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/tg/ - Traditional Games

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Welp, my plans for a thanksgiving OGQ completely failed to take off. Goddamn those attention whoring family members! Anyway, we're picking up where we left off in thread 5.

If you want to read more the archive link is here:


And my QM twatter is up, if you're interested in getting quest updates from there:

Both of you down your vodka in a series of spastic gulps. One bottle down.

The next one takes longer. The acrid burning sensation tougher to ignore. About half way through the second bottle, the first one hits you like a truck. The room spins. You struggle to continue pouring the spirits down your mouth. Coordinating everything just got a lot harder…

You finish off your second bottle and look over at Voytek. The large skele-bear still has a quarter of his second bottle left, and he’s waving about in place. He remains upright for a few more seconds before finally collapsing in a clatter of bones.

You’ve won. You are victorious. ALL HAIL BASED BONES!

You attempt to stand upright to celebrate your victory. All that alcohol you managed to ignore rushes to your brain. Room is practically spinning. Just as you too collapse on the ground it hits you. What kind of vodka can get a skeleton drunk?

Your vision fades to black.

You awaken blinking, as well as a skeleton can, blurrily. Your head doesn’t actually hurt at all, although it feels like it should. You look around. Ivan and Voytek are lying next to you, both still unconscious. You look up, and into the dully staring eyes of yet another godsdamned Zommaid.

>Fuckin… hell…

The zommaid doesn’t respond. Not that you expected her to… holy shit. Its a female for once. Not just some dude corpse shoved into a maid outfit with some strategic padding, but an honest to gods lady. And not too rotten either. Before you get a chance to get too fresh with her, you hear a voice from across the room.

“Oh da bitch. Bend over and pillage my belongings like the naughty little adventuress you are.”

There’s a robed figure sitting at a desk, his back turned to you. His left is moving way faster than any ritual gestures would require…

>Oh dat’s nasty. What do?
>Tell the jerk off you can see him living up to his name?
>Remain silent?
In the honor of your dick, I will perform a limerick as long as your dick.

Leave the premise
Votes tabulated, as always will leave window open for new suggestions.

On another note:
Oh lordy, any of ya'll gotten one of dem 4chan passes? Delicious lack of captcha is delicious.
>paying for 4chan
Top lel
I like this site man. I like this fucking board. It gives my a place to put my shitty writing online. Gotta contribute to that shit man.

Although I do miss captcha's prophecies sometimes.
OrgesHe SOC!
>Fuck this. Fuck this weird ass castle-fort-labyrinth-bullshit. Fuck these maids in zombie uniforms. Fuck this fapping freak. Bones the Birthday Skeleton is fucking outtie.

You attempt to stand to make good your escape. You fail to. You look down and are surprised to see that there are no restraints holding you in place. You are as capable of motion as a paraplegic sans wheelchair blow tube. The weirdo in the robes probably has some sort of restraining hex cast on you. Brilliant.

You attempt to turn your head, and are pleased by its successful rotation. Glancing in either direction you see that both Ivan and Voytek are still unconscious. Fucking typical. Leaving all the hard work to you. You honestly expected more from Voytek. Just another mark he’ll be held responsible for come his quarterly performance review.

>Fuckin lack of synergy with senior employees and tends to underperform in high pressure situations. No godsdamn bonus for skele-bearoviski.

Rotating your skull back to face your robed captor you observe that he seems to be nearing completion of his… “high friction stress relief forearm exercises”. No better time to interrupt than now.

>Hey! Hey jackass!

The robed man yelps and involuntarily attempts to stand upright. The combination of heavy wooden desk and chair prevent this endeavour, however, and he topples over. His hood falls back to reveal an older man, gray hair scattered across his sweaty face. He’s looking at you with a mixture of anger, surprise, and interest.

You nod at bulge in his robes.

>Here’s a limerick as long as your dink granddad.

The old man waits for you to continue. You don’t.

After several seconds he gets back up on his feet and start to chuckle.

“Da da da. Good one Mr. Skeletov! Such a lively spirit!”

>Okay, seems like this guy doesn’t have everything quite together. What now?
>Demand information godsdamn it!
>Make another escape attempt?
>Mock the elderly?
Just... why
Through the power of necronomancy, I was brought to this world. I am actually you from the future and I've come to warn you.

You must release the bear and the retard.
Attempt to fool the elderly!

As always, will keep voting open if anyone wants to add anything.

I remember you from last thread anon, unfortunately due to a tryptophan coma I don't remember what specifically was bugging you. Mind clarifying your issue so I can see if this is something I can resolve?
Appeal to his "love" of necromancy, maybe you can get him to lower his guard.
Wait what
No, I meant "why" as in-character reaction to what's happening around us, as well as a question to this jerkoff
This sounds good
Ahhhhhhhhh! My bad there! I'll try to integrate that into one of the next updates. Sorry about the mix up, anon

More votes tabbed, am still writing.
>...No. You don’t… you CAN’T understand! I am no spirit!

The old man cocks his head curiously.

>I am you! I am you from the distant future!

The old man rubs his beard, intrigued by your words.

>Yes, yes! I’ve come back through time by the powers of NECROMANCY to warn you of impending catastrophe!

You nod vigorously in the direction of Ivan.

>This is the… the Chosen One! He may be a retard, but he’s our only hope to save the uh… the Tsar’s Wizardry Institute from destruction! And the bear… uh... it matters too!

The old man crouches down in front of you, a grandfatherly smile on his face. “Hahahaha! What a wild adventure for my old bones! To rekindle my youthful spirit even after becoming a lich, what a life I will lead!”

Still chortling, the old man stands once more. “I have but one question, Bones of mine from the future. I will not ask what terrible consequences caused me to forget my feud with the Tsar’s Wizardry Institute. Instead I ask: what was the cause of my banishment from the Institute in the first place?”

Oh shit.


>Roll d20 for guessing cocksuckers! Just rolling, will write followup based on rolls. Am taking average of highest two rolls or something.
Rolled 9

>>Roll d20 for guessing cocksuckers! Just rolling, will write followup based on rolls. Am taking average of highest two rolls or something.

Unlawful contact with a corpse while jaywalking.
Rolled 8

Is it the zombiefucking? It's the zombiefucking
Rolled 13

So what's the roll pull?
Fucking the maids. All of the maids. Even the dead ones.
You successfully guess why the Old Man was banished from the Institute. He believes that you are him from the future.

Difficulty is on the higher side of ten though.
No, I meant what's the maximum amount of rolls you take into consideration?
I look at all of them, then take the highest two. Only for this one though. Normally I'll just go first three rolls in support of an option, unless someone rolls a nat 20, which is automatically considered.

Unless a nat 1 is in the first three rolls, I don't consider it like I would a nat 20.
>Inappropriate conduct…?

The old man’s bushy eyebrows shoot up.

>With a corpse? While jaywalking…?

You trail off. the old man’s eyebrows have returned to their original position on his face.

“Nyet nyet. Not quite there at all Bonesovski. This leaves me with two possible conclusions. One, that you are in truth me but someone has altered your memories. Or two, you’re lying through your teeth.”

“I find the latter,” he leans forward, “Far more believable.”

Shit. Shit shit fuck. It looks like we’re going to have to debase ourselves to save our calcium.

>Ohhhhh~ big Mr. Necromancer Man! You’ve figured me out! If only there was some sort of way that I could make it up to you for being so dishonest…

If you had eyebrows you’d be wiggling them right about now. To your surprise, the old man merely laughs and shakes his head. “Sorry darling Bones. You are not my type. I enjoy a woman with a bit more life in her body.”

>Wait what. Then what the fuck was with all the zommaids? I figured you were some sort of corpse philandering fetishist fucking freak, fool!

The old man puts his hands up in the air to guard against your impotent outrage. “Hoy, be at peace Angry Bones. Those revenants were my housekeeping staff. Of course they’d be in uniform. Hardly my fault that whoever owned this castle last only had the ladies apparel in stock.”
>Don’t try and fool me old fart! I saw you smiting your dragon with that crystal ball!

The old man shakes his head once more. “Oh da, I was indeed having the good time with my scrying stone. But you need to check out that demon blooded hussie. Godsdamned fine little minx she is.”

The old man shuffles over to his desk and drags his chair around so that its perpendicular to you. He sits back down and grabs up the orb before snapping his fingers.

You don’t feel any different, but suddenly all of that impotent struggling you were doing in the back of your mind manifests as a loud series of clatters. The restraining hex is lifted! The old man gestures you over expectantly.

>Shit, the senile fart just freed you! What do now?
>Check out this supposedly hot ass demon blooded chick?
>Sic old man?
>Ask old man questions?
Rolled 12

>>Check out this supposedly hot ass demon blooded chick?
Demon poontang ahow
Arright, We voyeur now. Keeping voting window open
>>Check out this supposedly hot ass demon blooded chick?

that makes it okay
You rise to your feet (Now booted!) and walk next to the old man. The scrying stone in his cupped hand is half of an ancient ellipsoid of clearish stone cut lengthwise. On the flat side you can make out a large room with some cloudy glass windows allowing in dusty sunlight. There is a large chest pressed up against one of the walls. Some girl with weirdly reddish skin is half way into the chest, digging around. Her rear lies directly in the center of the scrying stone, and is clearly the old man’s main interest. He reaches out with one hand and magnifies the image.


“I know, right?”

>Who is this chick anyhow?

“Well, before I muted the scrying stone I overheard her and her friends talking about collecting the bounty on some necromancer. Something about him terrifying the local dvoryanin’s town with black magic. So I figure they’re a bunch of pissant adventurers.”

>Shit dude why’d ya mute it?

You reach out and slap at the scrying stone. Everything goes staticy for a second and a the image of the feast hall you defeated the three zommaids in flashes up. The old man sighs and resets the scrying stone back to the demon blooded chick’s rear end before unmuting the artifact.

>”This is not looting Prince Allowyn! This is reappropriating wealth stolen from the victims of an inherently oppressive structure of power relationships!
Another voice, high but clearly male, cuts in:

>”If that’s the case, then why are haven’t you returned our bounties to their supposedly rightful owners? And while we’re on the matter, if these undead are as oppressed as you say they are, why do you keep on shrieking and throwing fireballs at them every time one walks up to you?

>”They were attempting to exploit me with privileged position as males! You need to see these intersections of power and privilege Prince Allowyn, before you are a truly just ruler.”

A deeper male voice answers her instead.

>”By the bloody black blood curse that flows through my veins on a river of black blood! These freaks can hardly be considered alive, let alone able to use privilege exploits! If they were so alive, their screams and lamentations would be feeding the burning hunger for death that my soul hungers for due to the infernal curse of blood that constantly drives me to seek the quenching blood that quenches the hungry flames consuming my blood stained soul!”

>”I’ve been meaning to tell you how regressive it is to call these poor revenants freaks just for freely defying the oppressive gender bi-”

You look over to see that the old man has cut off the sound on the scrying stone, grimacing. “The demon blooded make for a good viewing. Not so much listening.”

>Hey old fart, how many people did you see in that party anyway?

The old man leans back in his chair, considering the scrying stone. “Just those three. And call me Professor Becherski. I’m not that old just yet…”

>Yeah well, I think that they have a fourth. We met some cat eared girl in the dungeon who said she was looking for somebody named Prince Allowyn.

“Ahhh, so you’re the ones I caught in the pit fall trap? You really made a mess of my B-string cleaning staff.”

>Field too long, choices in third post.
>Shit, hope that old man isn’t too angry about that. What do?
>Change topic? (Specify how)
>Blame Aurelie? I’ll be damned if I have wear another fucking maid outfit.
Ask him if he can tutor the peasant to teach him some proper necromancy.

i wanna possess that demon body, i bet it has great stats

Wake up Ivana
Arright, Writing
>Uhhh yeah… pretty sweet zombie cleaning staff you had there. So I guess that means that you’re a necromancer?

“Ah… ahem. Da. Professor Becherski was indeed being the Chairman of Necromantic Studies at the Tsar’s Wizardry Institute. This was in the many of years ago, now. Then the small minded fools banished me for dark magics! And now I am making of the home in this castle.”

>Awesome. So my fleshy buddy over there is trying to learn some necromancy from a Grimoire or something. Maybe you could teach him how to not suck at it?

Beccherski turns his head around and looks at you, confused. “I was of the thinking that the young man you were travelling with could teach me, not the other way around.”

>What? Why? Ivan’s a barely literate peasantmancer.

“You see, you are not making of the senses, Bonesovski. You are clearly not a risen skeleton, but a spirit bound the the bones of a skeleton. This spirit binding is perhaps being one of the most sought after grails in all of Necromantic Studies, alongside communicable undeath and unspoiling cheese. Is not the Ivan man a great mage?”

>...No. Not at fucking all. He only managed to bind me after botching the binding ritual in Radomil.

There is a silence as you finish speaking. Then Becherski seizes you by the shoulders and pulls you in front of him, nose to hole-where-nose-would-be. His eye’s are bulging.

“R-Radomil? I am of the correct hearings?”

>Yeah fucker. Its the name of the guy who set up the Grimoire’s Q and A section. So that’s what I call it. Radomil.

Becherski releases you, and gazes at Ivan, mouth slightly ajar.

“The blood of Radomil…”

>Okay what the tits. Why is everyone flipping out about a Q and A section?
>Ask old man for more info?
>Wake Ivan?
>>Wake Ivan?
Lets make him clean up our mess. He's responsible for all that happened after all.
Apologies about delay. Will start writing.
You figure that Ivan should probably be awake for whatever happens next. He seems to be involved in something significant. You begin to violently poke the unconscious peasant with your boney fingers. After several seconds of assault Ivan groans loudly.

“Uuuurgh. My skull feels like its about to split in two.”

>Probably shouldn’t try to go toe to toe with me in a drinking contest Ingrid. You womanfolk always have trouble holding your liquor.

Ivan raises his arm to shield his eyes from the offensive torch light. “Eat a bag of dicks Bones.”

>Listen kiddo. I think I found someone to teach you necromancy. Say hello to the nice masturbating man!

Ivan vomits with the daintiness of a noble woman removing a bit of gristle from her mouth. It splashes upon the floor. Even before the ill peasant can stand the head zommaid arrives, mop in hand. As the risen maid cleans the floor you guide Ivan over to Becherski’s desk.

“Gods… I actually feel a lot better now.”

Becherski leans forward, and examines Ivan’s face. “So boy. By the accordings of your skeletal comrade here, you are being the one of his soul bindings?”
“Wha- yes. Yes I am.”

“Fascinating. Do you possess of the knowledge that such bindings are of great difficulty? In fact, that they are very nearly impossible?”

“I mean… ulp-”

>Maybe you should get a bucket or something.

Wiping his mouth, Ivan continues “I mean all I did was follow the instructions laid out in the Grimoire. It wasn’t terribly hard or anything.”

Becherski taps his desk demandingly. “Be of the forth bringing this Grimoire boy. Desirous, I am, to read it.”

Ivan pulls Radomil out of his travelling pack and places it on Becherski’s desk. The old man snatches it up and begins to leaf through the pages. After several minutes during which the only sounds in the room were the flipping of pages, Professor Becherski places Radomil back on his desk.

“The pages. They are of blankness.”

>Okay, so he’s either blind, which judging from his voyeuristic activities with the scrying stone, seems unlikely, or he can’t read Radomil. What do?
>Mock the elderly?
>Describe what’s on the page?
>Wait for Ivan to say something?
>See if you can crawl inside of Voytek’s ribcage and wear him like a suit of bear armor?
>Wait for Ivan to say something?
>While they are busy, look back to sexy demon chick.
>>Wait for Ivan to say something?
Yeah, I assume only a few can even see the content of the book.
Arright, We're gonna let Ivan and the Professor hash this book issue out. Time for some asspreciation.
Bare bear armor
You know full well that Ivan will try to explain what’s on the page the professor is looking at. Deciding that your time is better spent on other pursuits, you collect the scrying stone and clatter off over to a still unconscious Voytek.

>If I can’t ride on you, I can sure as shit ride in you.

You crawl inside the skele-bear’s massive rib cage and begin to fumble with the scrying stone. You are displeased to see that the demon blooded and her friends have left whichever room they were in. You poke at the scrying stone, attempting to mimic the Professor’s own actions when he changed the scryed area. Eventually you manage to change the channel, and begin to flick through various rooms in the castle, trying to find dat demonic booty. Several minutes of searching fails to yield any infernal ass, but does give you a fascinating look into the castle’s interior. From the looks of things it seems like you’re up some sort of tower near the center of the keep, and there are a hell of a lot more zombies lurking around. Many of them have replaced their maid uniforms with rusty armor and their mops with iron weaponry.

Eventually you find the three adventurers. The demon blooded isn’t bent over but is standing tall and from the looks of things arguing. Although you regret the missed opportunity to scope out some more of dem glutes, you decide that overhearing another argument would probably be fun.

>”And that’s why you need to fucking check your sharp eared privilege shitprince!”

Aaaaand never mind. You silence the orb once more. Then you notice some motion in the corner of the stone. A figure tumbles out of the shadows and in front of the three angered adventurers.

>Looks like Aurelie found her Prince-sama.

->Bones. Why, pray tell, are you inside my ribcage?
>Seems like Voytek is awake and the PoGAD is reassembled. Things may only be marginally more dangerous, but they sure got a lot more tiresome.
>Tell Voytek this is a team building exercise?
>Scamper on over to the two flesh sacks?
>Attempt to engage head zommaid in discussion?
>Attempt to engage head zommaid in discussion?
It is the first true zombiemaid we have seen. after all those... others
>>Attempt to engage head zommaid in discussion?
Seduce the zombie maid.
You scuttle out of Voytek’s rib cage before the skele-bear has time to take a swipe at you. Hurrying away from your nominal familiar, you walk up to the head zommaid. Not bad at all. The maid outfit isn’t really your jam, but the bust made of flesh instead of burlap is.

>Hey doll face. Anything exciting going on in these parts?

The zommaid fails to respond

>Playin’ hard to get eh? Well no one ever called Bones a quitter.

The zommaid fails to respond.

>Whew, that’s one arctic shoulder right there. You keeping some fell ice under those sleeves of yours?

The zommaid fails to repsond.

>Fuckin… whatever bitch. Don’t come crying to me when I’m refleshed and your lookin for the D

The zommaid fails to respond.

Clearly some high impact social interaction is required. You send a bony finger eyeward.

The zommaid does not fail to respond. She grabs your incoming hand and uses some sort of strange grappling technique to throw you to the ground.


Becherski peeks over the top of his chair. “Are you making of the attempt to seduce my maid? Knowing you are that revenants are of the pre determined responses only, yes?”

>So she’s not intelligent?

“Nyet. Most undead are not of the sapeint being. Such is the cause of my interest in the book being named Radomil.”

>Cool. Now what?
>Ask Becherski to get the maid off of you?
>Inform flesh sacks of PoGAD?
>>Inform flesh sacks of PoGAD?
This. He has to know that we found the catgirl again.
>Inform flesh sacks of PoGAD?
The gang seems to be back together
It seems we are going to inform the fleshies that the PoGAD have reassembled. Writing
>Hey, meat bound mortals. As exciting as Ivan’s talking book undoubtedly is, it seems like those three fuckwits on the scrying stone have met back up with Aurelie.

Ivan turns, “What, the cat eared girl?”

>The very same.

Professor Becherski Rises to his feet and begins to pack an impossibly large number of books into a leather bag. “I am for the past fifty years making of the living in this castle. And every time some doers of good arrive they are always my inner sanctum finding right after they meet up. We are having fifteen minutes, tops.”

The head Zommaid begins to load a variety of foodstuffs and yet more alcohol into her own pack. After several minutes of scampering around, the professor and his undead assistant are standing in the center of the room, several large packs hanging off of the maid.

“I am having a spell for times like these. But time it is taking to cast. Can you of the heros be delaying for a bit? I promise to take you along with me!”

>Why the hells are you so convinced that these do gooding dicks are going to be tearing down the door at any minute? We’ve got no evidence for-

There is a loud cracking noise as something strikes the iron banded oaken door leading into the study. You think you can vaguely hear the words “Blood fury”.

>Things are speeding up finally! What do?
>Buy time for the “spell of escapings”
>Fuck that, I make my own way!
>Buy time for the “spell of escapings”
Let's see if can't pull some scare tactics on them. Make their bones rattle in fear!
>>Buy time for the “spell of escapings”
I propose limericks to stall them.
Arright, writing
Not wanting to ask how often his castle got stormed by adventurers to get him so used to their shenanigans, you draw your blade and prepare to buy the Professor as much time as necessary. You’re pleased to see that Ivan, Voytek, and the Head Zommaid are right alongside you. The door rumbles again as whoever is behind it strikes once more.

Another few thudding strikes. Then the blade of an axe pokes through a crack in the wood. You glance over your shoulder at the professor, and are pleased to see that he’s chanting away in the middle of a ritual circle hidden under his desk. You look back over at the door just in time to see a large axe smash the portal into splinters. The axe is pretty strange looking, all things considered. It’s got a lot of superfluous spikes on the blade and is way too big for the already large man carrying it to handle properly. Although you suppose it doesn’t help that several large chunks of wood are hanging off of his axe spikes.

The large man steps into the room. You can’t see his face for the large bronze helmet obscuring it, and he seems to be wearing some sort of weird cloak-coat that extends down to his ankles. Another three figures step into the study. An elf with long blonde hair bearing a sword, that odd Aurelie child, and a buxom demon blooded in an extremely drafty outfit for such a cold climate. The eight of you square off, four on either side. You attempt to snarl at the elf opposite you, but fail. You also wish that you and Ivan had switched places. Wouldn’t mind grappling that demon blooded…

The moment of calm is broken by the large man in the coat-cloak.
“And so, I have finally come upon the long awaited struggle that my brooding soul has waited so long for. To spill the blood of our enemies, such is the creed of all of the Helgrind Clan, when we were powerful and great, and so it shall be again, when I baptise my axe in the bloody viscera of my enemies and foes, as our ancient creed from the glory days does dictate for all of the Helgrind clan, a sacred calling to-”

The strange axeman stops as Voytek rams him in the stomach. The elf opposite you charges forward,blade drawn and flames licking at his hand.

>What do?
>Sword elf. Roll d20
>FIST elf. Roll d20
>Other elf. Roll d20
Rolled 3

Collapse into a pile of bones and anger, and roll toward the elf. Attempt to thrust the sword all the way into his fleshy underside.
Rolled 14

>>FIST elf. Roll d20
Brutally fist the elf while shouting "MELLLLLON!"
Rolled 10

Dodge the sword and grab his arm with the flames and make him punch his dick with the flaming hand.
Dat feel when you want to choose all of these options. It seems that some variation on fist craft has it. We rolled an average of a 9
The elf’s blade comes at you. Fast. Much faster than the guardsmen’s blades did. You attempt to dodge it. You fail to dodge it. The blade clips one of your lower ribs, cutting the bone right off of you.

Fuck! That actually hurts a fucking lot!

The pain causes you to stumble, and the elf seizes this opportunity to strike you on the head with his flaming fist. You roll with the blow, clattering away across the floor. Godsdamn! You’re glad you operate sans-flesh because that was fucking hot! The elf charges forward once more. This time you’re ready and instead of dodging to the left or right, you leap over the elf and execute a downward strike with your flaming fist while screaming


The blow connects, and although he seems to have some sort of ward up, the flames singe his long blonde hair. You roll away from the elf and leap back to your feet, pirouetting to face him once more really feeling your permanent skull grin this time. The elf also turns to face you, tears in his eyes.

“Y-you dare…!”

Oh this is perfect.

>There once was an elf
>Who liked to piss all over himself
>When the mean Mister Bones
>Singed his hair with a fist of flaming stone
>He jumped right off an ice shelf!

The elf unleashes a sort of weird screaming snarl from between his bared teeth.

“I’ll show you what it means to cross your betters, undead wretch!”

The elf lunges forward again.

>d20 and specify an action.
Rolled 14

Judo throw the elf into the zombiemaid who then gives him a tombstone pile-driver
Rolled 5

>>d20 and specify an action.
Sidestep and trip him. Then sit on him and unleash an undead fart upon him.
Rolled 6

Trip him and then proceed to river dance on top of his body
Rolled an average of a 8.33333333333333333333333333333

Seems to be tripping and judo throws abound.
You’re feeling pretty cocky after that hair singing incident. Deciding to play a riskier game you calmly wait until the elf is right on top of you before sidestepping him. Just as you are about to stick out your leg to trip the pointy eared bastard you feel it. The elf’s blade is cutting deep into your hipbone.

>Ahhhhhhhhhhh… FUCK!

Cocksuckers! This really fucking hurts! Like, to an unbelievable degree!

Luckily its seems as though the strange leaf shaped blade is caught in your pelvis. Just as the elf is about to place his foot on you in an attempt to yank his blade clear, you seize him by his shoulder and his belt and throw him into the air. You watch the elf arc through the air as he falls with slow inevitability towards the Head Zommaid, who seems largely unfazed by Aurelie’s scratching assaults. Just as the elf is about to strike the undead housekeeper she leaps into action, directing his head in between her thighs as she jumps into the air.

It almost poetic. The Zommaid’s legs are crossed, holding Prince Allowyn’s head in place as they begin their descent to the floor. You might not be able to see the elf’s face, but you can hear the panic in his voice. The Head Zommaid continues to stare stoically ahead as she falls, her hair rising up, away from her forehead.

She lands with a sickeningly loud cracking sound.

This is the last sight you see as a flash of light overtakes your vision.
Alright, I think that's all I can manage today guys, what with finals coming up. Check the twitter for the next day I'm running, cause I ain't sure yet.

As always, any questions, concerns or advice, I'll be lingering to hear them
Have fun with your finals and good luck.

So Ivan is actually a savant genius necromancer?
Thanks brah. I'll be needing that luck

Ivan is fairly talented as a necromancer, but the real secret behind his supposedly impossible casting is Radomil's Grimoire. It details a lot of magic long thought impossible, and a large minority of that magic is surprisingly easy.

I'm pretty sure you've all guessed that the Grimoire will be cropping up as a plot point in the future

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