing distance to seize it by force is a possibility…

But that would bring you within reach of that gryphon’s dreadful maw.

No, instead you attempt a variation of the shapeshifting ability which Irinnile displayed in your raid on the Mages’ Tower: you attempt to manifest a dagger-like claw of flesh and bone from your hand, and then to detach it and hurl it forth! All the advantages of throwing your beloved frost dagger, with none of the risk!

‘Lispy, just tearin’ off chunks of us isn’t, like… Easy ‘n painless, ya’ know?’

‘Do it!’ you shoot back, and the demoness obliges.

[4d20 melee combat, with a DC of 17 because you are dividing your attention and attempting a tricky manoeuvre at a distance. 3d20 for the hellhound’s efforts at a DC 17 because it is still manifesting and is fighting Paladins. 1d20 for each Paladin’s response, to guide probabilities, and 1d20 mystery d20]

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>>5177988

You draw back your hand, fingernails and bones coiling together and widening even as your fingertips detach from the rest of your hand, held only by a gradually-thinning strip of skin. It is… Well, suffice it to say that when Irinnile warned you that the process would not be painless, she was not deceiving you. You grit your teeth and blink tears from your eyes, but you endure without crying out—you were trained to endure pain worse than this. Still… Well, you might not want to do this again.

>16

Perhaps it is the distraction of the pain, or the deformed remains of your hand with which you line up the throw, but the ‘dagger’ sails wide, hitting neither gryphon nor rider…

>2
But the older Paladin is at least startled enough to rein his gryphon back, and the effort of dodging the dagger causes him to drop his crystal beacon. He seems to visible hold back a blasphemous curse as it clatters upon the ground… But the beacon does not shatter, and it yet glows.

>12
The younger Paladin, meanwhile, is hacking away at the oozing, smoking afterbirth that is Brezzog’s reforming body. Wherever that presumably-blessed sword touches ectoplasm, the unshaped essence of the hellhound recoils or gives way and withers. The Paladin is making real progress…

>19

Until, abruptly, he is not. So vainglorious was the younger human in his hacking and slashing into the heart of his foe that he failed to notice the bones and teeth forming in his periphery. Abruptly, the wave of mucous-like material solidifies into chitin-like calcified cartilage, and it comes crashing down in a great collapse. The paladin cries out in disgust and anger as much as in pain…


But when the temperature rises and you begin to smell burning hair and flesh, the pain takes precedence.
“Joffrey!” the older Paladin shouts.

He is too late—Sir Joffrey is gone, his body so much grist to manifest a hellhound. The beast Brezzog shies away from the dead man’s dropped weapon, even as it gnaws upon the burning wreckage of his body and the molten metal of his armour.

“Get the other one!” you command urgently…

But the damned hound fails to heed you, absorbed in its repast.

‘Strong,’ Irinnile notes, referring to the whole of Brezzog’s breed, ‘but dumb as a bag of dicks.’

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>>5178012
The older paladin turns his attention back to you. You have no idea if he has already accomplished his goal with the beacon, or if he has simply forsaken it in his fury. He draws his blade, a shining line of silver in the dark, and gives his gryphon a kick to the side. It shrieks, a sound that starts high like an eagle’s cry and ends low and rumbling like the bellow of a lion.

Both beginning and end are equally unpleasant.

What do you do?
>Use Brezzog’s true name, and the threat of further action, to sic the hellhound upon your adversaries
>Throw the frost dagger at the enemy—it’s enchanted for accuracy, after all
>Prepare to meet them both in melee combat—you will resist your fear and hold your ground!
>Flee, and tell Brezzog to do the same—you do NOT want to fight a seasoned Paladin and his gryphon
>Write-in

[If attacking, specify a primary target for yourself and/or Brezzog. Keep in mind: you CANNOT manifest another flesh dagger right now, and any rolls to strike in melee will be easier… But will also require a roll against fear because of your proximity to your phobia AND Irinnile’s.]

>>5178014
>Use Brezzog’s true name, and the threat of further action, to sic the hellhound upon your adversaries
>Mesmerize the gryphon and the paladin while they're distracted

>>5178262
>Use Brezzog’s true name, and the threat of further action, to sic the hellhound upon your adversaries
Tell him to trample the beacon if possible and bite the tincan in the arm before he can use his racist blade.
>Throw the frost dagger at the enemy—it’s enchanted for accuracy, after all
Throw the dagger at the gryphon's head and turn its brain into a chunk of frozen jelly.

[We'll await another vote, or post up after work with a combines prompt or roll.]

>>5178014
>Mesmerize the gryphon
This'll take care of the paladin too since he's riding it.

Rolled 10, 7, 3, 16, 2, 10, 13, 6, 11, 1, 12 = 91 (11d20)

>>5178575
>>5178264
>>5178184
>Use Brezzog’s true name, and the threat of further action, to sic the hellhound upon your adversaries
>Mesmerize the gryphon

>>5178962
“Brezzog!”

The utterance of the demonic beast’s true name grabs its attention instantly, even if it wins you no favours with it personally.

“Attack,” you command, “or I will MAKE you do sso!”

The hellhound grumbles, but lets the torn-off and by now unrecognizable limb of the savaged paladin fall from its strangely-elongated jaws. As the remaining paladin and gryphon advance on you, the hellhound moves to intercept.

With an impact you can practically feel from where you’re standing, the great gryphon and the might infernal canid crash into each other. Neither gives ground, each sinking talons into the other and snapping jaws fruitlessly at their adversary’s own evasive face and throat…

But the hellhound has the advantage of being aflame, an advantage that proves key. The gryphon’s furious shrieks turn to strange, chittering squawks that you recognize as unmistakably distressed, and it begins to thrash in an agonized effort to escape.

But there is no escape. Not from Brezzog, and not from you.

You advance, squinting against the waves of heat and the anxiety rising within you. The paladin clings tight to his mount, raising his blade high and ready to plunge it down into your name-bound hound. That, you cannot allow, and you have just the ticket to throw the holier-than-thou knight for a loop: you will ensorcel his loyal steed and turn both chimeric and demonic beasts upon him!

Only…

That accursed bird-cat’s gleaming pain-maddened eyes… Those talons, that snapping beak!

‘That sword,’ Irinnile moans unhappily, ‘you can just tell he anoints and polishes that fuckin’ blade in holy oils every day!’

You feel your legs go weak as you approach and… Damnit, you just can’t muster the courage to advance! You pray to your Dark Gods for inner strength, but no resolve is forthcoming. You cannot do it—you CANNOT bring yourself to touch, or even draw close enough to properly influence, the bird. All you can do is create a distraction, blinding the damned thing just long enough for Brezzog to finish it off. You curse your weakness.

The gryphon dies, at least, which is no small thing. However, as it falls, the Paladin falls with it…

And he falls upon Brezzog, blade-first.

>>5178977

The old warrior plunges sword into sulphuric savage. You hear the old human cry in anguish and anger, seeing his treasured mount’s blood spilled by dagger-like fangs and curdle in the heat which now envelops him… But as man as demon tumble into a heap, he is stabbing, slashing, and guarding his most vulnerable skin from the hellfire.

It is the paladin who rises from the messy melee… And Brezzog who lies still, whimpering and smouldering with nearly-depleted essence beneath his metal-plated boots. He is heaving, burnt despite his best efforts, and bloodied as well. He is weakened, vulnerable…

But as this man’s eyes meet yours, you see only virtuous anger and a steel tempered with age to a brutal hardness. He clenches his sword, still shining and unblemished.

Worse yet, you ca hear shouts, and the sound of more boots (and more talons!) on the cobblestone streets. Reinforcements are approaching, called by the beacon.

[10 for will to draw close, 16 for mentalism, 13 vs. 1 for Brezzog vs. the hound 11 vs. 12 for Brezzog vs. the Paladin. Earleir probability roll meant reinforcements were on their way.]

What do you do?
>Strike down this remaining man while you still can—he has seen and learned too much!
>Blind this Paladin with illusion, rescue Brezzog, and flee while you have the chance
>Stand your ground—you will not retreat from foolish apes worshiping lesser gods! [will roll required]
>Just get out of here—waste no time with rescue missions or petty vengeance. You are no match!
>Write-in

>>5178980
>Blind this Paladin with illusion, rescue Brezzog, and flee while you have the chance
We can just tube him again real quick right

>>5178985
Supporting

We don’t have any recognisable features or clothing at the moment - right? Due to our demonic attack

If we do, that changes the situation

>>5179052
Leafweave armour and a lisp

>>5178980
>Strike down this remaining man while you still can—he has seen and learned too much!
>Use illusion to blind him, and rescue Brezzog after

Can we get rid of the lisp while we're shapeshifted? Like, come on, this is Infiltration 101 here!

>>5179129
Fair play, and you've spoken few wordss with esssessss. Just the armour, then.

>>5178980
>>5179129
+1
>>5179143
Petition to retrospectively remove this nuisance. We can't be expected to track things like the lisp on transformation, it's Irinnile's job.

Rolled 10, 9, 19, 5, 11, 12, 11, 8, 19 = 104 (9d20)

>>5178985
>>5179214
>>5179129
The old Paladin has seen too much-heard too much, if he by any chance caught your accent.

‘Irinnile, dispense with that,’ you command.

‘Lispy: delispified,’ she confirms. ‘But… You’re not thinking of going up against that guy, are ya’?’

‘He’s seen my armour,’ you send back. ‘My methods, my weapons. He must die.’

‘R-right,’ Lispy mutters, still obviously non-plussed.

Your succubus partner is pliant to your instructions, though, at least in situations like this. She does not struggle against you as you and the paladin begin to advance towards one-another, circling…

>>5179363
These men, whether in vanity or arrogance, do not seem to like waring their helmets around town. Perhaps recognizability is as important to these national icons as protection? Regardless you have no shortage of places to place your knife, if only you can find an opening in this human’s defences.

Or create one.

Your tactic is simple: feint, use illusion to blind and disorient the human knight, and then lunge forward to stab your dagger into a vulnerable place.

>19

It starts off well enough: though this veteran knight is too wise to your tactics to be caught with a blinding flash or to remain entrapped in a patch of sudden shadow, more complex illusions are new to this battle. You still cannot form an actual spectral object with any convincing depth or solidity, or even a consistent shape, but you do what you can. You create patterns of light and shadow with a wave of your hand, disorienting the knight and causing him to swing wide.

‘NOW!” you and Irinnile cry as one, within your head, and you lunge forward and…

>12

…And you miss?! How did this ape move so swiftly in a full suit of armour, without even seeing you coming.

>8

Still, the man’s surprising instincts and agility aside, he has made an error: in evading you, he has stepped away from Brezzog without finishing the demon-dog off. You pop the cap of your scroll case, offering him sanctuary inside. The shredded remnants of the hound grumble with mistrust, but you point out the obvious:

“It’s me, or it’s him.”

That does it: Brezzog is captured once more within eh scroll-case on your belt. You turn your attention back to the old man…


‘Shitfuckshitaaaaaugh!’

And, as Irinnile so eruditely points out, the three additional paladins charging towards your location, each on gryphonback… and one of them, it appears, being Sir Innes from the other day. In trying to finish of this knight and falling, you have taken too long.

What do you do?
>Cloak yourself in shadow and flee on foot [specify if you have a destination in mind, once you have lost your pursuers]
>Manifest wings and fly away—none of these gryphons seem to be the winged variety [specify if you have a destination in mind]
>Hold your ground against the mammalian horde [specify a tactic, if you have one in mind]
>Write-in

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We're useless. Completely and utterly useless.

>>5179366
>Manifest wings and fly away—none of these gryphons seem to be the winged variety [specify if you have a destination in mind]

later virgins
goblintown

>>5179366
>Manifest wings and fly away—none of these gryphons seem to be the winged variety [specify if you have a destination in mind]
Pretty Kitty - as long as we aren’t followed, and take a long route there

>>5179402
At least you didn't lose Brezzog

[I'll be out for the night with a friend, but will post tomorrow morning. TGIF!]

>>5179366
>Cloak yourself in shadow and flee on foot [specify if you have a destination in mind, once you have lost your pursuers]

Lose the Paladins in the sewers, to tip off the Tower to the Paladin's covert operation, and then escape to Goblintown, to bang that nurse and make a pact with the Ona- I mean, Zi. The Tower must have kept it's wards up, right?

>>5179984
+1 for sewers, but bang Zi if anything and idk why would we make a pact with her
>>5179735
Bold of you to think I care about demons, RQM

>>5180040
For more power! Besides, we never tried this before and I'm interested in how it'd work as a player mechanic. Can't really hurt to try, right?

>>5180040
Also, I quite like doggos, and I think getting our deal demons killed is a bad idea in general.

>>5180118
But pacts by themselves don't do anything, demons use them to trick people into giving them their souls or bodies in exchange for access to their powers.
Aka, you can't get anything out of this without further increasing our want and hurting the goblin.
>>5180120
I never said I want either to die, just that I don't care.

Rolled 2, 1, 17, 19, 3, 14, 16, 7 = 79 (8d20)

>>5179443
>>5179573
>>5179984
>>5180040
You bend your back and will Irinnile’s wings to manifest. The succubus, as hurried to leave as you are (or moreso) is quick to oblige, but it’s still no immediate process. She the new limbs explode out , sprouting and expanding into a network of bones, veins, and muscle, the old paladin staggers forth, still blinking and squinting against your illusion.

“You’ll not escape the justice of King Archos and Moroth, you fiend,” he declares in a low voice. “You’ll pay for what you’ve done.”

He advances, sword raised high, and he brings it down…

>>5180301
>19

…But despite the distraction of your transformation, you do not perish. Irinnile ahs full control of your body right now—she has to, to affect such a manipulation of your physical matter—and you can only you mentally cry out for her to do something. She does, and it’s quite effective: she moves yours legs to evade the blow, and then your dagger-hand, to stab into a chink in the huma’s armour right above the elbow. When the dagger is drawn back, it is bloodied, and you see the frost of its enchantment spread through the humans arm. He cries out in anger and pain, dropping his balde and clutching the affected limb.

He can only watch bitterly as you leap back and, with great beats of your bat-like wings, ascend away. The other paladins, drawing closer, are just as helpless to prevent your escape. Even those that take up bows and arrows to fire upon you can only curse their feeble senses, for the darkness of a cloudy night sky soon swallows you up in your entirety.

>16

You lose your pursuers quite quickly. As you sail through the cool air, you catch your breath and compose yourself; the hard mental and physical work of keeping you aloft falls to Irinnile, for whom it is more natural. You have time and space now to consider your options.

‘Still thinkin’ Goblintown?’ Irinnile asks, reading your mind. ‘Could do with a thicc little snack…’

<WANT: 17>

You suppose you could… And it HAS proven a useful place to hide out. Flying right into Goblintown could present a problem, should you be spotted by guards or Inquisitors, but if you were to land and travel by foot, you could avoid scrutiny. Alternatively, you could circle back, harass the Paladins, and try to bait them into a jurisdictional confrontation with the Tower—perhaps you can pit your foes against one another?

…But then, with so many Paladins drawn to that beacon, you also have a rare opportunity to double back to seek out those remaining two demons without immediate interference. After all, not even a gryphon-rider (save perhaps the Paladin King himself, with his winged mount) can match the speed of your flight. You could snatch up that wraith without incident, if you could but find it!

‘Easier to find it with a tight, green little friend, thooooough,’ Irinnile eggs you on.

What do you do?
>Hunker down in Goblintown to rest and sate <WANT> with Zi
>Bait the Paladins into a confrontation with the Tower Inquisition
>Spend the rest of the night scouring graveyards and crypts for signs of the wraith
>Recruit Zi into your demon-hunt
>Write-in

>>5180306
>Spend the rest of the night scouring graveyards and crypts for signs of the wraith
After
>Hunker down in Goblintown to rest and sate <WANT> with Zi

We got shit to do.

>>5180306
>Spend the rest of the night scouring graveyards and crypts for signs of the wraith

We can't afford Zi right now :(

>>5180306
>Spend the rest of the night scouring graveyards and crypts for signs of the wraith

We’ll fix the WANT later

>>5180306
>Spend the rest of the night scouring graveyards and crypts for signs of the wraith

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>>5180349
>>5180350
>>5180396
>>5180403
‘Zi will have to wait,’ you say, to yourself as much as Irinnile.

The succubus whines, but does not argue the point beyond this. No sooner have you set your mind to your next course of action than you feel your wings already tilting, changing course to guide you to the first of many crypts in and around Hawksong. What follows is a long, tiring night, searching one site of interment after another. Your quarry eludes you, again and again, and without any deliberate effort as far as you can tell—though perhaps it has notice the recent bevvy of activity, and is hiding from the Paladins, and thus accidentally from its rescue as well.

You are on the very verge of surrender, hopeless and spent, when the scroll-case on your belt rumbles queerly. You land upon the ill-lit rooftop across a burial-plot used by followers of a minor goddess of—you gather from the motifs in their stained glass—rain and possibly other inclement weather. There, you uncork the scroll-case, releasing the hound once more. Brezzog is… shrunken, diminished, almost cute in its faded and ragged state. Whatever energy the hellhound acquired in devouring a man and a gryphon, the other paladin’s word clearly cut away from him, along with the souls of the goblintown waifs he consumed prior.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Not nice,” he growls. “Sending to fight knights with god-swords. Bad.”

You smile patronizingly, and nod. “But we lived, and escaped, and we gave better than we got. Look on the bright side, demon.”

The hellhound huffs.

“Did you ask to be let out just to complain?” you ask.

‘Maybe doggy needs to take a piss,’ Irinnile snickers.

“No,” Brezzog grunts. “Looking for others from the prison? So we can go? Join greater demon?”

You nod.

“Smell it. Demon.”

That gets your attention, and earns Brezzog a bit more allowance.

“Show me,” you command.

“Then you take me to greater demon?”

“When we can,” you reassure. “We have one more to find first.”

Brezzog growls, and snaps his wee jaws. “Not fast enough.”

“Brezzog,” you speak the demon’s true name, “Show. Me.”

The hellhound shrinks back a little, not technically bound but still wary of you, and it obeys as Irinnile obeys. It guides you down into the grounds of the small temple, to a mausoleum. You weave between more humble burials and their simple headstones, each bearing a name of a presumed occupant, and each with the same symbol of a stylized rain or teardrop upon it. Eventually, you reach the tomb, which faded engravings purport to be that of a former priestess.

It is very slightly ajar, almost imperceptibly so.

‘Bingo,’ Irinnile enthuses.

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>>5180526
“Come out!” you say aloud. “You don’t need to be afraid: it’s me, the Liberator’ from the Tower. I’m here to free you, and to guide you to your new master!”

Silence persists for a while, such that you consider going in—or, perhaps, punishing Brezzog for his foolish error. However, it is that that you hear a quiet hiss from inside the small crypt, and a chill smoke begins to coil like a spectral snake from the cracked-open door.

“Yes,” a whispery voice says, sounding so close to you that you whirl about for a moment on instinct. You see nothing, though, and so you turn back to the vague, half-tangible figure of a shroud or sheet which seems to be manifesting from the smoke. “I will go. Leave this city, its dangerous hunters… Leave for safer feeding grounds. Show me.”

You smile and nod. Two down, one to go.

‘Uh, babe?’ Irinnile speaks up. ‘I don’t wanna’ spoil the moment, but…’

“Human,” Brezzog growls, turning around and taking a deep, hungry inhalation of the scent of living flesh on the air.

With Irinnile’s senses, you are able to detect the presence of someone before you see their lantern-light. They are approach you from the direction of the temple: a supplicant or priest, perhaps, investigating the noise of your speech.

“Hello?” a young, male voice inquires. “Who’s there?”

‘Careful,’ Irinnile advises. ‘We ain’t up to our best work on holy ground, ya’ know what I mean?’

What do you do?
>Take the demons and go
>Lay in wait, to ambush and assassinate this worshiper of the Gods of Light
>Slip inside the crypt with your party, and hide until he passes
>Shapeshift into a more typical form, and talk your way out of this while the others hide
>Write-in

>>5180528
>Take the demons and go
I'd vote to kill him if Irinnile wasn't cautioning us

>>5180581
Supporting

We’ve fought enough today

>>5180528
>Lay in wait, to ambush and assassinate this worshiper of the Gods of Light
Another soul to add to our collection!

>>5180528
>Take the demons and go

>>5180666
*got our ass kicked enough

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>>5180581
>>5180666
>>5180692
>>5180783

Normally, you might consider killing this human, leaving them as silent as the graves around you… Or perhaps even using them to feed Irinnile’s gnawing, ever-present hunger for debauchery and human life…

But no. If ‘holy ground’ weakens your abilities, it will also impede your demonic cadre. You must get, as they say on the surface, while the getting is good.

“Come on,” you say, popping open the scroll case.

Brezzog steps back, growling in disapproval. The human’s footsteps grow nearer.

‘Ugh, baaaAAAaabe! We don’t have time for this!’

You agree, and rather than force the issue, you scoop the shrunken fiend up like an actual small dog. Brezzog squirms and thrashes, but only until you hiss a threat to bind him to some unpleasant object and to leave him thus imprisoned in boredom and weakness for a century or two. Then, you turn to the wraith.

“Can you fly?” you ask it.

“Yes,” it replies in a breathy, too-close wheeze that sends an involuntary chill through you.

“Then come,” you say.

You unfold your wings and, with a running start, you take off. The misty whorls of the sheet-like ghost break up into more immaterial mist, a swirling and uncanny cloud trailing your flight-path like the smoke behind a fire-arrow. You hear a gasp, and then cries of alarm from below as the human catches sight of your silhouette:

“Demon! DEMON! G-get the Paladins! Someone! PALADINS! DEMON!”

You cringe at being thus discovered, but… Well, it is what it is. He is crying “demon”, not “Reptilian Infiltrator”, and so your true nature and purpose remain obfuscated.

‘What’s the plan, Lispy?’ Irinnile asks urgently. ‘I, uh, think I see some dawn creepin’ up over that horizon. I can’t keep us in the air too good when it gets bright out.’

For that matter, you feel as if you could do with some rest. Your night has proven successful, in the end, but it was a hard-fought victory.

Where do you hunker down with your hellish entourage?
>Goblintown, with Zi
>The Pretty Kitty—though the demons will need to be watched carefully
>Lord Bianchi’s manor—you needed to check in on him, anyway
>The Incubus’ base of operations—the greater demon can take these lesser ones off of your hands
>Agent Felman’s home—you wish to get an update on the investigation, anyway
>Write-in

>>5180939
>Lord Bianchi’s manor—you needed to check in on him, anyway
Just to check in on him. After that, Zi.

>>5180939
>Goblintown, with Zi

We already had a close call at Bianchi's with Siz, I really don't want to risk it

>>5180939
>The Incubus’ base of operations—the greater demon can take these lesser ones off of your hands
Let’s drop them off

>>5181005
You want to bring demons with us to her…?

>>5180990
>>5181005
>>5181083
[Ah, the classic three-way tie. Barring additional votes before the evening, I'll interpret this as a slight lean towards Goblintown.]

>>5181005
>>5181152
now that I think about it we can't fit both in the scroll, let's drop the wraith off at the incubus

hellhound I wanna keep for tracking abilities

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>>5181209
>>5181083
>>5181005
>>5180990
‘Aww, come on!’ Irinnile whines. ‘I wanted to, you know… See that Zi again. She’s, uh, like, a useful ally in our mission!’

‘So is The Incubus,’ you point out.

‘Yeah, but ZI we can FUCK, and—’

‘—and you’re afraid of The Incubus,’ you say.

Irinnile silently pouts and crosses her arms in embarrassed indignation—you can’t ‘see’ it, and yet the image is the closest equivalent you can get to her psychic posture.

‘Maybe we can see her soon,’ you acquiesce.

You have to admit… It is appealing. Sex aside, the little goblin female always looks at you with such fascination. Fear and longing, as one, with something bordering on admiration. It reminds you of…

‘Ooo, yeah!’ Irinnile cheers up. ‘We could pay another visit to Eddie, too!’

‘No,’ you assert, banishing such thoughts from your mind. ‘We’re WORKING.’

‘Boooo,’ Irinnile says, with a resigned sigh.

You arrive shortly thereafter at the realm of rent-payers and squatters who serve as workforce for the menial positions of the human anthill that is Hawksong. There, in one of its most rundown quarters—as much a dwelling-place of mendicants as manual labourers—you find the overcrowded tenement which serves as homestead and temple to the unholy entity for whom you have gone to all this trouble: The Incubus, once Devil-Zivic but today wearing a form which is new to you: masculine, broad-featured, imposing.

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>>5181256
“What is this host’s personal problem?” you ask as you enter the Incubus smokey, ill-lit ‘office’.

The creature dens amongst tributes and tributaries, as usual. It snaps its fingers and waves away its supplicants before answering you:

“Lack of confidence,” it says, in a deep baritone. “Lack of agency. Lack of manhood—not literally, I suppose, but he has been made to feel that way. With the combined tribute of these people, he was allowed to buy this property from the previous owner. Now, he lives like the king of a little fiefdom…”

“With you his soul’s personal and eternal emperor?” you say. “It is sad what lengths these humans will go to, for such a petty and fleeting sense of worth.”

“Your accent is gone,” the Incubus notes. “Ssssick of feeling like a stranger in a strange land? It’s okay to feel inssssecure sometimes, you know. Natural, even.”

“Keeping my identity hidden,” you say stiffly. “I brought you something.”

You beckon, and the hellhound and the wraith enter the room. The one creeps in shamefacedly (well, if you can read the twisted hound-like entity’s inscrutable expression or cryptic, alien emotions). The other seeps cautiously in through the window, clinging close to wall and ceiling as if eager to avoid drawing too close to the greater demon in the centre of the room.

“Nicely done,” the Incubus says, nodding to both.

“Weak now,” Brezzog says of his lessened state, attempting to stand with prideful purpose despite this. “Hurt. Paladins. Will be strong again. Don’t eat!”

“Yes,” the wraith agrees, “we will serve you well. We wish to join your court.”

The Incubus laughs, the sound even more unnatural in its timbre than the wraith’s voice—enough so to make the lesser demons flinch.

“Oh ho ho, never you fear. I’m already well-fed, and I’m ALWAYS hiring.”

The Incubus grins at you, with a wink. You clench your jaw slightly. The hellhound and the wraith both seem to take some comfort in this lack of immediate hostility, though.

“Come, let me get you something to eat, my fine hound… And somewhere dark and cool to spend the day, my good wraith?”

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>>5181258
The Incubus stands, motioning for them both to follow, before looking over at you.

“Oh, where are my manners,” it says. “Is there anything else you needed from me? You seem so… Self-sufficient and self-assured that I almost forgot to ask. Though I guess this IS only three of four demons you promised me so far, even after all these days…”

“Two,” you correct.

“What did I say?” the Incubus says, laughing. “Oh, well then, it’s still quite impressive for such a short time. Should I let you get back to it That poor dragon-thing you have me looking after must be feeling more and more cooped up each day he’s trapped in that barn, after all. To have freedom offered up and then just snatched away… We wouldn’t want him getting too anxious and doing anything rash.”

You narrow your tired eyes. Is the demon trying to egg you on to act faster? Why? Perhaps you are delaying some plan of its secretive devising… or maybe all the demon-talk around town, and the Paladins’ patrols and Inquisition’s investigations which resulted, have made life harder for it.

What do you do?
>Request to rest her for a few hours, to recoup your energy
>Request some dark magic lessons [specify if you have any sort of spellcraft in mind]
>Convene on grand strategy [specify if you have any questions or suggestions]
>Ask after the status of those at the farmhouse
>Ask for material aid or minions [specify if you have anything in mind]
>Leave this place and return to your mission: acquiring the final unidentified demon
>Leave this place to rest somewhere else [specify where/with whom]
>Write-in

>>5181260
>Ask for material aid or minions [specify if you have anything in mind]
Loan us that hellhound to track down the final demon

>>5181305
This

>>5181260
>Request to rest her for a few hours, to recoup your energy
>Request some dark magic lessons
>Ask for material aid or minions [something to eat for us and Irinnile, some minions we can use and play around with, and a soul or two to try out a pack on]

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>>5181305
>>5181548
>>5181621
“I need the hound,” you say, “for a while longer.”

“Huh?” the Incubus says. “But you just brought me this lost little pup.”

“Resent,” Brezzog huffs.

“Its tracking abilities will help me to hunt down the last of your missing demons,” you explain.

‘And get us outta’ this dumb shitty pact, amirite?’ Irinnile chimes in.

“Quiet, succubus,” the Incubus says. “The grown-ups are talking.”

Irinnile squeaks, and pipes down, though you can sense annoyance and anger simmering deep within you where she nests.

“Very well,” the greater demon says, waving Brezzog back over to you.

The miniscule malefactor submits, though you sense misgivings on its part as well.

“Will that be all?” The Incubus asks.

>>5181305
>>5181548
[No specification]
>>5181621
[Rest here]
You seethe a little, simmering with resentment—yours, Irinnile’s transmitted along the soulbound, both?—but you cannot ignore it any longer. You are tired. You need torpor.

“May I stay here, to rest and recoup my energies?” you ask through gritted teeth.

“And how could I refuse a darling mortal like you?” the Incubus asks. “Me home is your home…”

“And your followers my followers?” you ask. “Just to… Test out pact magic one?”

The demon raises an eyebrow, smirking with the smug face of this puffed-up human man it now inhabits. “Don’t push it. You seem quite good at engineering pacts already, but besides that, these mortals are all MINE.”

The last word isn’t spoken louder, but it carries a booming resonance, a strange and occult inflection which makes your shudder. Does this being, then, consider you to belong to it as well? You remember your vision of the Hellish realms, and Irinnile’s explanation of what might yet await you there…

“However, if there’s anything else you’d like to learn…” The Incubus muses aloud. “I believe I’ve already made good on my end of things, TECHNICALLY-speaking, since you know your little ‘ectoplasm trick’ now… But for the right price, I could be induced to teach you a little something more.”

What do you do?
>Ask for tips on bettering your shapeshifting and combat abilities
>Ask for tips on increasing your ectoplasmic reserves, to puppeteer more people at once
>Ask for tips on bettering your empathy and telepathy
>Ask for tips on increasing your energy-drain abilities
>Request advice on how to avoid or escape the Hells, or liberate a soul therein
>Reject the offer, and just rest

[If you request tips, specify what you offer in exchange]

>>5181651
>Reject the offer, and just rest
dang he knows so much
makes irinnile look like a chump

>>5181678
Succubi are considered very lowly demons. I was trying to convey that -- sorry if it didn't work. Then again, Degenerates are considered very lowly Reptilians.

>>5181681
I was just trying to diss Iri there. Maybe work that in. Very lowly. The lowliest.

>>5181651
>Reject the offer, and just rest

>>5181699
Nah. Nah. Yemrep.

>>5181678
>>5181788

‘Lispy, don’t take the bait!’ Irinnile hisses. ‘The price won’t be worth it!’

‘I don’t know,’ you muse, ‘this demon knows a great deal. Certainly more than you. It almost makes you look pathetic by comparison.’

‘L-Lispy, you KNOW that I know you don’t mean that!’ Irinnile stammers. ‘I can read you’re fuckin’ MIND, babe. You can’t—’

‘I guess that’s what I get for partnering with a LESSER demon.’

‘Hey!’

‘But I guess it could be worse,’ you acknowledge.

‘That’s more like it,’ your succubus pouts.

‘You’re at least a SMALL measure better than Yemrep.’

‘WHAT!!’

“What’s a ‘Yemrep’?” The Incubus asks aloud.

You freeze, recalling the demon’s uncanny ability to ‘hear’ Irinnile.

“Nevermind,” it waves it off. “Are you two done your telepathic make-out session? I agreed with pretty much everything you said… But I’m currently occupying the identity of a busy man. I have places to be, PEOPLE to be.”

“I think a rest will suffice,” you say.

“Tetovala—the tattooed one—will show you the way.”

A familiar figure steps forward, summoned as if a demon from the nearby doorway: a young woman, waifish and lean, covered in tattoos. She avoids eye-contact, appearing sullen as she leads you to a presently-unoccupied room amongst many, an apartment converted into one more shared space. You remember the way The Incubus realized her dream: a faceless form, fluid with ink and patterns. You wonder what the man which the demonic crime-lord now occupies looks like, without its uncanny influence.

“You almost live like goblins,” you note.

“What?” Tetovala says, taken aback.

“Your space shared with others in your family, serving multiple purposes, under communal ownership.”

Tetovala laughs at that, and when you arch an eyebrow, she explains: “We own nothing. Not even ourselves. This place isn’t ours.”

“Ah,” you say, seeing the truth her in her eyes.

“You neither,” she says as she leaves.

You feel…
>Unnerved by the implications
>Assured in your control of the situation
>Curious about the nature of the demon’s cult
>Disgusted by the demon’s pathetic attempt at Dark Godhood
>Write-in

However, more than anything, you feel TIRED, and you will gladly take advantage of the accommodations, whatever their sinister nature. You lay your head down, falling into…
>A dream of what has been lost
>A dream of what could have been, and might yet be
>A dream of dark glory
>A dream warning of what lurks
>A brief and dreamless torpor, restful in its Reptilian simplicity
>Write-in

Quiet in here today. Elden Ring?

>>5182111
>Disgusted by the demon’s pathetic attempt at Dark Godhood
PRETENDER

>A dream of dark glory

yes

>>5182111
>Unnerved by the implications

>A brief and dreamless torpor, restful in its Reptilian simplicity

>>5182111
>Disgusted by the demon’s pathetic attempt at Dark Godhood

He is merely a scavenger at the throne of true power

>A dream of what could have been, and might yet be

>>5182111
Actually I (>>5182294) will change to
>Disgusted by the demon’s pathetic attempt at Dark Godhood
Didn't quite get that "implications" meant dealing with this fagstick is somehow detrimental to our freedom. We will stab the entire bird kingdom if it's necessary to get out of the game.
Also consider me split between
>Dreamless Torpor
>Dark Glory
I will support either one of them

>>5182343
>>5182341
>>5182115
As you drift off to sleep, you reflect on the cloying, pitiful attempts of your host to sway you, to hold you and these human wastrels captive in its own tiny domain. Does it think that this will make it a Dark God? Frankly, it’s offensive to you as a worshipper of the genuine articles.

No, when you sleep, you dream of TRUE dark glory.

In your dreams, you understand intuitively that you are dead, yet you feel no fear. Even as you descend down into the myriad Hells of the demonic plane, you are calm and at peace. You see the demon princes, those other weak little devils who play at true divinity, and though they hunger for you and reach up to pull you down, you are at peace. You close your eyes, and trust in the Truth Beyond Lies, and in The Great Design…. And you are saved.

You feel true strength coil about you like a powerful serpent, a force lifting you up and away. You hear wailing, cursing, the gnashing of teeth in frustration. When you open your eyes, you see the Hells and their poor, pretending princelings falling away as you are lifted up, up, UP!

You rise past ruined Hawksong, an obliterated waste. Those surface ‘people’ who still live there are cowed, stripped of their finery and cast down, groveling and laboring. Above them stand Reptilians holding whips, dressed in gemstones and fine silks and all manner of gold. The hideously chaotic and haphazard constructions of generations of men are replaced with the careful, symbolically-placed and deliberately-constructed buildings of a true Reptilian capitol, every pinnacle and precipice aligned to form great sigils and symbols of allegiance to the stars above, and the dark forces which guide them. At the far end of the city, the Paladin King’s gaudy temple to his false power has been converted into a great throne for the Dragonborn, now mended and made whole and towering in his ancestor’s full glory.

>>5182412
You rise higher still, higher and higher, up above even where you and Irinnile once soared. You rise through heat and cold to the clouds and past them. You are coated in their dew, and your clothing melts away to be replaced with the ceremonial cloak of an Honoured One of the Serpent Priests’ ceremonies. Thus draped in finery and anointed in the oils of heaven, you ascend BEYOND that petty, paltry realm, where the Gods of Light are said to reside…

Higher still than the sky, and the stars of the firmament… And into the waiting darkness beyond.

For the first time, you feel fear, but it is the fear of a small snake before a larger one—an appropriate, natural fear of power before greater power. You fear for your worthiness, or lack thereof, beyond the wonder which you know you are approaching…

But this fear, too, fades as you are called deeper, deeper into the blackness… And briefly, oh so briefly, you behold the GLORY of the realms of your Gods, where you are destined to join them as beloved servant! It is… So, so beautiful. The winding, organic stone and metal of this non-euclidian beacon in the darkness… It brings tears to your eyes! You struggle to keep them open, to behold it in its entirety….

But you can’t, and when you open them again, you are awake. Alive. On the surface world of the mortal plane. Among humans, and demons. Inglorious, Degenerate.

“For now,” you whisper to yourself.

‘Oh… Uhh, morning, Lispy.’

Irinnile sounds… Strange, almost distant. You sense some sort of… Discomfort in her, but she says nothing.

‘What’s the plan?’ she asks, feigning cheer as she senses your probing attention.

It’s dawn. What do you do?
>Check in with your thralls, learn what has happened while you were busy
>Talk to the Incubus or its cultists about something [what?]
>Head to Lord Bianchi’s, to research the final demon and to learn how to locate it
>Check in with your Reptilian contacts [Roth, or Albacete?]
>Go get more body oil—you’re out, and your skin is getting… Scaley
>Check in with Irinnile, see what’s bothering her
>Write-in

>>5182414
>Go get more body oil—you’re out, and your skin is getting… Scaley

poor iri, gotting mogged by zivic and then the dark gods

>>5182414
>Check in with Irinnile, see what’s bothering her
On our way out, keeping in mind that Incubus could be eavesdropping
>Go get more body oil—you’re out, and your skin is getting… Scaley
Our superior dry skin must be hidden again. Why even live?

>>5182414
>Go get more body oil—you’re out, and your skin is getting… Scaley
>Check in with Irinnile, see what’s bothering her

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>>5182480
>>5182473
>>5182468
You gather up your pack, change into a fresh change of clothes, and set out for the day. You nod to the tattooed woman as you leave, but she does not return the gesture, simply watching you impassively as you depart. From another follower, you get directions to the nearest apothecary—and, finding there are none, you settle for a general store known to stock feminine hygiene and beauty products for the lower rung of human society.

In your pack, you have enough coin to afford a small amount of the oil necessary to suppress the scale patterning which tends to appear across patches of your body when insufficiently moisturized. Of course, you could just have Irinnile shapeshift them away… But they are a symbol of your true nature, your deeper loyalties. They tie you to your mother, and her race.

‘Yeah,’ Irinnile agrees unenthusiastically, ‘you’re a loyal one.’

You slow down slightly in your walk, confident that you are now far enough away from The Incubus to have this conversation without being telepathically overheard.

‘Something is the matter,’ you say, matter-of-fact in your confrontation.

‘H-huh?’ Irinnile stammers.

‘I feel it as easily as you feel my emotions,’ you respond, though not harshly. ‘You’ve been strange all morning. Morose. What is it?’

‘…’S nothing.’

‘Irinnile,’ you begin… Then you moderate your tone. ‘Babe, what is it? You can tell me.’

‘…You’re gonna’ leave me.’

You blink in confusion, stopping short for a moment. Then, you press on, continuing your walk to the store.

‘What are you talking about?’ you ask. ‘Our souls are BOUND—’

‘Until you use your coin, an’ escape the Hells… An’ leave me down there. You almost went down inta’ hell for some fellow lizard-lady you barely even knew, but… But I saw your dream. Your dark glory. You’re… You’re jus’ gonna’ up ‘n die, and leave me down there. You were so MAD at me, that I didn’t tell you that you were hellbound, but I guess… I dunno’, I figured we’d get out of that together, an’ then BE together.’

You don’t say anything right away.

‘But… You’re not gonna’ stay down here with me on the mortal plain, either, huh?’ she asks. ‘And you can’t take me with ya’.’

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>>5182930
You enter the general store, a small and stuffy place, full of ill-packaged items on rickety shelves. It’s cramped, mouldy, mouldering, sad… But full of more essentials and inessential ‘luxuries’ than any such store outside the auspices of Hawksong and its satellite communities like Sparrowtown would hold, even in such a relatively unaffluent neighbourhood.

“One bottle of your finest oil,” you say.

The man behind the counter sizes you up, smirking a little as he makes an assumption of why you might need such a product. “Oh? Lubrication, huh?”

He’s not WRONG in his assessment of your profession—not technically—but with Irinnile’s emotions seeping into you, you feel your irritation flare.

“I don’t require skincare advice from a pox-marked peasant,” you snipe back.

“Feisty!” he says, then leans across the counter. “That IS how I prefer them. How much?”

What do you tell Irinnile? But, well… She can tell if you’re lying, so it must be the truth.
>You cannot turn your back on the paradise you beheld, or the affirmation of the Dark Gods, not even for her [-affection, weakens soulbound]
>You care more for her than for any paradise the Dark Gods can offer—you will find a way to be with her, wherever it may take you and whatever it may deny you [+affection, strengthens soulbond]
>You will extend your time together, in this world, as long as you can… But one day, you WILL need to leave
>Write-in

What do you do to the man?
>Pay up, and leave this place in peace—he’s a waste of time and effort
>Mesmerize him, and take his oil and his other valuables as well—and the coin behind his counter
>Draw your dagger, raise an aura of intimidation, and dare him to say another word
>Agree to prostitute yourself to him… And then drain him dry and feed him to Irinnile, as a treat
>Write-in

Where will you head next?
>Bianchi’s, for research purposes and a check-in
>Felman’s, to get an update on the ongoing investigations
>Roth’s, or Albacete’s, to discuss the Reptilian’s moves and to keep them abreast of the Dragonborn and the other events of the last few days
>Yosef’s, to see about getting ahold of those glasses
>Zi’s, to sate some <WANT> and mend your wounded heart with a cute date
>Write-in

>>5182932
>You cannot turn your back on the paradise you beheld, or the affirmation of the Dark Gods, not even for her [-affection, weakens soulbound]

We'll try and find a way to take her with us tho

>Pay up, and leave this place in peace—he’s a waste of time and effort
We'll need more oil in the future.

>Felman’s, to get an update on the ongoing investigations

>>5183020
Supporting this

>>5182932
>>You cannot turn your back on the paradise you beheld, or the affirmation of the Dark Gods, not even for her [-affection, weakens soulbound]
>Agree to prostitute yourself to him… And then drain him dry and feed him to Irinnile, as a treat
>Felman’s, to get an update on the ongoing investigations

>>5182932
>You cannot turn your back on the paradise you beheld, or the affirmation of the Dark Gods, not even for her [-affection, weakens soulbound]
She knew we would end up in hell because of her, didn't say a fucking word and now we're the bad one for not wanting eternal damnation because of a lowly succubus? Really?
>Pay up, and leave this place in peace—he’s a waste of time and effort
>Bianchi’s, for research purposes and a check-in
And next demon.

Can't we just mind-connect to Felman on the way? Having to choose between the two while we have to go on foot seems like a waste of time.

>>5182932
>You care more for her than for any paradise the Dark Gods can offer—you will find a way to be with her, wherever it may take you and whatever it may deny you [+affection, strengthens soulbond]
I'm planning on us being bad ass enough to escape from hell and get into Dark Valhalla together.
>Mesmerize him, and take his oil and his other valuables as well—and the coin behind his counter
Keeps him in line and alive, though I would like a snack. Maybe he can can have a taste of us if he begs for it.
>Bianchi’s, for research purposes and a check-in
Maybe he has a cute maid we can pound to lower our Want.

>>5183402
>>5183292
>>5183232
>>5183037
>>5183020
You take a deep breath, meeting the eyes of the human man and slamming your coin down on the counter. He flinches back, and it makes you feel a little better. You take your oil, and you leave.

‘Irinnile,’ you address her a you continue on your way, ‘I will TRY to find a way to bring you with me, but…’

‘But if you can’t, if it’s that paradise or us, you choose paradise,’ irinnile fnishes.

‘Wouldn’t YOU?’

She ahs no answer to that, but you feel no change in the emotion emanating from her, filling you.

‘Consider this,’ you snap, ‘you KNEW we would end up in Hell because of you, and you didn't say ANYTHING about it… And now I’m the bad one for not wanting eternal damnation because of a lowly succubus? Really?’

Irinnile flinches back, and for a moment you feel the irritation turn back to sadness. Then, the feeling dulls, becomes less intense.

[-affection]

The bond between her essence and your soul wavers, but does not break. You consider this development, tactically and romantically… But not for long. You have almost arrived at your destination, after all.

You are one more in those winding corridors of tilting, refurbished buildings painted in arcane and imperceptibly alien colours: The Initiate’s Village, built sprawling out towards the almost literal ivory Tower of the Hawksong Mages. You have to be careful not to attract too much attention here, which you achieve by pulling up your hood and slightly shifting your skin-tone so as not to match the description of any ‘Southern Demonists’. One bright side is that, unlike the res of your journey here, the presence of Hawksong’s non-magical City Guard is almost non-existent here. You walk carefully, with purpose and an aura of calm, past an Inquisitorial patrol; this is the only impediment to your journey to the humble ground-level dwelling of Inquisitor Felman.

The Inquisitor himself opens the door, drawn to this place by your mental summons—a much faster and less-conspicuous process than the lengthy meditation required to properly ‘commune’ across Irinnile’s ectoplasmic link.

“Inside,” he half-commands, half-suggests.

You frown at his wilfulness, but follow the instructions for practicality’s sake.

“Watch your tone,” you admonish him.

“There’s no time for that!” he exclaims once the door is shut. “We’ve found something!”

“Explain,” you demand.

Felman does so, elaborating upon the latest development in the Inquisition’s investigation into demonological activities around the city. Following the discovery of a demon-in-disguise (Siz-Gamid) in the Royal Library, the librarians were questioned about unusual activity therein and thereabouts. Of course, as one might expect, almost immediately this drew attention to...

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>>5183425
“Lord Bianchi,” you say grimly.

“Yes,” says Felman, looking a little surprised.

Of course. A spooky, arrogant, black-clad young nobleman always reading books on matters mysterious and occult within the bounds of legality, maintaining a guard around him so as not to be unduly interrupted (or observed), even bringing his own tomes whose contents he refuses to share… he might as well have painted a target on his back.

‘Ha! B-boy’s fucked,’ Irinnile laughs, clearly deriving some enjoyment from the fall-from-grace of the man who sought to summon and enslave her.

‘We are as well,’ you point out, ‘if they mentioned we were seen with him.’

“Did they speak of any associates?” you ask.

Felman is quiet for a moment, narrowing his eyes, but shakes his head.

“But we plan to bring him in for questioning today,” he says.

You feel panic rise, and begin to consider your next move.

“What happened to your… Lisp? Accent? Whatever it was?”

You ignore Inquisitor Felman’s question. You have quite enough on your mind.

What do you do?
>Instruct Felman to redirect the investigation [specify if you have a patsy in mind] to the best of his ability
>Get Felman to stall the Inquisition long enough for you to destroy any evidence of Bianchi’s occult hobbies and library
>Spirit Bianchi out of town, on his way to his family’s old home in the countryside, before he can be arrested and questioned
>Alas, Bianchi’s usefulness is at an end—you’re headed to his home to kill him
>Write-in

>>5183427
>Spirit Bianchi out of town, on his way to his family’s old home in the countryside, before he can be arrested and questioned

also I kinda miss the lisp, and it might look weird for us to lose it all of a sudden. Maybe we can keep it for anything tied to our base identity, and lose it for COVERT OPS?

>>5183427
>Spirit Bianchi out of town, on his way to his family’s old home in the countryside, before he can be arrested and questioned
Oh maan, I thought Ismena was supposed to practice speaking without the obvious lisp? How come this never made Isaac and then the Archmage suspicious?

>>5183629
You only ditched the qccent recently. If you want it back in your base identity, append it to your vote... But it hardly matters for Felman. If he was ever freed from your enthralment, him knowing your accent/lisp is intermittent would be the least of your worries.

>>5183717
Ik we ditched it with shapeshifting, it just never occured to me that everyone we interacted with has heard it. I think I subconsciously assumed Ismena was doing her best to cover it in general and only lost control under pressure.

It's a bit of a tiny mindfuck for me, since I made these assumptions without paying them any attention whatsoever. Was it ever brought up aside for individual instances where Ismena was upset/angry/etc?

>>5183427
>Alas, Bianchi’s usefulness is at an end—you’re headed to his home to kill him
We don’t really need him anymore…his books are now more useful than him

And I’m sure that his family’s country estate will be the next place they search if he’s not at his city home - c’mon guys

>>5183796
This isn't modern life anon, they don't have a database on everyone. If they even know about the estate Bianchi can have us take him somewhere else.

>>5183753
[There was a vote in an earlier thread about whether to suppress it, and in that vote it was noted that Edwin might find it weird if The Infiltrator suddenly stopped having her 'accent'. It's come up a couple other times: little comments, Irinnile's nickname for her, and (most notably) when Chase and Innes commented on her accent prior to accosting her.]

>>5183801
Of course they don’t - but they can easily ask the staff at his estate about other properties

And the vote isn’t to ‘take him to a safe house’ - it’s to take him to that specific country estate

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Rolled 11, 12, 15, 12, 17 = 67 (5d20)

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>>5183524
>>5183629
>>5183796

“When?” you demand. “When will this happen?”

“Within the next few hours,” Felman answers.

You give him no goodbye and you explode out of the Inquisitor’s home—you owe him none. The only thing which stops you running down the street now is the attention it would bring to you. Instead, you force yourself to walk as swiftly as possible without becoming conspicuous, hurrying at a brisk walk to Lord Bianchi’s home in the city.

However, when you arrive at the estate, you receive an unusual reception: one of Bianchi’s bodyguards, playing at gate-guardsman, actually attempt to STOP you, albeit without much apparent enthusiasm.

“The young lord has requested that you not be allowed to enter,” the human tells you.

“Ssstep assside,” you say, lacing your words with venom and with magical influence. You will Irinnile to return your accent, if only to expedite the conversation to come.

>>5184137
>17

He does so, and without a fight. So too the next one who runs towards you. You push past them, and past older and more mouldering servants who do not even put up this token resistance, marching on to Bianchi’s study. There, you find him reclining awkwardly, clearly made uncomfortable by the lasting damage to his spine and leg—damage you inflicted. From the look on his face when you enter, you wonder if he might now remember that.

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>>5184151
“You!” he scowls, though you see the fear behind the sneer. “How did you… Guards! Where are my blasted GUARDS?!”

“Handled,” you say, “and handily. What sseemss to be the problem? What iss the idea of barring me entry?”

But, of course, you already know—already SUSPECTED earlier, that the life-or-death confrontation with Siz-Gamid had jarred your enthrallment from this human’s mind and had shaken him back to full wakefulness.

“You know damned well,” he says, standing and beginning to back away. “You… You mesmerized me! Took my wits from me!”

Your plan has been to spirit Bianchi away from this place before the Inquisition arrived. You still could.

“Lord Bianchi—” you begin gently, approaching even as he backs himself into a corner.

Lord Bianchi bookcase and knocking loose a tome. He recoils from it, most probably recalling the source of his infirmity… If, you hope, not the one who inflicted it upon him. He looks back to you, furious and afraid, and like a cornered wererat he makes the stand he is forced to make.

“You stole my DEMON! My RESEARCH! My FUTURE!”

He is growing hysterical.

“Lisssten,” you say, “the Inquisssition iss coming. For YOU. I’m here to help—to get you out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere with the likes of you, you… Witch. Whore. Traitor! SNAKE!”

You resist the urge to smirk at that last one, while Irinnile snickers. Still, this leaves you in a bind. Without a carriage at your beck and call (as when you were seeing Edwin of Engel), your travels across Hakwsong are by no means swift. Two and a half hours passed, to bring you to this place. It is almost midday. The Inquisition can’t be far behind you now… And Bianchi knows so much more than he KNOWs he knows. He could give up the entire game.

What do you do?
>Use politesse—convince him that you’re on his side, or at least a lesser evil than the Inquisition
>Use merchantilism—parley the true-names of other demons from the Akashic Record to win him back to your side
>Use force—knock him out and drag him out of town if necessary
>Use the dagger—slay this fool and be done with it
>Use suicide poison—make it look like he killed himself, and brainwash his staff to corroborate it
>Use your connections—offer to introduce him to The Incubus, and show him the Symbol of Authority to back it up
>Use your ectoplasm—the very last of it that you can spare—to make him a more permanent thrall, with less of this troublesome free will
>Write-in

>>5184153
And it all begins to crumble now.
Bianchi please.
>Use politesse—convince him that you’re on his side, or at least a lesser evil than the Inquisition
>Appeal to his reason
He would've died if it wasn't for us that summoning day, we got possessed Irinnile and didn't mention it because it would be too awkward to explain and then one lie led to another. The fucking fox would've used the scroll to capture his soul for Incubus, but we saved him from that and then we wanted to help his leg even despite him being mesmerized, it just didn't work out with how many things we had on our head. If we really wished bad for him, we would've just killed him by now and taken over his library.
>Promise him a pact to let him use Irinnile's powers as he initially planned to in return for secrecy.
This way nobody can get scammed.
>Tell him to take the touchiest-subject books so Inquisition doesn't have access to everything he knows

>>5184153
>Use your connections—offer to introduce him to The Incubus, and show him the Symbol of Authority to back it up

>Use politesse—convince him that you’re on his side, or at least a lesser evil than the Inquisition

Combination of these two

>>5184309
Introducing Bianchi to the Incubus will make him independent, plus if he falls for demon's false promises and turns his back on us, it will give Incubus more power over us. It's dangerous and not at all beneficial.
Not to mention that Bianchi isn't very... good at making right choices and his greed will surely lead to him becoming Incubus' thrall or being weaponized against us. Not even a shadow of a doubt after he failed to prepare for Irinnile's summoning ritual and then nearly became Incubus' property by blindly trusting the Fox woman. Both those times we had to save his ass lmao.

>>5184334
That is a good point…

But we can’t kill or kidnap him - the staff have seen us.

Altering the vote here >>5184309 to this

>Use politesse—convince him that you’re on his side, or at least a lesser evil than the Inquisition

If that fails

>Use merchantilism—parley the true-names of other demons from the Akashic Record to win him back to your side

We don’t have to honour the deal once he’s out of the city after all…

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>>5184346
Yeah I hate the fact that no matter what we do now, the staff will talk to Inquisition about Ismena. Ideally we should make them all go with us, but it's too much of a risk, considering the faith cops are closing in and will be here in a couple hours. We could get noticed.

The most sound solution I see would be mesmerizing everyone who saw us here and then ordering Felman to make sure our demonic influence over them is not dispelled, should they be interrogated.

I don't think this could be avoided unless we went into turboautism or "paranoia" of sneaking in so nobody saw us, but even I didn't think things would go THIS bad here.

At least now I can be happy that I tried to think ahead and prevent as much collateral damage as I could. This shitshow is exactly why I treat every security flaw seriously. When I'm not shitposting.

[It appears we have two votes so far. I'll hold out for more, and do my best to blend the two so far of all else fails]

>>5184272
Supporting

>>5184153
>Use merchantilism—parley the true-names of other demons from the Akashic Record to win him back to your side

We've been holding onto these for a while, might as well use one.

Rolled 1, 10, 11, 10, 14, 1 = 47 (6d20)

>>5184943
>>5184346
>>5184686
>>5184272
[Still something of a tie, but I can work with this.]

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>>5184956
“Ssee reasson,” you apepal to Lord Bianchi. “You would have died if it wasssn't for me, that day when we ssought to sssummon the ssucubusss. Only my intervention ssaved you!”

“You bound it to yourself,” he spits. “you could have just as easily bound it to ME, and you bloody well know it. You kept it secret for a reason!”

“I wasn’t ccertain how to divorcce mysself from it,” you lie. “I would have done sso if I could.”

“So instead of asking for my aid, instead of offering up its abilities, you lied?” he scoffs. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“I… didn't mention it because it would be too awkward to exxxplain,” you say. “I mean, would you have believed me? Clearly not. From there… Well, one lie led to another.”

“That, I believe,” Bianchi sneers, grabbing a staff to use as a walking stick and edging to towards the door.

You move to stop him, your appeal growing more urgent.

“The fucking foxxx would've used the ssscroll to capture your sssoul for The Incubusss! I sssaved you from that! I even planned to help with your sspine, your leg, dessspite you already being mesmerized. It jussst… Didn't work out with how thingsss played out.”

>1

“You mean because you were too busy staging insurrectionist assaults on the Tower and the King’s men with your cronies?”

You hesitate. Just how much does he remember?

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>>5184985
“You’re no ally of their ilk,” you say, tone lowering. “I know how you resssent King Archosss and hiss government… The Tower and their hoarding of knowledge. You’ve SSEEEN what I have acquired accessss to… What I could grant YOU accccesss to! I could give you the names of MANY demonss… Could even give you the sssuccubusss!”

‘H-hey,’ Irinnile whispers, affronted.

You reassure her that it’s a bluff.

“And take advantage of another ritual to turn me into your… Your plaything, your minion?! To drop ANOTHER FUCKING BOOKCASE on me?!”

Okay, so he remembers a lot.

“Lord Bianchi—”

Your latest appeal is interrupted as he staggers forth. At first it seems like he is making a bolt for it, but as you move to stop him, you feel a shooting pain. You look down and find a long, thin line of steel piercing your abdomen straight through: a blade, drawn from the staff. A sword-cane?

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you hiss, and you see red. Your calm is gone. “Even a pitiful, weak-willed, half-assssed demonologissst like YOU should know that, if I’m posssessssed, I can’t be harmed by mundane weaponsss.”

>1

Lord Bianchi’s expression isn’t devoid of fear, not at all… But you also are not certain you’ve ever seen this smarmy snob any smugger than he is right now, in spite of it.

“I didn’t use a mundane weapon, you stupid bitch.”

It’s then that you realize that the pain isn’t fading… Isn’t lessening. In fact, it’s growing worse. You try to speak, to demand an explanation, but only a rattling croak emerges… And blood. Lots of blood. You look down again at the staff in Bianchi’s hand, and you recognize it: the family heirloom staff, which you helped this foppish occultist to materialize from Irinnile’s own essence, that first night when you encountered her.

‘Oh fuck!’ Irinnile cries. ‘Oh shit! Oh, babe! No!’

This wound… It’s potentially lethal, but only POTENTIALLY. You can regenerate it, but it will take time… Uninterrupted time, without distraction. And you doubt if you have long before the Inquisition arrives now. Minutes? An hour?

‘I can fix this I can fix this I can FIX THIS,’ you panicking inner demon shrieks.

What do you do?
>KILL THIS SURFACE-BORN SON OF AN APE! TEAR HIM APART AND EAT HIS SOUL!
>Get away! Get out! You’ve been made by the staff either way, and further combat will only risk further injury—right as a pack of damned mages are bearing down on you!
>Make a last-ditch effort to negotiate a pact—whatever Bianchi wants, just to fix this mess!
>Try to force the regeneration while maintaining your distance, and hope to the Dark Gods that the Inquisition doesn't burst in
>Call in the [DIVINE FAVOUR] to smite this entire building and its denizens
>Call in the [DIVINE FAVOUR] to restore you to full health, so you can handle this personally
>Die
>Write-in

Oof, a DOUBLE fumble. Yikes.

>>5184988
>Try to force the regeneration while maintaining your distance, and hope to the Dark Gods that the Inquisition doesn't burst in

If they do arrive - then we call in the divine favour to smite everyone

>>5184988
>KILL THIS SURFACE-BORN SON OF AN APE! TEAR HIM APART AND EAT HIS SOUL!

Use it for healing fuel
servants too, if possible

>>5184988
>Say that Inquisition is coming for him right now, and the fact he badly wounded you instead of listening, leaves you with no choice here.
Also call him a failure, might as well.
>KILL THIS SURFACE-BORN SON OF AN APE! TEAR HIM APART AND EAT HIS SOUL!
If it's possible, claw him or stab him with a body-blade and then immediately jump in to suck out his life essence.
>Remember to leave through the back, or a window on the back
Even if not in the next update, just please remember to do this instead of walking out on the street under the current circumstances.

Do nat 1s have priority over other rolls? I don't remember this being a thing before.
>>>Die
The fact that this isn't a joke option is pretty wild. The implications would be... interesting, to say the least.

>>5185021
Yeah, at this point we should just kill everyone who saw our face and burn this place to the ground, starting with the pool of our blood. Inquisition knows this moron fucked with demons so a succubus slaughtering the entire household won't be much of a surprise.

Rolled 9, 11, 19, 9 = 48 (4d20)

>>5185009
>>5185021
>>5185285

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>>5185419
>>5185009
>>5185021
>>5185285
“The Inquisssition is coming for you, right now,” you say, radiating a quiet fury, “And I cannot let them question you.”

“W-wait! Stay back! I’ll kill you!”

>19

You ay be badly wounded, but you are also a trained Infiltrator—not PRIMARILY combatant, but certainly educate din such arts. Hawksong ahs only honed your abilities. And Bianchi? Bianchi is an out-of-shape nobleman with back and leg injuries, wielding a weapon more designed for concealment and surprise than effectiveness.

<WANT: 18>

It takes but seconds of work with some succubus-manifested claws to shred him to ribbons, and consuming his fleeing soul is almost enough to make up for the expenditure of energy in the brief scuffle.

<Bloodlust trait>

The easy killing is not quite enough to sate your need for retributive violence, however. You rip the sword-cane from your abdomen and drive it into him, again and again and again, perforating his face and chest beyond recognizability. Only when his lifeblood is pooling out in every direction do you look up and see a servant-girl staring at you from the doorway, silently mouthing a scream that cannot quite escape her lips.

Irinnile laughs nervously, a little hysterically even.

‘It’s fine,’ you say grimly. ‘I can fix this.’

The servant girl barely begins to shriek before an extended claw pierces her skull, and with another few hacks of your claws you separate head from body. These people all saw your face, after all. Every single servant in Bianchi’s home must die—and you set about inflicting exactly this.

You topple candle-sconces, spilling flame out not carpets and the library of books as you go—it’s harmless to you, but it boxes in your prey. One by one, you teach these humans why you are nightmare to them—a Reptilian demon, a monstrous reminder of the Age of Scales which fell away, but will rise again. Caged by flames, they fall to you one after another, as smoke and blood cloud your every sense—sight, smell, taste, until the roar of the flames fills even your hearing.

You scream in glorious revelry as the last guard falls beneath your wrath.

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>>5185428
“What in the name of all the Gods?”

“By the deep magic!”

“But that fire out, you cretins! Hurry!”

Your head snaps to face the voices. You caught up are you in your virtuous violence that you take a moment to even realize who it is. It’s only when an ice-spell lances through the fire, snuffing some of it out a freezing solid a portion of your newly-created lake of human blood that you realize it.

“This way!”

‘Felman the Incelman,’ Irinnile murmurs, a little nervously.

You recognize the voice, too. The Inquisition is here. In your desire to slaughter these surface-apes and to hide your identity, you have delayed too long.

‘It’s not our fault that some of ‘em hid in closets ‘n shit!’ Irinnile protests.
Consuming their escaping life-force been enough to abate Irinnile’s hunger, to help fuel your healing…

<WANT: 16>

…But you have not taken the necessary time to regenerate it and, now that your adrenaline is dying down, you are beginning to feel woozy, light-headed, almost… Sleepy.

‘Wait! Babe, no, don’t do hat!~’

Irinnile snaps you out of it, and she helps you clear your head. You need to move. You’re on the verge of unconsciousness.

‘Wing?’ you ask her.

‘Can’t,’ she replies, ‘it’s daylight out there.’

You have precious seconds to decide on a course of action. The Inquisition is almost upon you. A lesser being would panic, freeze, but not you. You are a Reptilian Infiltrator! You:
>Hide deep within the burning building, regenerating your wounds and hoping they do not find you until you are well enough to slip away unnoticed
>Shapeshift into a ‘survivor’ and scream for help
>ATTACK! ATTACK! ATTACK! You still have the element of surprise on your side
>Turn Felman against his colleagues, and use this distraction to escape
>Make a break for it! These bookworms are slow on foot, certainly compared to you, and you are confident you can lose them if you dive through the fire and out a back window
>Call down the [DIVINE FAVOUR], expending it to smite them all
>Write-in

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>>5185285
>Do nat 1s have priority over other rolls? I don't remember this being a thing before.

[If none of your other rolls is a success, and you have at least one 1, it's a critical failure. SO has it always been! Sorry if that wasn't clear to everything. I THINK I elaborated upon that earlier in the quest, but it just happens fairly rarely so it doesn't come up often.]

[Also, heads up: I am going out for a drink with a friend tonight, so I may or may not post again today. I will tomorrow, though!]

>>5185432
>Make a break for it! These bookworms are slow on foot, certainly compared to you, and you are confident you can lose them if you dive through the fire and out a back window

Hopefully the fire is big enough they don't even notice us leaving.

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>>5185428
Now we are become Roth, the incinerator of mansions. I will miss Bianchi a little.
>>5185432
>Make a break for it! These bookworms are slow on foot, certainly compared to you, and you are confident you can lose them if you dive through the fire and out a back window
Running short on power because of action we have little to no control over is frustrating, but I guess it's really just our fault for keeping the demon hungry.
Inb4 Ismena gets a Second Wind ability because we keep almost getting her killed time and time again.
>>5185433
Oh right, I forgot we rolled below 15. Don't remember critical failure rule, but that's very likely just my bad memory.

Purely theoritical question - how bad would be our disadvantage if we actually attempted to bluff past the Inquisition in this situation? If I was one of those guys and saw Ismena emerge from the flames with a gaping stomach wound and didn't recognize her voice from any of the staff's screams, I'd probably ice bolt her in the head and ask questions layer.

>>5185432
>>Make a break for it! These bookworms are slow on foot, certainly compared to you, and you are confident you can lose them if you dive through the fire and out a back window
As usual, I leave for a bit and everything's on fire again.

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>>5185726
Welcome back, anon. Take a seat and get ready to pocket some demons cause we're nearly done here and leaving. Just be careful, there is blood all over the floor.
I wanted Bianchi to live, but our hands were really fucking tied.

Rolled 14, 7, 3, 3 = 27 (4d20)

>>5185476
>>5185724
>>5185726
You take one look at the numerous silhouettes of your approaching enemies, and you turn the other way. Leaping not the smoke and flame, you hope to shield yourself from their sight, and to abscond out the servants’ entrance or the kitchen before they even know you’re here.

‘Won’t they now when they see all the… You know, claw marks an’ shit?’

‘Bianchi toyed with the occult routinely,’ you say. ‘You should know: if he’d tried to summon you alone, would he have lived?’

Irinnile titters.

Still… Remembering Bianchi’s cold, dour expression and how it had softened to you… His drive, albeit one given to a curious and short-sighted, narrowly-focused obsession… You actually think you’ll miss him a little bit. But then, the fool gave you no choice.

>>5186397
A sudden explosion of cold air buffets your body, shocking you and snapping you out of your reflections. You pull your magic cloak tight around yourself, and this alone save you from being frozen like the kitchen around you. Snowflake drift through the air, stalactites and stalagmites of ice jut from the roof and floor, and the window through which you were escaping is shattered by the sudden shift from burning heat to wintery cold.

Shivering—neither reptiles nor many demons handle such temperatures well, magic cloak aside—you turn to the mage responsible.

>14 for stealth, daytime, no cover

You see a young woman, in the signature red, pointed hat of the Inquisition… And those damned glasses, capable of tracking you across this blasted surface-city and maybe even beyond.

‘Lispy, you’re hurt…’

‘I know, but she saw me.’

‘I shifted our face,’ Irinnile appeals. ‘It’s only been, like, a split second. Look at how surprised and confused she is. She ain’t gonna’ do SHIT with those glasses. Let’s just go!’

But can you really take that chance?

‘Babe! You could DIE!’ Irinnle wails.

You are still holding Bianchi’s sword-cane, crafted of succubus essence, in your clawed hand. Your blood, his blood, and the blood of those who served him, coats the blade. You aren’t sure what face Irinnile provided you, but must be a fearsome sight indeed. This Inquisior has not yet made a move…

What do you do?
>Attack the inquisitor (melee)
>Attack the Inquisitor (throw your dagger)
>Use a glamour of intimidation to drive her back
>Attempt to snatch up or smash her glasses, and then escape
>Fuck it, just leap out the window and hope she’s too startled to track you
>Write-in

>>5186413
>Use a glamour to drive her back
Blind her ass and then
>Fuck it, just leap out the window and hope she’s too startled to track you

We 100% need fighting lessons from Felman and Roth now. There will be more fighting whether we like it or not and our current skillset is completely devoid of real offensive abilities, which we get fucked over by repeatedly.

>>5186413
>>Attack the Inquisitor (throw your dagger)
Go for the eyes

>>5186413
>Fuck it, just leap out the window and hope she’s too startled to track you

Would killing her even work if the glasses are already locked on to us? Wouldn't someone else be able to just pick them up and use them?

Might be time to finally lead our crew out to the hideout. Write Zivik an IOU for one (1) demon.

>>5186413
>Attempt to snatch up or smash her glasses, and then escape

Pair it with a glamour to disorient her

>>5186424
>>5186628
>>5186761
>>5186781
[Seems like we have (roughly speaking) a tie between an attack focused on the glasses, and escape. I'll await a tie-breaker; no 1-post-by-this-id votes. Failing that, I'll attempt to blend the two, but with a penalty to your escape if you fail on your glamour/attack.]

Rolled 13, 15, 18, 9, 4 = 59 (5d20)

>>5186424
>>5186628
>>5186761
>>5186781

The glasses, and being tracked by them, are certainly a threat… But perhaps not AS big a threat as the possibility of death. As you wipe some more blood from your lips and feel another wave of nausea and disorientation hit you, it is THAT fear that takes precedence. Still, you can’t just run without TRYING to head off the tail.

Closing your eyes for just a moment and performing the physical gesture necessary to focus your inner reserves of magical potential and to align them to Irinnile’s own, you project your aura much as you would to seduce or confuse… Only this time, you do so to provoke fear, not agreeability or lust.

“HOLD.”

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Rolled 9, 2, 2, 2 = 15 (4d20)

>>5186987
>18

The effect which follows has much in-common with paralysis, even if it is technically not. The Inquisitor is frozen in terror of her alerted perception of you. Though you struggle to maintain this effect in your weakened state, it is sufficient to prevent a counterattack as you lash out with Bianchi’s sword-cane, drawing a line of blood across her face.

This breaks the spell, causing the woman to cry out and to lash out with a bolt of lightning… But the shot goes wide, her vision obscured by the blood dripping down from her gashed brow. Better yet, the attack has the intended effect upon the glasses, splitting them across the bridge, and in her stumbling the fumbling Inquisitor even steps upon the lenses. With a smirk, you dive out the window and take off on foot, swiftly evading your remaining pursuers.

However, you know they will be canvassing the area now. Worse, as they widen the net from Bianchi, you are certain the similarities to Roth’s attack on the Zivic Estate will not go unnoticed. This could well lead to inquiries with the librarians about Bianchi’s known associates… including yourself, a fairly-recognizable young woman seen in both his company and in that of Edwin of Engel.

‘Aw shit, do we gotta’ kill EDDY now?’

You squint your eyes at the idea, fighting back tears at even the very idea. Still… The matter fo Edwin must be considered.

What do you do?
>Go to the Engel manor to confront Edwin, and to plead with him to say nothing
>Go to the Engel manor to threaten or kill Edwin
>Trust Edwin to keep his mouth shut, as he said he would, and go elsewhere, such as…
>>Goblintown, to hide out under your Zithra identity
>>Roth’s residence, to report in and consult with an elder operative
>>The pretty Kitty, to create an alibi via your work identity
>>The farmhouse, to escape Hawksong altogether
>Write-in

[Mystery dice, rolling away in the background...]

>>5187001
>Trust Edwin to keep his mouth shut, as he said he would, and go elsewhere, such as…

>>The pretty Kitty, to create an alibi via your work identity

>>5187001
>>Go to the Engel manor to confront Edwin, and to plead with him to say nothing
Yes I'd still love to fix things

>>5187001
>Go to the Engel manor to confront Edwin, and to plead with him to say nothing

Totally to not just see him, that'd be crazy... Dark Gods below, how I wish we were still a couple.

>>5187001
>>Go to the Engel manor to confront Edwin, and to plead with him to say nothing

>>5187199
>>5187199
>>5187127
>>5187115
>>5187018
You would never HURT Edwin. Never! But, well… A good Infiltrator plugs all leaks.

‘You just wanna’ see him again,’ Irinnile teases.

<Heartbreak: 85%>

‘That’s… Not it,’ you insist in vain. Irinnile can sense your feelings; she knows the truth.

You’re no fool, though: though you might be eager to see him again, you first change from your soiled cloak and dress and into something more presentable, shifting your shape and face back to their ‘default’ state as well. Only then do you approach the Engel Manor—and with no small trepidation.

When you arrive, it is late afternoon, almost the verge of evening. Your heart is pounding in your chest, Will Edwin hear you out? He’d have to, right? This is Edwin! Your beloved, silly little human pet, so understanding, and caring, and trusting. A simple lie, the batting of your eyelashes, and he’ll do whatever you require. Maybe, if you play this right, he could even—

‘Pound us into weak-kneed, mana-filled jelly with that big ol’ greatsword between his knees?’ Irinnile proposes excitedly.

You were THINKING, actually, that he might give you another chance to make things right… But even thinking it with any deliberateness now make you feel weak, and silly, like some human girl or flighty hatchling rather than a proper Infiltrator. You (attempt to) dismiss the frivolous notion as you approach the gates and greet the servant there.

Unlike at Bianchi’s, you are not turned away outright. This give you hope, but it isn’t long before you realize that this is a FASLE hope. You are brought by a familiar young man into the entryway of the boxy, modernist mansion, but in the great hall it is not Edwin of Engel who greets you, but his father, Fynn.

“Ismena!” he greets you, surprised. “I’d… Been told not to expect you any longer.”

You say nothing, hiding your disappointment behind a pleasant smile.

Fynn of Engel descends the stairs, leaning down to kiss your hand in a ‘gentlemanly’ but out-of-date fashion—an action he would not take, you expect, were his son here to see it.

“It’s a pleasant surprise,” he says. “What brings you here?”
>“Where’s Edwin? I need to speak with him.”
>“Have you heard about what’s going on in the city? I need shelter.”
>“I’m here for you, actually…” [seduction, with the opportunity to sate WANT and to enthrall ectoplasmically]
>“Nevermind, I should be going.”
>Write-in

>>5187531
>“Where’s Edwin? I need to speak with him.”
Strictly to cover our ass. Remember they saw us with him.

>>5187598
Supporting

>>5187531
>“Where’s Edwin? I need to speak with him.”
>If Edwin isn't home- “I’m here for you, actually…” [seduction, with the opportunity to sate WANT and to enthrall ectoplasmically]

We need an official alibi in case the Inquisition comes knocking anyway.

>>5187776
They are not coming here anytime soon. This is only a path they MIGHT follow, if
>they widen the net from Bianchi, you are certain the similarities to Roth’s attack on the Zivic Estate will not go unnoticed. This could well lead to inquiries with the librarians about Bianchi’s known associates… including yourself, a fairly-recognizable young woman seen in both his company and in that of Edwin of Engel.

I'm openly against fucking Fynn.

>>5187783
We should get Felman to scrape goat Bianchi as the main suspect, and have his death be ruled as a demonic summoning gone wrong.

Rolled 16, 16, 14, 13, 9 = 68 (5d20)

>>5187598
>>5187751
>>5187776

“Where’ss Edwin?” you ask, taking your hand back.

Fynn hides his disappointment well, but only outwardly. Irinnile’s senses register it just fine, just as she easily tracked his desire.

‘I mean, I’m just SAYIN’: maybe he don’t have his son’s amna reserves, but Eddy inherited that schlong from SOMEONE…’

You ignore her, focusing instead on Fynn’s reply:

“I’m sorry to say he’s… Out.”

“Out where?” you ask. “It’sss ssomewhat urgent. I musst sspeak with him.”

Fynn sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and begins: “Ismena…”

“Fynn, please, it is a matter of grave importanccce to all of uss,” you appeal.

Fynn sighs, nodding. “Okay, well, just… Don’t make a scene, alright?”

You arch an eyebrow.

“He’s in the Initiate’s Village, helping out with the repairs and fundraising efforts around The Endless Fountain.”

Immediately, you understand Fynn’s increasing boldness with you, as well as his reticence to elaborate upon Edwin’s location.

‘That son-of-a-bitch is playin’ hide-the-mana-reserve with Paula!’ Irinnile screeches, outraged.

You don’t say anything right away, suppressing the succubus’ possessive anger. She’s not BONDED to Edwin—you get the feeling she doesn’t even especially like him on any interpersonal level—but the rage she feels at being deprived of your most reliable source of high-quality magical energy and desire is quite real…

And you’re not exactly feeling calm, either.

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>>5187851
>16

You grit your teeth, forcing your own emotions and Irinnile’s down. You will tears not to form in your eyes.

“Ismena?” Fynn says.

He looks genuinely concerned… Though you can sense some predatory desire still there, as if he thinks this revelation might better his chances with you.

‘Would serve Edwin right,’ Irinnile grumbles. ‘Fucker didn’t know how good he had it! Like that Paula prude is gonna’ give head like a TRAINED PROFESSIONAL with a SEX DEMON in her, amirite?!’

<Heartbreak: 90%>
<WANT: 18>

You’re beginning to wonder how much of Irinnile’s reaction might actually be feedback from YOU, which has a sobering effect. Aren't you the voice of reason in this symbiotic relationship? Are you really this bound up in this… Mammal? Well… Yes. But should you be?

What do you do?
>Thank Fynn, and leave to go confront Edwin and Paula
>Thank Fynn, and leave to go assassinate Edwin and Paula
>Give into Fynn’s advances, to spite Edwin
>Give into Fynn’s advances, to enthrall and use him
>Leave, and go on a long walk to clear your head, eventually arriving at…
>>The library, to silence the lead before it ever reaches Edwin
>>The Pretty Kitty, for your shift
>>The Incubus residence—you’re done with this city
>Write-in

>>5187861
>>Thank Fynn, and leave to go confront Edwin and Paula

>>5187861
>Leave, and go on a long walk to clear your head, eventually arriving at
>>The library, to silence the lead before it ever reaches Edwin
Did we ectoplasm Paula or just mindfuck her? I think we wiped her memory of that night, but was it the whole night?

>>>assassinate
>>>you’re done with this city
Our prompts are getting more and more crazy, lol. Wouldn't mind changing the environment myself, but I think changes this big would divide a lot of anons.

>>5187861
>Leave, and go on a long walk to clear your head, eventually arriving at…
>>The library, to silence the lead before it ever reaches Edwin

no good way to confront them

File: 7ac.gif (2.97 MB, 500x200)

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>>5187924
>Our prompts are getting more and more crazy

>>5188024
But we will just refuse to go with anything wild, RQM. Got too used to being comfy and resolving all the problems without colossal consequences, plus nobody wants to accelerate the quest's finale.
Real shame we didn't visit hell when we could.

>>5188024
Edwin is too dreamy to harm him like so.

>>5188024
he didn't say that

>>5187861
>Give into Fynn’s advances, to spite Edwin
>Leave, and go on a long walk to clear your head, eventually arriving at…
>>The Pretty Kitty, for your shifty

We'll turn Paula into a cuckquean, but after we start mindfucking and seducing our three newest recruits. Hell, maybe we can even make a pact with them after we wrap them around our fingers.

>>5187861
>Leave, and go on a long walk to clear your head, eventually arriving at…
>The library, to silence the lead before it ever reaches Edwin

Get ahead of the investigation

Also on the walk, talk to Felman via our mental link about what their moves are

He’s leading this investigation after all

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>>5187877
>>5187924
>>5187991
>>5188123
>>5188211

“I need to go,” you tell Fynn, keeping the quiver which you feel in your chest out of your voice. “Don’t worry—I won’t bother Edwin.”

You turn to leave, but Fynn calls out: “Ismena!”

You turn tense and ready to reject him more forcefully.

“Edwin doesn’t know what he’s giving up,” he says.

You smirk at that. “Neither do you.”

The human man seems puzzled by your words, but you do not clarify. You just turn, and go. You have work to do.

True to your word, you do not seek out Edwin and Paula on their… Charitable endeavour? Date? Bah—it doesn’t MATTER what it is. It’s no threat to you—not if the Inquisition never has any reason to seek out either of them. You will head this off at the pass—get ahead of the story and snuff out the embers of the fire which threatens to engulf all three of you.

‘…You protecting that traitor, babe?’ Irinnile asks, surprised.

‘I’m protecting my mission,’ you say, as much to yourself as to her. ‘I’m protecting my people, and the Grand Design.’

Irinnile isn’t convinced… Nor, you suppose, are you. Your mptives aren’t pure. Edwin knows more than anyone else—he is a terrible risk, left alive. However, he’s…

‘Too dreamy to kill?’ Irinnile finishes.

You huff in frustration at your own pitiful, oh-so-human weakness. You’re at the Hawksong Royal Library, though. There is no time to dwell on such things—it is late in the afternoon, essentially evening, and you have work to do.

When you enter, you find the library mostly empty. This is perfect for you. Better yet, your ‘leak’ is there: the helpful elfmaid, Fesliel.

“Oh, hello!” she says, looking up from her rolling wood-and-steel cart, stack with books and scrolls. “I was just filing away the last of the returns. I’m afraid we’re closing up.”

“That’sss fine,” you say, with a smile.

Fesliel blinks a couple times, looking at you again. “Oh, wait—you’re that young woman who comes here with Edwin of Engel, aren’t you? I haven’t seen you in a while!”

The sting of her words, however unintentional, helps make what comes next all the easier. You…
>Kill her swiftly and cleanly, with your dagger
>Attempt to mesmerize her, and to use her to feed every drop of her lifeforce to sate Irinnile’s growing want [remember: elves are magical creatures]
>Knock her out and attempt to erase her relevant memories
>Slay her and set this place ablaze, destroying countless tomes of human knowledge and covering up your crime
>Write-in

>>5188342
>Attempt to mesmerize her, and to use her to feed every drop of her lifeforce to sate Irinnile’s growing want [remember: elves are magical creatures]

Time to see how magical elves are

>>5188034
This is fine, too. I have a header ready for one more thread, since I foresee this taking a BIIIT longer than I originally thought. Just be aware that dragging the mission out too long can also net a Bad End.

>>5188342
>Knock her out, steal SOME of her life essence and attempt to mesmerize her to send her out of Hawksong
We could try to make her leave the city and go somewhere else. Killing is only going to bring more problems and immediate attention to this place.

Thanks for helping us here, RQM. Even I didn't remember what exactly linked Bianchi to Edwin and us.

>>>too dreamy to kill
No, Edwin just doesn't have it in him to act maliciously, which he proved by not turning Ismena in after he learned she was one of foreigners behind the attack on Gala. Killing either of them would, again, cause more problems.

>>5188347
We already know, better knock her out first
>>5188394
Shit, well. We are famously so bad with deadlines, that it's starting to look like ADHD.

>>5188342
>Attempt to mesmerize her, and to use her to feed every drop of her lifeforce to sate Irinnile’s growing want [remember: elves are magical creatures]

We super charged now

Rolled 15, 18, 16, 11, 10, 2 = 72 (6d20)

>>5188665
>>5188347
>>5188711
[DC 17]

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>>5188793
You feel this elven librarian put up more resistance than any other besides the trained mages with their anti-demon charms. Her inherent magic, glowing bright as if reflecting yours or redoubling against it, fights to shield her mind as you approach.

“Nn—No! What are you doing?!” Fesliel protests, dropping her book and staggering back. “You shouldn’t…”

“Shhhh,” you quiet her, touching her cheek, then bringing a finegr to her lips. “It will all be over ssoon.”

>18

The fight leaves her limp body, her eyes going lank and compliant. She nods, and parts her lips for your thumb at lightest pressure. Together, you go behind the library, through a rear door…

…And there, you learn something of the appeal of elves. You pin her down, a hand over her mouth, and explore her body and soul in such completeness that, by the end of the experience, you’re sure you know her—KNEW her, you suppose, for she is no more---than she ever knew herself.

<WANT: 14>

‘WOO!’ Irinnile woops. ‘Babe, we SUPERCHARGED now!’

There was indeed a lot of magical energy within that lithe little frame. It has a different… Texture?... Than Edwin’s, a different sort of feel as it radiates through you and your demon alike. Less potent, you think, less intense… But more stable. A filling meal, but not as richly flavoured, perhaps.

‘Screw the metaphors—let’s go see Laskar for a bit more elf-meat!’

‘Easy, girl,’ you chide her. ‘We have a body to dispose of.’

Irinnile groans at your responsibility, but with her <WANT> abated somewhat, her need is less urgent. She doesn’t fight against you as you do what must be done. Over the next few hours, you use Bianchi’s sword-cane (a useful acquisition indeed!) to dismember the librarian, and you set about disposing of her.

‘It’s nighttime, Hotstuff,’ Irinnile points out unnecessarily. ‘We going to work?’

You know she means The Pretty Kitty, but your last escapade has ensured you will be late for your shift at best. Perhaps it is unwise not to establish an alibi, but then again… perhaps you’ll not need one for much longer?

What do you do?
>Go demon-hunting again—you still have a mission to complete
>Check in with Roth—he can better dispose of this body, and provide useful advice
>Rendezvous with Felman [or another thrall] to follow-up on your near-capture and the investigation’s subsequent progress
>Rest and recover at The Pretty Kitty—for the sake of your alibi, and the completion of your recovery from your magically-inflicted wound
>Write-in

>>5188804
>Check in with Roth—he can better dispose of this body, and provide useful advice
We stalled for far too long. Might as well listen to his complaints now and get rid of the evidence before shit escalates.

And according to >>5188394, we really need to start prioritizing the important things (fulfilling the pacts in time, disposing of Yosefs, delivering the dragonborn) to get them done before the bad end.

>>5188810
In fairness, it depends what you define as "bad"

>>5188820
Mission failure, of course.

>>5188804
>>Check in with Roth—he can better dispose of this body, and provide useful advice

>>5188804
>Check in with Roth—he can better dispose of this body, and provide useful advice

AKA we learn how fucked we are

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>>5189197
>>5189084
>>5188810

As you approach Roth’s door, hesitant even to knock, you’ve been putting this off for a while. The Dragonblooded Reptilian, masquerading as a blacksmith for decades now at this forge, is your man point of contact. He ahs been ally, brother-in-arms, almost a mentor to you… A lover to you on at least one occasion. One thing he has never failed to be, however, is your harshest critic. You do not relish what si to come.

‘We could just, ya’ know… Not tell him any a’ the bad stuff?’ irinnile suggest.

It would hamper his ability to deliver you useful counsel to do so, though. You gulp, steeling yourself, and rap upon the portal. As always, it takes the old Dragonblooded One time to open his many, many locks and latches. Normally you’d mock such paranoia but, well… he Has been kidnapped twice in the last month or so.

“Yes, how can I—” Roth asks he opens the door, looking almost chipper… Only for his voice and expression to drop as he looks down and sees you. “Oh.”

“Yesss,” you sa with a smile. “That ‘oh’.”

“Well, don’t’ just stand there,” he huff, “come in.”

To your surprise, Roth actually begins to pour you a drink as soon as you are inside—a gesture he has never, EVR even hinted at. You didn’t even realize he had alcohol on the premises! As he hands you a tumbler, you sniff it, and find it… Surpsisingly mild, fruity, and floral.

“Our kind handle alcohol more poorly tan these grain-muching surface savages,” he notes.

‘Aw shit, is THAt what it is?’ Irinnile muses. ‘I just thought you were a lightweight!’

“Why are you offering me this kindnessss?” you ask.

Roth huffs, looking away and sipping his own drink. “I heard what happened at the Gala. You’ve not returned since. No golems have descended upon us, nor Paladins nor Inquisitors.”

He looks at you with… Almost, ALMOST respect.

“You succeeded,” he says, in your True Speech. “Excellent work, Infiltrator.”

Irinnile laughs aloud the sound rattling around your brain. ‘That ain’t the half of it!”

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>>5189273
And so you tell him all of it: Chika’s destruction, the Dragonborn’s discovery and liberation, Henzler’s and Felman’s enthrallment, your further bargaining with The Incubus, your battles with the forces of The Tower and with the Inquisition as you acquire the promised demons, Bianchi’s demise. All of it except…

‘We tell him about Edwin, an’ Roth’ll gank him,’ Irinnile notes, neither with great enthusiasm or (you note) evidence displeasure.

“This alliance with The Incubus… Your methods in rounding up these demons… Leaving a DIRECT DESCENDANT of a Great Dragon in the clutches of a demon…”

Roth’s usual disapproving harrumph rears its ugly head, as he glwoers at you.

“As ever, you leave far too much of our destiny in the hands of lesser spirits, rather than trusting in the Dark Gods… Or in yourself. It is a shameful waste of time. This ‘dragonborn’ should be among our people already. You say you’ve left him there for DAYS, with only… A surface-ape, mutants, and a DEGENERATE for company?”

“The Fleshweaver, Henzler, made the Dragonborn as well,” you note. “I suspect it is a hybrid—a ‘chimera’—as well.”

The notion fills Roth with obvious shock and disgust.

“But still,” he says, with great resignation, “A being that close to a true dragon… He cannot be used as a bargaining chip, let alone when the Paladins or The inquisition could so easily render your new ‘pact’ untenable by destroying the final demon before you acquire it. And this Incubus has the dwarven relic as well! You’ve given this pathetic spirit FAR too much leverage.”

“What would you have me do?” you ask, trying to keep the defensiveness from your tone. “What’s done is done—I must now ensure the pact is completed. That is all there is to this matter.”

“Stage a coup—a betrayal.”

You blink, first your nictitating membrane and then your outer eyelids. Such is your surprise and confusion. You take a sip of your drink, thus far untouched.

“I… Cannot.”

“You CAN,” Roth presses. “You engineered your initial pacts to favour us—the only bright spot in your dealings with this DEMON. Use your human puppets to steer the Inquisition against that bastard’s nest of weak-willed human slaves. Destroy its hosts, its base of power! Then, we eliminate a rival, and an obligation, and offer up to the humans a sacrificial lamb!”

It is… Clever, in Roth’s own direct and brutal way.

‘Lispy,’ Irnnile quails, ‘if we fuck this up, Inky’s gonna’ be PISSED. We’ll be fucked, and NOT, I repeat NOT, in any a’ the fun ways.’

>>5189274

Do you finish your drink?
>Yes
>No

Do you tell Roth about your final conversation with Edwin?
>Yes
>No

What do you do about the matter of The Incubus and this final demon?
>Go for Roth’s plan—turn the Inquisition against The Incubus
>Turn this down as too risky, but ask for Roth’s aid in hunting down the final demon
>Tell Roth you need to consider your options, but request combat training
>Attempt to seduce Roth, while you’re hear anyway [will render him to tired to lend martial aid even if you choose such an option, but reduce <WANT>]
>Ask him about something else [what?]
>Thank him, and leave
>Write-in

>>5189275
>Yes
We need it

>No
He doesn’t need to know that part

>Turn this down as too risky, but ask for Roth’s aid in hunting down the final demon
Let’s just get the final demon, get the Dragonborn and gtfo of this city

The Incubus will come into conflict with the inquisition naturally enough. With our sleeper agents we can also prolong the conflict. Making both sides weaker

>>5189275
>Yes
>No
We already solved edwin by killing the librarian


>Turn this down as too risky, but ask for Roth’s aid in hunting down the final demon

Demons ping higher on the inquisitions radar than us. Framing it is a trump card we should save for a truly dire situation.

>>5189275
>Yes
This will somehow fuck us over later, won't it?
>Yes
>Turn this down as too risky, but ask for Roth’s aid in hunting down the final demon

>Request combat training

Rolled 6, 3 = 9 (2d20)

>>5189281
>>5189290
>>5189331

>>5189576
OUCH?

>>5189576
>>5189331
>>5189290
>>5189281

You hastily down your drink, wiping a bit from your lips. You look to Roth, briefly considering owning up to the one part of the story you have not spoken on… But no. Edwin, and matters related to him, are well-in-hand. Handled, even. There’s no need to have that discussion. Instead, you say:

“Dragonblooded One, your plan is too great a risk. If it failed, we could lose EVEERYTHING. I cannot even say for certain how to locate the farmhouse where our operatives and our prizes are kept.”

Roth’s eyes widen and his nostrils flare, emitting a puff of smoke. You hasten to amend your statement.

“I have quite easy ways to locate them, using the puppet Henzler, but this would still put the Dragonborn, our fellow Infiltrator, and the dwarven relic at risk.”

Roth scoffs, grumbling something about the irresponsibility of ‘keeping all eggs in one clutch’, but he nods.

“Assist me instead, if you would,” you continue. “We need only acquire one additional demon.”

Roth taps a foot repeatedly, looks to you, paces the room… And then leaves. When he returns, he is wearing a chestplate, mail, and carrying a short, straight blade—plain, unornamented, effective.

“Very well,” he says, “we will do this in the manner which you propose.”

“Thank you for your—”

“Do. Not. Fail.”

You close your mouth, not finishing your sentence.

‘So, uhhh… What’s the play?’ Irinnile asks.

You sit down, feeling the drink wash over you. Your confidence swells a little, inhibitions lower. It all seems very doable, you reckon. The final demon is a mantid-like creature. To catch such a being, you need only…
>Find easy prey, such as what the hellhound was feeding upon
>Release Brezzog, the hellhound, and have him sniff about for his old jailmate
>Summon Felman to assist you in searching out the demon with his mage expertise
>Pay old Lord Yosef a visit, to see if he has any insight into such beings
>Return to the library, using a key stolen from the elven librarian’s corpse, to search their archives for clues
>Summon Siz-Gamid again, hopefully with better results now that the glasses which might have targeted her are sabotaged
>Write-in

>>5189592
>Release Brezzog, the hellhound, and have him sniff about for his old jailmate

Whole reason why we asked to keep him

>>5189592
>Release Brezzog, the hellhound, and have him sniff about for his old jailmate
>Shield Roth's eyes from display of such devilry

I'm sorry if we messed up the story, RQM. The image in OP makes me feel like we did.

>>5189592
>>Summon Siz-Gamid again, hopefully with better results now that the glasses which might have targeted her are sabotaged

>>5189611
Supporting

>>5189684
Bad feels

Are we locked into the bad ending path?

File: Screenshot 2022-03-08 185355.png (1.2 MB, 752x867)

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Rolled 8, 20, 8, 20, 5, 11, 20, 17 = 109 (8d20)

>>5189605
>>5189611
>>5189990
>>5190246
You and your better-bred comrade Roth step out into the streets of Hawksong. It is dark, but even so, you find yourself hesitant to don your leafweave armour or your bloodied magic cloak. After all, both are distinguishing features that will be immediately recognizable to those forces of Tower and Crown investigating the demonic attacks around the city. However, if you face down Paladins or Inquisitors again, you may have need of these protections.

“You may wish to avert your eyes, to pressserve your purity,” you teasing warn Roth as you uncork the scroll-case containing your tracker.

Roth rolls his eyes and snorts in annoyance, though whether at your continued reliance on devilry or at your jibe, you cannot say.

Brezzog, emerging from the case head-first, shake himself as his ectoplasm fills out into something mid-way between his original great size and the much-diminished state which his defeat consigned him to. The hellhound looks to you, inscrutable in its alien expression—even its aura and body language are unreadable to you, though through Irinnile you sense annoyance.

“You would rather be with The Incubusss,” you note.

“Yes,” Brezzog says, succinct and to the point. “Knights… Pain.”

“Hurry in helping usss, and you will return to your masster all the sssooner.”

Brezzog snorts now, and in a curious way, its attitude reminds you of Roth.

‘They do make a cute couple,’ Irinnile sniggers.

“Guide usss,” you instruct the hound. “We sseek the mantid… The lasst of your liberated brethren.”

Dutifully, the hound turns its strange, almost insectoid head one way, then the other, scenting the air in an almost viper-like way. Truly, ‘hound’ is a relative term.

“Follow,” it barks, and sets off at a brisk trot.

“Sstick to the alleysss!” you hiss after it, following swiftly.

Roth sheathes his sword, pulls a drab and brownish cloak about him, and follows you both.

What do you wear?
>Something protective
>Something inconspicuous
>Some surplus, ill-fitting scrap armour from Roth’s forge

[Continuing... After a few rolls]

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>>5190291
>20 for tracking

You follow Brezzog for some distance through the murk of a misty night, trusting the infernal entity’s nose to guide you. It does not fail you, as the demon quickly catches the scent of its familiar fellow.

However, that isn’t all it sniffs out.

For a time the hellhound bounds faster and faster, forcing you to exert yourself to catch up and beginning to leave heavier, slower Roth in your dust… But suddenly, on the edge of a dense area of human housing out towards the dockyards but not quiet in sight of the sea, this chase comes to a screeching halt. The hellhound stops, stiff and alert, and emits a guttural growl that ill-suits its new, smaller size. You

“What isss it?” you whisper.

“Knight,” Brezzog rumbles; then, correcting itself: “Knights.”

Roth draws up behind you a moment later, winded; you shush him before he can speak, and guide him to the bottom of a rising gravel path between many tall tenements. There, you peer out, using your demonically-aided eyes to get a sense of the situation.

You half-expect to see Paladin knights cornering your quarry—it would be par for the course with your lousy luck, but no: it is entirely the opposite. You can just faintly make out a rail-thin shadow, moving in a spidery mode of locomotion which seems altogether unnatural at its much greater size. Creeping along a wall and swinging from laundry-lines, dangling from parapets like a monkey along jungle treetops… And following a pair of Paladins. Unlike previous pairs, both seem to be full-fledges, gryphon-mounted fighters of standing and seniority. You recognize Sir Innes as one of them, now armed and armoured with heavy steel plate and a great, menacing mace. The other, with sword and shield and riding a gryphon who moves jerkily as if unused to its rider, is he who fought you back on the night prior; his mount is clearly a replacement for that which Brezzog slew in that confrontation.

>20 times TWO for stealth

You spy upon them, listening to the silence between them but sensing something subtly… Off. Roth, less adept at the art of stealth, hovers back, with Brezzog remaining with him as well. For your part, though, your stealth is such that you creep close enough to hear them—almost close enough to kill them!—without being noticed. The two wizened warriors are mostly silent, until…

“You sense it, don’t you?” says Innes.

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>>5190332

>17 for Paladins' <Detect Evil Outsider>

“Aye,” says the other man, almost too quiet to hear.

“Is it one,” Innes asks, “or two?”

“…Was one. Now… More. Two at least. One is faint, very faint.”

“One is above us,” Innes notes.

“Aye,” the other Paladin agrees.

They slow. With a start, you realize they are AWARE the mantis-demon is hunting them… And they are ready for it, or at least believe you are. Worse, by their words, you know that they sensed your approach, and that of Brezzog, though it’s evident it is a vaguer sense their feeling for the mantid. You could still ambush them—probably take one of them out, maybe his gryphon as well—but could you handle both?

‘Or we could go back an’ get Roth an’ the hound,’ Irinnile suggests, her tone lapsing into hysteria at the thought of battling two great chimeras and their well-armed demon-slayers alone. ‘Y-yeah! Let’s do that, huh, Hotstuff?’

What do you do?
>Attempt assassinate one of the paladins, and draw their fire—maybe the mantid will take advantage of the opening?
>Return to Roth and Brezzog, and coordinate an organized assault
>Wait for the mantid to attack, and to draw the Paladins’ attention, and then backstab them when the risk is reduced
>Assume a less conspicuous guise, with no lisp, and create a distraction as an apparent innocent
>This is an unnecessary risk—intercept the demon above, and warn it that the Paladins have detected its presence and that it should leave with you
>Write-in

>>5190246
>>5189684
There is no "messing up" the story, because I have no intended path or end for this -- just options. As for if you're locked into a bad end... No comment, but you're definitely not locked into the WORST end. Just also not the BEST, if one criteria for that, for you, is Edwin's undying love and acceptance of you as a Reptilian agent.

The art is all just meant as a gift to you anons for playing, highlighting relationships with the characters you seem most invested in... But it doesn't reflect an OTP or anything. After all, The Infiltrator is holding a knife.

>>5190336
>This is an unnecessary risk—intercept the demon above, and warn it that the Paladins have detected its presence and that it should leave with you

don't want to get reinforcements summoned on us yet again, roth can't escape quick like us

>>5190291
>Something protective
As in, clothes.
>>5190336
>This is an unnecessary risk—intercept the demon above, and warn it that the Paladins have detected its presence and that it should leave with you
Let's hope they don't follow...

>>5190370
Supporting this